Epilogue - Holden

A new autumn painted Blue Harbor in strokes of amber and crimson beneath clouds that threatened the season's first real snow. I adjusted my camera settings while Wade debated trail access modifications with Tom, their voices carrying across the visitor center's expanded gallery space.

In just a year, the therapy program had transformed the old shelter building. My lens found intimate moments among the gathered artists. Mike Sullivan explaining a charcoal technique to two teenagers was a keeper.

Tom pointed across the room. "Look at your grandfather holding court over there."

Grandpa had a group of high school art students hanging on his every word. A year of experimental treatments had him breathing easier, his natural storyteller's energy flowing freely again. At his encouragement, I moved in with Wade, and we'd started to interview a live-in home healthcare professional.

"He's got my whole afternoon workshop convinced they need to start working with marionettes."

Wade elbowed me. "Let him have his fun. He's earned it."

I captured a quick shot of Anderson's daughter arranging her first showing in our corner gallery. Her careful brushstrokes depicted the lake in all its moods. Her mother stood nearby, pride evident in the set of her shoulders. They'd come so far since those early therapy sessions.

"Mail call!" Maya burst through the door, waving a thick envelope. "Portland sent the final schedule for next month's exhibition." She paused, taking in the gathered crowd. "Though I'm not sure how you'll tear yourselves away from all of this."

Wade spoke quietly. "None of us will have to. Portland's coming here."

I lowered my camera. "What?"

"The Hawthorne curator called yesterday. They want to do a satellite showing—bring pieces from their collection to display alongside our community artists." Wade's ears reddened slightly. "Thought you might like having both worlds in one place."

The walk home was a journey through memories. A year had transformed the park trails into something both familiar and new. Veterans' artwork decorated bulletin boards that also held maps and park information. Wade's hand found mine as we passed the spot where he'd first suggested moving in together, the lake stretching endless and blue beyond the pines.

"Mom called earlier," I said as we climbed the cabin steps. "They'll be here next weekend to help with wedding plans."

Wade smiled, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "You sure about a winter ceremony? We could wait for spring."

"I like winter." I pulled him close, breathing in the scents of pine and leather. "Besides, you proposed on the ice. Seems fitting to make it official when the lake freezes again."

"Speaking of ice..." He led me to the studio addition where architectural drawings covered his desk. New plans for the therapy shelter showed an expansion that honored its history while creating room for growth. One of the small details caught my eye—a replica of Gran's original mural sketches worked into the design.

"Think she'd approve?" Wade asked softly.

I thought about Gran's journals, and her belief in art's power to heal. Then, I consideredthow Wade's therapy sketches now hung alongside veterans' first attempts, each piece marking a step toward wholeness. About the way Blue Harbor had grown large enough to hold all our dreams.

"She'd love it. Though she'd probably suggest more windows."

"Already added extra light panels." Wade traced the blueprints with careful fingers. "Some photographer taught me about proper studio illumination."

Beyond the studio windows, snow began to fall—fat flakes that would soon transform Blue Harbor into something magical. I raised my camera, ready to document another chapter in our ongoing story. After all, the best art showed not just what was, but what could be—when love and healing painted their own paths forward.

"So," Wade's voice was a wonderful mix of certainty and anticipation, "January wedding?"

"January wedding," I agreed, lowering the camera to kiss him. Outside, the snow fell harder, but in our shared cabin, we had all the warmth we needed to see us through to spring.