“We don’t know if any more of us will wind up under arrest, but it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving Eden. All of us. And we won’t be back. We’ve deeded the house and the land to the city. I wish to God I could change the past. I wish to God none of this had happened.”
He stood for a moment, waiting, but Leigh stared him down, then turned and walked away.
Blake looked at the faces of the men standing before him. His blood and yet not.
“It’s time you leave now,” one of them said.
Blake turned around and started walking back down the hill to where he’d had to park his car, and the farther he walked, the faster his steps became, until he was running.
He was out of breath, blind with tears, and shaking like a whipped dog by the time he reached the car. He didn’t know who he was anymore, but he didn’t like who he’d been. He drove off the mountain with a knot in his belly and never looked back.
*
Ten days later, Talia stood beside Bowie in the shade of three oak trees near the corner of Leigh’s house, watching a dragonfly dive-bombing the water in a vine-wrapped birdbath. The breeze was just enough to cool her skin and push the hem of her pale pink sundress against her knees, and to play with the loose wispy curls she’d left down around her face.
His hand was warm against the middle of her back. His dark slacks and white shirt made him look taller and tanner.
Talia was watching Bowie’s face as the pastor spoke, and she saw a faint sheen of tears in his eyes. She heard Johnny’s baby laughter and his mother’s anxious hush, then she heard the pastor say her name.
“Talia Champion, do you take this man to—”
Everything else faded except the look in Bowie’s eyes.
“Yes, forever,” she said, unaware she’d cut the preacher off in mid-vow.
There was a faint thread of laughter throughout the small gathering. The preacher cleared his throat and turned to Bowie.
“Bowie Youngblood, do you take this woman—”
“I do,” he replied.
The preacher sighed. He’d never been interrupted quite like this before, but he supposed the vows still took. However, he wasn’t going to be denied the perfect ending. His voice rang out like the crashing of cymbals at the end of a long refrain.
“Bowie and Talia Youngblood, you are now man and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. And as pretty as she is, young man, I suggest you kiss your bride.”
All the breath went out of Bowie at once. He meant to tell her he loved her more than life, but he couldn’t find the words, so he kissed her instead, in the presence of God, hoping their missing family members were there with them in spirit.
She smiled as she put her arms around his neck, and then it was done.
Her lips to his mouth.
Heart to heart.
Forever.
Epilogue
It had taken Talia less than a day to learn that hot in West Virginia and hot in New Orleans were two entirely different things.
Her ribs were the last thing to heal, and while she wasn’t as tightly bound as before, she still had to be careful. No lifting anything too heavy and no tight hugs.
Bowie had helped her hang up all her clothes on the first day in their temporary new home, and then they’d made love first on the bare mattress, then later after she’d put on the sheets, and then that night they’d made love again simply because they could.
The heat here sapped what strength she had regained, so during the hottest part of the day she stayed indoors in their new apartment.
She’d brought everything with her from home that she wanted to keep and had put the house up for sale. She had her mother’s china and hutch, the sideboard that had belonged to her Aunt Jewel, the old desk from her daddy’s office on the railroad, and bits and pieces of the history that made her who she was; but she’d only unpacked the bare essentials, because they were already in constant house shopping mode on every day Bowie had off.
She’d recently gotten a phone call from Chief Clayton, letting her know that Justin Wayne had taken the insanity plea and in return had been sentenced to a mental facility, with intermittent evaluations to assess his ability to blend back into society. Bowie was disgusted, but she was too happy now to hang on to the past.
A day or so later Leigh called to tell them that Jack Wayne had also made a deal. Rather than go to trial and face a death sentence, he’d opted for life without parole.
Bowie had heard the tension in her voice.
“How do you feel about that, Mama?” he’d asked.
“It’s going to be hell on earth for a man like him to be in prison. I’m fine with him being in hell.”
And that was when Bowie had smiled.
“That sounds like the Mama I know and love.”
He’d heard her sigh. “I’m getting there,” she’d said. “Jesse says hello and to bring him another baby to play with.”
Bowie laughed.
“Do me a favor and get him a puppy instead. We’re just fine like we are for a while.”