Making Memories of Love – Extended Epilogue

The Colorado sun hung heavily in the distance, the first warm winds of summer blowing through the cemetery as two toddlers ran in the distance, their laughter carrying over the breeze. 

“Edward! Terry! Don’t get too far!” the heavily pregnant woman standing in front of the headstone called out, one hand resting on her belly and the other shading her eyes as she watched her children playing just shy of the tall grass. 

“And that’s my wife practicing for the next two,” Simon joked from where he was stretched out next to Terry’s headstone. He had an unopened letter in front of him, his eyes shining as he looked up at the blonde suddenly narrowing her eyes at him. 

“Next one,” Kate corrected sharply. 

Simon didn’t dare disagree, but he did eye her round her pregnant belly.  

She’d argued with everyone about the last two being twins, too. Vehemently. All the way until she’d given birth.  

Simon smiled, looking at Terry’s headstone and the flowers they’d brought to place at it. Knowing that if the old man could see them, he’d get a kick out of the whole thing. Just like he knew Kate’s father, Edward, probably was too. Their namesakes were little terrors and into everything the moment they’d started walking. 

Kate sighed, slowly lowering herself to the ground and the blanket that Simon had set out when they’d arrived. 

It was their weekly routine for the last three years. Two months after their wedding, Kate suggested they visit Terry’s grave and ever since then, they made sure to fit it in once a week; rain or shine. 

They all sat on the grass around Terry’s headstone, catching him up on their life and paying their respects. It had taken Simon time to come to terms with sitting with a headstone and talking to Terry. The grief had been so strong for so long. It still was just manageable now. 

“You can get up and chase after the boys if they start wandering too far,” Kate sternly informed him as she leaned back on her hands. 

Simon grinned, scooting across the distance so that he could use his side as a prop behind her to help her sit upright. “Gladly, wife.” 

Her lips twitched, her blue eyes cutting to him as she shook her head. 

“Are you avoiding reading that letter still?” she asked pointedly. 

Simon sighed, looking down at the envelope. 

Yes. “No,” he lied, wrinkling his nose as Kate lifted her brows. “A little.” 

“He can’t say anything to hurt us,” Kate reminded him, more softly as she leaned into him lovingly. 

“He is out of jail, though,” Simon muttered, looking down at Robbie’s name with a frown. Forgiveness had been a long road for him, one he was still busy paving. 

“He’s been out of jail for two years now,” Kate pointed out. 

“Well, yeah,” Simon huffed. “He only served one year!” 

“And he served it.” Kate shrugged. She’d forgiven him easily, moving on past the entire mess. 

But then, Simon figured her not having known Terry had a lot to do with that. 

“And no one knows where he went or what he’s done since,” Simon said tensely. He’d just disappeared from everything as far as Simon knew, and he’d preferred it that way. 

“Then throw the letter away,” Kate prompted. “If you don’t know what he has to say, that’s your only option. Don’t give him the power to hang over you now. Look at how far we’ve come.” She gestured to the boys playing in the grass, her rounded belly, and him. 

Simon knew she was right. 

He looked at Terry’s headstone though, knowing exactly why he would read the letter. 

Because after everything Robbie had done, he was still Terry’s stepson. 

He sighed heavily, pulling the letter to him and out of the envelope under Kate’s knowing gaze. 

“Read it out loud if you can,” she hummed, closing her eyes and resting her blonde curls against his shoulder. 

Simon huffed, but cleared his throat. 

Simon and Kate, 

I hope this letter finds you well. I struggled for a long time to write it. I’ve started and stopped so many times over the years. I can’t tell you how many times while in jail I asked for a pen and paper only to put them back down. 

I know that doesn’t make it right. It’s been three years. But I wanted you to know that this has been a long time coming and I know that. 

First and foremost, before I say anything else. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for coming into your life after Terry died and fighting you for things I had no right to. Terry took care of me my whole life. He provided for me, and he made sure I got my mother’s inheritance as well. I can claim no other driving force but greed and I won’t try to.

I was angry for many years over the loss of my father. I know my reasoning probably doesn’t matter to you, but I figure I owe you an explanation given what all I put you through. 

I was a young boy when my father died, but watching those cattle overtake him was the worst and most defining moment of my life. 

Terry tried to talk me through it. He tried to help me come to grips with it, but I never would. I let all that grief and anger build and build inside of me, that and it rotted me to my core. 

I pushed away every hint of good in my life. I didn’t care for anything but material happiness, only allowing what I had to get through the muck of ugliness and pain. 

I’d like to say that losing Terry was the start of my coming to grips with what I had become, but it wasn’t. For all the good that Terry did me, you were right, Simon; I did him none in return. His loss was just another that I tallied up as meaningless. 

It wasn’t until I thought you had said that I had killed someone that it finally broke me. 

That sounds like a bad thing, but it wasn’t. 

The guilt and fear of what I had done, even after I realized that I hadn’t killed her- just almost- was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t know Kate, but knowing you didn’t matter. What mattered was knowing what I had done. 

I spent a lot of time with the preacher that came to the jail, listening to him speak and trying to repent for my sins. 

There were many. 

The greatest have been against the two of you and Terry. 

I will forever regret the person I became in those years between my father dying and going to jail. I will always wish I had loved Terry better while I had him and not pushed him so far away. 

Terry was my father, too.

Thank you for taking care of him where I wouldn’t and couldn’t. Thank you for being there for him as a son should have been. 

Do you know Terry did leave me something?

He left me a letter. 

It had already been sent to me before I came out looking for his estate. I just missed it in my greedy eagerness to claim what he had left for you. I didn’t get it until I was in jail when an associate of mine brought me my correspondence. 

Terry spoke of you highly. He spoke of the man you were and the man he hoped I would be. He spoke of his dreams, his regrets, his love… and I might send it to you someday. For now, I need it for myself. 

I moved further West after I got out of prison. I decided to do something with all that Terry had taught me over the years that I refused to listen to. 

I’ve opened a boarding house with what money I had left after selling all my things. Although, I’m not sure a boarding house is the right name. I offer lodging to those in need, those who wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford it. And those who can. It is a boarding house, in that way, but it is also a place for those who have nothing. 

A preacher lives here now who offers spiritual help and comfort to those who need it. 

I like to think that I’m doing good in the world now. Although I know it will never make up for what I put you through. 

I hope you are both well. I hope you are happy. I hope this letter reaches you and is some sort of good news or comfort. Or that you read it at all. I hope you write back and tell me about Terry and the years that I lost out on. 

I don’t expect you to. 

If ever you’re out towards Tennessee and need a place to stay, my house is yours. If you ever are in need of anything, please don’t hesitate to‌ ask. 

I owe you both so much, but the most of all, I owe you for how my life turned out now. 

Godspeed,
Robbie Stein’” 

Silence followed Robbie’s name as Simon trailed off. 

He felt as if he had something lodged in the back of his throat, his eyes going over the words again and a strange lightness in his chest. 

“That… isn’t what I expected,” Kate admitted after another few minutes, her blue eyes worriedly glued to Simon in a way that he knew his silence was only making it worse. 

“Me either.” 

He didn’t know how to process it, either. 

There were so many things in that letter that shocked him, so many twists and turns even reading it left him feeling uncannily seen. 

He was glad he had read it at Terry’s grave. He knew that letter would have brought peace to Terry and his worry for his son. 

“Are you going to answer him?” Kate asked softly, reaching over to take his hand and lay it on her bulging stomach.

Their children did a tapdance against his hand as she did and Simon was grateful for how it grounded him. 

“I’m not saying no,” Simon said slowly. “Just… not yet.” 

He wasn’t ready yet. He still had work to do before he thought that he would be. After three years, he had come to terms with everything that had happened. But the way he had felt reading that letter? There was still work left to do. 

Kate pressed her hand into Simon’s, her fingers running along the wedding band on his left hand and just over that thread beneath it. 

“You sound like the twins,” Kate joked. 

“Which set?” Simon laughed. 

Kate grinned up at him, rolling her eyes. 

It was a valid question, though. 

In a town that had once only had Holder twins, there were now several others. Anita, Tina, Timothy, and Tanner. Edward and Terry. The twins that Kate was carrying now, even if she didn’t want to admit it. 

“Oh, that’s going to be such a bigger question if Tina or Anita are pregnant,” she whispered suddenly, her eyes going wide. 

Simon snorted with laughter. 

Tina and Anita, in true twin fashion, had married the same day and announced their pregnancies only days apart as well. 

“They wouldn’t tell anyone until after the twins were born, even if they knew,” Simon laughed. They’d kept a secret of who was marrying who right up to their engagements, after all. They liked leaving people guessing. 

“Do you think Jackson will have twins too?” Kate mused, looking thoughtfully over to where their boys were playing swords with sticks then. 

“He’s not even married,” Simon laughed. 

He knew it was a moot point to bring up, though. 

Jackson, after a lot of back and forth, had finally started getting the bridal adverts, muttering about the uselessness of it all and falling head over heels for a woman who refused to give him her name and who he still sometimes swore was one of his sisters pretending to be someone else to break his heart. 

He’d been writing ‘Addy’ as the woman told him to call her for close to three months, and her story seemed too crazy to be true. 

A half Native American on the run from the Western gang that had killed her sheriff father? 

It was the stuff of fantasies. 

And yet…

Jackson was still writing to her. 

“Jackson will be married before the year is out,” Kate said wisely, lifting her face to the sun shining down on her and smiling. 

Simon snorted, but he knew better than to argue with her. 

She’d been right in every prediction that she’d made about someone’s love life since she’d started making them. It was to the point that Jackson now joked about taking her to the races to make money. Not that he ever would, but Simon knew the urge was strong. 

“You think your Aunt Marsha will?” Simon asked in wonder, kissing Kate’s forehead as she laughed. 

Aunt Marsha and Sheriff Branson had surprised everyone with their courtship. 

A confirmed bachelor and a confirmed spinster, they’d met over a broken carriage and a fiery argument and been at one another’s throats for months. 

And then he’d started bringing her flowers. 

“I think they’re going to elope,” Kate admitted with a giggle. “Aunt Marsha says she’s too old for a white dress and all this nonsense, but you know, she loves him. He was building her flower boxes for her windowsills last time I went over.” 

Simon snorted, holding his laughter in with difficulty. Something about Sheriff Branson and flower boxes just didn’t sound right. 

“Boys!” Kate cried out suddenly, her voice panicked. 

Simon had never jumped to his feet faster, ready to sprint across the cemetery to where they played…

But Edward and Terry turned at her hollering, both looking just as confused and scared as Simon felt. 

“Oh…” Kate groaned, leaning over and hunching over her belly as she moaned. 

“Kate?!” 

“Oh, get the boys, Simon,” Kate cried, her voice breaking through the groans as she walked back and forth. 

Simon froze. 

It was only a split second, but he froze nonetheless. He’d done the same when the boys had been born, his mouth agape and his eyes wild and panicked as he’d looked back and forth between the Holders and the wagon in front of their house. 

“They’re coming now?!” He demanded, trying not to remind her that it was a month early. 

Again. 

Just like the boys had been. 

Twins. 

“Now,” Kate acknowledged, breathing heavily out as Edward and Terry came running up. “And it’s. One. Baby.” 

Simon didn’t correct her. 

It wasn’t. 

It was two. He felt them; he saw her belly, and he knew she knew it too, but the twins had been so hard at first. He didn’t blame her for wanting only one this time around. She’d change her mind once they were born. 

“Okay, boys,” Simon said cheerily, scooping Edward and Terry up in his arms to deposit them into the back of their nearby wagon. “We need to go on a quick ride.” 

“Babies coming?” Terry asked smartly, looking at his mama with a worried little pinched frown. 

“Baby,” Simon corrected with a grimace, looking back to find Kate glaring at him as he lifted his boys over the side of the wagon.

“Babies,” Edward said obstinately. 

Kate laughed, the sound pained, and Simon looked back at her just in time to see her struggling to her knees with both hands supporting her belly. 

“Babies,” she sighed, agreeing as she tried getting to her feet. 

Simon made sure the boys were in the wagon and went running back to her, grabbing her to help her to her feet and pausing only long enough to swing her up into her arms as he rushed her to the wagon, too. 

He wasn’t fit to help bring anything but livestock into this world. Certainly not another set of twins. He needed to hurry. 

“We can keep saying baby,” Simon told her seriously, kissing her brow as he jogged back to the wagon. 

“Why?” Kate smiled through her next moan. “It’ll be another set of twins. We’ll name them after my mother and my aunt. Marsha and May. And then we’ll never, ever, ever have any more babies, ever.” She said the last part through gritted teeth, grabbing Simon’s face as he put her carefully into the wagon. 

“And I’ll love you,” Simon promised her. “No matter what.” 

“Ewww,” the twins chorused. 

But Kate smiled, kissing Simon sweetly before her next contraction hit. 

It was the worst timing. 

It was the best timing. 

Good things always came after a struggle. They reminded Simon of how lucky he was. Five years before, he wouldn’t have believed anyone if they told him he’d have Kate back one day. He would have been grief stricken at the very mention of her. 

Kate, a blacksmith, a farm, and two sets of twins? 

God always came through. 

His family was his rainbow after the flood, and he wouldn’t trade a moment of it for anything.

THE END

---

Readers who read this book also liked