Finn knew things had changed when he woke up early, as he usually did now, and found Rachel still lightly snoring beside him. Before, she had always been the early riser. He knew why, of course; Rachel's life in high school had been an insanely rigorous list of things to do, from the time she arose to the time she collapsed into bed. Exercise, regular high school classes, extracurricular activities (including Glee), practice, homework, evening shower routine—he remembered wondering if she ever had time to eat. All of it was geared towards one goal: becoming a star. However, she never seemed to understand why he felt like he was getting in the way of her dreams, sometimes simply by being there.
He said as much as they drove to Breadstix for dinner on a school night (the restaurant had his favorite, spaghetti and meatballs, on their Wednesday special). She gave him an enigmatic smile.
"Jell-O," she said.
"Huh?"
She didn't answer until they pulled into the parking lot. Then she slid over and kissed him.
"Jell-O, Finn. There's always room for you."
She said there was always room for him because he kept her grounded, kept her human.
He imagined her life now would demand a different sleeping schedule, what with performing at night, and all. Nevertheless, he planned on ribbing her about it when she woke up.
Outside, it was still dark, with a snappy chill. He leaned over and kissed her forehead before sliding carefully out of bed and slipping on his warm flannel robe and fur-lined moccasin slippers—practical Canadian gifts from Jane. In the kitchen he carefully ground coffee, sticking the electric grinder inside his robe so as not to wake her with its high-pitched whine, then prepared a strong black brew and stepped out on the dark porch.
There was a delicate grey in the eastern sky, but everything else was still dark. Finn settled into an Adirondack chair on the porch. The air was filled with the smell of pine, and that elusive, indefinable, living scent from the lake. The Tetons blotted out the stars in the still-dark west.
He'd call in to the garage where he worked, and ask for a day off. Bob wouldn't mind; business was slow this week. As much as he was ecstatic about the reunion, he and Rachel now had to discuss what came next. In reality, the decision was practically a no-brainer, because there were two absolutes: Rachel had to get back to New York, and he couldn't live apart from her anymore. Sipping his coffee, Finn pondered the only possible problem with that: he wasn't sure if he could handle living in a big city. The fact was, he had come to love the West, and its quiet, mountainous landscapes.
Bob was an early riser like him, and a Gulf War vet, so he placed the call.
"I'm going to be losing you, aren't I?" Bob asked.
"I think so, man," Finn replied.
"Are you happy?"
"She makes me happy."
"Then take several days. Seven years is a long time to catch up."
"I love you, man".
Finn went in for a refill, checked on Rachel, who had sprawled out, taking over his space, just as he remembered her doing the one night they did manage to spend entirely together, at her house. He kissed her again, then went back outside, this time sitting on the steps. It was lighter now; a young rabbit nibbled at some flowers in the meadow, and a hawk was sitting in one of the trees, scanning for its breakfast. It never noticed the rabbit, and eventually took off towards the lake.
He was pondering what to do about the cabin offer when Rachel appeared, earlier than he expected, but welcome nonetheless in her blue robe and UGGS slippers, and with a cup of coffee. She joined him on the step and gave him a sleepy kiss.
"This seems to be our place," she commented, and took a sip. "Damn, Hudson, but you make a fine cup of coffee!" she exclaimed, smacking her lips.
"I was worried about not having soy milk."
She patted his shoulder.
"Been drinking it black for years, baby."
They enjoyed each other's company in silence for a few minutes. Then Finn spoke.
"When do you have to be back in New York?"
"Who says I have to go back?"
He looked at her. She laughed, then looked serious.
"You know I'd stay here forever with you, if you asked," she said.
He nodded.
"And you know I'd never ask that."
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Does that mean you'll come with me, to New York? "
He felt like he was stepping out into space.
"I can't be apart from you anymore," he said. He also knew what Rachel was thinking.
"Do you think you can live there, Finn? Not just with my crap, the paparazzi and all. I mean living in a huge city." She looked down, twiddling with the belt of her robe.
Finn came to a decision.
"I was thinking about accepting that offer for this cabin. Would you be okay with me coming out here occasionally if it gets too much? "
She stared at him.
"Would you mind if I came with you when you do?" She grinned wickedly. "Might do us both good."
"I'd love that," he said, and meant it. "I've also thought about going to school. GI Bill and all. I need to learn more about music for my songwriting."
Rachel hugged him fiercely. He felt the warmth of her love envelop him, like a buffalo robe.
"I knew, from the very day I met you, that you had the talent for this. I just knew it. And to hear you actually acknowledge it yourself makes me happier than you will ever know." She literally bounced on the steps in excitement.
"You know I live with Tom and his girlfriend, Emily," she continued, "But there's room for you as well. Tom could even help with your songwriting. He's brilliant!" Then her voice softened. "We could even look for our own little shoebox apartment. I don't care. As long as it's you and me, like we used to talk about."
He remembered the excitement they had shared, talking about their life together. There were times, late at night, in the Afghanistan cold, when he questioned his decision to put her on that train, when he wondered about marrying her and wishing for the romance of them struggling together against the world in that little shoebox apartment. Could that have been worse than what actually happened? His hip ached, almost as if to remind him. He rubbed it absently, then felt her hand on his.
"Kurt said you had been hurt over there. Jane didn't mention that—she left it for you to tell. You don't have to tell me, but are you okay now?"
He was fine with telling her.
"When I was carrying Sergeant Benson, a rocket-propelled grenade whooshed by me, hitting a building. Chunks, some the size of several bricks, flew off and one smacked me in the hip, tearing up some ligaments. The funny thing was, I didn't even feel it at the time. The docs said it was my adrenaline pumping. It did hurt like a motherfucker when I calmed down, though."
"Show me," Rachel ordered. Finn opened his robe and pulled his pajama bottoms off his hip. There were scars that weren't visible the night before. She lowered her head, kissing each one, then laid her head against them. "I prayed for you every night," she whispered.
"I'm sorry I put you through that," he said, kissing her hair. "I'm sorry I gave up on us. I should have known that was impossible for you and me."
They sat together for a few more minutes. The hawk returned to its tree, but by this time the rabbit had moved to cover. The Tetons now caught the full pink glory of the sunrise, reflected perfectly in the lake.
"We do need to stop in Lima on the way back," Finn remarked, sipping moré coffee., "I need to spend time with Mom.".
"But not before spending three of four more days here," Rachel replied, squeezing his thigh.