Family Sins

Epilogue

It had taken Talia less than a day to learn that hot in West Virginia and hot in New Orleans were two entirely different things.

Her ribs were the last thing to heal, and while she wasn’t as tightly bound as before, she still had to be careful. No lifting anything too heavy and no tight hugs.

Bowie had helped her hang up all her clothes on the first day in their temporary new home, and then they’d made love first on the bare mattress, then later after she’d put on the sheets, and then that night they’d made love again simply because they could.

The heat here sapped what strength she had regained, so during the hottest part of the day she stayed indoors in their new apartment.

She’d brought everything with her from home that she wanted to keep and had put the house up for sale. She had her mother’s china and hutch, the sideboard that had belonged to her Aunt Jewel, the old desk from her daddy’s office on the railroad, and bits and pieces of the history that made her who she was; but she’d only unpacked the bare essentials, because they were already in constant house shopping mode on every day Bowie had off.

She’d recently gotten a phone call from Chief Clayton, letting her know that Justin Wayne had taken the insanity plea and in return had been sentenced to a mental facility, with intermittent evaluations to assess his ability to blend back into society. Bowie was disgusted, but she was too happy now to hang on to the past.

A day or so later Leigh called to tell them that Jack Wayne had also made a deal. Rather than go to trial and face a death sentence, he’d opted for life without parole.

Bowie had heard the tension in her voice.

“How do you feel about that, Mama?” he’d asked.

“It’s going to be hell on earth for a man like him to be in prison. I’m fine with him being in hell.”

And that was when Bowie had smiled.

“That sounds like the Mama I know and love.”

He’d heard her sigh. “I’m getting there,” she’d said. “Jesse says hello and to bring him another baby to play with.”

Bowie laughed.

“Do me a favor and get him a puppy instead. We’re just fine like we are for a while.”

Talia couldn’t get enough of life, or food, or Bowie. It was as if she’d starved not only her body but her soul during the time they’d been apart. She was discovering the joy in the world all over again.

Bowie said she was regaining her sass. It was all as they’d first planned it to be, just a few years late. She still couldn’t believe it sometimes and spent long hours late at night watching him sleep.

She’d bought another car with the insurance money from the one that was wrecked, and ventured out in the mornings to a neighborhood supermarket to shop for groceries after Bowie left for work.

On weekends they house hunted, and made love again and again, and in the third month of their residence in the apartment, they finally found what Talia knew right away was The House.

It might have been all the black wrought-iron fencing around the small courtyard in front.

It could have been the lush, green landscaping with jasmine blooming at the gates and bougainvillea spilling from the limbs of a massive oak in the tiny front yard, and wisteria hanging from the eaves at the back of the house.

It was most likely the ancient two-story red brick house itself, with its black shutters and black trim, on the quiet little street in the neat little neighborhood.

But it was for sure the feeling of home as the Realtor unlocked the door and they stepped inside for the very first time.

“Oh, Bowie! This is it,” Talia said.

He laughed. “We haven’t seen anything but the living room,” he said.

“It won’t matter what the rest of it looks like. We can fix what needs fixing, but you can’t fix the feeling, and it feels like home.”

“Then we better do this right,” Bowie said, and took her by the hand and pulled her back out onto the porch.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m carrying you across the threshold,” he said, as he gave her a quick kiss and swooped her up into his arms.

The Realtor was smiling and gladly held the door open as Bowie carried her back into the house.

“Welcome home, my love.”

Talia smiled as Bowie set her back on her feet, and then, from the corner of her eye, she saw something swoop in the door from outside.

It was a robin. Once again, her messenger.

“Oh, look, Bowie!”

The Realtor frowned, watching the red-breasted bird fly up to the newel post of the stairway, then to the mantel of the fireplace before it lit in a patch of sunshine on the shining hardwood floors.

“I guess it came in while I was holding the door,” the Realtor said. “If we’re lucky, it will go out the same way.”

“It’s a sign. That’s our blessing, Bowie. This is it. This is home!” Talia said, and then ran to open the door.

She swung it wide and then stood back as the robin took to the air and flew back out into the light.

Bowie walked up behind her and kissed her just below her ear.

“Even though the robin has spoken, we may as well look at the rest of the place while we’re here, okay?”

Talia laughed as she took his hand.

“Yes, we may as well.”