Page 50 of Redemption
Marco and I grab the bags and load them into a red seaplane that sits in the hangar. The more I allow myself to live in the moment, the more surreal it becomes.
My brother and I are loading luggage into the family seaplane. Because I have a brother. Who has a family seaplane.
I don’t know when having a brother will feel normal, but it still fills me with emotions and feelings I haven’t had time to fully process in the mad dash to get out of the country.
But first … my mother.
Seeing the hot-air balloon with a giant red heart on the side of the silk, floating amid the thermal currents of the sky, still seems the most surreal of it all.
My mother is welcoming me home. Tears prick my eyes at the very thought—an unusual sensation, to be sure. One I haven’t felt many times in my life, but today, it seems all bets are off. Everything I thought I knew and understood about life and my place in the world has been replaced by a reality that has not yet become fully clear.
I picture the woman in the jet, with the dignified posture and beautiful silver hair, dropping to her knees and crying as she beheld me and clutched my hands.
The prick of tears turns to a sting, and I haul in a deep breath. Hold it together, Mount. You’re not going to start crying now. Keep it tight.
Despite all the violent and dangerous moments that I’ve faced in my life, this one has me nearly coming apart at the seams. This is the one that has me nearly breaking—and all I’m doing is loading bags into a plane.
Get it together.
Like I have so many times in the past few years, I turn to Keira. My beautiful wife. My strength, even if she doesn’t know it. Her shining red hair glints in the shaft of Italian sunlight cutting through the shadows of the hangar as our daughter rests peacefully on her shoulder.
“I love you,” I tell her, and her gaze cuts to mine.
I can read the questions in her eyes at my sudden declaration, but I don’t care if it seems out of place. It’s the truth. She knows it. I know it. And I couldn’t not say it right now.
Her lips curve into a sweet smile. “I love you too. Are you okay?”
I nod slowly. “I’m about to introduce my wife and daughter to my mother. I’m so far beyond okay that I couldn’t possibly tell you what I am right now.”
Marco overhears my statement, and his entire face softens. It’s not a look I’m used to seeing in the mirror, but I love seeing it on the face we share regardless. It fills me with the hope that, someday, it might be a look that Keira sees on my face more often. Less harsh control over my environment and more peace.
Peace.
The one thing that’s been lacking in my life for its entirety. Keira and Aurora taught me love, but peace has eluded me … until perhaps now, if I’m lucky. And the thumping of my heart in my chest makes me feel that I am indeed lucky. I know that I’ve lived this long only to experience this moment of homecoming. This moment of family. This moment of joy.
No one would say I deserved it.
They would all be right.
But I’m going to live it anyway, deserved or not. No one is taking this from me.
“Are you ready to board?” Marco asks as he shuts the door of the cargo hold.
I look to Keira and hold out a hand. “Ladies first.”
As she takes a step toward me and grasps my hand with her free one, she squeezes hard. “I can’t wait. Let’s do this.”
“I’ll take Rory. Up you go.” With a smooth handoff, I kiss my daughter’s face and stabilize Keira as she climbs up the ladder, over the pontoon, and into the plane. As soon as she’s settled, I climb up and strap in beside her.
Five minutes later, Marco is strapped into the cockpit. “Put on your headsets. One for Rory too. It will be loud.”
After the three of us are situated with onboard ear protection, Marco performs all of his in-cockpit preflight checks, makes a notation on a clipboard, and turns around to give us a nod. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Keira and I both reply. “Loud and clear.”
“Then, away we go.”
With Aurora in my arms, the engine of the plane roars to life. We’re rolling forward out of the hangar, and I’m grateful to see no one standing in our way, trying to prevent us from taking off.
