“Thought you might say that.” Letting her go, I placed our empty glasses in the sink. “That’s why I asked him to set up a charity for any of the kids found who the Mclary’s hurt.”
Della froze. “You did?”
“You’ll need to sign the forms, seeing as you’re the main trustee, but I knew you wouldn’t want their money, and at least, this way, it can be put to righting some of their wrongs.”
Over the years, the police had found one or two children who’d been sold. The man who’d purchased has-been workers still hadn’t been captured, but newspapers had kept track of the story, spreading composite sketches and even a photo that one of the kids—now in his thirties—had of him.
No one mentioned if my mother had been found—just as I requested. And the case was only shared when good news could be given.
Their evil might never be fully erased, but at least some souls had been saved.
“You’re the best, husband of mine.”
“I’m only what you made me, wife of mine.”
“Wrong. You’re Ren Wild. The boy who survived and is still surviving.”
Kissing her, I murmured, “And I’ll keep surviving…for as long as I can.”
* * * * *
2030
“Jacob, come here. I found a clue.”
My voice vibrated with love as the lanky eight-year-old charged over the field toward me, his face alight and blond hair glowing.
He was the perfect blend of Della and me. Slightly wary of people but entirely fearless in nature. Blond hair from her and dark eyes from me. Quiet seriousness mixed with effortless charm.
Della had turned thirty, and I’d knocked on forty—time extending the dream I didn’t think I’d have, watching my son change from kid to boy, and my wife grow in wisdom and kindness every day.
The blue overalls Jacob had dressed in—that were usually reserved for helping me grease and oil the tractor—had paint splashes down the front and a bunny sticker stuck to his chest. His nose had a green spot, and his hands had red and yellow streaks from decorating Easter eggs earlier today.
The entire Wilson crew had come together to enjoy a holiday we hadn’t celebrated before.
It had been Della’s idea.
Our kitchen had become a warzone of glitter, stickers, and gemstones as the kids decorated eggs in whatever fashion they chose.
Once the novelty of covering themselves and everything else in paint faded, Della and I ushered everyone outside and gave each group of kids a clue to start a chocolate treasure hunt, then set them loose on Cherry River, searching barns, stables, tack rooms, rivers, and grottos.
“Where’s the clue?” Jacob asked, his wicker basket knocking against his legs as he slammed to a stop.
I pointed at the chicken coop ahead. Chocolate eggs were mixed with real eggs and the key to collecting them was to scatter a handful of feed for the protective mother hens. “In there. Better go fast; otherwise, Nina is gonna pinch all the good stuff.”
“Oh, no she won’t.” He took off with a whoosh of wildflowers, tripping a little in his haste.
Della laughed softly. “You really know how to wind him up.”
“Only because I remember how easy it was to wind you up when you were that age.”
She took my hand, linking our fingers. “I was never that competitive.”
“Bah!” I laughed, cursing my lungs when it turned into a coughing fit. “I just had to mention something you shouldn’t do, and you just had to do it.”
Sunshine dappled her beside me. Her hair was longer—almost down to her ass. Her jeans scuffed and weathered. Her grey jacket torn on the wrist and grass-stained on the elbow.
A typical wardrobe for us.
A normal acceptance that we were part of the wilderness, and a little dirt never hurt anybody.
Seeing her so simple and innocent and gorgeous, I no longer cared about trailing after the chocolate hunting kids.
I wanted to stand still for a moment with the girl of my heart.
Tugging her hand, I waited until she faced me, then looped my arms around her hips. “Hi.” I nuzzled her, inhaling her scent and growing instantly hard.
There was something about this woman that I would never get sick of.
No matter how many years we spent together.
No matter how many miracles I burned through to stay by her side.
I would never stop wanting her, loving her, needing her.
Della tipped her head up, her blue eyes begging for a kiss.
I obliged, lowering my mouth to hers, granting a soft hello before slipping into a sinful command. Pressing her against me, I swayed with her in the meadow, allowing the breeze to shift us this way and that, tuning out the world until it was just us again.
Us as children.
Us as newlyweds.
Us with our entire world spread at our feet.
When we broke apart, we both breathed heavier, and my eyes lingered on our house in the distance, wondering if it would be rude to drag her back to bed.