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The breeze blew through the open window next to Kyland’s makeshift bed, ruffling the curtains, and I smelled the unmistakable smell of lavender. I gasped and turned my head. “There’s lavender out there.”

“Yeah. That’s why I used the computer at the Evansly library to look up how to plant it initially. The smell of it reminded me of you. It helped me remember why the suffering was worth it. It helped me focus on what I was doing and why. It helped me remember the moment at the edge of our lavender field after we’d made love, when I realized I’d do anything to get you out of here, even if it meant breaking your heart.” Sadness filled his expression, but only for a moment. “I brought some inside in the winter. Christmas was the hardest time for me.”

“Oh, Kyland.” My breath hitched. “For me too,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut as I recalled those desolate holidays—the ones I’d spent with our old principal’s niece who had taken me in when I’d first moved to San Diego.

He shook his head. “Let’s not be sad. You’re here now. It was worth it. And also, that’s how I found out about lavender being a good cash crop. It’s helped a few people. Some good came from it.”

“Yes,” I whispered. I leaned up and kissed his lips softly.

He made love to me again, this time soft and slow, our initial desperation quenched. Afterward, as we lay together in the dwindling daylight, the sun slanting through his window, and as I gazed at the man I loved—finally beside me—the world seemed only full of light and hope.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Kyland

That weekend was the most joyful weekend of my life. We spent half of it on the floor of my room, the breeze blowing the scent of lavender through the open window, making love until our limbs were sore and I didn’t remember where she ended and I began. My Tenleigh, the one woman who soothed my soul and excited my body at the same time. Nothing had changed in that regard.

When our backs were achy from lying down too long, we took a hike in our mountains. Once I had only seen desperation and poverty here—and there was no lack of pain and struggle in Appalachia. But now, walking hand in hand with Tenleigh, what I saw was the wild beauty of the forests just coming to life after a long winter. The wildflowers were blooming everywhere, the meadows awash in color, the streams were sparkling in the sunlight, and the air was warm and tasted of the sweetness of spring. These were the hills of my blood, the land my father and all his fathers before him had worked and loved in, toiling in the coal mines, working the soil of their land, and falling in love with women who would give them proud Kentucky sons and daughters. For the first time since I’d been a little boy, I felt fierce with the love of home, of these mountains, of the people who lived here, trying, failing, trying again, hanging on by their fingernails to their God-given pride and their enduring love of Appalachia.

There were some ornery backwoods mountain folk in these parts. And none of them would tell you any different. But they were strong, and they were brave. And mostly, they were good-hearted people who did the best they could and worried about each other. How had I forgotten about that when it was right in front of me all this time? And maybe I was one of them too. Maybe I’d helped a few along the way as well for no other reason than they were my people. My kinfolk. Part of my soul.

Tenleigh and I brought a picnic lunch and ate on the edge of the meadow where I’d first made love to her and where I’d realized I would sacrifice everything I had for her: my dreams, my heart. It was the place that had forever changed me. And now we’d come full circle.

We sat in the grass at the edge of a small stream, the water rolling and splashing by, as we made plans for the future. I’d spend the small amount of money I had put away to fix the roof on my house and buy some furniture. We’d live there until I was done working at the mine and Tenleigh’s school was built and running. We’d set up a nice room for her mama and I’d go through the process of applying to colleges for the second time in my life. When the time came, and when I knew what schools I’d gotten into, we’d all decide what we wanted to do. I knew I couldn’t work underground for the rest of my life. I did it now and I had gotten somewhat used to it, but it was still a challenge for me. Every day I went down into that dark mountain, but I still had to force myself to do it.