Honeymoon:  An Epilogue to Love's Road Home

     Tom Crowley knelt to place another log on the fire, trying to ward off the cabin’s chill on this mid-December evening.  The flames illuminated the wedding band on his left hand, and he smiled.

     She was finally his.  And he was hers.  Legally, that is.

     He and Bethany Miller had exchanged vows and rings a week ago in a relatively private ceremony in Savannah, Georgia.  A small group of paparazzi had appeared as they left the church, but at that point Tom was too happy to care.

     Let them snap all the pictures they wanted.  The marriage of Roadhouse’s lead guitarist was so not newsworthy compared to the horrific ending to the band’s first tour back in early July.

     And now, aside from his friend and band mate Dylan, nobody knew where they were.  He and Beth had all the privacy they wanted.

     Tom’s intentions had been to take Beth to a tropical resort for their honeymoon.  The fewer clothes she wore, the better, as far as he was concerned.  But she would have no part of it.

     Once the trial was over—resulting in wacko Casey spending time in a mental institution—and Tom’s injured arm was back to fully functioning, Beth had insisted he fulfill a promise he’d made to her long ago:  He had to take her fishing.

     So that was how they’d ended up here, in a rented cabin on the shore of Sacandaga Lake in the Adirondack Mountains.  She’d refused to back down from her fishing idea, and he hadn’t wanted to wait until next year’s warm weather to get married.

     Hence, the ice fishing honeymoon in upstate New York.

     At the sound of a door opening behind him, Tom stopped poking at the fire and stood.  He turned toward the bathroom to find Bethany leaning against the doorjamb, one slender hand above her head, the other lightly grasping the hem of her silky-looking, white nightie.  Tom swallowed hard, his eyes following the movements of her fingers as they played with the thin fabric, teasing him.

     Ooh, baby.

     “Aren’t you going to be cold in that little thing, Mrs. Crowley?” Tom asked with a sly grin.

     Her answering come-hither smile made his heart race.  She sauntered over to him, and the glow from the flames nearly turned her gown translucent.

     “I figured it wouldn’t be staying on for long, so what the heck?”  Beth’s fingers slid along the waistband of his jeans, the only clothing he’d thrown on after his own shower.  “Besides, I was hoping my big, strong husband would keep me warm.”

     Tom lifted her in his arms and spun in a circle, eliciting a squeal of laughter from her.  He joined in, feeling overjoyed by the fantastic turns his life had taken.  His band’s reputation was growing and their music was often described as being the freshest sound in country music in over a decade.  And, of course, he now had Bethany as his wife.

     “So,” Beth said when he set her back on her feet, “did you find anything good on the Net?”

     While she’d been showering, Tom had used her laptop to check real estate listings in the Savannah area.  They’d been living in his apartment for the last five months but had started looking at houses shortly before the wedding.

     “As a matter of fact, I think I did.  Come see.”  He led Beth to the sofa and pulled her down on his lap.  The computer lay open on the heavy wooden coffee table in front of them.  “What do you think of this one?”  He nodded toward the screen, which showed a beige Cape Cod with forest-green shutters and a large, flat yard.

     Beth pointed to an area at the right of the digital photo.  “Is that a lake?”

     “A pond.”  Tom smiled.  “I thought our kids might enjoy being taught how to fish by their dad.”

     Beth shifted sideways on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Or by their mom.”  Her smile became more of a smirk.  “You have to admit that I caught a lot more fish than you did this week.  And yours were pretty puny, too.  Especially today!”

     Tom studied her teasing expression and shook his head in defeat before gently but thoroughly kissing the smile from her lips.

     He should have expected a comment like that.  He’d known ever since meeting her that Bethany loved a good challenge, and the events of these past few months had only provided her more opportunities to show that side of herself.  Honestly, he looked forward to never being bored.

     “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll admit it.  You got the biggest catch of the day.”  He trailed a finger down her soft cheek.  “But, without a doubt, I am holding the best catch of my life.”

***

     On the outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia, a girl sat alone at a corner table of the psychiatric hospital’s community room.  She was humming a song, but no one could hear her over the unruliness of the other patients.

     Quickly skimming through the entertainment magazine a nurse had just handed her, she searched for a particular article.

     Aha, there it was.

     Ignoring the story, she immediately focused on the picture that took up half the page.  The wedding photo showed a glowing bride, her adoring groom, and a grinning best man.

     Ah, Leo.

     Roadhouse’s lead singer was absolutely gorgeous, his dark suit making his blonde hair and tan skin stand out even more.  His bright smile overshadowed the others in the photo and put their good looks to shame.

     Her humming grew louder as she carefully made creases in the picture, then ripped along the folds.  When she finished, the image she held wasn’t that of a trio but of a single man.

     As she stared at the cropped photo, she began to sing snippets of her favorite Roadhouse ballad “Dandelions.”  “...not just weeds...sea of green...”

     She sighed, a slight smile on her lips.

     Yellow was such a nice color...