Chapter 9 - The Blue Plates
Two years later.
The autumn air was crisp in upstate New York. I stood in the kitchen of our new cabin, watching the leaves turn brilliant shades of gold and red through the window.
I heard the crunch of gravel outside, followed by the joyful screams of my grandsons.
I wiped my hands on my apron and opened the front door.
Sarah’s minivan was parked in the driveway. Her boys were already running across the lawn, straight toward Mark, who was carrying an armful of firewood toward the porch.
“Grandpa Mark!” the youngest yelled, tackling Mark’s leg.
Mark laughed, dropping the wood to scoop the boy up, swinging him around in the crisp air.
My heart swelled. We hadn’t just repaired our lives; we had built a new one. Sarah had embraced Mark completely, grateful for the man who had finally brought genuine happiness to her mother’s life.
Richard was serving ten years in federal prison for embezzlement. He had written a few letters, full of excuses and demands for forgiveness. I returned them all unopened.
I walked out onto the porch as Sarah came up the steps, carrying a pecan pie.
“You look amazing, Mom,” Sarah smiled, kissing my cheek.
“I feel amazing,” I said.
We walked inside together. The cabin was warm, filled with the smell of roasting turkey and cinnamon.
“Can I set the table?” Sarah asked.
“Please,” I pointed to the dining room. “Use the good china.”
Sarah walked to the hutch and opened the glass doors. She carefully pulled out a stack of plates and carried them to the long oak table.
They were beautiful, heavy ceramic plates. Blue, with little white flowers around the rim.
Mark had tracked down the exact vintage pattern from the department store I had mentioned in my letters. He had bought the entire set and given them to me on our wedding day last spring.
Mark walked in, dusting wood chips off his flannel shirt. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and kissed the top of my head.
“Table looks good,” he murmured.
May you like
I leaned back into him, completely safe, completely loved, and finally home.
“Yes,” I smiled, watching our family gather around the table. “It looks perfect.”
