Page 95 of Slaughter
“I’ve started a garden,” I said. “Just a small one behind the cabin. Herbs mostly, and some flowers. Jasmine, because it reminds me of the night Chapman and I first came together. Lavender, because Faith always said it was calming. Roses, because Stella told me they were your favorite. It’s not much yet, but I’m hoping by next spring it’ll be something beautiful. Something Aurora can play in when she’s older.”
The breeze picked up again, and I pulled the blanket more securely around Aurora’s sleeping form.
“Chapman’s doing better,” I said quietly. “He still has hard days. Days when the grief hits him out of nowhere and he has to step away to collect himself. But they’re getting fewer and farther between. And when they come, he doesn’t shut me out anymore. He lets me hold him. Lets me sit with him in the silence. Lets me remind him that it’s okay to miss you, that loving me doesn’t mean forgetting you.”
I took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything I’d been carrying settle more comfortably on my shoulders.
“I wanted to ask your permission,” I whispered. “I know that probably sounds ridiculous—you’re gone, and I’m here, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me from loving them. But it matters to me. It matters that you know I’m going to take care of them. That I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure they’re happy and safe and loved.”
Aurora stirred slightly in her sleep, her tiny hand curling into a fist against my chest.
“I’m going to be a good mother to her,” I vowed, my voice breaking. “I’m going to read her bedtime stories and kiss her scraped knees and teach her that she’s strong and capable and worthy of love. I’m going to make sure she knows that having two mothers who love her, one in heaven and one here on Earth, doesn’t make her any less whole. It makes her twice as blessed.”
Tears were streaming down my face now, but I didn’t bother wiping them away.
“And I’m going to love your husband,” I continued. “Not the way you loved him. I could never do that. But in my own way. Fiercely and completely and without holding back. I’m going to stand beside him through whatever comes, and I’m going to make sure he knows every single day that choosing me wasn’t a betrayal of you. It was him choosing to keep living. To keep loving. To honor your memory by building the life you wanted for him.”
I pressed another kiss to Aurora’s head, feeling her warm weight against me like an anchor.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For loving him so well that he knew how to love me. For giving him Aurora, who’s brought more light into our lives than I ever thought possible. For sacrificing everything so she could be here. I’ll make sure she knows what that means. I’ll make sure she understands that her very existence is a testament to how much you loved her.”
The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in shades of gold and amber. I knew Chapman would be looking for us soon. He had given me space to come here alone with Aurora, but he would worry if we were gone too long.
“I should go,” I said softly, carefully gathering Aurora into my arms as I stood. “But I’ll come back. I’ll bring her every week, just like Chapman does. And I’ll tell her about you. About thewoman who gave her life. About the love story that brought her into this world.”
I reached out and placed my hand on the headstone, feeling the cool granite beneath my palm.
“Rest easy, Julie,” I whispered. “Your family is safe. Your daughter is loved. And your husband... he’s going to be okay. We both are.”
Aurora shifted in my arms, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. I adjusted the blanket around her and started walking back toward the clubhouse where Chapman was waiting, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and his eyes on the mountains.
When he saw us approaching, his face softened into a smile, the kind of smile that still took my breath away even after two months of marriage.
“How’d it go?” he asked quietly as I reached him.
“Good,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Really good.”
He pulled me close with one arm, careful not to jostle Aurora, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Thank you for doing that. For talking to her. It means a lot.”
“She deserved to know,” I said simply.
Chapman’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked down at our sleeping daughter. “Yeah. She did.”
We stood there for a moment, the three of us, wrapped in the golden light of the Tennessee sunset. And for the first time since leaving Oklahoma, I felt completely at peace.
This was my family now.
This was my home.
And I was exactly where I was meant to be.
THE END
