It Was Always You

 

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Introduction

They say no one finds their soul-mate at ten years old. They say junior high relationships are nothing more than puppy love and high school brings about simple infatuation. It can't be real, they say. It cannot compare to that bottom of the ninth inning, full count, knock the ball out of the park to win the World Series type of emotion. It's not the same as a toss it up at half court and pray the basketball gods have mercy on you for a come from behind buzzer-beater in the NBA championship. Not the same as a Hail Mary with ten seconds on the clock from a quarter back to a receiver down the field in triple coverage being snagged and run for a game winning touchdown. They say these things are not just improbable or unlikely, but rather that it's impossible to compare one to the other. A small sigh left Heath's lips as he glanced down at the picture in his hand, his eyes misting over with tears as he stared into the smiling faces  of the children looking back at him. They, whoever they were, didn't know what they were talking about, he decided with a mall sigh and gentle shake of his head. They were wrong. Not only had heath loved Sara since day one of knowing her, the love he held for her had only increased as they years flew past. It was like a slow burning ember, unquenchable and continuous. In a world where so much had changed, where presidents had come and gone and buildings, once tall and formidable, had crumbled and been reduced to dust, all the while his love for Sara had never dwindled or faltered.

"Papa?" A child's voice took him by surprise, causing him to shift his attention from the picture to the little girl peeking in through the doorway as though waiting for permission to enter. Her hands were tucked carefully inside the pockets of her faded blue jeans, her shoulders slumping forward just slightly. The little girl's big, blue eyes were filled with curiosity as a breeze floating in through the open window at his back rustled her blonde curls. "Mama said it's almost time to eat. Told me to come get you." She paused, her words trailing off as she spotted the picture frame he had all but forgotten about holding. "What's that?" She asked softly, pointing to the memory encased in glass. 

Propping the picture back up onto the mantle from where he had taken it, Heath held his arms out to the little girl and motioned her forward.With one big arm around her waist and her smaller limbs clinging tightly to his neck, he lifted the child up so that she might get a better glimpse of the picture in question. He watched her face, amused, as she studied the picture, his smile deepening as her brow furrowed together in confusion. The child, barely more than eight years in age, didn't recognize the faces grinning back at her. It was no surprise, really. Nearly six decades had come and gone since the two children, neither much older than the girl nestled affectionately in his arms now, had insisted the memory be recorded for future generations to see.  The childlike innocence with which she reacted as she reached out to run a finger carefully over the dust covered frame reminded him so much of the woman he had loved. While, certainly, the child took on more of his features than she had Sara's, her mannerisms were much more consistent of what he had seen in his lover all those years ago.

Glancing back at him, blue eyes met blue, and her head tilted to the side in curiosity. "Who are they?"

"Dad? Are you in here? Sadie?" Another voice broke the silence as a young woman burst through the door looking both harried and worried by what she might find. "I've been looking everywhere for you two!" She chastised both with a look  of admonishment before motioning the older man to return the child to her feet. "You were supposed to come up here and find him," she huffed out a tired breath, her attention falling to the girl, "and you know better than to be picking her up. You could have hurt yourself. If mama knew what you were doing she would..."

"She would say you were overreacting, my love." Heath finished, smirking pleasantly as his daughter groaned once more and shook her head. "Sadie and I were just reminiscing about days of old." He nodded toward the picture, his smirk softening into a smile.

With a second, more ardent murmur of dissatisfaction with the situation, Hanna threw her hands in the air, turning on her heal and storming out before more could be said. Heath watched his daughter go, his brows drawing together in confusion at her frustration with the situation. "She doesn't like talking about Gran." Sadie offered up the information, a shrug rolling through her shoulders as she glanced over briefly to the doorway and then back at him. Heath nodded, making a mental note of talking to his daughter about what was bothering her sometime later that evening after the curious ears, eyes, and nature of his granddaughter had retired to bed for the evening. He was curious himself what it was about her mother, about her life, that had his daughter so unwilling or unable to talk about her without succumbing to irritation at even just the mention of her name. Motioning to the door with one hand, Heath held the other out, his palm turned up and open for the child to place hers inside it.

"We better get out there before she comes back in to see what's keeping us and gets mad all over again." His smile, warm and affectionate, just hinted as the mischief bubbling beneath the surface. Heath's eyes sparkled and shone with delight as the girl nodded and dropped her palm into his. "Maybe I'll tell you a story or two about your Gran when I come to say goodnight," he offered happily.

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