Chapter 15: Ties That Mend

The last of the spring frost melted into earth as June tiptoed in with a soft breeze and longer days. The air in Elden Bridge buzzed gently with anticipation. In just two weeks, Violet and Adam would stand beneath the apple trees and speak vows written in their own crooked handwriting.

But before that, there were loose threads to tie, ones Violet had carefully avoided tugging for too long.

It began with her father.

He had agreed, with a pause and a soft nod, to walk her down the aisle. But since then, a stillness had returned between them. Not cold, but fragile—like glass between two people unsure how to step without cracking it.

One afternoon, Violet found herself in his workshop. The scent of cedar and varnish made her stomach twist with nostalgia.

"You have a minute?" she asked.

He looked up from sanding a small stool. "Of course."

Violet stepped closer, hesitating. "I never asked why you said yes. About walking me down the aisle."

He set the sandpaper down and wiped his hands on a rag. "Because I want to."

"That's all?"

He sighed, eyes resting on the window. "Because I missed a lot. And I didn't want to miss this."

Violet swallowed hard. "You hurt me, you know. When you wouldn't come to the exhibit meeting. When you stopped coming to the store."

"I know."

"I thought you didn't believe in me."

He turned to her then. "It wasn't that. I was scared. Of being left behind. Of being wrong about everything."

Silence passed between them, heavy but honest.

"I want you there," Violet said. "Not out of obligation, but because you're my dad."

He nodded, voice rough. "Then I'll be there. Proudly."

That same evening, Adam was late returning from a photo assignment, so Violet and Grace shared dinner at the bookstore's back porch, bowls of pasta balanced on their laps.

"Do you think you'll cry at the wedding?" Grace asked.

"I cry at commercials."

"That's a yes."

Violet laughed. "What about you? Think you'll ever do the whole marriage thing?"

Grace shrugged, but there was a softness in her smile. "Maybe. But only if I find someone who knows how to argue like it's foreplay and can tolerate my obsession with crossword puzzles."

"Sounds like true love."

"It's my dream."

They clinked glasses, and Violet thought about all the different kinds of love—loud, quiet, romantic, familial. Each messy and beautiful in their own way.

The next day brought an unexpected surprise.

Elena showed up at the bookstore with a small bouquet of lavender and an envelope.

"I brought my script," she said, handing it over. "And the flowers are from Aunt Ruth's garden. Thought they'd suit your bouquet."

Violet blinked. "You wrote the script?"

"You asked me to. You said you wanted it personal."

"I didn't think you'd..."

Elena's expression softened. "We're family, Vi. That still means something."

Violet reached out and hugged her—awkward, brief, but real.

"I'm glad you're standing with me," she whispered.

"Me too."

Later that week, under soft twilight, Violet and Adam walked through the orchard. Fireflies sparked between the trees, and the air smelled like lilacs and damp grass.

"This is where it all begins," Adam said.

"It's where it began before," Violet corrected. "And where it keeps beginning."

He held her hand, fingers warm against hers. "Do you ever think about how much we've changed?"

"Every day."

"But we're still here."

"Still choosing," she whispered.

They sat beneath the biggest tree, one Adam had nicknamed "the witness tree." Its gnarled roots and outstretched limbs had seen their first argument, first kiss, and now, would watch them promise forever.

Violet rested her head on Adam's shoulder. "You still nervous?"

"A little. But mostly excited."

"Good."

He looked at her, brow furrowed slightly. "Are you?"

She hesitated. Then nodded. "Not about us. Just... life. But it's a good nervous."

He kissed her temple. "That's all I need to know."

And with that, the quiet hum of a shared future wove between them.

The wedding wasn't here yet.

But the life?

It was already blooming.