Blood Moon

Epilogue

Five years later . . .

The first snow of the year arrives earlier than expected. A soft, white blanket lay atop the streets, cars, and rooftops, while icicles dangle from homes and tree branches. I sip my morning coffee—a daily ritual which takes place on my front porch—and absorb how tranquil the neighborhood is. Our neighbors will probably allow their children to sleep for a few more hours, and once the children are awake, they’ll have a surprise waiting for them. I fully expect to see snowmen and snowball fights before noon.

Warm hands circle my waist, and I snuggle against Ben’s chest.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, “though a bit unexpected. The kids will love this.”

I angle my head to glance up at him. “Should we wake them?”

“No, not yet. Let them sleep.”

I’ll agree to that. Restless nights and early mornings have become the norm around our household for the last four years, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never thought I’d say this, but having a family of my own is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I’m grateful to open my eyes and see Ben before dawn. I’m grateful my children are always laughing and playing. Nothing warms my heart more than seeing my family happy.

“Cameron called before I came out here,” Ben says.

“Did he?”

“Mmmhmm. He and Ali are bringing the kids over to play in the snow.”

I smile. “They’ll love that. I think Jana and Blake are coming over, too.”

“I’m glad you got those two together again. They really were your partners-in-crime.”

Recalling the memory of Jana and Blake, the way they didn’t shun me like the rest of the community for who I was, touched me more than they will ever know. It was definitely weird coming back to this time period after all Ben and I went through in the sixteenth century, especially knowing our families and friends didn’t remember anything from before. The feud was no longer in place, the curse had been broken, and we were normal human beings once again. But the shattered relationships, the people who were never born—those things hurt us the most.

Do I miss being a werewolf and having powers? Sometimes. But then I consider how different our lives would’ve been had the curse remained intact, how we would all be fighting to survive. Now there’s finally peace between the Lowell’s and the Conway’s.

The front door opens and Maggie bounds outside, searching for us. “Mommy! Daddy!” Her black curls bounce with each new step, and she hugs her stuffed teddy bear close to her heart.

“You’re going to catch a cold if we don’t get some shoes on those feet,” I say, as Ben picks her up and situates her on his hip. I tickle her toes, and she giggles. “Why don’t we get your little brother up so you two can play in the snow?”

Maggie gazes beyond me at the blinding-white flurries and gasps. “Snooow!”

“C’mon, let’s get you dressed. Uncle Cameron and Aunt Ali will be here soon, so you can play with your cousins.”

Ben carries Maggie inside as we head upstairs. Little Ethan is fast asleep underneath his rocket-ships-and-planets comforter, and I almost hate to wake him. His tiny chest serenely rises and falls with every new breath.

“Ethan, honey,” I say, gently rubbing his arm, “it’s snowing outside.” Still in a sleep-induced haze, he has a tough time opening his eyes. Gradually, he sits up. “Want to get dressed and play? Uncle Cameron is coming over, too.” Ethan nods, wiggling out from underneath the covers and sliding off the bed.

Maggie runs into the room, all bundled up and ready to face the snow. “Ethan! Guess what? It’s snowing!” She pokes Ethan, and he smacks her arm away, whining, “Dooon’t!”

“All right, you two,” I warn, plucking a bubble jacket from Ethan’s closet, along with some long-john’s, jeans, a sweater, snow boots, and a beanie.

Smirking from the doorway, Ben says, “He’s pretty feisty for his age. I wonder who he gets that from.” He winks at me, and I return the favor by rolling my eyes. Ben throws his head back and laughs. Collecting himself, he reaches out, clasping Maggie’s hand in his. “Let Mommy dress your brother. We’ll wait for them outside.”

By the time I dress Ethan and carry him downstairs, Cameron and Ali have arrived and are on the front porch, talking to Ben. Maggie and their two children are in the midst of a snowball fight. One giant wad of ice lands at my feet, and shared cackling follows via my daughter, niece, and nephew. I set Ethan down so he can join them.

Cameron and Ali greet me affectionately. It’s weird to think they were once completely different people. Of course, only Ben and I know the truth: their other personas don’t exist anymore. Attempting to explain what we went through to our family members will do nothing but cause concern for our mental well-being. Our story will come across as a fictionalized tale, something straight out of a book, but the reality of the situation is that every bit of our prior life happened, and would still be occurring had we not changed the past.

I catch Ben staring at me. What? I mouth to him.

He shakes his head and strides over to me, clutching me tightly against his chest. “I wish I knew what you were thinking.” The heartrending expression behind his eyes twists my gut. There are many days I wish we still had the ability to read each other’s minds, but we can’t ever go back to how things were before.

In an effort to steer the conversation in a cheerful direction, I say, “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll tell you. There are no secrets between us. You should know that by now.”

He grins and tips my head back with one finger, his lips finding mine in an achingly-sweet kiss. “I love you, Candra,” he breathes against my mouth.

“And I love you, Ben.”

We’ve decided not to tell the kids about the events prior to now: how we were sworn enemies, how we were destined to become star-crossed lovers, and how we ended it all. One day, they’ll read about werewolves in fairytales. Ben and I will smile and nod our heads, feeding our children’s imaginations. And when they ask us if werewolves really exist, we’ll tell them the truth: once upon a time, they did, but that was in another lifetime, in a world not so different from our own.


The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rebecca Rogers expressed her creative side at an early age and hasn’t stopped since. She won’t hesitate to tell you that she lives inside her imagination, and it’s better than reality.