Chapter 8 - The Apple Tree Estate
Six months later.
Autumn had arrived on the coast of Maine, painting the rolling hills in brilliant shades of crimson, gold, and deep amber.
The Vance Estate sat on a green bluff overlooking the deep blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. In the front garden stood a grand, ancient apple tree whose branches hung heavy with sweet red fruit, rustling gently in the cool coastal breeze.
The house was filled with light, warm music, and the delicious aroma of roasted chicken and freshly baked apple pie.
In the spacious, sunlit kitchen, Nora stood by the marble island, wearing a soft cream sweater, humming a slow, gentle song—the willow tree song.
Arthur walked in from his home office, wearing relaxed clothes, his face completely healed, looking handsome, rested, and profoundly peaceful. He stepped up behind Nora, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her jasmine perfume.
"You're humming," Arthur whispered against her skin, kissing her shoulder.
Nora smiled, leaning back against his chest, laying her hands over his. "Because I'm happy, Arthur. For the first time in seven years, my heart doesn't hurt when I wake up in the morning."
Arthur turned her gently in his arms, looking into her dark eyes with an intensity that made her heart flutter just as it had when they were twenty years old.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined box.
Nora gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
Inside the box sat a breathtaking platinum ring holding a brilliant, oval-cut diamond surrounded by tiny sapphire stones—the exact ring Arthur had carried in his coat pocket seven years ago on the night he was taken.
"I kept it in my safe deposit box all these years," Arthur said softly, his voice thick with devotion. "I promised myself that I wouldn't put this on your finger until I could give you the life, the peace, and the protection you always deserved."
He took her trembling hand, slipping the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
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"Nora White," Arthur whispered, touching his forehead against hers. "Will you finally marry me?"
Tears of pure, unadulterated joy spilled down Nora’s cheeks. "Yes," she sobbed softly, kissing his lips with a passion born from surviving the deepest dark together. "Yes, my love. Yes."
