The wedding was to take place two weeks after the storm, when Finbarr had completely healed. Neither had wanted a long engagement, they had circled around each other for far too long. Emma was ready to crash right into Finbarr.

The days before the wedding flew by in a blur of preparations, punctuated by stolen moments with Finbarr. He was still heartbroken over the loss of Grady, but spending time together seemed to ease that burden. She loved the evenings best of all when he would come and sit with her on the porch swing. The air was turning colder, but wrapped in each others arms, neither seemed to notice. Sometimes Eimear would come out and beg a story from Finbarr, which he always relented to without too much persuasion. Sometimes the rest of the family would gather around to listen as well. If they could do nothing else but this for the rest of their lives, she knew she would be the happiest woman on earth.

The day before the wedding, she stood in the yard, hanging laundry. She heard a rolicking whistle coming up the lane and she knew who it was before she could see him. Finbarr whistled Brennan's Reel as he made his way carefully up the lane. Without Grady to guide him, he had to rely on his cane, making his progress much slower.

"A fine good day to you, Finbarr," she called as she made her way toward him for a kiss. "What brings you by?"

"I came to get some flour for Ma," he grinned. "You'd think she was baking for an army the way she's been going."

She giggled, quickly stifling it into a mock pout. "You didn't come to see me?"

"Of course I did," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "Why do you think I was so quick to volunteer when Ma asked?"

Emma laughed into his next kiss. "You've saved me from an afternoon of boredom. I've been doing wash all day."

"That doesn't sound like a very romantic way to spend the day before your wedding, does it?" Katie chuckled from behind them, making Emma jump. She hadn't heard her come up, but clearly Finbarr had.

"You're interruptin' a fine bit of snugglin'," he grinned, laying on an Irish accent thick as his father's. "If I ask nicely, will you leave us alone for a few minutes?"

Katie pushed back a grin, raising her finger in a scolding manner. Emma would have thought she was serious, if it hadn't been for the twinkle in her eyes.

"Is that any way to talk to your future mother-in-law?"

The effect of her scolding was quite ruined by a laugh, making his grin widen.

"My apologies."

"Just so you know," Katie replied as she walked away. "I'm on the porch churning butter. Behave yourselves."

Her cheeks pinked slightly as Katie left them together. She knew full well that Katie was teasing, but it didn't make it less embarrassing.

"I think we can behave ourselves," Finbarr tossed her a wicked grin. "Right after this."

He pulled her behind the cotton sheets on the line. He slipped one hand to the back of her neck, the other to her back and pulled her close for another kiss. His lips were insistent and inviting, making her heart race. She was glad when his hand moved from the center of her back to her waist, because her legs were beginning to feel unstable. She fell into him, into his kiss. The way he kissed her made her heart sing.

"I can see you," Katie called, causing the two of them to pull apart. He grinned unrepentantly, no sign of a blush on his cheeks.

"Can I help you hang the laundry?" he asked. She felt a little surprise, even though she had seen him function completely on his own for years, it still sometimes astounded her that he knew or sensed things without having to be told.

"If you're volunteering, I'm more than happy to let you," she replied, handing him a few clothespins. "How did you know that was what I was doing?"

"I could smell the soap," he shrugged, using his fingers to find the clothesline before taking the sheet he had picked up and pinning it to the line. "Katie puts rose water in with it. Besides, I still have enough vision on light days to see outlines."

The two spent an enjoyable few minutes together, talking of their hopes and dreams and what their future would hold after tomorrow. She felt a bubble of happiness swell inside her chest. Soon, they would be able to be together forever.

Finbarr lapsed into silence as she finished pinning up the last of the laundry. He fingered the edge of one sheet.

"I want to do something before the wedding," he said quietly. "Will you go with me?"

"Of course," she nodded. "Where are we going?"

He hesitated, bringing his eyes toward her. "I—I want to visit Marianne's grave. I haven't been since the funeral."

A lump formed in her throat as she slipped her hand into his. "Of course I'll go with you, Finbarr."

His breath whooshed out of him in a sigh of relief. "Good, I couldn't go alone. But with you, I think I can. You make me braver than I ever thought I could be after the fire, Emma."

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. "And you do the same for me. I hope you know that."

That evening, the Archer home hummed with preparations for the following day; but in the twilight, Emma and Finbarr slipped away. They had a little pilgrimage to make. She met him at the end of the lane and together they went to the graveyard beside the church. The little white stone under the willow made her heart pinch, but it didn't bring the overwhelming sadness it used to. She tried to visit at least once a year on her friend's birthday, but she hadn't come for a while.

"We're here," she murmured to Finbarr, bringing him to a stop in front of Marianne's grave. Her mouth turned up slightly as she remembered the sunny, golden-haired girl who had been her closest friend. "She would be forever saying I told you so. She was convinced that you loved me, even when we were too small to really understand what love was. She always said she would dance at our wedding."

Her voice caught on the last syllable as Finbarr pulled her closer. His own jaw worked as though he were trying not to cry. Emma rested her forehead on his chest, letting the memories wash over her.

"How glad Marianne would be tomorrow if she were here," she continued in a whisper. "But I believe she does know and is glad of it—somewhere else. I read somewhere that 'our dead are never dead until we have forgotten them.' Marianne will never be dead to me, I can never forget her."

Finbarr nodded. "I can never forget her either. I don't want to forget her. She deserves to be remembered."

They stood together in the golden light of dusk, each remembering silently. Someday, they would tell their children all about Marianne. Someday, they would tell them about the feud and the pain and sorrow it had caused. But Marianne's most lasting gift had been hope. She had given the town hope for peace that had eluded them for so long. That hope remained, long after her earthly life had ended. Emma wanted her children to know about Marianne and the good she had done.

Finbarr laid the late autumn flowers they had found on Marianne's grave and they walked slowly down the long hill together. It was a gracious evening, full of enchanting lights and shadows. In the west was a sky of bright orange and amber-tinted clouds, with long strips of jewel-bright sky between. Emma sighed contentedly. All around her, lying in the fine, beautiful country silence, were the hills and fields and woods she had known and loved so long. And the love of her life was beside her, never to leave again.

"Why did you stay?" Finbarr asked quietly as they walked back to her parents' home. "You could have had any life you wanted if you'd gone to Baltimore. You could have gone to concert halls, had fine clothes, you could have—"

She turned, resting her hands on his chest to prevent him from walking into her. She reached up on her toes, stopping his words with a kiss.

"I never wanted any of that," she murmured against his lips. "I just want you. And besides, Hope Springs will always be home to me. It's where I wanted to make a life."

"A life with a ridiculously handsome blind man?" he teased, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She giggled, punctuating her reply with kisses.

"With a ridiculously handsome, kind, wonderful blind man whom I adore. When we used to wish on stars together, this is what I wished for."

"Grá mo chroí," he smiled into their kisses. "You truly are the love of my heart, Emma. Are you certain you want to marry me? It doesn't feel real yet."

"Finbarr O'Connor, what do I have to do to convince you?" she replied in mock exasperation. "If you ever ask me if I want to marry you again, I'll belt you in the gob."

Finbarr laughed, one of his rare, deep belly laughs. "So is that a yes?"

"It is a yes, which you know full well." They began walking, their entwined fingers swinging gently between them.

"I do know," he grinned, squeezing her fingers. "But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy hearing it. This time tomorrow, you'll be my wife."

Finbarr's wife!

Emma thrilled from head to foot at the prospect. She and Finbarr could build a life together at long last.

"It will be worth the wait," she replied. "So worth the wait. Heavens, it would be worth going through all of it again, just to have you kiss me like you did when you proposed."

He stopped, turning to her again. He tipped her chin up toward his face, those beautiful blue eyes sending a thrill through her once more.

"All you have to do is ask, Miss Emma," he smiled, kissing her lightly. "Because I'll be happy to kiss you anytime you want."