EPILOGUE Benedict

Two And A Half Years Later

T he view from our deck was spectacular every day, but early summer mornings were turning out to be almost too much to bear. Two hundred yards away, the ranch's Lake Hawthorne twinkled in the sunshine. The view was almost like the water's surface was winking at me and reminding me of how far we'd come in three years.

"Ben!" Hunter hollered from inside. "Come here, please."

I stretched one more time and smiled to myself before turning toward the open wall of glass. "Yes, dear?" I said, stepping into the oversized great room.

"What do you think if the shelving unit goes on this wall?" he asked, standing with a hammer and a level in his hands.

Hunter was bare-chested with only his boxers on, a typical morning for him, looking too sexy for my insatiable libido. Lately, he'd been bouncing out of bed first thing to work on the final interior projects. Our new house on Triple H Ranch was completed a month before and we'd moved in two weeks ago.

"What do you think?" I teased, winking and gently reminding him that he had a say in the way we decorated too. "I got to pick out the sectional. The TV is all you, mister."

"I think the sun's glare will be negated if we go here," he said. "And then we can relocate the sectional to over there."

I wandered across the room toward him, checking out the idea he'd just shared. "I like it," I confirmed. "Will your new ninety-inch screen fit on that shelf? Or are we watching from a mile away?"

Hunt grabbed me and wrapped me in his arms, slobbering kisses on my face. "Monday Night Football starts in three months, baby boy," he announced gleefully.

"Already?" I whined, turning my smile upside down. "Didn't you just watch that big game thingy?"

"That big game thingy was the Super Bowl , silly. And that was in February a few months back," he replied.

"They do this every year?" I asked. "And I suppose we'll be going to Smitty's each time that thingy happens?"

Hunter grabbed my hand and placed it on his bulge. "I'll trade you viewership time with play time. How about that?" he joked.

"Now you're talking, big guy," I quipped. "Now I want a year-round season."

Hunter kissed my face several more times and then pointed toward the kitchen. "Pots. Please. I have no idea where you want those," he insisted. "I'll pound the nails."

I placed my hand on my hip and wiggled my index finger at him. "Uhm, excuse me?"

"You're the better cook, baby," he negotiated. "I'm the hammer guy and you're the boss of everything else."

"Hunter!" I scolded, teasing his slip-up. "We're co-bosses, remember?"

"I was just being nice," he said. "We both know I'm the true boss," he added, ducking when I tossed a pillow from the sofa at him.

Therapy had changed the man in front of me. Of course, he was still uber-manly. Still a bit quiet and reserved, too. But he was learning to challenge things he didn't like and share a genuine opinion about our shared life. He remained the strong one in our relationship. Something I preferred because I liked my role of being a tad more submissive.

Besides being confident in my abilities, his encouragement of my own personal growth stimulated me. Hunter had learned to be a true partner in a joint system. He impressed me with his commitment to change and growth. His personal successes created my successes. And vice versa.

As the months went by, he emerged from his grief cocoon, while I learned that being truly loved by someone was an incredible feeling. A sense of family became our way of life. We were a small family unit, with several branches extended for friends, but we were definitely a united front.

I'd never felt safer or more secure about the path I was on. I was sharing my life with a man who pushed me, pulled me, and allowed me to shine. I felt valued by Hunter. I hoped he felt valued by me.

"Guess who I saw at the new library?" Hunt asked, pointing at a bag of screws for me to retrieve. I handed him the bag while he balanced a small metal bracket with his free hand.

"Agnes."

"How'd you know that?" he asked, pursing his lips like I'd ruined his gossip.

"Because I sent her there," I replied. "If she wants to prescribe medication, then she needs to study for her next medical license."

"She's a hundred and ten years old, Ben. Give the old battle-axe a break."

"She can be a thousand years old for all I care, but if she wants to keep working at the clinic, who am I to discourage her from achieving even more?"

"Did you notice the crowds at the library?" he asked. "It must be the computers, don't you think?"

"Exactly!" I agreed. "Money well spent, I'd say."

"Because of your kind heart, Ben," Hunt said. "Such a beautiful man with a true passion to share. Plentywood is so lucky to have you. But, even more than that, I'm lucky to call you my other half."

I held the tears in and sat on the sectional as Hunter busied himself with another project. I could watch this man move about with endless energy for hours on end. And I loved the man before me with every fiber of my body.

Besides expanding the town's daycare center, Hunter and I spent trust money on a new library. With control of my trust's assets, I formed a board of directors to oversee the financial giving side of it. Hunter was on that board with me and seven others, so we'd be able to break ties in the event of disagreements with how the money was spent. We wanted the town's citizens to participate in the giving.

Once my father gave up his lawsuit and I kicked the energy company off the ranch, a new team of lawyers and accountants dug through my assets. My father had siphoned millions of dollars from the ranch to line his own pockets, and he'd planned on billions more with the discovery of natural gas. He paid mightily when he lost my lawsuit. Unfortunately, we haven't spoken since.

Even though we removed my father's choice of an energy company, we renegotiated with a different one. The plan was to safely locate a drilling operation in a far corner of the ranch with the idea that gas revenues would ensure the long-term survival of the ranch and of Plentywood.

We also carved out the section of land that Hunt's dad lived on and deeded the property to him. He'd have a job and a place to live for as long as he wanted. His land would return to the trust after his death. Hunt and his father worked on their relationship, even going so far as to invite Hunt's mother to our family gatherings at his father's request.

We weren't exactly sure what was happening with his parents, but his dad was also in therapy and vowing to win his wife back. They'd never divorced, so Hunt and I stood back and let them make their way, secretly crossing our fingers.

The ‘ Mark Hayes Theater ' had opened the previous year. Mark had been a vital part of Plentywood's community and Hunter's life long before I arrived. Mark was particularly known for his love of the town's theater. I suggested we name the completed theater after Hunter's deceased husband as a memorial to the man who loved Plentywood as much as I had grown to love my adopted town.

Jill sold the diner and relocated to Missoula. She said she needed a fresh start in a bigger community with the hope of finding her own chance at love. A young family from California purchased the diner and decided to keep the name because two generations of Jills had previously owned it.

In fact, the new owners, Paul and Tina, were expecting their first child. You might be able to guess what they planned on naming their coming daughter. Perhaps, like most of us who loved Plentywood, they were looking toward a future where a third -generation Jill would one day own Plentywood's beloved diner.

Charlie now lived in Plentywood as well. He'd met and fallen in love with a guy in his early fifties who was the supervisor of the construction company that rebuilt the theater. That man, Brad Overton, fell in love with our little town, and Charlie, convincing Charlie to invest with him in an old Victorian mansion and restore it for their new home.

The clinic's first scholarship doctor and nurse were joining my team next month. My hope, through sponsoring medical scholarships for young folks who couldn't afford medical schooling, was to build for the future of the clinic my family had funded for decades.

The recipients would be required to work in Plentywood for a minimum of two years after graduation. The goal was to inspire young minds to serve in communities that had historically been underserved. With the addition of new and younger medical professionals like me, the clinic would grow and be able to expand our services beyond our small town.

My long-term plan was for our clinic to become a regional facility that could serve several small towns in Northeast Montana. To do that, we'd need better equipment, more doctors and nurses, and a lot of money. I was lucky to have access to a lot of money, and the ranch would be providing even more over the coming years.

"Baby?" Hunt said, tapping the floor where he sat cross-legged near his shelving unit, studying me as I came back to the present from my walk down memory lane. "You okay, love?"

I smiled and finally let my emotions expose themselves, tears falling from my eyes. Hunter crawled to my feet and moved my knees apart so he could reach me.

"I'm just so happy," I whispered. "All of this," I added, gesturing around the room. "You. Me. You and me."

"And our life? Everything all okay?" he asked, resting his chin on my knee.

"It's better than okay, my love. I'm sorry for the tears, but I was just reminiscing about our life over the past three years."

"What's been your favorite part?"

"You," I answered. "Being a family with you."

"If I needed just one more thing from you, could you give it to me?" he asked.

What I heard was that I had dropped the ball. Or he was lacking something from me. "Did I mess up?"

"Of course not, baby boy," he consoled. "You make me a better man every single day that we're together. I never want what we have to end."

"Are you ever scared, Hunt?" I whispered. He knew what I meant. We'd discussed death and dying several times. He'd gone through it. I'd witnessed death's effect on his life. I'd felt his fear as a real thing on many occasions. "There's no promise of tomorrow, my love."

"Exactly," he agreed, searching for something under the sectional. "And that is why I don't want to wait until tomorrow," he added.

My heart skipped a beat, and I held my breath. I had a strong hunch about where this was going. In what seemed to be slow motion, I watched as Hunt pulled a tiny black box from under the sofa.

I grabbed his free hand and squeezed. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure that I want to be married to you. I'm sure that I can't afford to wait another day. I'm sure I'll celebrate every waking moment with you," he expressed. "I just need this one more thing, Dr. Hawthorne. I need you to be my husband."

With one hand swiping at my eyes, I extended the other, and Sheriff Hunter Copeland slid a simple gold band onto my ring finger.

"One day at a time?" I asked, my voice cracking with emotion.

"One extraordinary day at a time."

THE END