Alyssa woke early, rising with the sun. A bad habit too deeply entrenched in her body to break, no matter how late she'd gone to bed the night before. And it had been very late. Ethan lay next to her, his breathing slow, deep and even. She watched the rise and fall of his back, was almost tempted to reach up and brush away that wisp of dark hair from his brow. He looked so peaceful. So at ease in the comfort of the home he'd grown up in, surrounded in the warmth of familiarity in a way she'd never seen him before.

A hint of sunlight glinted on the frosted window glass and fractured, like light through a crystal, scattering colour across his skin. Rising from the bed, the room cozy with warmth, Alyssa dressed quickly and quietly, casting him a smiling glance as she slid out into the hall.

Someone was up, she realized, scenting coffee on the air. But found the kitchen quiet. Empty. The light flashed on the brewer and she poured some into a mug from the dish rack. Topped it with some cream and sugar. Movement out the windows caught her eye and Alyssa turned to see a shape moving out in the yard, towards the greenhouse.

Lottie opened the door and disappeared inside. Tapping her nails against the curved edge of her mug, Alyssa set it aside and quickly poured out a second mug, hoping that Ethan's mom wouldn't object to cream and sugar—since it had sat readily on the counter. Filling a thermos, Alyssa shrugged on Ethan's heavy coat, hefted both mugs and the coffee and swung open the back door.

Cold blasted in a hard slap that had her gasp. Ice coated the windows, dusted the ground so when she stepped out onto the back veranda and crossed the lawn, she could hear the crunch of it under her shoes. Feel the bite of it in the air.

Grateful for the warm thermos, Alyssa trudged to the greenhouse, maneuvered the handle with her elbow and nudged it open. Warmth pushed over her as she stepped inside and the door neatly swung shut behind her. She'd never been inside one before—and certainly not one this large. Shelves ran around the perimeter walls, each lined with trays filled with budding seedlings under tracks of UV lighting.

The center was carved out into squares, each rioting with vegetation—plump tomatoes spiraled up lattice, leafy heads of kale—in every variety Alyssa could think of, the tops of carrots, onions and garlic. The other half of the garden was divided with rows of potted flowers, growing bushes and towards the back were a trio of citrus trees, behind which Lottie poked out her head, pewter curls tucked beneath a knit cap. She'd taken off her coat, had her sleeves rolled up and wore a pair of bright purple gardening gloves that stopped at the elbow.

"Ah, thought I heard someone. And you bring coffee. Aren't you a dear." Joining her, Lottie accepted a mug with a grateful smile.

"I got up early and thought maybe you could use a hand."

"Well I won't say no to that." She angled her gaze, soft blue eyes winking with humor. "I trust you slept well last night? You certainly look...rested."

Heat flashed up the back of Alyssa's neck and it had nothing to do with the humid temperatures of the greenhouse. There was no mistaking the teasing tone, or the message underneath it. She'd had sex with Ethan in his parent's home and his mother knew. Oh shit. "I...oh...Mrs. Davies I'm so sorry—" As her embarrassed blush deepened, Lottie tossed back her head with a playful laugh.

"Oh, my darling girl, he's a grown, healthy man and you're a grown, healthy woman. A bit of sex is a good thing between two consenting adults whom are clearly smitten. I'd be more offended if you thought you had to withhold for my sake." Looping an arm through Alyssa's, Lottie led her through the narrow pathways between garden beds. "Ethan was always a keep to himself sort. Didn't even lose his virginity until he was almost nineteen." She chuckled, pressing a soil dusted glove to her face. "Lord, he'd kill me for telling you, but I think you need to understand the sort of person he is. It takes him a long, long time to come out of his shell. Gets that from his grandfather. But once he does—he's breathtaking."

Alyssa sighed in agreement, he truly was. "You raised him well."

"That I did." Lottie smirked, dirt smeared on her nose. "Of all my kids, Ethan holds a special place, right here." She tapped her chest. "Even when he was a boy, when Ethan loves, it's with every breath and bone in his body. With his very soul. The woman who snags him will never have to question or doubt where she sits in his world. She'll come first. Ahead of anything and every one. He would never hurt or take advantage of you, or string you along merely for physical pleasure. You mean a great deal to him, any fool with eyes can see that."

Unsure what to say to that, Alyssa cleared her throat.

"I was planning to prune this Meyer lemon tree. Why don't we start there and enjoy our coffee afterwards?" She led Alyssa to the trees she'd admired earlier, and stopped by the furthest one. "You comfortable with sheers?" she asked, handing over a large pair of hedge trimmers.

"Shouldn't be a problem." Grateful for the shift in subject, setting the thermos and mug to join Lottie's on an empty shelf, Alyssa took hold of the handle, tested the snap. It moved clean and easy with a vicious bite that she imagined could cleave through a sapling with minimal pressure.

She listened as Lottie explained what to do, then set about trimming and pruning the branches, scaling back to keep the foliage even and clean. As she trimmed, Lottie deftly pinched and removed marble sized lemons from cluster, to give the rest more room to grow, she'd said, and allowed for larger lemons.

And something about this process of tending and nurturing life drew immediate attention the fact that Alyssa may never be able to create life herself. She may never be a mother.

As if cancer hadn't been soul-destroying enough...

"There." Lottie rocked back on her heels, assessing their work. "She's a beauty again. Thank you. Let's have that coffee, shall we?"

Sniffing, Alyssa snapped the sheers shut, blinking away the glint of tears. "Yes, I think that's a good idea." While Lottie poured, Alyssa hefted a couple empty potting trays off a concrete bench, dusted off any dirt with her hands. Together they sat, mugs in hand and coffee steaming.

"Ah, you make a wonderful cup," Lottie sighed after her first grateful sip, her eyes skimming proudly over the rioting blossoms and blooms that surrounded them. Life in full bloom and in defiance of winter.

"I love this bush." Smiling, Lottie stroked a hand over a stunning explosion of roses as one would a small child. "These were the first thing I ever planted in here almost twenty years ago, after I'd found out I had ovarian cancer. Back then, detection and treatment weren't the marvel they are today. I was lucky they caught it so quickly after my youngest, Cole was born. Rooted it out. Had to take it all though, ovaries and uterus combined. I was blasted with drugs and chemo and radiation until I almost begged to die."

Emotion clutched at Alyssa's chest, all secret knowing and empathy. "I'm so sorry."

"It was tough on everyone. But my poor Ethan...my strong, patient boy, he took it the hardest. Weathered it like a stone and never left my side once. But it cost him. That fear and worry." Lowering to the ground, knees popping, Lottie held out a hand for the trowel. Alyssa handed it over. "Ethan built this place for me while I was in hospital, recovering from the surgery," she continued, driving that slender tool into the soil, pausing to pluck dead blooms from the stalks. "When I came home, after a period of bed rest—and a lot of prodding from my son, I poured my heart into this garden. My grief and loss. Tending to these plants, nurturing them—creating life when life had all but been sucked out of me...it brought me back."

Tipping her head back, she smiled knowingly. "How long until you're in remission?"

Stunned, Alyssa could only blink. "How did you...how did you know?"

"I didn't for sure. At least, not for sure." Those blue eyes softened. "Was it breast?"

Head hung, Alyssa nodded. "Two years," she whispered. "I've got two more years before I can breathe easy again."

Finished with her coffee, she settled on the ground next to Lottie and pinched a deadened bloom from the bush. Twirling the shriveled flower, she studied those brittle brown petals. So fragile in her grasp. The slightest application of pressure and it would crumble apart into nothing. There could be no better metaphor for her life, for her heart and soul, than this withered bud. All life and vitality sucked away—void of colour and vibrancy and spirit.

A hollow shell of the marvel it had once been.

A soil speckled gloved hand reached out, weighed over hers, gentle with understanding.

"I'd like to say it gets easier once you're in full remission. But it doesn't. The worry always lingers. Right here." Lottie drilled a finger to the center of Alyssa's brow. "It leaves a mark—a stain that's hard to remove. And if not careful, it can sink deep and fester, a cancer that eats at the soul." Blue eyes flashed to hers, full of heat and determination. "But you can't let it. You can't let it win, because that's a whole other breed of death, don't you see? A more dangerous, everlasting sort. Chewing you up until you're nothing but bones, walking about but not living. Not breathing. Not in the way it counts."

A warm splash spilled across Alyssa's cheeks. A crack in the dam she couldn't stem and the tears rolled, fast and thick. Dragging out sobs and gasping breaths that weighed her shoulders. Arms opened and she slid into that warmth and offer of comfort. How long since she'd last been held like this? In the loving embrace of a mother. By someone who could be her strength when her own had been tapped out.

"There, there, love. You have a good cry. Nothing wrong with that," Lottie crooned, rocking her in a patient rhythm. When she was spent, when there weren't any tears left inside of her to shed, Lottie removed her gardening gloves and swept over her cheeks and beneath swollen eyes.

"Every year I torch a box of tampons and say good riddance. In fact, I think I'm due for a little bonfire. We can toss in some underwire, too." Rising from her knees, she held out a hand for Alyssa, a gleam of mischief in her water blue eyes. "Come on, let's rip off the bras and burn 'em."

The fire pit was a circle of bricked stones and Lottie deftly set up a pile of kindling, doused in a bit of lighter fluid and brought stoked the pit into a roaring flame. Spurred on by Lottie's encouraging nod. Alyssa tossed in her bra—a gorgeous navy confection of expensive hand stitched lace--to join Lottie's sturdy white cotton one and a box of Kotex.

Misty eyed, they sat together, hand in hand, watching the sunrise as the pain of their past went up in a blaze of glory.

#

Ethan stood by the window. Heart in his throat.

He'd woken to a warm bed and no Alyssa, smiling in memory of the night spent holding her. Loving her. And had come down stairs with a mind set on breakfast when movement had caught his attention. Curious, he'd followed it—drawn to the window. To see something that had his heart taking that first dizzying leap.

He knew without having to ask or investigate what the glow of flames meant. The way his mother and Alyssa held one another, with a kind of comfort and support that left him breathless. Bracing the window, he watched them and the longer he watched, the more certain he grew.

He was in love with Alyssa. Beyond question. Beyond doubt.

"Morning."

Ethan turned as Marshall crossed the kitchen with a yawn, hand rubbing his belly. Golden hair tied up in a knot, his face a haze of stubble. "Jesus, I'm starved. Mom up?"

Ethan nodded and jerked his head towards the window.

Drawing up next to him, Marshall peered out, his eyes scanning the scene, and smiled. "That time of the year, is it?"

"There abouts."

"Well, then I guess it's only fair I take up the honours of breakfast duty. Pancakes sound good?"

Leaning against the wall, Ethan assessed his brother. "Didn't realize you guys stuck around last night."

"We crashed in the den," Marshall answered, rooting around in the lower cabinets for mixing bowls. Pulled out a couple of stainless steel ones. "The girls were excited to sleep over, how could I say no? Mom got any blueberries? Gummy Bear loves 'em in pancakes."

Ethan smirked. When it came to Eva's daughters, Marshall was a complete push over. "Should have a bag in the freezer. Bottom rack."

"Right. Thanks."

"I'll get them," Ethan offered, and crossed to the fridge while Marshall pulled out the tin of flour and sugar from over the stove. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for right where he'd expected them to be. His mom was a woman of habit and ruthless organization. Hauling out the labeled Ziploc bag, Ethan set them on the counter to join the spread of ingredients.

And because he'd need something more substantial than coffee to pry what he was feeling out of him, Ethan plucked out a couple of beers—knowing Marshall wouldn't object to one on a lazy Sunday morning. "Listen," he sighed, popping off the tops before setting one on the counter for his brother, "can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure, bro," Marshall said, working off the lid from the flour he scooped out an unleveled cup without thought to measuring. "What's gnawing on you?"

Huffing out a heavy breath, Ethan swept a hand over his dark hair. "I'm thinking about asking Alyssa to marry me."

Marshall stopped mid-scoop, swiveled his gaze to Ethan. "Come again?"

Freeing a box out from his back pocket, opening it, Ethan set it down between them.

Marshall whistled long and low. "That's..."

"Yup." Turning it around, Ethan stroked a finger over that delicate band. It wasn't flashy or pretentious but somehow it seemed right for Alyssa. The ring was old. Beloved. And had belonged to his grandmother. She'd left it to him in her will when she passed last spring—because she wanted him to find the woman he loved. Of all the people to leave his life, her departure had affected him the most. He'd loved their quiet talks, the way they'd sat for hours on end, the two of them lost in their own thoughts and emotions before Marshall cleared his throat, bringing him back.

"I thought dad kept Nan's ring in the safe?"

"He did." Ethan nodded. "I'd asked him about it last night, before you guys got here. Told him I was having some thoughts and that it might be a good time for me to hold on to it. In case. And well...now I'm sure. I'm ready."

"I'm happy for you, Ethan. Can't say I'm not surprised, though."

Ethan closed the box, twirled it on the counter top. "I wanted to ask you...How did you do it? With Eva?"

His brother set down the measuring tools, crossed his arms and thought about it for a moment, carefully, before answering. "I went with what felt right. Some people thought it was fast and that, you know, I was leaping into things because of a heightened emotional state. But watching the woman you love pitch over the side of a cliff—it puts things into perspective real quick."

Ethan nodded at that. He'd been there when it had all happened. Could remember it all—every detail sharp and desperate. The way the world had gone quiet and slow as Eva rushed towards the man who had threatened to brutally kill her children and tackled him off the edge of a cliff into the churning sea below.

He and Marshall had acted quick—and without much thought for their own personal safety—diving off the cliffs as they had so many summers growing up, but this time to save her life. Together, they'd hauled her barely living body out from the water and onto the beach. And he'd never seen Marshall so terrified.

"You guys are good together. For each other."

Marshall's smile was swift and bright. "Never thought it would happen, Bro. Honest truth. Falling in love. I've gotten tangled up with women before, but the itch of chasing the next story always...well, it always seemed like more. More interesting. More compelling. Just more. Then there's Eva and it all goes quiet. And it's her and nothing else. Well, those girls, too. Loveable little munchkins, especially Gummy Bear. Kid melted my heart from the first second. Jesus, listen to me." Laughing, Marshall stretched his arms wide as his grin. "I'm a sappy love-struck mess. Any thoughts on how you're going to pop the big one?"

Ethan lifted his beer, drank slow and deep. "Not a fucking clue. Spent a couple hours last night puzzling it over and every time I imagine doing it my balls shrink to marbles. Not because I don't want to—or because it's not right. I know it is." He shifted his gaze to his brother, and wondered if the anxiety roiling in his gut shone in his eyes like high beams.

"What if she says no?"

Marshall chewed on that for a moment before clapping a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Can't say that's not a possibility, but you won't know until you ask."