by Cora Brent
Deirdre reached out to pet him and he was delighted with the attention, kissing her hand and continuously wagging his long beige tail.
“The shelter didn’t know what breed he is. Might be part German Shepherd, but likely mixed with a lot of things. They think he’s about six weeks old, really too young to be separated from his mother, but they found him all alone beside a storm drain. He’s got big paws though so he’ll be a big guy.”
“He’s adorable,” she cooed, bending down to let him lick her face.
I scratched the dog behind his little ears. “I was thinking about calling him Fido.”
The puppy whined and looked at me with somber brown eyes.
Deirdre straightened up and frowned. “No, that’s doesn’t seem like his name at all.”
I laughed. “I’m joking. What do you think of Shep?”
“Much better.” She held her arms out. “Can I hold him?”
“I can’t guarantee he won’t pee on you.”
“I don’t care.”
I transferred Shep into her arms and watched her cradle him like an infant. It made me smile.
“Hello, Shep. We’ll take good care of you.” She looked up at me. “Did you buy a bed for him yet? And what about puppy food? Did you get him any toys?”
I laughed. “I was waiting for you. I thought we could go to the big pet store off the freeway in Mesa and you could help pick out everything he needs.”
“Right now?”
I was already opening the door to my truck. “Can you think of a better time than right now?”
She smiled and reached up to plant a kiss on my lips while Shep frantically tried to slobber affection on both of us.
“No,” she said. “I can’t think of a better time than right now.”
EPILOGUE
Deirdre
Six Months Later
I could hear Shep barking when I parked in the garage. The dog was waiting when I opened the door and practically knocked me down in his excitement over my homecoming. He’d grown a tremendous amount in the last six months but in attitude he was still very much a puppy.
“What a good watch dog you are,” I praised him and he danced around in circles with his long pink tongue hanging out. “Now where’s Daddy?”
The dog cocked his head at my question and barked.
“Jeremy?” I called as I entered the living room with Shep on my heels. There was one wall of bookcases filled with books. Another wall was lined with a variety of framed photographs. There was a photo of Jeremy and me standing at the base of the mountains with our arms around each other. There was a precious portrait that had been taken of my mother on her nineteenth birthday. And there were a series of photos showing the march through the years of a happy extended family in Tulsa, Oklahoma. These were all people I’d never meet. The men looked like Jeremy. His friend Darius had rescued a bunch of family photos and possessions from the estate sale when Jeremy had tried to sell everything off in the grief stricken days following the plane crash. Darius had kept them all this time in the hopes someday Jeremy would come claim them. And eventually he had.
I paused in front of the large sliding glass doors that allowed for a truly stunning view of the Superstition Mountains. The inspiring view was a big part of what sold us on this five acre property. The house was a comfortable three bedroom ranch style building with room for my office and Jeremy’s workout room. After only three months of living here I found it tough to remember what it was like to live anywhere else. Every day was bliss. Sometimes I would pass by our picture on the wall and remember the grainy photo of the couple in Betty’s museum. And then I’d imagine that someday a long time from now someone would look at our photo, posed in front of this majestic, unchanging backdrop and wonder about us, about what our story had been. If I ever finished the book I was writing then they wouldn’t have to wonder. It would all be written down for them, everything from the heartbreak to the hopeful conclusion.
Shep ran out the open back door and started barking at the chickens as they puttered around inside their coop. The chickens flapped their wings, displeased at the disturbance.
“Shep,” Jeremy warned and whistled. The dog ran happily over to where Jeremy sat in his old rocking chair on the patio. His hands held a whittling knife and a block of wood. He looked up when I stepped out to the patio and the instant smile on his face reminded me that I was positively smitten with this man.
“You’re back,” he said, meeting my kiss when I bent down. “You have a nice lunch with Betty?”
“Yes. Sherman wanted us to be the guinea pigs for his new bacon guacamole burger.”
“How was it?”
“Fattening. Did you find out what day Darius is coming?” Jeremy’s old manager and his wife had paid us a short weekend visit just before Christmas and we’d been encouraging them to come out here for longer before the weather grew unbearably hot again.
He nodded. “They’re flying in on Saturday. Darius made me promise to double check with you whether that was okay.”
“Of course it’s okay.” I liked Darius and his wife Helen very much. And I knew it did Jeremy a lot of good to spend time with someone he had so much history with.
“I know. But I promised I’d check so I’m checking. He asked again if I’d ever think about getting back in the ring.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. I don’t have the urge to fight.” His eyes swept over me. “For now I just want to sit back and enjoy the view.”
I pointed toward the mountains. “The view is that way.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
“By the way I found a present waiting in the mailbox.” I withdrew a magazine from my handbag and tossed it his way.
He glanced at the cover and set it on a table without looking inside, choosing to return to his wood carving. Shep sniffed at the thing with curiosity.
I was exasperated. “Aren’t you going to look at it?”
He shrugged. “I know what it says. You showed me the final version before you sent it off to the editor.”
“I thought you’d want to see it in print.”
He set his wood down, picked up the magazine and smirked. It was a leading national publication that took up space at just about every grocery store checkout counter and on the cover photo Jeremy’s green eyes stared out at the world, his expression ruggedly serious.
I read over his shoulder. “Jeremy Gannon talks about life, loss and learning how to love.”
He made a face. “That headline wasn’t your idea was it?”
“No. I had limited input on the headline.”
Jeremy motioned that I ought to sit on his lap while he flipped the pages. I was happy to cooperate. Being close to him always made my heart beat faster.
“Did they change anything else?” he asked.
“Not much. They kept the picture of us eating burgers at Sherman’s counter. I expect the Grables will see an uptick in business as a result of the publicity.”
He noticed something and pointed to it. “The byline says Deirdre Kilmartin.”
“Yup.”
“No more D.C. Paskevich?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t see the point in hiding from my name anymore.”
Jeremy was thoughtful. “Have you ever thought about getting another one?”
“Another what?”
“Another name.”
“I don’t get it.”
Jeremy exhaled and set me on my feet. Then he stood up and very deliberately got down on one knee. Shep barked at him, wagging his tail, obviously concluding we were playing a new game.
This was no game though. Jeremy pulled something out of his back pocket. When he showed me what it was, I gasped.
“Now do you get it?” he asked with a grin.
“Jeremy!”
His grin faded and he became serious. “Deirdre, before I met you I’d forgotten who I was. I was alive but I was hibernating. You chan
ged everything. You made me remember how to feel. I love you. Will you marry me?”
“I love you too,” I said softly. For a long time I thought I’d never love anyone again. But how could I help falling in love with Jeremy Gannon?
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a hell yes.”
He smiled and stood up to kiss me before slipping the ring on my finger. Shep whined and, feeling left out, tried to nudge his way between us so we gave him some much needed attention before Jeremy sat down on his rocking chair once more and pulled me into his lap. The sun glinted off a piece of metal in the chicken coop and caught me in the eyes but I didn’t mind.
I just shut my eyes and rested my cheek on the shoulder of the man I planned to marry.
THE END
CARDS OF LOVE
The Hermit is just one of the many stories in the Cards of Love Collection. Which card will you choose next?
https://www.cardsofloveromance.com/
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Contents
Also by Cora Brent
Copyright
Blurb
Prologue
1. Deirdre
2. Jeremy
3. Deirdre
4. Jeremy
5. Deirdre
6. Jeremy
7. Deirdre
8. Jeremy
9. Deirdre
10. Jeremy
11. Deirdre
12. Jeremy
13. Deirdre
14. Jeremy
Epilogue
Cards of Love
