It wasn’t until the day of the funeral that she had absently opened the mail and seen the invitation to the Taggie in her hometown, and with it was a letter from Jace Montgomery. It was at that moment that she realized she was sick of it all. She was sick of constantly moving, of having no roots. She was sick of seeing her name in the newspaper, of having people take photos of her, of being asked the same stupid questions over and over. She wanted a home. She wanted what other people had.
Without another thought, she wrote Mr. Montgomery that she would accept his offer to return to Chandler and start a freight business, but she would not enter the race. She didn’t tell him or anyone else that she was afraid not of losing the race but of winning it.
Now, holding the torn and dirty invitation, she walked to the edge of the cliff and stood there looking out over the deep ravine. Wasn’t all of life invitations, she thought. Didn’t every person in the world constantly receive invitations? Some were golden, some made of lead; some were big and some little. Some were blatant and some subtle. But what made life interesting was which invitations a person chose to accept. Most people accepted only the safe invitations, ignoring the unusual or the ones that involved risk.
But Jackie had never been afraid of risk. Jackie had, as William had said, always done exactly what she wanted to do. She had accepted the invitation her mother had offered that said she could be different from the other children, that she could stay away from the other children who seemed to be stamped out of the same mold. She had accepted Charley’s invitation to live a life of adventure and excitement. And along the way she had accepted and refused invitations however she wanted to. All of it done without hesitancy, just doing what she instinctively knew was right for her and no one else.
But now William was offering her another invitation, probably the greatest invitation of her life, yet she was hesitating. Why was she hesitating? Because William was younger than she was? Or was there another reason?
Was she refusing William because she was afraid? Was she, as Nellie had said, afraid of what people would say? She’d never been afraid of that before. Or was she afraid of loving someone as much as she loved him? If she loved him this much now, how much would she love him after she saw him hold their child in his arms? How much would she love him after she’d lived with him for years, gotten to know him so well that his thoughts were as familiar to her as her own breath? What if she came to love him so much and then, like Charley, he died?
She’d been able to survive Charley’s death because she had always kept her independence. She had always kept her own identity, always been with him but separate from him at the same time. She’d loved Charley, but they had been two people. With William she didn’t feel separate. She felt as though they were one, as though they blended together, like two colors of paint being mixed. She was yellow, the color of the sun, an exciting color, while William was blue, the color of peace and tranquillity. Together they blended to make green, the color of the earth, the color of home.
She looked down at the ragged invitation in her hand, and after a moment a slow smile came to her lips. Raising her eyes skyward, she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. “I don’t care,” she whispered. Her smile grew broader and her voice louder. “I don’t care what happens in the future. All I want is now. I love him. I just plain love him, and that’s all that matters. Not what anyone else thinks matters. Nor does the future matter. I love him. Do you hear that?”
Her voice rose to a shout. “Do you hear that, world? I love him.”
Still smiling, she began to tear the invitation, first in half, then into quarters, again and again, until it lay in tiny bits in the palm of her hand. Then, raising her hand toward the sun, she lifted it palm upward and let the wind catch the bits. Like a flurry of tiny white butterflies, the pieces caught in the air, playing in the drafts, before sailing away down the canyon.
When the last piece was no longer in sight, she turned and started down the mountain.
They were there, waiting for her, Charley’s friends who had been flying since dawn looking for her. Many people from Chandler were there, too, curious, wanting something to break the monotony of life. There was Arnold, still apologizing for putting his foot in his mouth about her and William, explaining that he meant he didn’t know that Charley had any grown children. This time Jackie heard the truth in his voice, so she told him it was all right, then kept going, her eyes searching the crowd for any sign of William. But he wasn’t there. And it was right that he shouldn’t be. It was her time to go after him.
Jace Montgomery was standing at the bottom of the mountain, looking at her, his face searching hers, wanting an answer. Abruptly, it hit Jackie that everyone in town knew how much she and William loved each other, had always loved each other. Perhaps they had always been a couple in the eyes of the townspeople.
When Jace saw her expression, he smiled and a dozen years seemed to fall away from his handsome face. He didn’t say a word, but just pointed to a car parked nearby, and Jackie strode toward it. What was it William had said about her? That she walked “with long strides that eat up the earth.”
Within minutes she was in the car and heading toward town, and it wasn’t until she was nearly there that she suddenly knew where William was. He was waiting for her by the little pond where she’d taught him how to swing on a rope and later pushed him into the water and said, “Swim or die.”
He was sitting there patiently, waiting for her. Her rock, she thought, pausing a moment to look at him, the sunlight glinting off his precious head. No, not her rock, her diamond. Her diamond that had no flaw.
“Hello,” she said when she was standing less than two feet from him.
He didn’t look up, nor did he say anything, so she sat down in front of him. Still, he avoided her eyes.
“I’ve been behaving pretty badly the last few days,” she said.
“Yes, you have.”
She smiled. “You could say something nice.”
“I don’t feel very nice.”
“I think you do,” she answered, trying to put some humor in the situation, but he didn’t laugh.
For several moments she sat in silence, trying to figure out what to say, but could think of nothing. “Damn it, William! What am I supposed to say? That you were right and I was wrong? Is that what you want to hear?”
Slowly he turned to look at her. “That might make for a start.”
She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of him, but then she laughed. And the next minute she launched herself on top of him, kissing his face and neck with vigor.
William was holding his chin up. “I want more than one apology, Jackie. I want about a thousand of them.”
“Ha!” she said, beginning to unbutton his shirt and kiss her way down his chest.
William took her shoulders and held her away from him to look into her eyes. “I’m not going to start this again unless I have some assurance that you aren’t going to leave me again. I can’t stand any more days like the last few. Jackie, I’m serious. Either you’re mine completely or not at all. No half measures.”
“I love you,” she said. “And if you want me I’m yours.”