I helped Henry decorate the tree at the shelter, too. The kids pitched in, hanging the snowflake ornaments we made out of construction paper and glitter.
Dean received an early Christmas gift. He’d filled out an application at a nearby restaurant and they’d hired him two weeks ago. Reading the orders the waitresses thrust at him wasn’t a problem anymore, and he turned the food around fast, quickly earning himself a reputation as a hard worker. He used his first paycheck to put down a deposit on a furnished apartment. I co-signed the lease, paying the first year’s rent up front. He didn’t want to accept it, but I convinced him to, for Leo’s sake. “Pay it forward someday, Dean.”
“I will,” he promised, hugging me. “Thank you, Anna.”
I spent Christmas Eve with David, Sarah, and the kids. We watched Joe and Chloe open their gifts, wrapping paper flying, and spent the next hour assembling toys and installing batteries. David played so many video games on the PlayStation I bought for Joe that Sarah threatened to unplug it.
“What is it about video games that turn men back into boys?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but they all love ’em, don’t they?”
Chloe strummed her Barbie guitar, loudly, and after an hour of listening to it, I made a mental note not to buy her any more instruments. I wandered into the kitchen where it was quiet and uncorked a bottle of cabernet.
Sarah joined me a minute later. She opened the oven and checked the turkey. I poured her some wine, and we clinked our glasses together.
“To having you home to celebrate with,” Sarah said. “I remember last Christmas, how hard it was without you, and Mom and Dad. Even with David and the kids I still felt a little bit alone. Then two days later you called. Sometimes I still can’t believe it, Anna.” She set her wine down and hugged me.
I hugged her back. “Merry Christmas, Sarah.”
“Merry Christmas.”
I went to the shelter at noon on Christmas Day, bearing gifts for the kids: hand-held video games for the boys, lip gloss and costume jewelry for the girls, and stuffed animals and books for the younger kids. The babies received soft fleece blankets, diapers, and formula. Henry dressed up like Santa Claus to pass everything out. I fastened reindeer antlers to Bo’s head and tied jingle bells to his collar. He barely tolerated it.
I was reading Frosty the Snowman to a lapful of kids when Henry walked over holding an envelope. When I finished the book, I sent the kids off to play.
“Someone made an anonymous donation a couple days ago,” Henry said. He opened the envelope and showed me a cashier’s check made out for a substantial amount. “I wonder why someone would do that and not give me the opportunity to thank them,” he said.
I shrugged and handed the check back to him. “I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of it.”
That’s why.
Bo and I walked home after I helped serve Christmas dinner. A light snow was falling and the streets were empty. Without warning he bolted, yanking the leash out of my hand. I sprinted after him, stopping short a few seconds later.
T.J. stood on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. When Bo reached him, he bent down and scratched him behind the ears, looping his hand through the end of the leash. I approached, holding my breath, propelled forward by sheer longing.
He stood up and met me halfway.
“I’ve thought about you all day,” he said. “On the island, I promised that if you just held on we would spend this Christmas together, in Chicago. I will always keep my promises to you, Anna.”
I looked into his eyes and burst into tears. He opened his arms and I fell into them, crying so hard I couldn’t speak.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said. I buried my face in his chest, breathing in the smell of snow, of wool, of him, as he held me tight. A few minutes later, he put his hand under my chin and lifted it. He wiped my tears, as he had so many times before.
“You were right. I did need to be on my own. But some of the things you wanted me to experience already passed me by, and I can’t go back. I know what I want and it’s you, Anna. I love you, and I miss you. So much.”
“I don’t fit in your world.”
“Neither do I,” he said, his expression tender yet resolute. “So let’s make our own. We’ve done it before.”
I heard my mom’s voice in my head, almost as if she was standing beside me whispering in my ear. The same question she told me to ask myself about John.
Is your life better with him, Anna, or without him?
I decided, right then, standing on that sidewalk, to stop worrying about things that might never go wrong.
”I love you, T.J. I want you to come back.”
He held me tight and my tears flowed until his sweater was wet. I lifted my head off his chest. “I must cry more than anyone you know,” I said.
He brushed the hair back from my face and smiled. “You puke a lot, too.”
I laughed through my tears. His lips brushed mine and we stood on the sidewalk kissing, covered in snowflakes, while Bo waited patiently at our feet.
We went inside and talked for hours, lying on a blanket in front of the Christmas tree.
“I never wanted anyone else, T.J. I just wanted what was best for you.”
“You are what’s best for me,” he said, cradling my head in his arms, his legs intertwined with mine. “I’m not going anywhere, Anna. This is right where I want to be.”
Chapter 66 – T.J.
I glanced at the clock one morning two weeks later. I was still on winter break from school and Anna and I were having a late breakfast.
“I have to go out for a while and then there’s something I want to show you,” I said. “What time will you be home from the shelter?”
“I should be back by three o’clock. What is it?” she asked, setting down the newspaper.
I put on my coat and grabbed my gloves. “You’ll see.”
Later that afternoon, I parked in front of Anna’s building and opened the car door for her. Having her in the passenger seat was something I had been looking forward to.
“Are you a good driver?” she asked, when I slid behind the wheel.
I laughed. “I’m an excellent driver.”
We headed out of the city, Anna growing more curious. Ninety minutes later I said, “We’re almost there.”
I made a left off the highway and drove along the gravel road. I turned again, glad I had four-wheel drive because five inches of snow covered the driveway. Pulling up in front of a small, light blue house, I parked in front of the garage and turned off the engine.
“Come on,” I said.
“Who lives here?”
I didn’t answer her. When we got to the front door, I pulled a key out of my pocket and unlocked it.
“This is yours?” Anna asked.
“I bought it two months ago and closed on it today.” She walked in and I followed her, switching on lights. “The previous owners built it new in the eighties. I don’t think they ever changed a thing,” I said, laughing. “This blue carpeting blows.”
Anna toured every room, opening closets and commenting on the things she liked.
“It’s perfect, T.J. All it needs is a little updating.”
“Then I hope you won’t be too disappointed when I tear it down.”
“What? Why would you tear it down?”
“Come here,” I said, leading her to a window in the kitchen that looked out into the back yard. “What do you see out there?”
“Land,” she said.
“When I would take long drives, I’d pass this place and one day I pulled in and looked around. I knew right then I wanted to buy it, to have land of my own. I want to build a new house here, Anna. For us. What do you think about that?”
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 co
mmute 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.
“How’s the birthday girl”? He speaks softly because our daughter is asleep on his chest, her thumb in her mouth. We both know that if Josephine Jane “Josie” Callahan wakes up before she has enough sleep there will be hell to pay.
“I can put her down in her crib,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “She’s fine.” That little girl has T.J. wrapped around her finger.
I hand the second beer to Ben. He’s sitting in the chair next to the couch looking remarkably comfortable with Thomas James Callahan III asleep on his lap. Surprising, because when Ben came to the hospital after we had the twins, he told me he’d never held a baby before.
“What are you gonna call him,” he asked, after T.J. got him set
tled in a chair and carefully handed him our son. “If there are two T.J’s, I’ll get confused.”
“We’re going to call him Mick,” T.J. said.
“You’re naming your kid after Mick Jagger? That’s so cool!”
T.J. and I laughed and smiled at each other.
“Different Mick,” T.J. said.
We didn’t try to have a baby right away. I was adamant about not rushing anything, and if it turned out we waited too long, well, there were lots of ways to have a family. It ultimately took six months of trying and a boost from a fertility drug, the conception taking place in a doctor’s office, the way we always knew it would, using sperm T.J. banked when he was fifteen years old.
I like to think things happen for a reason, and I believe the twins arrived exactly when we were ready for them. “Two will be hard,” everyone said, but T.J. and I know what hard is and being blessed with two healthy babies isn’t it. I’m not saying it’s easy, though. We have our days.
The twins are already eleven months old and it’s true what they say, time does speed up when you have kids. It seems like just yesterday I was waddling around with my hand on my lower back, wondering how much longer I would be carrying them and now here they are, crawling everywhere and getting close to taking their first steps.
I leave T.J. and Ben and head back into the kitchen. David has joined Jane and Sarah, and he gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“Happy birthday,” he says, handing me a bouquet of flowers. I trim the stems under running water, then place them in a vase and set them on the counter next to the pink roses T.J. gave me this morning.
“Wine?” I ask him.
“I’ll get it. You sit down and relax.”
I join Sarah and Jane. Stefani is here, too. Rob and the kids have the stomach flu so she has come alone, not wanting to risk getting anyone sick. At moments like this, when everyone I love and care about is under one roof, I feel complete. I only wish my parents were here, too. To know my husband. To hold their grandchildren.