It Always Starts in Cokeworth
Chapter Twelve

31

The next three days passed by very slowly, at times blurring together. Lily was confined to her bed in the Hospital Wing with the curtains nearly always drawn, lest the students see her there.

It hadn't even occurred to Lily that there would be students, but after the first one came in asking for a Pepper-Up Potion she realised that it was nearly October and school had been in session for a month. As someone who hadn't attended school in several years, this came as a surprise. She used to mark the days on her calendar until she could return to Hogwarts.

James' bed was also drawn with curtains. Despite his initial liveliness when they arrived at Hogwarts, he spent his recovery in varying states of lethargy and sleep.

Apparently, before Lily had gotten to him—while she was out cold from Severus' Stunner—the Death Eaters had tortured him into submission, and the head wound she'd been so concerned about was only one of the injuries he'd sustained. Madam Pomfrey only allowed James to sit upright when she supplied him with a Blood Replenishing Potion, once in the morning and once after supper.

He accepted this with only mild grumbling, further convincing Lily that he was not as stable as he pretended to be. James Potter would ordinarily fight anyone who wanted to keep him still.

Lily spent most of her time either watching James sleep, or staring at the curtains separating them, wondering if he was awake and what he might be thinking. She didn't ask; even if they were conscious at the same time, they didn't talk.

For her part, Lily didn't know what to say.

James had gone out of his mind when he'd seen Peter alive and a Death Eater. She'd seen it with her own eyes, a madness that had overcome him and driven out the James she knew. Was that madness still there? Had it been there all along, lying dormant from the time he was held captive and tortured for two months?

She was ashamed that she hadn't asked James more questions about that time, instead taking only what she needed from him. But Lily didn't know how to talk to someone who'd endured that sort of thing. She still didn't, even after this ordeal—especially after this ordeal.

James and the rest of the Order went through traumas like hers all the time. They endured it, and then they stood up and kept fighting, whereas Lily felt weary all the way to her bones. She supposed that meant she was weak.

In that case, she would just have to get stronger.

The monotony of her recovery broke at the end of the third day, when Dumbledore came into the Hospital Wing and asked Lily about her experience at the Potter Mansion.

She did her best to answer in detail, but some of her memory towards the end of the ordeal was spotty and confusing. This in itself was frustrating because Lily had always prided herself on a keen recall, but Dumbledore assured her that Alice and James' testimony of Voldemort's arrival was more than enough.

Still, an unsettling sensation of uselessness crept up on her those three days, growing stronger after Dumbledore left her that night.

On the fourth morning, a little after breakfast, Lily received an unexpected visitor. She could still hear the dull roar of students in the Great Hall, preparing for their classes, and the occasional passersby outside the doors of the Hospital Wing. The sound increased greatly, and Lily looked to see who had entered.

"Good morning," Alice Longbottom said crisply, sliding through the narrow opening she'd made. She shut the door quickly, stifling the commotion of the castle.

"Good…good morning," replied Lily, at a loss. She heaved herself into a sitting position, ignoring the twinge of pain in her wrists. "Are you here to see James? He's gone back to sleep, I think."

She wasn't sure; Madam Pomfrey had closed the curtains around James' bed immediately after breakfast and his Blood Replenishing Potion. But Lily hoped he was sleeping and that Alice would leave quickly, because the sight of her had Lily's stomach roiling in guilt.

"Actually, I'm here to see you."

"Oh."

Lily braced herself as Alice walked across the room and sat down in the same chair Sirius had occupied days earlier. She crossed her ankles and sat upright, her posture perfect and lady-like. Alice was certainly born into an elite family, that much was evident.

The two women observed each other for a few minutes, Lily growing increasingly uncomfortable as the time wore on. Next to pristine, straight-backed, fully-dressed Alice Longbottom, distinguished Auror, Lily was just a boring old housewife from Cokeworth with messy hair and clad in a borrowed nightgown. Her hair was still patchy and growing in slowly where the acid had burned through.

"We never really had the chance to meet," said Alice abruptly, leaning forward a little. "I'm Alice Longbottom, I'm sure you know. And you are?"

"Lily Ev-Beauchamp. Lily Beauchamp," she corrected, biting her lip.

"That Death Eater said your last name was Evans," the other woman remarked with a frown.

"It was, when I went to school here."

Alice nodded. "It took a while for me to be comfortable enough to say 'Longbottom' for my surname. It's interesting isn't it? We give up our family names for the men we love and don't really question it. At least, I know I didn't, not until after the wedding. Then I thought, 'who is this Alice Longbottom? What sort of name is that?' How confusing."

Despite her casual tone, Lily could see a crack in the Auror's complacent face.

"I wouldn't know," Lily said slowly. "I didn't marry for love."

"Ah…" Alice leaned back into the chair, studying Lily further.

She fidgeted under her scrutiny.

"I'm sorry," Lily blurted out.

"For what?"

"For…for what I said," she fumbled, trying to put it into words. "I made your husband sound like a…thing, and I was careless with how I spoke, and you're probably grieving right now and I'm talking about my own husband—"

"Hadn't you already apologised for what you said?" Alice interrupted, pursing her lips. "Back at the safe house. You apologised right after."

"Oh, I…I don't really remember much of what happened after you Stunned those two Death Eaters," Lily admitted, involuntarily reaching around and touching the bandage on the back of her head. "I just know I said something awful to you."

She pursed her lips. "Well, I don't see much good in resenting someone who's already apologised," she said slowly. "It was the heat of the moment, after all, in the middle of a desperate situation. And you were right, at that—if James and I had listened to you, we might have Apparated out without you getting injured. He certainly beat himself up over that."

"He—he did?" Lily glanced over at the curtains that hid James from sight.

Alice nodded. "He's quite taken with you—does he know you're married?"

"Yes," Lily whispered, staring at her hands.

"Well, that's none of my business," she said, though when Lily looked over her eyes cast judgment. "I came here to find out what sort of person you are."

"Pardon?"

The Auror tilted her head to the side. "Taking out the infiltrator Peter Pettigrew and three Death Eaters with a wand not your own, while bleeding to death, and rescuing not only my son and I but James as well—not to mention you recounted tossing Severus Snape down the stairs. That's quite impressive for a brand-new member, and one living as a Muggle at that."

Lily frowned. "How do you know that?"

"I asked," said Alice, as if it were the simplest thing. "So tell me, Lily Beauchamp, or Evans, or whatever you like; what sort of person are you?"

What an odd question.

Lily looked at her hands again, as if she could see her wounds if she stared hard enough. For some reason, she kept coming back to them over the last four days. When she wasn't sleeping or looking toward James, her eyes fixed on those bandages.

She'd gotten them by thinking like a Muggle in the middle of a wizard's fight, and it had saved the lives of the man she loved and this woman sitting at her side.

She gave them to herself.

For two years, Lily had wallowed and withered while pretending to be a Muggle when all she wanted was to be a witch, even if she couldn't fully admit it to herself. Yet the second she was called upon to act as a witch, she turned out to be more of a Muggle than she'd thought. What did that make her? A coward, like Sirius said, hiding in Cokeworth all this time? Even when she got out was she still hiding?

"I don't really know," Lily answered, dropping each word deliberately, like a stone into water. "I used to, but…I think that's something I have to figure out." She looked back to the other woman. "Sorry, I don't think I can tell you just now."

Alice sighed, uncrossing her ankles and scooting to the edge of the chair. "I like most of what I've seen so far from you," she told Lily. "I think we could be friends, if we got a chance to meet properly. Once you've figured yourself out, let me know."

She rose from her seat and made to step around the chair.

"Wait!" Lily called out. Alice turned to her. "Er…Neville," she went on awkwardly. "How is he?"

"He's fine," she replied. "I was worried—that Stunning Spell knocked him out—but Madam Pomfrey set him to rights. He's sleeping now; I asked a House-Elf to watch after him for the moment."

"And…" Lily felt ridiculous; she had no right to ask what she wanted to, and she even knew what the answer would be…but all the same, she couldn't not ask. "How are you?"

The crack in Alice's calm expression spidered out, and the entire mask broke to pieces within seconds of Lily's question. In its place was stark, painful grief.

"My husband is dead," Alice answered, looking to the floor. "I watched him die in front of my eyes. He threw himself in front of my son and they killed him just for being a father. He was the love of my life, my partner, and he's dead and I can't bring him back no matter what I do. How am I? I'm dead too. A part of me died with him—too large a part."

Lily couldn't bear to watch the other woman anymore. She fixed her eyes on the door to Madam Pomfrey's office, blinking back tears of sympathy.

"But I can't be dead," she went on, "because I have a son who needs me to live for him. Especially now that Voldemort came so close to killing him and failed. He'll need me even more now and…and Frank wouldn't want me to die with him and leave Neville all alone. So, I suppose I don't know myself either, if it comes to that."

"I'm sorry," Lily managed through a tight throat. "I can't imagine…"

"I hope you never have to know," said Alice. Her footsteps echoed on the walls as she left the Hospital Wing. The door creaked impossibly loud, and then it slammed shut.

32

"Who is this?"

…Pain…Indescribable, worse than the acid, worse than the burns, than her hands—

"Don't speak to me!"

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

"Lily!"

The voice seemed to come from far away, miles and miles above her, but…she knew that voice.

Slowly, her eyes opened. She could just make out James' concerned face hovering above her, his glasses slipping dangerously far down his nose. It was so dark that she couldn't make out the finer details of him…it was night, then.

"Hi," she said stupidly, still half-asleep. "Why are you up?"

"You were crying in your sleep," he mumbled. Lily imagined she could see his eyes darting to every corner of her face. "I was worried."

"Oh…"

James reached out a hand and brushed wayward strands of hair off her face. She closed her eyes and sighed at the feel of his fingers on her skin, at the gentleness of his calloused hands.

"I've missed you," she said absently.

"I've been right next to you," said James, a hint of laughter in his voice. "I was in bed the entire time, I haven't gone anywhere."

"Yes you have."

He didn't say anything.

Lily opened her eyes again and stared up at him. She almost felt guilty for saying it; of course he didn't want to talk about what happened back at his home. What he felt, what he thought—she could begin to fathom his level of hurt. But all the same, he hadn't been there this entire time.

"I think…" her voice broke. She tried again. "I think I killed someone. Back at the house, I mean. The Death Eater who took you out in the study. I think I killed him. I know I did, actually."

"Lily…"

"I never wanted to kill anyone," Lily went on. "I swore to myself I wouldn't. Silly thing to do, but…when I saw what he'd done to you, I lost my head."

"You did what you had to do," James told her quietly. His hand had stopped moving on her face.

"I was glad to kill him," she confessed. "I heard his skull crack open and I thought, 'well, that's good.' But now I just feel like a murderer. Because I am."

He was very still. Lily turned her head and looked away, trying not to cry.

And then James grabbed her hand. "Come on," he muttered, pulling her out of bed.

The cold night air hit her as soon as she was free of the sheets, her skin instantly covered in goose pimples. James tugged her over to a cabinet and opened it, releasing her to grab two robes. After they'd both slung them on, he laced their fingers together again and led her out of the Hospital Wing.

Hogwarts at night wasn't exactly silent—the portraits were whispering or snoring, depending on the corridor—but it was very different in the middle of the night. Lily had a brief moment of panic, afraid they would get caught out of bed, like she was still a student. But no, they weren't bound by any such rules. They could come and go as they pleased.

Their destination turned out to be the Great Hall; James pulled open one of the large doors, eyeing it appreciatively.

"Lucky it was open," he remarked.

Lily frowned. "You weren't sure?"

"Nah, it changes all the time," said James as they went inside. "Some teachers lock it, some don't bother…bet you anything it was Filch on duty tonight. He can't lock it so he doesn't try."

"Oh."

They stopped in front of the Gryffindor table.

"Lie down," he told her.

She blinked. "What?"

"Lie down," James repeated. He turned to her with a smirk. "On the table. Go on, then."

Lily did as he said, her movements slow and hesitant. The second she was completely reclined, James hoisted himself up and dropped down next to her.

"Look at that sky," he remarked, pointing at the brilliant cluster of stars. "All that light, and it's still dark out. Almost makes you wonder what the point is."

If he was talking about something other than the image of night on the bewitched ceiling, he didn't show it. They lay in silence for a while, gazing up, James tapping out a rhythm with his fingers on the tabletop. A cloud drifted slowly across.

"The first man I killed," James began suddenly, "didn't die slowly. I got to see his face—dunno who he was, but he was a Death Eater and I'd used a spell I shouldn't have. He died screaming, his face turning purple—it was awful."

Her breath caught in her throat.

"At the time, I thought I was the worst person alive. I ended someone else's life, painfully, and there I was, living and breathing and completely fine. I kept beating myself up for it until someone sat me down and reminded me that Death Eater probably killed loads of innocent people and didn't feel even a bit of the remorse I did for ending his life.

"Killing tears at your soul, you know; makes a tiny rip in it. You kill enough people and your soul gets so ripped up, you just stop caring. You've got to want to care." James turned his head toward her. "That Death Eater? He wanted to kill me. He would've enjoyed it. He's probably killed loads of people too; might've been the one to kill Frank or Benjy. And he won't be killing anyone else now that you've stopped him."

"That doesn't make it right," she muttered, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. They spilled down the sides of her face.

"No, it doesn't," he agreed. "But that's the price we pay for joining the Order. We have to do some awful things to keep others from suffering. We probably won't be alright by the end of it, if we even make it to the end alive, but that's worth it if we can help people."

Lily watched the drifting cloud move out of sight. "So we're both ruined now." She sighed and rubbed at her face. "Do you still want me, now that I've got a tear in my soul?"

"I'll always want you," he said gently. "I'm…I'm sorry I haven't been around. Peter just—it's a lot to take in, you know? I had to sort it all out, and after what happened to me those two months last year…I don't think I'm as fine as I thought."

"I know that," Lily told him. She startled herself with the loudness of her own voice. "I know a lot happened, but I wanted to be there for you. I still want that. I think I always will."

She heard James draw in a sharp breath. "Always?"

"I…" she was trembling. "You know I love you, don't you? You do know that?"

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I love you too," he whispered. "I know I'm an idiot for loving a married woman but…I'm glad to take all the misery."

"I don't have to be," said Lily. "Married, that is. Or, I could be married, but not to…not to Richard. I could be married to someone else. Eventually. Possibly."

"Is that a proposal?" James chuckled.

She felt her cheeks heat up. "You know what I said."

He raised his arm and settled it around her shoulders, his arm a pillow for her head. Lily leaned into him, inhaling his scent. It was covered up with soap and linens from the Hospital Wing, but that woodsy smell still hung about him. For the first time since arriving at Potter Mansion, Lily felt a little of the worry in her chest release.

Which reminded her…

"Why didn't you tell me the safe house was going to be your home?" she asked him.

"Ah…" he cringed. "It's stupid."

Lily hadn't expected that; she rolled onto her side, ignoring the harsh surface of the wood table. "What do you mean, stupid?"

"I…alright, you can't laugh," he warned, an impossible blush spreading across his face. "Merlin. Ever since fourth year I—ugh—I've had this fantasy of showing you my house, and you getting all impressed and…I dunno, fancying me. Really stupid. Look how that turned out, anyway."

"I don't need to see the size of your house to fancy you," said Lily, suppressing a giggle. He really was adorable, despite how much he tried to hide it.

"Nah, just…you know, a place that was really me."

She couldn't think of what to say, so she put her arm on his chest and snuggled in closer.

This was what she'd been missing, this closeness she'd barely begun to experience with him. Touching him, laughing with him, talking or just staying silent—all of that was part of being with James, and Lily didn't think she could settle for stolen moments anymore, not after being so afraid of losing him entirely. The fact that he loved her so much made her head spin.

She didn't want to stop spinning, not ever again.

"I think…" James cleared his throat. "The boys and I, we talked it over a couple days ago. You were asleep. Sirius and Remus and I, we're going to hunt down Peter. If he's still alive, he's going to answer to us for what he's done. We've all lost people we care about because of him."

"Good," said Lily. "He should be hunted down."

"And after that…" he turned to look at her. Their noses brushed together. "I'm going to move out of Sirius' flat. It's too crowded with both him and Remus bunking there. I really only want to live with one other person."

"Sounds reasonable," she said, managing to sound casual even with her heart hammering out of her chest.

James kissed her gently. "I know I'm not alright yet," he breathed, "but I feel better when I'm with you."

Lily knew exactly what he meant.

33

1978

"How is she?" Richard asked quietly.

When she didn't immediately answer, he passed Lily a tissue; she took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. She'd been crying and wiping her eyes so much lately that her skin was tender and felt like it might fall apart if she rubbed at it.

"Awful," said Lily, once she could trust her voice not to break. "I can't believe it; she wasn't nearly this bad when I visited for Easter."

And a lucky thing Lily had visited—she'd nearly stayed at the castle to study for her N.E.W.T.s, but a letter from her father had called her home at the last minute. Still, she barely recognised her own mother, with that grey skin and those hollow cheeks. That wasn't her mother, who had always been made of smiles and warmth.

Richard reached out and patted her arm gently.

"She wouldn't stop talking about you, either," Lily went on, a bitter laugh breaking through her silent misery. "How heartbroken you must be, what with Petunia married to Vernon now. Can you believe our mothers have the gall to—to…"

"You don't have to speak ill of your mum," Richard told her, pulling her into a one-armed hug. He hadn't held her like this since they were children. "She doesn't know I've never cared for Tuney that way. It's not her fault."

"No, but she's got all her hopes pinned on this silly fantasy of hers," Lily sighed.

He hesitated. "What if we…"

"What?" Lily pulled away from him and looked him in the eye. "What if we what?"

"Look, we could do it, you know," said Richard, all in a rush. "We could just stage a wedding, not even a real one—that could cheer her up, you know, before she—" he caught himself at the last moment.

"Before she dies?"

He dropped his gaze to his feet. "It's just a thought."

Lily opened her mouth to argue, to explain just how poor an idea that was…but she found she had no explanation to offer. What else was she doing, anyhow? Going back to the Wizarding world, with no job and a war targeted specifically at people like her?

She could fight, if she wanted to, but she would end up fighting alone and probably die alone too, perhaps even before her mother passed. Lily didn't want to die and…she did want to see her mother smile. Here, at least, she could do some good.

"Is your father still giving you a hard time?" Lily said hesitantly.

"Er…yeah," Richard muttered, not looking up.

She took a deep breath. "What if it was a real wedding?"

Lily had just finished coaxing a protesting Mosley into his carrying cage when the front door opened.

"Oh! You're home," Richard said, sounding both surprised and pleased. "Did you just get in?" he gestured to her suitcases.

"I got in this morning," she told him over the sounds of her wailing cat. "Hush, Mosley."

He frowned. "Then…"

"I'm leaving, Richard. I've called a cab; it'll be here soon to take me to the train station."

The words hung between them, illuminating the distance between them. Lily felt a sizeable knot in her chest begin to unwind—which was good, because she had acquired so many knots in the last week that she didn't have room for this one anymore.

His eyes widened, and he slowly closed the door behind him. "You…but you just got back," he said with a hint of desperation.

"Richard."

"Why?" he demanded. "What happened?"

"I can't stand this anymore," Lily said simply. "Living like this? I shouldn't ever have agreed to it."

"Wha—Lily, this was your idea!" Richard protested, stepping forward. "You said we could do this for a few years and as soon as I got enough money to get both of us out of here—"

She shook her head. "It was a bad idea, and in any case, you're never going to leave. Not while Paul is still here. You know that."

"He would leave if I asked—"

"No he won't," Lily interrupted harshly. "At least acknowledge the sort of man you fell in love with. Paul is selfish and he won't leave his family, not when life is so easy for him here. He won't leave for you, any fool could see that. Why can't you?"

Richard's face went pale.

"This isn't about Paul, anyway," she went on. "Maybe it's about Paul for you, but for me…I don't want to be married to someone who can't love me. Or who I don't love. I don't want to hide out here in this house, keeping secrets and battling neighbours. My enemies shouldn't be gossipy women, they should be—" she bit her tongue; her enemies were dangerous wizards, and she wasn't about to tell Richard any of that.

"Couldn't you stay just a little longer?" Richard pleaded quietly.

"I've rented a flat," said Lily. "Near my old school. And I spoke with a divorce attorney. He'll be delivering papers to you soon; I didn't ask for any money, I'm just taking the clothes on my back and Mosley and I'll be out of your life."

Richard reached out to her; she took a step back.

"Why?" he asked again, his voice broken. "You can't leave me like this—what am I going to do? How am I going to explain all this?"

She felt a rush of sympathy for him. "Tell them I ran off with the contractor," she suggested quietly. "No one will question you if you mope about single for a few years. Pass it off as a broken heart, paint me the villain, whatever you have to do."

"The contractor…" Richard frowned and dropped his arm. "Who was this contractor, anyway? Was he even—"

"No, he isn't," said Lily. Even now, she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at the thought of James. "He's not a contractor—but I suppose I am running off with him, in a way."

"Who is he?"

"You've met him," she told him.

Richard's frowned deepened, obviously straining to recall meeting any men she would run off with. It was probably difficult for him to notice anything Lily would want.

"The dog, Richard," Lily said at last, taking pity on him. "Remember the dog?"

"I…oh," he said, eyes widening. "The dog owner? What was his name…John?"

"James," she corrected. A smile broke through her stern demeanor as she said his name. "I love him. I have for quite some time, but now I know he loves me, and I can't stay apart from him."

"You've only just met him?" Richard argued in dismay. "Three months ago!"

Lily didn't want to explain James to Richard. "So you see, I don't want to be with anyone but him. I don't know if we'll get married or not—I hope we will, someday—but I can't have anyone else in my life. I've got to be selfish this time. I can't—I won't give up what I want anymore."

Richard started backing away, his arm spread out in front of the door as if he could block her. "That's not fair."

"It's not fair that I've been stuck here for two years!" Lily snapped back. "Alone, and friendless, while you go out and see Paul at work every day, and you're with him almost every night. You don't understand how hard it's been for me, do you? Because I haven't complained for you sake!"

"I might see Paul every day but I have to pretend that I don't…that we're not…you think that's easy, Lily?" he asked frantically. "Do you really think I've gotten the better end of this?"

A honk sounded from the street.

"That's my cab," she said, and picked up her things and Mosley. "Move, Richard."

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn't; but then, with shoulders drooping, he stepped aside and allowed her to open the door.

Just before she crossed the threshold, she paused and turned back to him. "You should get out too," she suggested quietly. "Leave Cokeworth and go to London. They don't care as much in London who you're living with or who you love. See if Paul comes with you. I doubt he will, but maybe I'm wrong. For your sake, I hope I am."

The cabbie opened up the trunk of his car as she trundled down the porch steps.

"This everything, miss?"

"Yes," she told him, handing over the larger suitcase.

"Very good." He paused and eyed Mosley's cage, who began yowling the second he realised someone was paying attention to him again. "I don't take animals."

"He'll behave," Lily promised. "Besides, it's only a short drive, yes?"

"Hmm," the cabbie said, pursing his lips as he put her second suitcase in the trunk. Thankfully, he didn't forbid her from taking Mosley—she wouldn't be able to bear it. He opened the door for her.

She turned to wave goodbye to Richard, but the door was already closed and Richard out of sight. It was probably just as well, she thought, as she looked at her bare left hand. She sighed and climbed into the back seat, settling Mosley next to her.

The cabbie shut the door and scrambled around to the driver's side. Lily kept her eye on the Masterson's house across the street. She wondered if Mrs Masterson was watching right now, and how long it would take for the rumors to spread. Perhaps she was already on the phone.

Well, she mused, as the cab pulled away from the sidewalk, it wasn't her problem anymore. Richard would be alright; he was smart enough. She didn't need to worry about the gossiping old neighbours any longer.

Lily watched the houses on Packer Street as they flew by, saying a silent goodbye to each and every one. She felt a slight twinge of guilt as she passed her old home, where her father was likely inside, watching a game. He probably needed her…but she could do so much more good in the Wizarding world and, if she was being honest, she was tired of caring for everyone's needs but her own.

The cab turned onto Weaver's Lane, and she leaned back after catching a glimpse of that old park where she would play with Petunia, the park where she met Severus Snape.

She had once told James that nothing ever started in Cokeworth, but it occurred to Lily right then that she was wrong.

After all, she was born here. She'd met Severus and learned she was a witch here. She'd gotten her letter to Hogwarts here. She first heard about the war here. Lily had met Richard, discovered his secret, and married him, all in Cokeworth. She and James started here, and here was where she'd joined the Order.

Even now, at this moment, something else was starting—her new life.

Perhaps, Lily reasoned, with a small smile on her face, perhaps everything in her life always started in Cokeworth. Perhaps the story of her life was littered with this town.

But that didn't mean she had to stay.

Ah, here we are. The ending. Thank you to everyone who had read and reviewed—I have been positively awful at responding to reviews but please know each and every one of you made my day better with your kind words of encouragement. Thank you for letting me share this story with you!