Secret Agent Sam

Epilogue

He married Samantha in the garden of her grandmother’s house on a hot July day, with grass underfoot and the scent of roses in the air. There were children running unauthorized between the folding chairs borrowed from the Baptist church down the road, and birds singing and babies crying and old ladies rocking and fanning on the front porch.

In spite of the short notice, everyone was there, all the aunts and uncles and cousins-Jimmy Joe and Mirabella, Al and Tracy, Troy and Charly, C.J. and Caitlyn, Joy and Scott, Roy and Celia-and their kith, kin and kids. It made quite a crowd, this new family of his. A lot to take in all at once.

Sam’s cousin Amy Jo was her maid of honor, and her dad, Tristan, walked her down the aisle, then came to stand with him as his best man. She wore a dress her mom, Jessie, had made for her in a hurry-a simple white sheath that showed her long, slender legs, and her Grandma Betty’s wedding veil. Her bridal bouquet was roses, picked from the bush that rambled over the front-porch roof.

Standing there under the big oak trees, he watched her come through the front door of the old family home and start down the porch steps. And then, at the bottom, just before she slipped her hand through Tristan’s arm, she paused…lifted her head and stuck out her chin and looked straight at him. And he saw her again, as he had on that first day in the White House rose garden…vulnerable and scared…fierce and proud and brave.

She came toward him, and he felt…

Cory sat for a long time, staring at the blinking cursor. Then he shook his head, moved it to the Save icon and with a sigh, hit the mouse button.

There were no words on earth powerful enough, it seemed, to describe the joy of loving Samantha.

She came to the door of the bedroom, and he felt her there, even before she spoke.

“Pearse? You ’bout ready? Everybody’s waitin’ for us, fixin’ to pelt us with rice and old shoes.”

He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Just about. Let me shut this down.”

She came toward him with her tomboy’s stride, wearing her honeymoon outfit, a short skirt and sleeveless top in the sunshine colors he loved. “What’s that you’re workin’ on, on this, your weddin’ day? Don’t tell me you’re on a deadline.”

He shook his head. “Just something I’ve been working on for a while. A book, actually.”

“Really? Cool.” She wrapped her slim, strong arms around his neck and leaned over his shoulder, trying to peek. “Can I read it? Is it finished?”

“Oh, no,” he said, laughing huskily as he closed the laptop and pulled his brand-new wife into his lap. “Just barely begun.”