Page 29 of Came the Closest
Graham and Ember exchange a look that makes him scowl while she grins. She says “yes” at the same time as he says “no.”
“Oh, hey, before I forget.” Colton disappears down the hall. Pale pink tissue paper pokes out from the top of a white gift bag when he returns. “I meant to give this to you guys a while ago and I forgot. Thanks for letting me borrow the paper from your shop, Em.”
“Anytime,” she says cheerfully.
Graham sets the pitcher on the island and narrows his eyes as he reaches into the bag. He pulls out a small, oval shaped wooden sign. An almost reluctant smile tugs at his mouth as he turns it for Ember to read.
“A lovely lady,” she reads aloud, “and a grumpy man live here.”
“Awwww.” Jordan steps into the house with a hand pressed to his cheek. “That’s so disturbingly accurate it hurts!”
The comment earns him glares from both of his brothers.
“I wanna see!” Jolene bursts into the kitchen, pauses to look at the sign in Graham’s hand, and throws herself into Colton’s legs. “Did you get something for me, too, Uncle Coat?”
Colton swings her onto his shoulders. “You’re not getting married.”
“For at least fifty years,” Jordan adds.
“All right.” Lizzie herds everyone toward the door. “Everyone out. Except for my darling eldest grandson to help carry dessert to the table.”
Jordan tips his head back in surprise. “Me? What about Graham and Colton?”
“We’re here to grab a game,” Graham says.
Ember lifts the pitcher. “And for more water.”
“I’m typically here for food,” Colton says. “Or comic relief.”
“Graham is the groom,” Lizzie says, patting Jordan’s cheek affectionately, “and Collie is entertaining your daughter.”
Jolene shrieks with laughter when Colton bows, keeping his hands firmly braced on her legs. Graham smirks at his oldest brother before he and Ember cross to the board game shelf in the living room, his hand at her lower back. Beyond the open doors, Sam leans down while Milo talks animatedly to him. Indi, Cheyenne, and Sydney discuss something that makes all three young women smile, Indi’s attention pausing to check on Milo every few seconds. Beside me, Lizzie and Jordan go back and forth about how many dessert cups he can carry without dropping any.
It's not my family—not by blood or by marriage—but it feels like my heart family. And maybe that’s the truest family of all.
When I get downstairs after reading bedtime stories with Jolene—she insisted on five, which is three more than usual—Sam isn’t reading in his chair like I expected. His Patrick Lencioni novel sits on the side table beside a torn cork coaster from The Pier, but Sam is nowhere to be found. I double back and check his home office—empty. I check the laundry room—nothing. I know he’s not upstairs because his bedroom was dark when I walked by a couple minutes ago.
Settling my softest cashmere cardigan around my shoulders, I quietly let myself outside. It doesn’t look like Sam is sitting in his Adirondack chair, but maybe he went down to the dock (installed, after much debate, by his go-to installers). He wants to put up a brighter light so it’s easier to—
Light blazes to life in front of me. I blink as I stop in my tracks, trying to comprehend the scene before me. Loose stemmed purple dahlias form a narrow path down to the dock, bulb lights have been strung from dock post to dock post, and in the center of it all, Sam stands tall and broad.
My Sam, wearing my favorite navy suit with a white dress shirt and a silky lavender pocket square.
I approach the dock slowly, only then realizing fully what’s happening. My steps slow and my awareness of my own appearance heightens—a simple white sundress and sherbet orange cardigan, curls frizzing around my face.
“Sam…” My voice hovers barely above a whisper.
Smile lines crease Sam’s whiskered cheeks as he holds out a steady hand to me. When I take it and I step onto the dock, I know. I know this will be the hand I hold for the rest of my life. The hand that supports me on difficult days, applauds me on the outstanding days, and simply holds me on quiet ones.
It strikes me now, only hours later, why he was wearing his thinking face.
Wordlessly, Sam squeezes my hand before he slowly lowers to one knee. Or maybe he’s not moving slowly at all; maybe I just want the moment to go slow enough to move so slowly that I remember every detail.
The tepid breeze twisting his salt and pepper hair above his deeply tanned forehead. The way his palm sweats under mine, like maybe he feels a little bit nervous, too. Purple dahlia petals that contrast the weathered white boards of the dock. The navy of his suit jacket making his eyes reflect deeper blue in the twilight.
How bulb lights sparkle against an elegant solitaire resting in a red velvet box he holds up between us in the sticky air.
“Hazel,” he begins and then stops. He smiles, crinkles fanning around his soft eyes. “Lilah. I have loved you since you became the girl next door when we were seven years old. We didn’t know it back then, that our futures would hold so much time apart. By no small miracle, we were also led here. I can’t promise to be perfect, and I’m not sure I’ll ever know why I deserved you twice. But I can promise you, my dear, that I will always love you.” He pauses, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “Hazel Delilah Palmer, will you marry me? Will you let me love you for the rest of my life?”