She turned around and smiled. “I’d love to live in a house you built T.J. Bo would love it out here, too. It’s beautiful. Peaceful.”

“That’s because we’re out in the sticks. It’ll be a long commute into the city, to the shelter.”

“That’s okay.”

I exhaled, relieved. Reaching for her hand, I wondered if she noticed mine was shaking a little. She looked shocked when I pulled the ring out of my pocket.

“I want you to be my wife. There’s no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with. We can live out here, you, me, our kids, and Bo. But I get it now, Anna. My decisions affect you, too. So now you have one of your own to make. Will you marry me?”

I held my breath, waiting to slide the ring on her finger. Her blue eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face.

She said yes.

Chapter 67 – Anna

Ben and Sarah met us at the Cook County Courthouse in March. A spring snowstorm was bearing down on the Chicago area and T.J. and I – wearing jeans, sweaters and boots – had chosen warmth over fashion.

Getting married in front of a judge might not have been the most romantic choice, but I’d vetoed a church wedding. I couldn’t imagine walking down the aisle if it wasn’t on my dad’s arm. David had offered, but it wouldn’t have been the same. A destination wedding, somewhere tropical – an island perhaps – wasn’t an option either.

“Your mom is not going to be happy about missing this,” I said. Jane Callahan had been surprisingly accepting of our engagement; maybe she decided that opposing it would do no good. She already had two daughters, but she’d done a wonderful job welcoming a third, and I had no desire to upset her.

“She has Alexis and Grace,” T.J. said, waving his hand dismissively. “She can go to their weddings.”

While we waited for them to call our names a man, probably wearing every item of clothing he owned, circulated through the waiting couples trying to sell wilted bouquets of flowers, his boots held together by duct tape. Many shunned him, wrinkling their noses at his long, unwashed beard and straggly hair. T.J. bought every flower he had and took a picture of me holding them in my arms.

When it was our turn, Ben and Sarah stood up with us while we spoke our vows. The brief ceremony took less than five minutes; Sarah dissolved into a puddle of tears anyway. Ben was speechless and, according to T.J., that didn’t happen very often.

T.J. dug our wedding bands out of the front pocket of his Levi’s. He slid the ring on my finger and held out his left hand. When the gold band was in place, I smiled.

The judge said, “By the power vested in me in Cook County, I hereby pronounce Thomas James Callahan and Anna Lynn Emerson legally wed. Congratulations.”

“Is this the part where I kiss her?” T.J. asked.

“Go ahead,” the judge said, scrawling his signature on the marriage license.

T.J. leaned in, and it was a good kiss.

“I love you, Mrs. Callahan.”

“I love you, too.”

T.J. held my hand when we left the courthouse. Big, lazy snowflakes fell from the sky as the four of us piled into a cab, heading to a celebratory lunch at the restaurant where Dean Lewis worked. Ten minutes later, I asked the cab driver to pull over. “It’s just a quick stop. Can you wait?” He agreed, parking in front of a nail salon. “We’ll be right back,” I told Ben and Sarah.

“You want to get your nails done now?” T.J. asked, following me out of the cab.

“No,” I said, pushing open the door. “But there’s someone I want you to meet.

When Lucy saw us she rushed over and hugged me.

“How you doing honey?”

“I’m fine, Lucy. How are you?”

“Oh fine, fine.”

I put my hand on T.J.’s arm and said, “Lucy, I want you to meet my husband.”

“This John?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t marry John. I married T.J.”

“Anna married?” At first she looked confused, but then her face lit up and she threw herself at T.J. and hugged him. “Anna married!”

“Yep,” I said. “Anna is married.”

Chapter 68 - T.J.

Anna and I climbed into my Tahoe three months later, on a warm day in June. She wore sunglasses and my Chicago Cubs baseball cap. Bo sat in the back seat, his head hanging out the open window. On the radio, The Eagles were singing “Take it Easy” and Anna kicked off her shoes, turned up the volume, and sang along as we drove out of the city.

They’d recently poured the foundation for our new house. Anna and I had pressed our hands into the wet concrete and she’d written our names and the date next to them with her finger. I hired a crew and we’d started framing; the house was already taking shape. If everything went according to schedule, we’d be able to move in by Halloween.

When we arrived, I parked and grabbed the nail gun out of the back. Anna laughed and plunked a cowboy hat down on my head. Though I should have been wearing safety goggles, I wore aviator shades instead. We walked over to a pile of cut lumber, and I grabbed a couple 2X6’s.

“Pretty fancy lookin’ tool you’ve got there,” Anna teased. “I thought maybe you’d want to do this old school. With a hammer.”

“Hell, no,” I said, laughing and holding up the nail gun. “I love this thing.”

What we were about to do now was Anna’s idea. She wanted to hold a few boards for me, just like she did when I built our house on the island.

“Indulge me please,” she’d said. “For old time’s sake.”

Like I’d ever say no to her.

“You ready?” I asked, positioning the 2X6 into place.

Anna held the board steady “Bring it, T.J.”

I took aim and pulled the trigger.

Bam.

Epilogue - Anna

Four years later

The house is a sage-green Craftsman-style ranch with cream-colored trim, surrounded by trees. Its three-car garage houses T.J.’s Tahoe, his work pickup truck, and my white Nissan Pathfinder, nearly impossible to keep clean when you live on a gravel road.

There’s a den with French doors near the large kitchen, and one wall is nothing but floor to ceiling bookshelves. I can often be found there, curled up in the overstuffed chair, my feet on the ottoman.

There are two porches, one in front, and one in back. The one in the back is screened-in, and T.J. and I spend a lot of time there, not worrying about bugs, especially mosquitoes. Bo has the run of the yard and when he isn’t chasing rabbits, he’s content to nap at our feet.

Our four-bedroom home has every modern convenience you could ever want. We don’t have any fireplaces, though. We don’t own a grill, either.

We have a houseful tonight. Everyone has gathered to celebrate my thirty-eighth birthday. They’re all welcome here anytime.

In the kitchen, my mother-in-law and sister sit at the island, trading recipes and sipping wine. No one will let me cook on my birthday so Tom is bringing dinner from the city. He’ll be here soon so there’s not much to do but relax.

T.J’s sisters, Alexis and Grace, now seventeen and nineteen, are sitting on the front porch with Joe and Chloe. Thirteen-year-old Joe wishes there was at least one boy around, but he has such a crush on Alexis he doesn’t really mind hanging with the girls.

I grab two beers from the fridge and wander into the family room. T.J. lounges on the couch watching T.V. I bend over and kiss him, then open the beer and place it on a nearby table.