ONE YEAR LATER

Ally

"The swaddle should be nice and snug, tighter than you think. Babies love to feel safe and secure," I explain, demonstrating the optimal technique for swaddling a newborn. The group of women sitting in a semi-circle in the clinic's waiting room watch with rapt attention. "Try it out."

I hand out a swaddling blanket to each of the mothers-to-be and observe as their hands fumble and shake as they wrap their baby dolls.

"I feel like I'm going to squish him." One woman laughs from the back of the room. It wasn't challenging getting the prenatal program up and running. What was challenging was finding the physical space for everyone who wanted to attend.

Heartwood has seen a massive influx of newcomers over the last year, and an even bigger influx of new families, or couples hoping to start their families. The interest in the group is more than I ever could have imagined, and now I spend my evenings three days a week, here, teaching everything from swaddling to breastfeeding tips to administering Tylenol for teething.

And I love it.

There's something about watching a woman walk through those doors, their anxiety palpable, and helping them develop actual skills that will empower them as they go through their transition to motherhood. It makes me downright giddy.

I encourage each one of them to bring their partners, those who have them. Occasionally they do, though many of them work long hours as loggers, leaving the women to care for their families on their own. I don't judge though. It just fuels my passion for making this program a safe space, a supportive community.

"Amazing job today, ladies. We'll see each other next week. Except for Faye, who will hopefully not be joining us, as she'll be too busy welcoming her little one." Everyone turns in their seats towards Faye, who looks about two years pregnant. She places a tender hand on her swollen belly, and the gesture sends a pang through my chest. Longing.

"At this rate, I think I'm going to give birth to a teenager." Faye chuckles.

The women all gather around her to give her their well wishes as I wander around the waiting room, collecting all the baby dolls.

"Will you be joining us at Thistle + Thorne tonight?" Eva, a brunette with just a hint of a baby bump, asks as she gathers up her purse. Appetizers and tea is the Friday group's ritual, and the invite is always open to me, too.

"Not tonight, Eva. My parents are visiting from out of town, and we're having dinner with them. You enjoy!"

I finish tidying up the clinic and lock the front door as my phone pings in my pocket. I know it's Mason texting from the ringtone.

Mason: Coming home soon? Dinner is almost ready. xo

Home . Our home. He moved into the cabin a couple weeks after I came back to Heartwood, and he's slept there with me every night since. It wasn't easy for him to loosen the tight grip he had on the daily and nightly operations of the clinic. But packing up the cot in his office and moving it back to the shed with the rest of the camping gear was a necessary step and one that slowly brought life back to him.

Therapy is also playing a part in Mason's return to his life outside of work. Though it wasn't an easy go at first, once Mason accepted that his reaction to what happened with Noah was a symptom of a larger problem, he sought out a therapist who diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress disorder. The first few weeks were the hardest, as he had to relive the events of that day, the blame that he placed on himself. But he was able to process it in a much healthier way. Slowly but surely, the cracks in Mason's heart healed, and the light returned to his eyes, his laugh becoming even more infectious than before.

I quicken my pace as I close up the clinic. Thinking about Mason's smile makes me want to be with him now.Not a day goes by where I don't see Mason, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He proposed to me once, eager to solidify our relationship with official vows. I don't need official vows to feel secure with him, though. After one catastrophic engagement, I am more than content taking my time before jumping into another. Neither of us are going anywhere, and to me, that reassurance counts for more than a ring on my finger would.

The gravel of the driveway crunches beneath my feet as I near the cabin. I wrap my wool coat tight around me as a shiver runs through me. Dusk is blanketing the valley now, and the glow from the front window of the cabin is inviting, the smoke rising from the chimney beckoning me inside to warm myself by the fire.

As I open the front door, I'm greeted by the warm smell of herbs and spices, saliva pooling in my mouth.

"Hi, sweetheart." My mother greets me at the door, planting a kiss on my cheek.

"Hi, Mom."

A pit forms in my stomach as I recall the way I avoided talking to her for the last year, all because I was too afraid to tell them I was forging my own path. I push the feeling away, bringing her into a tight hug instead. There's no sense in dwelling on the past. All I can do is move forward, start owning my truth, and allow the people around me to either accept me or walk away.

My parents would never walk away. Despite the disappointment they felt when I told them I would stay in Heartwood for good, they did their best to support me. Dad had to throw in a few snide comments about the fact that I would officially be an Albertan . The rivalry between British Columbians and Albertans is unmatched. He came around eventually.

It helped that they came to visit during one of the most stunning seasons: larch season, when all the trees in the Rockies change to a gorgeous, vivid yellow.

Mason and my dad erupt into laughter, clinking their beer glasses together in the kitchen. Mason turns back to the mushroom risotto he's stirring on the stove. The sight of him cooking, wearing an apron around his waist, hugging his hips where his snug fitted T-shirt meets his jeans, makes me salivate more than the smell of the food cooking.My eyes dart to a vase of peonies sitting on the counter that weren't there this morning. Mason must have clipped them from the bush he planted in our yard.

My dad swivels in his seat at the island as he hears my voice and doesn't hesitate to envelop me in a bear hug. I breathe in the familiar earthy scent of him. A year away from my parents was too long. For a split second, a stabbing feeling pricks at my chest as I remember how long it's been since Mason hugged his parents this way. A soothing sense of gratitude replaces it as my dad pulls out of our hug and wanders into the kitchen to place a firm, fatherly hand between Mason's shoulder blades. My parents took Mason in, no questions asked. If I love him, they love him, they said.

"Hi, Honeybee," Mason says, handing me a glass of wine.

"None for me, thanks." I place a hand on his muscular back as I stretch up to kiss him. He leans down to meet me, our lips meeting in a more comfortable way now, but the feeling of his mouth on mine still ripples through me from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes.

"How was your class?" my dad asks.

"Amazing. It's so special watching how the women come together and support each other. I'll never get tired of it," I say, thinking about the way they all offered words of encouragement as Faye got up to leave.

"We are so proud of you, honey," my mom chimes in. "You've created such a beautiful community, a beautiful life, for yourself here in Heartwood."

I fight back the tears that are stinging my eyes. As much as I have tried to not seek validation from my parents, from anyone, the words touch something deep inside me. To be loved for your true self is a thousand times better than being liked for someone you're not.

"Thanks, Mom," I say past the lump in my throat.

"I know it took us some time to come around, but we see now that Heartwood is a special place, and we're so happy you feel at home here," my dad says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

"I'm proud of her, too," Mason pipes up. "Ally has done a phenomenal job at the clinic. It would not be what it is today without her. Hell, I would not be where I am without her. She saw potential in me when I couldn't see it myself."

"Here, here." My dad lifts his glass, prompting everyone else to do the same. Except my hand is empty.

"It's just too bad I won't be able to teach the prenatal class much longer," I blurt. Mason looks at me with a furrowed brow, trying to comprehend. "I'll have to join as a member soon."

My mom is the first to realize the meaning behind my words and her eyes go wide before she throws her arms up to wrap them around me. A moment later, I see it dawn on Mason, too.

"Wait, is this real? Are you pregnant, Ally?" He asks, shock sweeping across his features. I nod, unable to hide my joy.The very first moment I had helped a mother through birth, had witnessed the flood of emotions when I placed her baby on her chest, I knew that I was meant to be in her place one day, too.

"Sure am, Papa Bear." I say, waiting for Mason's response as nerves flicker in my belly. Ever since that day at the hospital, Mason has talked about wanting to get married, and have kids of our own. I'm just hoping he's not tied to that specific order.

His eyes shift back and forth between mine as he processes the news, and then suddenly his arms are around my waist, and he's lifting me off the ground. He twirls me around once, before setting me gently on the floor, and pulling me into a kiss that says all that I need to hear.

A family. It's all I've ever wanted, and now I get to have one with Mason. The man who jumped at the chance to play pretend doctor with Annabelle, the man whose identity as a protector is tattooed on his skin.This is all I've ever wanted, and so much more.