Take Care, Sara

You got me. I felt alive when I was around you, Sara. I felt like I belonged when I’d never felt that before, not even with my own family. Not that anything was horribly bad or anything growing up, really. I just felt…” Lincoln shrugged. “Misunderstood.”
    “Don’t forget Grandma Lena. She was pretty horrible.” Sara touched his cheek, kissing the faint smile from his lips.
    “You can’t kiss me while talking about Grandma Lena,” he said with a cringe, pulling away. “It totally kills the mood, Sara.”
    “I doubt that,” she said, laughing as his eyes flashed the truth of her words at her.
    “I think it’s time to go back.” Lincoln turned the boat on, steering them along the river. “You completely turned me on talking about Grandma Lena. That’s almost as bad as when I met Dana last week and she eyed me up like I was her last meal.”
    The wind played with Sara’s hair as she laughed, brushing it out of her eyes. It was true. Dana had enjoyed their impromptu visit immensely; maybe even a little too much if the slap she’d landed to Lincoln’s behind was anything to go by.
    Lincoln glanced back at her, grinning, and everything went still for a period of time no longer than a minute, but astounding and endless in its clearness. Cole had been hers to love first, but Lincoln; Lincoln was hers to love last.
    “Why do you love me ?” he called above the noise of the motor.
    Sara looked down at the brown waves crashing against the side of the boat as it raced along the river. Why did she love him? He’d never given up on her, he’d forced her to live, to feel; he’d taken the darkness away with his lightness. Lincoln had always been there for her, even when she hadn’t wanted him to be. His arms were home to her; his touch cherished. Lincoln was passionate and strong and good. He made her laugh. In him she found herself. Sara wanted to spend every day with him and even if she couldn’t, she’d take him everywhere with her, in her heart. Every hour of every day was not enough, would never be enough with him. Sara was stronger because of him; she was better . It wasn’t even a question; why she loved him. A better one would be a question of—
    “How could I not?” she called back, telling Lincoln with her eyes all he meant to her and it was everything .
     
     
     

Epilogue
     
     
     
    The leaves were dropping. Browns, reds, yellows, and oranges; they fell from the trees, floating back and forth as they descended. The sky was overcast and gray. Sara stood on a bluff at Wyalusing State Park, feeling a peace she hadn’t been allowed to feel the last time she’d stood on the same exact cliff so many months ago. How very different her life was now from then. She was living ; she was thankful to be alive. How ashamed she was to admit that she’d once thought so carelessly of the life she’d been gifted. That was over now. She’d come around full circle and was finally, blissfully, in one whole piece. Sara had had to do it on her own and she had; she’d been strong enough, like Mason and Lincoln, and even Dana, had told her she was. She’d only had to realize it herself.
    The wind was cool, tousling her long hair behind her, invincible fingers tenderly caressing it. The trees swayed with it and she unconsciously rocked side to side as well. Sara closed her eyes and felt him all around her. It was strange how she saw him in the leaves, heard him in a song, felt him in the air. Cole was everywhere, but it didn’t hurt anymore. She’d never really lost him, only a part of him. He was still with her in her heart and memories, where it mattered, and always would be. The loss was there and sometimes there were the thoughts of what might have been, but in them, there was also what was , and that was Lincoln. She could never regret him. The ‘what ifs’ and ‘what might have beens’ crumbled in the wake of Lincoln. He had the power to eradicate them and eradicate them he did; with a simple look or touch.
    There was a special, carved-out part of her that belonged to Cole. Lincoln knew and understood; it was the same for him. It was hard not to think what the years would have been like, what Cole would have been like, if he still lived, and so, they talked of him often; they talked of his quirks and habits and endearments, and in that way, they kept him alive. Cole still lived, would always live, within those who remembered and loved him. No one ever really died that way; no one ever