Teaching Willow: Session Four (9 page)

EPILOGUE- WILLOW

Three months later

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask Ebon as we pull to a stop exactly one block away from my parents’ house.

The smile he gives me is steady and unwavering, much like Ebon himself.  “Absolutely.  You need this.  And I want this for you, for our future.”

I inhale deeply and exhale slowly.  “Alright. You asked for it.”

He reaches over to take my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  “I did.  Because I’d do anything for you.  And I know how important this is.”

I lean my head against the headrest and just stare at this wonderful man.  “How in the world did I get so lucky?”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. It was fate, plain and simple. You were made for me.  Just for me.”

I smile into his luminous eyes.  I love his possessiveness.  It’s thrilling to be wanted so much and comforting to be cared for so much.  As long as Ebon is by my side, I know that there is nothing to fear from life.  Or from people.  I have everything I need in him.

 He accelerates through the stop sign and takes the next left, putting us on the street where I grew up.  “Second one on the right,” I tell him.

As he eases the car into the driveway, I see the curtains in the living room move. I’m not at all surprised that my parents were watching for us, all too curious, I’m sure, to see what Ebon drives and how we act when we think no one is watching.  When he shifts into park and cuts the engine, I lean over to kiss him gently on the lips and rub my nose against his.  He stretches his big palm across my near-bursting belly, which he so often does, reminding me of the connection that we share, of the family that we will soon become. 

“Don’t worry, baby.  It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I trust you.”

He smiles.  “Good. You should.”

Ebon gets out and comes around to my side to open the door and help my awkward ass out of the car.  I can just imagine how my mother gasped and covered her mouth and how my father’s lips thinned in fury when they saw me just now.  There’s no mistaking my current maternal state and this is the first they’ve heard of it. 

We amble up the sidewalk toward the front door, Ebon’s hand resting comfortingly on my achy lower back.  When we stop, he clacks the knocker against the front door.  Even such a small act, one he performs without hesitation or intimidation, reminds me that he’s in charge and that I’m in good hands.  The best hands. 
His
hands.

My father opens the door, disapproval written all over his face. 

“Mr. Masters,” Ebon begins casually.  “A pleasure to see you again, sir.”  He offers his hand.  Dad glares at it for at least five seconds before he takes it. 

When he doesn’t say anything immediately, I ask, “Can we come in?”

“Of course,” my mother says, piping up from behind him.  Being the uppity person that she is, I can always count on her to mind her manners in front of strangers.  “Can I get you something to drink?” she asks, her eyes and her haughty expression trained on Ebon.

“No, I’m fine, thanks.  Willow?” he asks, turning to me, always considerate.

“A glass of water would be nice, Mom.”

She nods and floats off to the kitchen in her beauty queen way.  I’ve always thought my mom acts as though she’s on life’s big beauty pageant stage, with her fake smile and her practiced grace.  Few people know what she’s really like. She’s a very convincing actress.  Sage is the same way, only without all the polish or pretense.  Her vapidness is pretty much out there for all the world to see, whereas Mom hides it well in most cases.

Dad leads us into the living room and Mom quickly returns with a tall glass of water, brimming with ice cubes and garnished with a lemon wedge and a mint leaf.  Hoity toity.

Ebon and I sit together on the couch.  He immediately takes my fingers and laces them with his own before resting our entwined hands on his thigh.  If there was any doubt about why he’s here or what our relationship is (which I seriously doubt there could’ve been), he put it to rest with this subtle statement.  He’s laying claim.

My mother perches demurely on the edge of a small settee while my father stands across from us, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his face rolling with thunder.

“I see that you’ve further disgraced my daughter, Daniels,” Dad snaps without preamble. 

Ebon’s fingers tighten around mine for a fraction of a second before they relax again.  His expression isn’t overtly hostile, but I know him well enough to read him when others probably can’t.  My father has no idea that he’s treading on thin ice.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Masters, but maybe I can put your mind at ease,” Ebon says politely.  He glances at me, his lips going from a tight, controlled smile to a genuine and warm one. His eyes are alight with love, making my chest glow with an inner heat that only he can achieve.  When he turns his attention back to my father, I leave my eyes on him.  I’d much rather look at Ebon, full of happiness and love, than my father, full of everything that makes me feel small and sick.  “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand.”

Silence falls like a blanket across the room.  My parents couldn’t look more shocked or more displeased.  I couldn’t feel more surprised or more elated.  I thought we were simply here to let my parents know about the baby.

“Wh-what?” I ask, happily stunned. 

When he brings his eyes back to mine, they’re shining.  I know that if I had a mirror, mine would look the same way. 

“You’ve got some nerve,” my father begins in his blustering way.  “If you think–”

Ebon’s head snaps back to Dad and he interrupts him, his voice like ice, cold and hard.  “All due respect, sir, but your answer isn’t going to stop me from marrying your daughter if she’ll have me.  I thought it would be nice if you could learn to love her and cherish her as much as I have, if you could see your way to being a part of her life and the lives of our children.  But.  Make no mistake, I
will
make Willow happy in this life, with or without you.  There will be no more intrusions into her life without her express consent.  There will be no more accusations, no more conversations with her doctors, no more decisions made outside her will and knowledge.  If you hear nothing else that I’ve said,
hear this
:  She is mine for as long as she’ll have me.  I will take care of her, whether you like it or not, and you will interfere with her wellbeing
only
if it’s over my dead, lifeless body.”  I’m convinced I could hear a pin drop from all the way across town.  Both my parents’ mouths are agape and Ebon is nothing short of fierce.  I’ve never been more proud to call him mine.  When they make no attempts to speak, he offers a chilly smile and asks politely, “I hope I was able to make myself clear.”

My father’s face, although red, shows a modicum of respect that I’ve never seen there before.  I can tell that he’d love to say something, probably something neither of us would like, but he shows restraint and simply nods instead.

Ebon returns his curt nod before he looks to me.  His expression softens instantly, taking on that subtle something that always melts my insides. 

He slides off the couch and falls to one knee at my feet.  When he removes a small black, velvet box from his pocket, my heart thumps to a stop.  He pops it open, revealing a gorgeous diamond ring.  When I raise my watering eyes to his, I see that his expression is full of all the adoration and wonderment that I feel every time I look at him, every time he kisses me or touches me, every time our child moves inside me.

“Willow Masters, will you marry me?  Will you let me take care of you for the rest of our days?  Let me love you and support you?  Provide for you and take care of you? Will you let me be a father to Talia and to all the other children we might be blessed with?  Will you be mine…forever?”

As always, hearing him say our daughter’s name–a name that we both chose as a reminder of what we’ve suffered, of where we came from and of how we made it to each other–gives me a surge of emotion.  The name of our child added to the amazing words he just spoke to me, in front of my family, is enough to crush me in the most beautiful way, right here for everyone to see.

When I don’t answer, too choked up and too awestruck to speak right away, he continues.  “I promise never to let anyone hurt you.  I promise never to let anyone take you away from me.  I’ll spend my life…my
whole life…
making sure that you’re as happy as one man can make the woman he loves.”  He leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek and whispering words that only I can hear.  “
I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it
.”  It’s a quote from Jane Austen’s
Persuasion. 
It’s perfect–that
we
would begin, that our love would be born through our passion for literature, and that he would integrate it into one of our life’s most important moments.  No one else would get it, no one else would understand.  But
I do. 
It’s ours.  Together.  A precious, gilded tie that binds our souls in yet another incredible way.

“I’m yours, Ebon.  I always have been.  All you ever had to do was ask.”

And with my parents looking on, with our child dancing in my stomach and with my soul mate’s arms wrapped around me, I finally let go of my past.  Ebon has helped me to learn how to embrace the future, without fear and without regret.  Now we can take the next step.

Together.

Always.

THE END

FROM THE HEART

To everyone who took the time to read this story, who took a chance on an unknown author, I am deeply and profoundly grateful. Thank you for making a girl’s dream come true.  I would be ecstatic if you could take the time to leave a few words in the form of a review.  Your thoughts are important to me and I’d love to hear them!

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