Epilogue

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

It’s almost noon as I’m finishing up my lesson on “The Lady of Shalott.”

There are only seven students in my upper-level English class, ranging between twelve and fifteen years old. As usual today, one boy is scowlingly annoyed by life, three students are generally cooperative but clearly unconvinced by the usefulness of these topics to their future lives of mostly manual labor, and three are either eager to achieve or enthusiastically engaged.

It’s not a bad percentage as far as I’m concerned, and I have a great time leading a discussion on Tennyson’s technique and meaning .

Ever since I began teaching at the Halbrook school, I’ve been responsible for the English, reading, and writing classes for all ages of students. There aren’t enough older ones yet for me to focus exclusively on them. Before now, I’ve never in my life had to teach little kids how to read and write letters and words, so it’s been a significant challenge. On quite a few days, I’ve come home discouraged and exhausted, and Mack has had to talk me down from my impulse to quit teaching and take a guard-duty post instead.

I’ve stuck it out so far, and I’m confident I’ve been improving my teaching skills with the younger students. I still much prefer the upper levels, and I’m looking forward to a few years from now when there are enough students for me to focus on what I’m best at.

I’m in a good mood and invigorated when I wrap the lesson up five minutes early. We had a great conversation, and I got all but the scowler to participate in a meaningful way. On Fridays, school always lets out at noon because of the weekly festivities in the evening, so my students are happy and exuberant as they collect their stuff and amble toward the main office to sign out and then head home.

I erase my board, straighten up the chairs and desks, gather my things, and step out of the room, only to stop abruptly when I see someone sitting on the floor next to my classroom door.

“Hey, Rina,” I tell the girl, smiling down at her uplifted face. “What are you doing here? ”

Rina has neat braids, big blue eyes, and an upright posture as she sits cross-legged at my feet. She’s ten years old. “Essie told me I was allowed to listen,” she explains earnestly, “as long as I’m quiet and don’t disturb anyone.”

I crouch down beside her impulsively and immediately regret the gesture when my thigh muscles strain and my moderately rounded belly gets in the way. Supporting myself on the wall, I straighten up carefully. “You were listening to my class?”

“Yes. Essie said it was okay. It’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s okay. You can come in and sit in a chair if you want.”

Rina shakes her head as she stands up. “Essie said I’m too little for your class, but I like to hear about the stories and poems.”

Rina is the stepdaughter of Esther, who is the principal of the school. Because her biological mother died when she was barely a toddler, Rina has only ever known Esther in the mother role. The younger students have shorter school days than the older ones, but Rina always hangs around until Esther is done for the day because her father, Zed, usually has work shifts until midafternoon.

“Okay,” I tell Rina. “Well, how about this? I can give you a book and let you know what we’re going to be talking about, and then you can read it if you want and look on while you listen to the class.”

Rina’s smile brightens endearingly. “Really? ”

“Yes. Let’s go look now. I think I’ve got an extra book you can use.”

We both go back into the classroom, and I scan the bookshelf until I find the textbook we’ve been using this year (published before Impact and scavenged from abandoned school buildings).

Rina holds the book like a treasure, and she can’t stop beaming as we head back into the hall and toward the main office.

“Rina?” I hear the voice before I see the source. “You aren’t bothering Anna, are you?”

I laugh as Esther appears through a doorway, holding an infant in one of her arms and holding the hand of a toddler in the other. “She’s not bothering me at all. I didn’t know she liked to listen, but I gave her a book so she can follow along if she wants.”

Rina is a remarkably smart little girl, and she was taught well and early by Esther. Her first few years were spent in complete isolation with only Esther and Zed around. Although she’s adapted to living in a community and has a lot of friends, she still gravitates more to adults than to girls her age.

“Okay, I’m sure she’ll like that. As long as she’s careful not to disturb your class at all.” Esther points her final comment down at Rina, who has come over to take her little sister’s hand to free up one of Esther’s.

Esther is still nursing her youngest, so she’d be allowed to go on maternity leave if she chose. But she doesn’t like staying at home, so she usually brings her children with her to school when Zed is working.

“I won’t. I promise.” Rina smiles up at me again. “Thank you for letting me listen!”

“You’re welcome. And if you ever want to talk through any of the stories or poems, you just come find me, okay?”

“Okay!” She’s hugging the big book to her chest. “I’m so excited about tonight!”

“You are? I’m excited too.”

Esther laughs. “Everyone is excited. Rina hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks now. She’s got a pretty new dress to wear.”

“You do? I can’t wait to see you in it!”

“It’s the most beautiful dress in the world! Daddy found it, and Essie fixed it up for me. She says you’ll have a beautiful dress to wear too.”

I laugh softly. “I do have a beautiful dress. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn.”

It’s a secondhand dress, of course. It’s been worn by at least three other brides in town. But it only needed some minor adjustments, even with my larger stomach, and I do feel beautiful when I put it on.

“You really didn’t have to teach today,” Esther tells me in a different tone. “You’re allowed to take your wedding day off, you know.”

“I know. But what was I going to do all morning? Sit around and get all stressed waiting? I still have plenty of time to rest and get ready for this evening. It’s not like I’m going to spend hours getting my hair and makeup done. My primping time will be less than an hour.”

“But it’s a special day. It should feel special.” The baby in her arms starts to fuss, so Esther jostles her gently.

“It does feel special. I promise.”

“Okay. Rina, Callie is getting hungry, so I better feed her before we go home. Tell Anna thank you.”

“Thank you, Anna,” Rina says with another big smile. “I can’t wait until tonight!”

“Me too.” My heart bursts into little flutters of anticipation. “Me too.”

Four hours later, I’m sitting in a chair in my living room as I get my hair beautified.

My friend Olivia is working on it since she’s better at fancy hairstyles than anyone else I know. Rachel is lounging on the couch, watching with interest after she’s made it clear she’ll be of no help at all with this enterprise.

Olivia has paused with the top half of my hair in a beautifully intricate braid since she’s gotten so excited regaling us with a story of her son, Gabe, who rallied all the other boys in their community to organizing an Olympic-style athletic competition.

He’s only five years old.

“He’s so smart and so focused and so serious about anything he sets his mind to,” Olivia says with a fond grin. She still looks like a movie star with her tousled blond hair and tall, lithe body. “He’s a little like Grant but not like me at all. Actually, he’s exactly like… like my dad.” Her smile breaks briefly as her long-dead father crosses her mind.

“Well, from everything you’ve said about him, your dad was pretty great,” Rachel puts in. “So there could be worse people to take after.”

“Exactly right.” Olivia nods.

“Didn’t you name him after your dad?” I ask. “I thought I heard someone say that.”

“Oh no. He wasn’t named after my dad.” Olivia’s wide mouth twitches up in dry amusement.

“Then who?” Rachel asks.

“Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.” Olivia leans forward and says in a stage whisper, “He’s named after his father.”

It takes a few seconds for this to process. Then I gasp, and Rachel sits up straight with her mouth hanging open.

“Grant’s first name is…”

Olivia puts a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture that makes Rachel and I burst into laughter.

There’s a tap on the door to the cottage just then.

Rachel jumps up. “That better not be Mack coming by to sneak a peek!”

Olivia has moved back around me so she can continue her work on my hair, but we’re both looking over as Rachel opens the front door .

It’s not Mack. It’s Layne carrying a huge armful of wildflowers.

“I’m here!” she announces. “Sorry I’m so late, but I had to wait for Travis to get home. Oh, you look beautiful, Anna. You didn’t have all kinds of fun without me, did you?”

She must see something on our faces despite our reassurances because Layne starts frowning and narrows her eyes. “Y’all have been sharing secrets without me. I can tell. Someone better tell me what I missed. Right now.”

A couple of hours after that, I’m in my dress with my hair fixed up and twined with wildflowers, waiting to walk down the aisle.

The wedding is taking place in the central town square. Every Friday for years now, folks in Halbrook and the surrounding areas have gotten together to share food, talk, laughter, and music. A dedicated attempt to recapture fun and enjoy life, even in this difficult new world. Because Friday evenings have already been reserved for gatherings, most weddings take place then too. But there are more people gathered in the town square tonight than I have ever seen in all the times I’ve been here.

It’s packed full of people from nearly every town and community within easy range of Halbrook. There was no way there would be enough seats for people, so they didn’t even try. Everyone except the elderly and the disabled are standing on either side of the roped-off aisle decorated with flowers.

We don’t have any regular attendants. Hardly anyone uses them anymore because finding dresses and following old wedding rituals are nearly impossible now. But Layne’s three older children and both of Olivia’s children, plus two-year-old Molly, are all waiting with me and being wrangled by Travis and Jackson.

The kids are each holding baskets of flowers, and when the music starts, Travis and Jackson get them pointed in the right direction. The children all either run or toddle down the aisle with their baskets, dutifully tossing out their flowers.

Abigail and Gabe are the only two who do it perfectly. Molly dumps all her flowers in her first attempt to scatter them, and Benjamin, Michael, and Emily throw their offerings too exuberantly, getting flowers everywhere, including on the people in the crowd.

But no one cares, of course.

I’m giggling, and Mack is laughing warmly at the opposite end of the aisle until the kids complete their journey. Travis and Jackson follow quickly to corral them back to their families and scoop up the attempted runaways.

Mack is wearing a black suit that’s a little too tight. Even finding that suit took some major work. It’s so hard to find a jacket to fit the breadth of his shoulders .

His laughing transforms into a different expression as he sees me standing at the end of the aisle. When the musicians—a fiddle and a couple of guitars—shift into the wedding march, I start walking, holding my simple bouquet of flowers.

I don’t have anyone to give me away, and it doesn’t really matter. Mack is standing in the front alone with only the preacher, and that doesn’t matter either.

We have so many people who love us, and they’re all gathered around us right now.

Mack is every bit as emotional as I am as I walk toward him. I can see it on his face. I do look away from him long enough to wink at Rina, who is standing right next to the rope with her family because Zed somehow managed to snag them one of the prime spots in the crowd.

Rina giggles and tries to wink back.

Then I look back at Mack, and I don’t look away until I’ve reached him.

The ceremony is short with a five-minute homily, a Shakespeare sonnet, and a couple of readings from the Bible. Our vows are the traditional ones. Mack managed to find us matching gold wedding bands—I have no idea how he found a pair that fit us both—and he’s so nakedly happy as he slips the ring on my finger that I’m not sure my heart can contain so much feeling.

Then he leans down to kiss me. Just before he does, he murmurs, “We made it.”

We did.

The celebration after the wedding lasts for a long time, and I’m exhausted by the time Mack and I are finally able to return to our little cottage.

Mack peels off his jacket, loosens his tie, and collapses onto the couch.

I lower myself a little more carefully to sit beside him.

Mack reaches over to rub my rounded belly.

“Just a few more months,” I say.

“I know.”

We didn’t get pregnant immediately. In fact, for month after month, whenever my period started again, I’d worry that maybe I’d waited too long and we’d lost our chance. But six months after we got together, my period was late, and it wasn’t much longer before it was clear I was pregnant.

So far, it’s been fairly easy for me. I’m hoping that will continue.

Mack has been so happy lately that I can comfort myself that he would have had a perfectly satisfying life even without children, but he’s always wanted them. So have I. And so far, so good with this pregnancy.

“You look tired,” Mack murmurs, moving his hand up to my face.

“I am. It’s been a really long day, and being pregnant is exhausting anyway. ”

“Yeah. I’m kind of tired too. So how about we celebrate our wedding night by going to sleep?”

I giggle and squeeze his hand. “I think we better. At least for now. But I’m sure after we sleep for a while, we’ll have more energy to suitably consummate this marriage.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He stands up and stretches a hand down to help me to my feet. I really am exhausted and briefly lose my balance, grabbing for his shirt to steady myself.

He wraps his arms around me in a sudden, needy hug, and I squeeze him back, understanding the feeling radiating off him and experiencing it too. The hug goes on for a long time.

“I can’t believe we have a whole week off work,” I say when I finally withdraw from where my face was buried against his shoulder.

“I know. We’re going to enjoy the hell out of it.”

The town expects anyone capable of working to perform regular shifts in whatever situation most suits their abilities, skills, and interests. Vacation time isn’t really a thing, but people get time off after weddings and new babies and family deaths.

Our week off starts tomorrow. I’ve been looking forward to it almost as much as the wedding itself.

Mack worked a variety of jobs for a couple of months until the mayor came up with a position for him—primarily handling interpersonal conflicts and tricky social situations that have always come up fairly regularly in a town this size. The mayor himself is a good leader and strategic thinker, but he has only limited patience for managing people’s feelings, and Mack is better at that than anyone else. So the mayor gave him a job, and a few months ago when elections came up, he nominated Mack for the official position of deputy mayor.

He was voted in almost unanimously.

He’s been doing great with his new responsibilities, able to keep helping the larger community without always being put in dangerous situations or physical conflict.

When he finally releases me from the hug, he takes my face in both his big hands and kisses me softly. “Let’s go to bed, wife.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, husband. Let’s go to bed. But it was a good day, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was a good day.” He keeps his hand on my back as we walk toward our bedroom.

In our bedroom, we go through our normal nightly preparations. I climb under the covers first and wait for Mack, who’s gone to check that the windows and doors are all locked and barred. When he returns, his face softens as he gazes at me in bed waiting for him.

“What’s that expression for?” I ask him.

He gives a little shrug. “Sometimes life can still be really good.” He walks over to the bed completely naked.

Before he gets under the covers beside me, he leans over to turn the switch on the nightstand lantern until the light goes out.

Author’s Note : Beacon is the last book in the Kindled series. Thank you all for your enthusiasm and support for this series over the past few years. When I wrote Last Light , I honestly believed it would never find much of an audience, and it’s so encouraging that more readers than I ever imagined are finding and loving this world.

I’m still inspired for more post-apocalyptic stories and not ready yet to leave the Kindled world, so I’ll be starting a spin-off series called The Wild next year. The first book, Lost Song , will come out in May. The new series will have a similar feel to the Kindled series and may occasionally feature a familiar character or two.

I’m also starting an entirely different dystopian/post-apocalyptic series next year. The first book of this new series, Devotion , will be coming out in January. There won’t be a preorder for that one, but you can be watching for it in the first half of January or subscribe to my monthly newsletter to be alerted when it’s released.