Then Santa chimed in, “Ho ho ho, marry him!”
Jamie pointed a thumb back toward Santa as he stood in front of me. “That, I planned,” he said. Then he dropped to his knee, pulled the box out, and opened it, revealing a modest pink stone on a platinum band. “Sorry, honey, no blood diamonds for you.” I shook my head and laughed. “Marry me?”
“Jamie Lawson . . . is that how you ask nicely?”
“Katherine Corbin, will you please marry me and be my wife and wear that black silky thing at least twice a week for the rest of our lives?”
I dropped to my knees, gripped his face, and kissed him. “Absolutely, one hundred percent yes. And that was a way better proposal than a note.”
People all around us on the platform began clapping and cheering. Even Santa was jollier than usual. Jamie put the ring on my finger and then we stood together and rushed onto the train car. Powdered in snow, we kissed the moment the doors closed and made a silent promise that we would do that every time we got on the L. It was our new beautiful memory.
? ? ?
We rented a car and headed north. Paul Sullivan, my father, lived in a gorgeous, two-story colonial house in the village of Wilmette, a tranquil little suburb north of Chicago. The treelined street and large snow-covered homes were picturesque, an ideal place to grow up. I felt a pang of sadness as we pulled down the long driveway. I wondered if it was resentment toward my mother or just pure envy that all of my father’s other kids got to grow up here while I was living in a one-bedroom, stuffy apartment with a depressed Rose. I thought about the many nights I’d slept on the pullout sofa, wishing I had my own room. Still, I couldn’t forget that Rose had loved me like a mother.
Before we got out of the car, Jamie looked over at me with concern. “Are you okay? You seem somewhere else.”
“I’m here, I assure you. I’m here. This hurts a little. I can’t figure out why my mother didn’t want me to know.”
He took my hand and kissed the back of it. “You may never know the reason, and I can tell you from experience that you have to let it go. When my biological parents tried to extort money from me, they told lie after lie. They tried to take me down—their own flesh and blood— when all I wanted was to do good for people. For months, I just kept wondering why. Finally, my adoptive mother told me I needed to stop searching for that answer and move forward. When the trial was over, I promised myself I would never ask why again. Look at this, Kate. See all of these cars?” The driveway and street were spilling over with cars jammed into every spot around the big white house. “This is what you get now. This is amazing. Don’t think about the past ever again.”
Although he tried very hard to hide it, Jamie was emotional. I couldn’t take what I had for granted knowing Jamie had lost most of his family. “Does it still hurt?” I asked.
“There used to be this hole, this void that I thought could never be filled, but it’s healing and filling up . . . ever since I met you.”
“And now you have all this, too.” I gestured toward the cars and smiled.
Meeting my new family was a blur of faces and names. My new siblings and stepmother were more than welcoming. I got to hold my baby nephew and hear my youngest sister, Skylar, play the piano beautifully. Jamie fit right in to the warmth. I stole glances at him often while we were at my father’s, and he always returned them with a smile.
On our way back into the city, we talked about our plan. “I feel like I don’t want to leave now, but I know you need to be in Napa.”
“We don’t have to choose, Kate. We can live in both places. That’s the beauty of being a writer.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve always been all over the place. I like it that way.”
“Really?”
“Yes, of course. Do you want to keep your apartment?”
“I don’t care about my apartment. I just want to be able to come here once in a while.”
“I think we can arrange that.”
Page 18
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Segue In the week following Christmas, I spent most of my time packing and writing while Jamie made travel plans for us to go back to Napa after New Year’s. We decided that we’d have our wedding at the winery in the spring, barring any unforeseen circumstances. Jamie said there would be no unforeseen anything, and that I needed to stop believing things were too good to be true. He spent a lot of time reassuring me that everything would be okay.
Late in the week one morning, I heard him tinkering in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” He was dressed, ready, and waiting for me to get up.
He set a chocolate croissant and a latte from Starbucks in front of me. “Morning, baby. I was so excited, I couldn’t sleep.”
I sat down at the table surrounded by boxes. “Excited about what?”
“I can’t tell you.” He was amped. “I just have to show you, but we can’t go until nine.”
I bit into the pastry. “Aren’t those the best?” he said.