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Epilogue.
Shay
Six months later
You’d think the fact that several more of my paintings had just sold that morning would lessen my nerves, but no, I was a ball of pent-up stress. It all had to do with the ring burning a hole in my pocket for the last month.
I planned to propose to Maggie, but there was never a right time.
I’d taken the plunge and called Alan Cole. He talked me into showing him my portfolio, and then he talked me into featuring several of my paintings at an exhibition his gallery was putting on. It surprised me when most of them sold on opening night for a decent sum. Not the kind of money I could retire on or anything, but certainly enough to make life more comfortable. Enough for a small wedding … if I ever drummed up the nerve to ask Maggie to marry me.
Our new living arrangement had made our lives hectic the last few weeks. When her neighbour, Bob, found out we were searching for a place for the two of us to move in together because Maggie’s flat was far too small, he offered a solution. He lived in the two-bedroom house next door all by himself and didn’t need that much space. So, he suggested we do a swap. Maggie and I rent his house from him, while he rents Maggie’s smaller flat. After a few days of mulling it over, we finally agreed to the deal.
Dad took a while to get his head around the whole thing. I’d lived with him my entire life, and it was a big change not having me there anymore. But I promised him we’d be over every Sunday for dinner, plus Thursday night takeaways, and he came over to ours on Mondays to watch TV. I thought it was a good arrangement, and Maggie seemed happy with it, too.
It was impossible not to notice the change in her. She’d gone from being alone most of the time to now always having someone around. I thought it might take some getting used to, but she seemed to thrive on the company. Being with me meant spending lots of time with my family, but Maggie relished the new routine. It was just another of the many reasons why I loved her.
And for me, being with Maggie meant having her younger siblings in my life. Every few weeks, we took them out for the day, somewhere fun, and that time, we’d chosen to take the train to Bray and go to the beach. I’d become attached to them and was weirdly emotional when the eldest, Vivi, expressed an interest in learning sign language. That prompted the other three to want to learn, too, so I found myself teaching them bits and pieces whenever we had time. They still had a long way to go and would probably need to attend proper classes at some point, but for now, we at least had a basic means of communicating.
It was the middle of summer, and the weather was good, so the beach was crowded. The kids had just run out for a swim while Maggie and I lay on towels soaking in the rays. I had an idea to suggest we hike up Bray Head, and when we reached a spot with a sufficiently romantic view, I’d get down on one knee and pull out the ring.
I wanted to marry her with every fibre of my being, but I had no idea if the feeling was mutual. We’d never spoken of marriage, and it was one of the few things I didn’t know Maggie’s opinions on.
She wore sunglasses as she leaned on her elbows, keeping an eye on the children as they splashed around in the water.
“They’re so carefree,” she said quietly. “It makes me happy to see them like that, to know it’s possible.”
You gave that to them, I signed, and it was the truth. Sure, their foster parents kept a roof over their heads, but Maggie was the one who remembered birthdays and school trips. She bought them new shoes when the ones they had were worn out and paid for school supplies. She was the one who listened if they were upset or had a problem and offered help or solutions. To be honest, I was amazed by her. They were only her half-siblings, but she seemed to have an endless well of energy and love when it came to looking out for the children.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Ken and Delia—”
Are fine, but they don’t love those kids like you do.
Maggie turned her head to me as she removed her sunglasses. I no longer had need of the text to speech app on my phone. Her sign language had come on in leaps and bounds. Our conversations were pretty much effortless nowadays, and I adored watching her sign. Everyone had their own style, but Maggie’s slim, elegant hands made something functional into an art form.
