A/N: What a ride! This has been a really fun story to write, though it has taken me in directions I never could have predicted. Thanks SO MUCH to all you readers and reviewers, especially Ultrawoman, LongLiveTheHart, and daisesndaffidols, as well as the Guest reviewers I couldn't respond to personally.

Epilogue

December

Zoe walks through the town square, enjoying the sights and sounds of her first Bluebell Christmas. It's nothing like New York, of course, and a part of her misses the windows at Barney's, the tree at 30 Rock, and chestnuts roasting on every corner. It's certainly odd to be dressed in nothing but a light sweater and jeans, but the little Southern town has infused the holiday with a charm all its own.

White trees hung with shiny golden balls jostle for space with a huge plastic snowman—no melting in the Alabama heat for him! An imposing, seven-foot-tall Santa, wearing a garland of magnolias, leans on a tower of beribboned shrimp traps, and his sleigh sports a gun rack on the back. The natives don't seem to see any irony in such an accessory, even with the parade of potential "targets"—Donner, Blitzen, and the gang—ranged in front of the sleigh.

She spots Lemon and Lavon setting up a Nativity scene by the gazebo. As she approaches, she hears Lemon say, "Now, honey, we need to anticipate—you remember what happened last year."

The mayor waggles his eyebrows at her. "I sure do."

"Lavon!" she hisses. "I was talkin' about the Baby Jesus' poor arm. That…other thing…did not reflect well on either of us."

"You're right, sugarpie. I'm just glad everything's above board now, so I can do this—" He kisses her soundly, just as Zoe stops at the corncrib "manger."

"Hi, guys!" she says cheerily, and they spring apart.

"Big Z! Where you been? We missed you at breakfast."

"Oh…you know…lots to do before tonight," Zoe deflects, trying not to blush at the memory of a "hectic" morning spent between chocolate-colored sheets. "You both will be there, right?"

"Of course we will," Lemon asserts. "Although I must say I don't have a great deal of confidence in the new waitress."

"Isn't she Wally's niece?" Zoe asks.

Lemon brushes this aside. "Dr. Hart, surely you realize that although you have followed in both your fathers' footsteps, excellence in any profession is not genetically guaranteed."

Zoe smothers a smile at this indication of how seriously Lemon takes her promotion to hostess-manager of the Rammer Jammer.

Lavon wraps an arm around his fretting fiancée. "I'm sure between Wally and Wanda, they can keep the Jammer standing for one night."

"Exactly." Zoe looks at her phone. "Oops—I gotta go—still have a few errands before my first patient." As she's leaving, she points at the corncrib. "Oh, Lavon? Better secure that—I hear the raccoons are bad this year!" She winks at Lemon, who hides her smile behind her hand.

Lavon looks from one to the other. "Don't y'all gang up on me, now!"

Crossing the square on her way to the Dixie Stop, she is hailed by George Tucker. "Hey Zoe!" He jogs up to her.

"Hey George—you're still coming tonight, right?"

"Yeah, about that…I was wonderin' if I could bring someone."

"You mean, like a date?" If that's the case, Zoe is happy to hear it. As far as she knows, George hasn't expressed an interest in anyone since…well, herself. She still feels a little awkward about that night by the Bay, though she can't regret what came out of it.

George nods, his cheeks pink.

"Sure! We'd be happy to meet the woman who's caught George Tucker's eye."

"Uh…that's the thing—you kind of already know her."

Zoe raises her eyebrow at him.

"It's Tansy," George confesses.

"You and—Tansy?"

"Well, you know how she went to beauty school this fall?" Zoe nods; Wade had run into her in Fillmore. "She wants to set up a salon in her garage, and I've been helpin' her with all the legal stuff, so we've spent a fair amount of time together…" George shuffles his feet. "I just thought—with her bein' Wade's ex-wife, it might be uncomfortable?"

"If we all had to avoid our exes, or almost-exes, no one would see anyone in this town!" she grins. "I'm sure I can speak for both of us: we'd be delighted if you brought Tansy. Just don't forget—not a word to Wade, OK?"

"Got it. Thanks, Zoe!" George hurries off, and she finally makes her way into the Dixie Stop.

"Hey, Frank!" she calls.

"Hey, Doc! How you doin'?"

"I'm good." She stops at the front counter. "I need some things delivered to the gatehouse—can you make that happen?"

"Sure thing," Frank replies.

She piles up some eggnog, two cases of beer, assorted chips and snacks, popcorn, three boxes of hot cocoa mix and a large bag of marshmallows. Frank surveys the goods. "Looks like you're havin' a party," he comments accusingly.

Zoe sighs inwardly, momentarily wishing for the nice, anonymous Large Mart that had fallen through in the planning process. "Oh, just a few friends…" she hedges.

"Just your closest friends, I guess," he huffs, ringing her up, and taking his sweet time about it, too. "Will anybody be home when I drop this stuff off? You probably don't want the eggnog left outside—it's gonna be seventy today."

"I'll be home by five—can you do it after that?"

"Sorry, Doc, no can do—my shift ends at 3:00 and I'll bring it then. Hey, how about I pick up a key from Wade when I go to lunch at the Rammer Jammer today?"

"Oh—no—nope—that won't be necessary." She knows Lavon won't be home, and she herself has patients right up until 4:45. She racks her brain for an idea…then says haltingly, "Listen, Frank, why don't you join us tonight, if you don't have other plans?" This had better get her on Santa's "Nice" list.

"Well, I dunno…I'll have to check my calendar…" Zoe taps her foot impatiently as Frank pulls out his phone. Do flip phones even have calendars?

He beams up at her. "Phew! We got lucky—no bowling league, no canasta group. I'm free!" Then, slyly: "Guess I can make that delivery at five, after all."

"Super," she says, through clenched teeth. "Just one thing. Since this is just a small gathering, it's really important that you don't mention it to anyone."

"Even Wade?"

"Especially Wade! The Rammer Jammer is a hotbed of gossip—somebody'd be sure to overhear you. Now, can I count on your absolute discretion?"

Frank puffs his chest up, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and running them over his lips. "It's in the vault, Doc, don't you worry."

Zoe exhales. "I appreciate it, Frank. See you at five."

The rest of the morning is a blur of stitches, splints, salves and sympathy, with a couple of lollipops thrown in. Finally, it's lunchtime, and she sits down to check her email for the first time all day. There's the usual spam (how much Viagra does one country need?) and a note from her mom, asking for the fourth time if she wants to "hop home" for New Year's Eve. (She does not. There's a huge party at the Rammer Jammer, so Wade has to work, and she's not spending their first New Year's without him.)

There's also an email from a Dr. Brian Zendek. The name is vaguely familiar, but she can't place it in any context until she opens it:

Dear Dr. Hart,

We are pleased to offer you a six-month fellowship in cardio-thoracic surgery here at New York Presbyterian Hospital, beginning January 10. Your application and qualifications were excellent, and we feel…

The rest of the letter is a jumble of compliments and contact information. Zoe sits back in her chair, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of her.

Just then, Addy comes in. "Here's your salad—sorry it took so long. I swear, there's folks comin' from all over now that The Butter Stick's servin' lunch. I'm happy for Maybelline, but we need some kinda local express line or somethin'!"

Addy pauses in her diatribe, finally noticing Zoe's silence. "Girl, what's goin' on? You're white as my gran's unmentionables. It's not bad news, is it?"

Zoe shakes her head numbly. "No—it's really good news, I guess. I got a fellowship. For cardio-thoracic surgery."

"Oh! That's what you always wanted…so…great news?"

"It's at New York Presbyterian."

"New York?" Addy says in the same voice she would say, "Peru?"

"Right?! I applied for it months ago...I was kinda miserable at the time, and I did it just to make myself feel better. I never expected to get it—I was supposed to be here for a year—oh my God, what am I gonna do?" She glances up at Addy, hoping for some sage advice.

But Addy is out of her depth here. "I honestly don't know, honey. Isn't New York Pres one of the best cardiac hospitals in the country?" Zoe nods. "Sounds like it's not an opportunity that comes along too often, then."

"No, it isn't."

"On the other hand," Addy says gently, "you've found some things here in Bluebell that don't come along very often, either."

Zoe looks at her for a long moment. "I know."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out—you don't need to decide today—"

"Not today, but soon. If I do it, I have to be there at the beginning of January."

"Just a few weeks, then. You goin' to talk to Wade about it?" Addy's tone makes it clear that this isn't really a question.

"Of course! Just—not tonight. I want it to be really special for him."

Addy smiles. "Well, you know I won't say anythin'…so six-thirty? At the gatehouse?"

She assents, and Addy heads back to the waiting room. Zoe continues to sit at her desk, salad untouched, staring off into space. This was not an option she'd expected to have, and, at least right in this moment, she's not sure if it's one she wants.

In the last couple of months, she's finally felt like she's really a part of Bluebell. She and Wade won the costume contest at the Rammer Jammer's legendary Halloween bash, dressed as Angelique and Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean—Wade had just pulled out his Planksgiving costume and added eyeliner and a wig. She helped Lavon plan the perfect proposal for Lemon, involving a horse-drawn carriage and a riverside gazebo full of roses and champagne. She's delivered twelve babies since she's been here, including a set of twins and Harley's nephew Jack's daughter, a round-cheeked, blue-eyed bundle christened Zoe Wilkes.

As for her relationship with Wade…well. In her former life, Zoe couldn't have imagined feeling so tied to another human being. When she has a good day, or hears a funny story, he's the first person she wants to share it with; when something goes wrong, all she wants to do is curl up in his arms. The first time she lost a patient here, she was devastated. In her profession, death was no stranger to her, and in New York, it had been sad, but never personal. But in Bluebell, where she knew the names of her patients' pets and their favorite ice cream flavor, it was hard to take. Ned Price was Polly Parker's fiancé; he came into the office complaining of shoulder pain and had a massive heart attack on her exam table. There was nothing she could have done, but she still went home and cried for Ned and Polly and the future they would never get to have. Through it all, Wade held her and wiped her tears, went with her to the funeral, and checked in on Polly whenever Zoe feared that her eccentricities were getting the better of her.

The one subject they've avoided, by mutual consent it seems, is the future. She had initially viewed Bluebell as a kind of purgatory, and hadn't been shy about letting folks know she hoped to be gone within a year. Since she and Wade got together, she's gone silent on the topic…and, indeed, until today she's done her very best not to think about it.

Is she ready to give up her childhood goal of being a surgeon to remain a small-town GP? She doesn't know.

But she's pretty damn sure she's not ready to give up Wade Kinsella.

At five o'clock, she meets Frank at the gatehouse for her delivery. She puts the drinks into Wade's small fridge and the snacks on the counter, and assures Frank, who looks ready to make himself at home, that he won't be missing anything if he comes back at 6:45.

Earl shows up at six, bearing a cardboard box and his new "lady friend," Mae. He looks good: his eyes are clear, his skin is ruddy from exercise and the cool air, rather than drinking. Every day is still a challenge for him, she knows, but buoyed by the relationships he's repaired and the new ones he's started, he seems determined to make sobriety stick.

He holds out the box to her. "Been doin' a lot of housecleanin', and I came across these," he says. "Figured you and Wade might want 'em."

Zoe opens the box. Inside are ornaments: paper snowflakes and macaroni Christmas trees, clearly made by Wade and Jesse; underneath, nestled in tissue, are beautiful wooden ones. Earl lifts an angel out of the box. "I carved these for Jackie when we was first married."

Zoe pictures him, sitting in front of the little fireplace in the shack by the lake, spending hours whittling, sanding, painting, and gets a little teary. "These are perfect, Earl. Would you and Mae hang them for me?"

Soon the Douglas fir that she and Wade picked out, but hadn't had time to decorate, twinkles with lights Earl unearths in Wade's storage closet, the handmade ornaments dancing merrily on its branches. Next to it, Zoe has placed the menorah her mother sent her. She's hung two stockings on either side of the TV, and the coffee table is replete with festive snacks: cookies from the Butter Stick, candy canes, foil-wrapped chocolate, and, of course, popcorn. There's eggnog in Lavon's punch bowl and hot cocoa on the stove.

Zoe looks around at the friends she's gathered: Lavon and Lemon, George and Tansy, Addy and Bill, Tom Long, Shelley, Frank, Earl and his Mae…their own funny little family. She'll never forget the emptiness in Wade's eyes on that night the heat wave broke, when they talked about the holidays. She's determined that this year will be different.

Hearing the growl of his car engine, she shushes everyone, turning off all the lights so the tree shines brightly in the window like a beacon.

Then he's opening the door and calling her name, and she turns on the lights and everyone yells "Surprise!" He makes his way through a gauntlet of hugs, high-fives, and backslaps over to Zoe, and picks her up in a bear hug.

"Did you do this?" he smiles down at her.

"Well, I had a little help."

"I'm…I just don't even know what to say. The only thing is—" and here, he rubs the back of his neck, the way he does when he's embarrassed—"my birthday's not til February."

She laughs. "I know exactly when your birthday is—I've seen your chart more than once. This is a watch party."

"A what now?"

"A watch party," she repeats, pointing at the TV, where the title screen is paused, in all its black-and-white glory. "We're all gonna watch together…just like you used to do when you were a kid."

Wade looks around, at everyone assembled, at the eggnog, the popcorn, the decorations, and finally, the tree. "Are those—my old ornaments?"

"Yeah. Earl brought them over."

He gazes down at her, speechless, and she can see on his face that he's nearly overwhelmed. Clearing his throat, he says huskily, "This is the best gift you could've given me. You do beat all, Doc." He leans down and kisses her once, twice…she can hear everyone cheering behind them, and she wills herself to set aside all thoughts of fellowships, and New York, and anything else except this man and this night and the love all around them.

Wade closes the door behind Lavon and Lemon, who stayed to help clean up, then turns to Zoe and wraps his arms around her. "That was some fun. Thank you, Zoe."

She twines her arms around his neck and goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "I'm glad you liked it. New Christmas tradition?"

"Definitely…but we'll have to keep Frank out of the eggnog next time. He made a pass at Shelley and I only just saved him from havin' cocoa dumped on his head." She giggles at the picture. "What's up with George and Tansy? They looked pretty cozy."

"Apparently, they bonded over a commercial zoning permit."

"Sounds romantic."

Zoe pulls back a little and asks, hesitatingly, "You don't mind, do you? George asked me and I said I thought you'd be fine…but maybe I shouldn't have spoken for you…"

"C'mon, Doc, you know me better'n anybody does," he smiles. "I may not've been so fond of George Tucker when he was chasin' you, but he's a good guy, and I'd like to see Tansy happy. Kinda funny, though, how Cupid keeps shakin' us all up and spittin' us out in different pairs."

"Never a dull moment here in Bluebell." Zoe snuggles into his chest.

"Yeah…speakin' of that, you wanna tell me what's been on your mind all night? I know that thinkin'-on-somethin' look."

It's been such a wonderful evening…she can't bear to burst their happy bubble. "I'm thinking—" She starts to unbutton his shirt, kissing her way down as she goes—"that we need to be wearing a lot less right now."

He cups her cheek, tilting her head up and placing a soft kiss on her lips. "As tempting as that is, sweetheart, it's gonna have to wait. Now, spill."

Recognizing the stubborn look in his eyes, Zoe acquiesces. "I applied for a fellowship awhile ago, pretty soon after I got here. Today, they notified me that I got it."

"Can't say I'm surprised, seein' as how you're the best doctor this side of the Mason-Dixon line, but I'm awful proud of you anyway." And then, when he sees she's not jumping for joy: "That's what you've been hopin' for, right?"

It had been. But now? "Can we…" she gestures to the bed.

"We're not done talkin'," he warns.

"I know…I just…want to be close to you."

He leads her over to the bed, propping himself up against the headboard, and pats the space next to him. "C'mere." She does, fitting herself as close as she can into his side, head on his chest.

"Boston or New York?" he asks, stroking her hair.

She sits up. "New York. How did you know?"

"Because we wouldn't be havin' this to-do if it was right down the road in Atlanta or Birmingham."

"It's an amazing opportunity," she says doubtfully, unable to meet his eyes.

Placing his fingers under her chin, he turns her face back to his. "Then you should probably go."

"You want me to go?"

He shakes his head at her. "Now, c'mon, Doc, don't try and put that on me. Of course I don't want you to go. Hell, if I had my true desire, I s'pose I wouldn't want you to move more'n four feet from this bed, but that might get a little creepy." He grins, and she can't help herself—she smiles right back. "Fact of the matter is that I always knew we were on borrowed time. You've been dreamin' of bigger things than Bluebell can offer, and I can't argue with that—you've worked real hard to get where you are."

She can see in his eyes what this speech has cost him, and it makes her own overflow with tears. "I don't want to leave you," she sobs into his shirt.

"You worried I'll have women fallin' all over me if you're not here to fend 'em off?"

She snorts wetly, batting at his chest. "You're a pig."

"And yet…you love me." He smirks down at her and she rolls her eyes. "Seriously. Is this somethin' you want to do?"

"I don't know," she sighs. "Turns out I really like being a family doctor, and…I really like Bluebell. Most of the time. But I've wanted to be a surgeon since I was nine. And if I don't take this shot—"

"You might regret it," Wade fills in. "And you might resent…everything…that held you here."

"I could never resent you," she declares, and Wade looks like he's going to protest, but then just pulls her in close.

"Listen. Whatever you decide, we'll make it work. I'm not runnin' from this, Doc—we were brave enough to take a chance on each other, and I think we'll be brave enough to see it through. Not like it's forever, right?"

"Six months. Starts in January."

"Only six months? Why, darlin', I'll barely have time to chase the dancin' girls out of the house before you get back."

Zoe raises her head from his chest. "Just keep in mind, I'll be coming back with a full set of scalpels, and I'll know how to use them."

"Damn, girl, you can be terrifyin'," he says, and kisses her, long and slow. Her hands find his buttons again, and this time, he doesn't stop her.

Later, they're spooned together, his head on her shoulder. She can tell that he's nearly asleep behind her, but her mind is busy considering options. "Wade!" she says suddenly into the darkness, and when he doesn't respond, she turns over and kisses his neck. "Wade!"

"I just need a minute, baby. Not as young as I used to be," he murmurs.

"No—not that. I had an idea."

He opens one eye, and she props herself up, tracing circles on his chest. "You know…there's an awful lot of bars in the city." Now both eyes are open, and she continues, "Some of them might be looking for a ruggedly handsome cocktail shaker with a twang that can charm the ladies."

"Zoe Hart, are you askin' me to go to New York with you?"

Suddenly nervous, she twists her fingers together. "Just speaking in hypotheticals…I mean, it's a little crazy, right?"

He smiles, pulling one of her hands to his lips as he muses, "Well…it's not that crazy. Lemon's doin' a heckuva job keepin' everyone in line at the Rammer Jammer, Earl's got Mae now to fuss over him and make sure he gets three squares a day, and I think Lavon's electric bill would breathe a huge sigh of relief."

Zoe's heart expands; for the first time since she read the email, the weight in her stomach eases. "You would really consider it?"

"Hey, you've spent months learnin' to live in my world…maybe it's time I lived awhile in yours."

"You might hate it," she points out.

"I might," he agrees. "And you might not like bein' a surgeon as much as you thought. But either way, at the end of six months…we'll know. Right?"

This feels important, what he's saying. Like a promise, or a declaration…in this moment, she knows they're making a commitment to each other, to follow their dreams together, whether they lead to unexpected places, or right back to where they are now.

"'Sides," he's twinkling up at her. "I've never had sex north of Montgomery."

"Oh my God—what are you, fifteen?"

"Seriously, babe, if we drove up there, just think of all the states we could hit—"

"I am not having this conversation with you—"

Rolling over, he tucks her underneath him and kisses her neck. "That suits me fine. I can think of a few other things I'd rather be doin', anyway."

And as he hovers above her, a shaft of moonlight filters through the window, illuminating the laughter and the hope and the tenderness in his green eyes, and she knows somehow that everything will be just fine.

"I love you," she says, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"I love you too, Doc."

THE END

Hope you enjoyed!

I'm tossing around the idea of writing a sequel to this that would follow Wade and Zoe's adventures in NYC, if folks are interested…your feedback on this or any other issue is much appreciated!