I was officially done with the Fishers.
Major changes quickly occurred in the aftermath of that day.
Timothy was charged with attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, stalking, trespassing, and possession of an unregistered weapon. He was currently sitting somewhere in a Tennessee jail cell, probably still plotting his revenge.
A part of me wished he had died. It would be so much easier to wake up every day knowing that Timothy Fisher no longer breathed air.
But I wasn’t a murderer. And that was the difference – one of many – between Tim and me.
Paul promised me that he would keep immediate tabs on Tim’s situation, and I didn’t even have to question how. The man had connections everywhere.
And he used them for good.
Paul Hardick wasn’t my father, but he was the first clear picture of what a father – rich or poor or in between – should look like. He would do anything to keep his family safe. His life didn’t matter without his family.
They were his everything.
Kate was also sitting in a cell, but hers was in the mental ward at a state facility. She had obviously lost it a long time ago, but after this incident, and with the “trauma” of not being allowed to take my son straight from me, she’d gone over an edge that was much steeper than her first fall from sanity.
It hurt, and I knew it would for a long time – maybe forever – to think about the fact that I had trusted her. Loved her. Looked at her as a mother figure, if not an older sister.
And the oddest part about it all was that she really had helped me escape. She’d done it for the wrong reasons, but she’d still saved me. Got me away from that shithole motel. Gave me a roof over my head – my first ever “place” that I could sort of call my own.
Kate had encouraged me to give Penn a chance, and again, for the wrong reasons. Pushing me into the arms of a Hardick brother was supposed to have payed out big for both her and Tim.
Obviously, that hadn’t happened.
But Penn had happened. Penn and I had happened.
The Hardick’s utterly embraced me after that day. I had my own room in Penn’s wing – we were taking it slow...ish – and I even had a job. Jessie was training me to help in the office for when she went back to college.
Penn loved the idea, as he was in the office off and on throughout each and every day. He assured me that I was the best assistant he’d ever had.
I knew he was mildly biased.
Murphy had two new best friends, and when he wasn’t busy falling deeply in love with Jessie, he was sure to be found playing with Avonlea and Braden. The affect it had on Pierce to see his children happy and playing was visible. Pierce started smiling once in a while, and even laughing on occasion.
I thought that someday he might even be able to consider love again. But that was his own journey, and Penn and I both steered clear of the subject around him.
I had faith. If an orphan like me could make it through the hell I had and find love – because, yes, I love Penn Hardick, and it was no longer something I accidentally let slip out but purposely said often – then Pierce might be able to as well.
Payden was instantly the sweet, shy older brother that I never had. He taught me how to tack the horses up, how to clean their hooves, and most importantly, how to ride. Tianna was officially declared “Valerie’s horse”.
It was weird at first, being called Valerie after months of being Anne. But it was nice, to feel like I could finally stop hiding. I was who I was. I’d lived through what I’d lived through. This was me, take it or leave it.
Penn took it rather often.
The atmosphere of the ranch was like a living, moving balm for all of my wounds. For everyone’s wounds really. The scenery, the daily “work”, the horses, the visitors, and dear God, the campfires (Penn’s ultimate favorite)… It was impossible not to heal – or at least not to begin to heal.
Preston was really the only one who no one knew what to do with. His heart was golden, but his playboy ways weren’t slowing down anytime soon. Penn thought that Preston would always be like that, because he’d always been like that. And though I had to admit that Pres seemed pretty happy with the way his life was, I sensed somewhere, deep down inside that “whatever, I don’t care” soul, was a little kid who missed his mom, and a grown man who craved his own family.
Penn openly wanted his own family. He was absolutely enamored with Murphy, and vice versa. I knew we weren’t there yet, and I was enjoying just being alive, and free, and unafraid, and in love.
Occasionally I still had nightmares of Randall and the abuse, or Tim and the terror... even of my foster homes – the bad ones – and the fear and pain I’d experienced growing up. The difference now was, when I woke up panicking, or sweating, or crying, or even screaming – Penn was right there beside me.
He always had a kiss and an embrace to cancel out the nightmares. And instead of trying to keep me in his pocket like a piece of property, he pushed me to do things I’d never done. Consider things I’d written off long ago. View the world in a way that didn’t always involve doubt and despair.
I had a new life that was genuinely mine for the first time... ever.
And beyond my wildest dreams, I’d found not just true love, but an entire family.
Not a fairy tale, but better. Fairy tales were made up. This was real.
Epilogue
The firelight illuminated Valerie’s hair, making her look like a perfect, dancing doll. She was twirling in happy circles with our little girl, River. River was three now, Murphy was seven, and our newest little addition, Penn Jr., was happily observing everything from my arms.
Campfires were a place for family again. Not just visiting families.
The Hardick family.
Within the last five years, everyone had managed to come back to the one thing that my mother had loved so much. My brothers were happy. My father was happy. Everyone, even Preston, had figured out their path. And apparently they all intersected at this glowing little flame.
But I knew it wasn’t the campfire itself she had loved. It was the togetherness.
That was what she’d always wanted for us, and I knew her passing hadn’t changed anything. This was still what she would want to see, and I liked to think she was seeing it.
Over time, slowly but surely, Valerie had let down her walls. One by one by one. She told me childhood stories that were so awful they made my chest hurt. I wanted to go back and protect her. Right the wrongs. Take all of the blows – emotional and physical – for her.
That wasn’t something I’d been able to do, obviously. But just by loving her – patiently and calmly, I felt there was a deep repair happening inside of her soul. She became freer, more jubilant.
And soon after she became my wife.
I built (with quite a bit of help from Payden) a house for just her a little further back in the woods. Neither of us were comfortable in that giant house, and the smaller one suited us perfectly. It was cottage-esque, and the perfect place to make more babies.
She’d told me on more than one occasion that she hadn’t let herself dream I could possibly love her once I knew all of the details of her life. She somehow faulted herself, and I figured that would be an ongoing battle for her... maybe for the rest of her life.