Ramona has been reading my mind. “You have the power to write your happy ending. Think Nike and just do it,” she adds with a grin.
Just do it.
I take a deep breath and nod. Can’t bring myself to say I will, but maybe I can move in that direction.
She runs a hand through her long dark hair. “I’m pooped. I’m going to bed.” She gets up and starts for the hallway. But she turns before she vanishes into the bedroom. “First, finish that book. Let your heroine tell you what to do.”
I frown at her retreating back. Let my heroine tell me what to do. Stupid. My characters never talk to me. I talk to them. I’m the one in charge.
Maybe that’s why this last book hasn’t been going so well. I’m in no condition to be in charge of anyone’s love life, even if she’s fictional.
I decide to talk to my heroine, just like Ramona suggested.
“What should I do, Augusta?” I whisper.
Get me out of this forest,she demands.I need to find Henry and claim my happy ending.
Claim my happy ending. There it is—what both of us need.
I do get Augusta out of that forest. She finds a horse and rides all night, dodging bandits and wolves and things that go bump in the night. By dawn she has found Henry, and they’ve vowed never to be parted.
“I know now that love is worth any risk,” Augusta says as Henry holds her in his arms. He’s looking at her, but I can feel her looking over his shoulder at me.
I email the manuscript to my editor and then grab my cell phone and call Carwyn.
“Hailey,” he says in surprise. “What time is it out there?”
“It’s time for me to show that I’m all in. I won’t be a quitter,” I say.
I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “All right. You just made my day. No, my year.”
Maybe I’ve made mine too. We’ll have to see what happens next.
Ten
Seeing him standing there, she knew she had to trust her heart this time.
—Hailey Fairchild,What the Heart Knows
Carwyn sends me flowers for Valentine’s Day. He calls and we talk for hours.
He comes to visit over Presidents’ Day weekend, and we do all the tourist things—the Staten Island Ferry, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building.
We wind up at the September 11 Memorial & Museum. It’s a sobering reminder of how short life is and how quickly we can lose those who are important to us. I don’t want to lose Carwyn. And I don’t want him to lose precious time with his father.
We talk every day after he leaves, and by the time I fly back to Cascade to spend spring break with him, I know what I need to do to get my happy ending. In all my stories it’s the hero who sacrifices for his woman, but in my real-life story, I realize I need to be the one to sacrifice. After all, heroes aren’t the only ones who can give their all for love.
Anyway, I’m not sure this is that great a sacrifice. I can write anywhere. And really, what’s to fear about moving back? Gwendolyn? Pfft. Who cares if I run into her in the grocery store? I certainly won’t be seeing her at Hair Today. As for her posse, most of them have moved away. All that remains are their ghosts, and I’m not afraid ofghosts. I’m not afraid of anything. My time away, even my mistletoe fails, forged me into a new woman, and that new woman can thrive anywhere. Thriving with the people who love me best—what’s not to like about that? And New York will always be there.
For visits.
On the last night of my spring break trip, I go to Carwyn’s place and cook dinner for him. And make my big announcement. “I’m moving back to Cascade.”
He looks at me, hopeful and yet afraid to hope. “Seriously? Are you sure?”
I nod.
Now he looks like he’s just won the lottery, with a big grin on his face. “Oh, man, Hailey,” is all he gets out before he wraps me in a python hug and kisses me so hard I see stars. I’m so happy I feel like I’ve caught a whole galaxy in my hands.
