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Authors: Jane Harvey-Berrick

 

Sebastian looked concerned. “What is it, baby?”

 

I slumped down onto the couch, and handed him the letter without speaking.

 

“Lawyers?”

 

He sat down next to me and read through the pages.

 

When he
’d finished, he set the letter down and wrapped his good arm around me, pulling me against his chest.

 

“I didn
’t know,” I whispered. “She never said anything. I knew Liz didn’t have any family, but I never thought…”

 

“It
’s a lot of money, baby. What are you going to do with it?”

 

I shook my head. I was still trying to process the information.

 

The letter was from Dougal and Bright, Liz’s lawyers. She’d named me in her Will and had left me everything – her entire estate. She hadn’t owned much, but her small apartment in north London was worth over $550,000.

 

“Why did she leave it to me? We were friends, but… I don
’t understand.”

 

“What don
’t you understand, Caro? She loved you. Why do you always have a hard time realizing that, baby?”

 

I shrugged.

 

“This is good news,” he said, stroking my hair. “Out of all of this shit, it’s something good.”

 

“I know
. It’s just… so unexpected.”

 

He hesitated before he spoke again. “It
’ll pay off your mortgage: you wouldn’t have to work overseas… if you didn’t want to…”

 

I knew what he was trying to say, but I couldn
’t make a decision like that here and now.

 

“Anyway, it
’s
our
money,” I said quietly.

 

Sebastian shook his head angrily.

 

“I’m not going to take your fucking money, Caro!”

 

I placed my hand over his mouth, cutting off his
stormy words.

 

“I mean it, Sebastian.
Either we’re in this together, or we’re not. If you won’t accept it, then I won’t accept it. I’ll give it to the Journalism Without Borders charity before I let this money come between us. You said yourself we deserved some good luck.”

 

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

 

“She didn’t even like me, Caro. There’s no way she’d want me to have anything to do with your inheritance. Hell, as far as she was concerned, I was just fucking you for something to do and…”

 

“You
’re wrong. She knew all about us.”

 

His rant ground to a halt; he looked stunned.

 

“She did?”

 

“Of course. I told her everything – and I told her we were going to get married.”

 

Sebastian leaned back and stared at me. “You told her? Everything?”

 

“Yes, tesoro.”

 

He scratched his eyebrow thoughtfully. “What did she say?”

 

I gave him a small smile. “She wanted to know if you were as good in bed as she
’d heard.”

 

I thought he was going to choke, but then I saw a wicked gleam in his eye. “And what did you say?”

 

I gave him a prim look. “Nothing, of course… although…”

 

“Although what?”

 

“I may have winked at her.”

 

He
smirked at me.

 

“Sebastian,
” I said, my voice serious, “if it hadn’t been for me, you would have gone to college, gotten your degree…”

 

I waved away his denial.

 

“We both know that’s true: well, here we are – I can pay off the mortgage, you can use the GI bill, go to college, get your degree, if that’s what you want.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably. “It doesn
’t feel right, Caro. Let me think about it.”

 

He was so frustrating, I wanted to hit him. Or kiss him. Probably both.

 

And, as we were on a roll, I decided to tackle one more task that we’d both been putting off.

 

I took a deep breath.

 

“Sebastian,” I said, gently, “it’s time you decided what you want to do with your uniforms – and your medals.”

 

His sudden, sharp intake of breath showed how hard he found this, but he nodded
slowly, staring at the floor. Then he squared his shoulders and met my steady gaze.

 


Okay. Let’s do it.”

 

We stood up and I took him by the hand, leading him into the spare room. He
leaned against the door frame, his arms folded tightly across his chest. I gave him a quick, encouraging smile, then pulled out his duffel bag and backpack from under the bed.

 

His Dress Blues and khaki Service Uniform were crumpled and rather
sad when I dragged them out. There was no sign of his desert utility uniform; I didn’t want to think about the reason why – I assumed the doctors would have had to cut him out of it when...

 

He stared at the clothes
coldly, keeping all his emotions tightly contained.

 

“Get rid of them, Caro. I don
’t want to see them again.”

 

“And the medals?”

 

His Service Uniform was festooned with an array of colorful ribbons and medals. I ran through them in my mind, as I touched them one by one: his Afghanistan Campaign Medal, Marine Commendation Medal, Meritorious Service Medal, Navy and Marine Corps Overseas Service Ribbon, National Defense Service Medal, Defense Meritorious Service Medal, and a Navy and Marine Corps Medal. And, still in its presentation box at the bottom of his backpack, his Purple Heart, for being wounded in action.

 

As Sebastian watched, I opened the box, stroking
the ridges of silky ribbon, and ran my finger over the embossed words, ‘For military merit’.

 

“Do what you want with them,” he said, his face creasing with pain. “I don
’t want to see them. Ever.”

 

I took a
nother deep breath.

 

“You don
’t want to save them to… maybe… show our children… if…”

 

He looked up suddenly, a smile hovering around his lips. “You… you
’d try?”

 


Yes, Sebastian…
we
will try.”

 

He let out a shout of pure happiness and scooped me up, twirling me around.

 

“Let’s start trying right now,” he breathed out onto my skin.

 

“I
’m still on the Pill!” I laughed.

 

“Doesn
’t matter,” he murmured into my neck. “I want to practice.”

 

I kissed him hard
, as he walked me backwards into our bedroom.

 

As Sebastian had once said, if children happened, we
’d welcome them, if not, well, that was okay, too.

 

We had our whole lives ahead of us.

 
 

Epilogue

 

When a woman reaches forty, she is no longer young, but not yet old. My friends had offered this piece of wisdom on my birthday
seven months ago.

 

And yet, it seemed that my life was starting again, or, perhaps I should say, entering a new phase.

 

Surrounded by love, my beautiful 28 year old husband stood at my side, and in front of our friends, we were joined together by the sacred vows of marriage.

 

Marc, between assignments, had flown in from France
and we’d had an evening drinking to Liz’s memory, recalling her humor and craziness, her warmth and strength – crying just a little. And the day before, Ches and his family had arrived from San Diego. His children had peered at me shyly until they spotted Sebastian, and then they’d tried to throw themselves at him, their mother gently restraining them, afraid they’d hurt him. He waved away her concerns and let them climb all over him. It was a wonderful thing to see and my spirits soared, full of hope for the future.

 

Mitch and Shirley had arrived from South Carolina, and Shirley wept copiously,
apologizing over and over. I finally realized that she was apologizing for not having received my letter seven years earlier. We cried together and hugged each other, and agreed to leave the past in the past. Even Donna had flown up for our special day, although Johan had been too ill to travel. Donna had written to us with their congratulations as soon as Shirley had given them the good news. It was strange to see her after all those years, but having her there – smiling with maternal pride – somehow everything had come full circle.

 

Nicole, Jenna and
Alice were there to support me: Nicole determinedly arguing until the last second that I should go on at least one shopping spree to find a bridal outfit; and me stating with equal determination that it would never happen.

 

My friends
’ initial wariness of Sebastian had long since worn off, and they treated him something like a younger brother, much to his irritation and my amusement.

 

Sebastian stood by my side in front of the
deputy clerk at City Hall and promised to love me every day for the rest of his life. I cried tears of joy, and said I would never again let anything separate us.

 

The day was cold and clear, and the crystal sun shone on our small party as we celebrated the life that Sebastian and I were, at last, going to have.

 

Despite the difficulties we had been through, despite the difficulties we had yet to face, I had never been happier in my whole life, full of hope and gazing through tears at the man I loved. We were beginning again, or, perhaps, adding a new chapter to our story.

 

The bride wore jeans.

 

 

 

THE END

 
 

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