“First things first,” Grace said, shaking her head. “We have a little girl to let in on the secret.”
“Deal. You going to let me in the house? Because I’m freezing.”
Grace laughed softly. As they headed for the side door, Connie emerged with a smile on her face.
“Tell me that you finally realized you’re in love with each other,” Connie said, stepping back to let them in.
“Yeah,” Grace said, looking up at Billy with a teary smile. “A little more than that, actually...”
“I asked her to marry me,” Billy said. “And she...”
“Said yes,” Connie finished for him, and when she got a nod, she let out a whoop of delight and threw her arms around them both.
Yeah, this was coming home... Dr. Beverly might be a little harder to bring round, but with Grace at his side, Billy was willing to weather it.
He’d be her hero, the guy who stubbornly stuck by her and loved her with his whole being. He’d be the dad that Poppy needed, and he’d keep learning to read so that, one day, maybe he could even get his GED. Maybe Poppy could see the value of hard work by watching her dad get the education he’d missed out on. Most importantly, though, he was hoping that by watching Billy love Grace, Poppy would see the kind of love she’d want in her own home one day, and they’d all get the love they longed for, wrapped up together as a family.
EPILOGUE
ON A SATURDAY morning in April, Grace and Billy stood in the front of Eagle’s Rest Church. Grace’s breath was caught in her throat, and she fiddled with the diamond solitaire that she’d moved to her right hand in preparation for the ceremony.
She wore a strapless dress with a fitted bodice and creamy tulle. Her father had been the one to find the dress in a catalogue and had insisted that Grace meet up with him in Denver while she worked that last maternity leave so that she could try it on. It had been perfect, and after some texted photos with her mom, they bought it.
Grace had given up the full-time position in Denver when Eagle’s Rest Elementary offered her a position in special education, right there in Poppy’s school. It had all been too perfect, and it allowed Billy to stay at the ranch he loved and gave Grace the chance to grow her career and be there for Poppy. Billy hadn’t waited to apply for full custody of his daughter, and Carol-Ann hadn’t put up much struggle. She was allowed weekly supervised visits, none of which she’d taken advantage of since she was still in Germany and didn’t seem to have any immediate plans to return to the US.
And now, on a cool Saturday in April, with the first tulips just poking up in the flower beds outside of the church, Grace stood facing Billy, his dark eyes fixed on her with gentle steadiness. Their friends and family were all out there in the pews, and Grace was too nervous to even look toward them. Heather and Gerald were leaving for their own elopement next week, but of course that was a huge secret that only Billy and Grace were party to.
This was Grace’s day with Billy...and Poppy. Because Poppy was not only flower girl but kept sidling closer and closer to them as the minister took them through their vows.
“Do you, Billy, take Grace to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
Grace held her breath, and Billy smiled, slow and warm. “Sure do.”
She let her breath go as the minister turned to her.
“Do you, Grace, take Billy to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I do.”
“Do you have the rings?” the minister asked.
Poppy stepped a little closer as Billy pulled the ring from his pocket. He slid it onto Grace’s waiting left hand, and then Grace did the same for him.
“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Colorado, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride.”
Billy grinned and pulled her close, his lips covering hers in a tender kiss. When he leaned back, Poppy squeezed between them, beaming up at them.
“It’s done!” Poppy squealed. “We’re a married family!”
Grace couldn’t help but laugh and bent down to press a kiss onto Poppy’s glossy head. Everyone cheered, and as Grace and Billy headed down the aisle, Poppy stayed firmly in the middle. Grace didn’t mind a bit. Poppy was right—this was the beginning of their family, and Grace was just as devoted to Poppy as she was to Billy.
“Gracie...” Billy’s deep voice tugged her gaze up, and she caught her husband looking over at her tenderly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too!” she said. And as they got to the church door, Billy leaned over his daughter’s head and they shared a soft kiss.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.
“Extra special beautiful,” Poppy piped up, and Grace laughed.
She was well and truly married to the only man she’d ever loved so completely. She ducked her head against the shower of rice as they walked out of the church, into warm spring sunlight.
They were the Austins, and Grace could finally let her heart open completely to them. Billy and Poppy were well and truly hers.
* * *
Don’t miss the next book in
Patricia Johns’s
Home to Eagle’s Rest miniseries,
coming July 2019 from
Harlequin Heartwarming.
And check out the first book
in the miniseries:
Her Lawman Protector
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Promise Remembered by Elizabeth Mowers.
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A Promise Remembered
by Elizabeth Mowers
CHAPTER ONE
WILLIAM KAUFFMAN CLUTCHED his right hand in his lap, rubbing a thumb over the tops of knuckles that still carried the scabbed gash from the latest in his line of regrets. Slouched in the driver’s seat of his rusted-out Chevy truck, he carefully examined the wound. It was the only one visible to the world.
It wouldn’t be a long visit. Quite brisk in fact. Chinoodin Falls, Michigan, was the last place he wanted to be, but he owed it to his mother to make one last visit before hightailing it west and possibly out of the country. The thought of rescuing the 1981 Indian motorcycle rusting away in her shed, which should have passed directly to him, was highly motivating, too. If he could sell his truck for a few bucks, he could travel
farther on his true father’s wheels—undetected.
Parked along the street, with the Chevy’s engine gently idling, William eyed the illuminated windows of the greasy spoon where he’d been trapped most evenings and weekends as a child. A bland storefront with a faded green awning over the entrance, the dimly lit Pop’s Place sign hung crookedly over the front door. The sight, so long forgotten, now aroused in him a giddy fantasy of the words coming unfastened and crashing to the ground. He silently wished it to happen. If it did, perhaps he’d know in his heart that burying his ugly past spent there was somehow genuinely possible.
As the early summer sun sank beneath the Lake Superior shoreline, casting hues of oranges and purples over the charming downtown Main Street, William grimaced at patrons shuffling through the diner’s open doors. The only thing slower than their moseying walk was their drawn-out Upper Peninsula accent, a mimic of folks from Northern Wisconsin and Minnesota. They carried on into Pop’s Place as if they hadn’t a care in the world: he despised them. His eyes darted along the storefront window, straining for a glimpse of his mother and some sign that returning to Chinoodin Falls after a twelve-year absence wasn’t the terrible mistake he feared it to be. He was an older version of the angry kid who’d taken off years ago, but as he shook out his aching right hand to turn off the ignition, he didn’t feel any wiser.
He pulled his grease-stained baseball cap down snugly over his forehead and shoved his fists in the front pockets of his worn-out blue jeans before jutting across the street. He reminded himself that nobody in this little town knew what he had done, and they wouldn’t find out unless he was foolish enough to tell them. All he had to do was make a quick visit to appease his mother, persuade her to give him the motorcycle and then sell his truck. He’d only have to invest two to three days tops before he could be on his way. If he kept his head down and stuck to the plan, no one could stop him from escaping west.
* * *
ANNIE CURTIS WIPED perspiration from her brow with the top of her shoulder while carrying a tray of dinners to table four. She slid the plates to each patron with a brief nod before noticing the lone straggler sauntering through the front door.
“Take a seat anywhere, honey,” she called, as he had seemed to miss the Seat Yourself sign. Without acknowledging her, he sidled up to the end of the counter and stood a menu in front of him, partially shielding his face from view. Annie refilled soda glasses for table three before cruising along the counter, order pad in hand.
“What can I get you?” she asked the cracked menu cover as the stranger ducked behind it.
“Joyce,” he said in a barely audible grumble.
Annie frowned, cocking her head closer. “Excuse me?”
“Send Joyce out, would ya?”
“Joyce isn’t working the dining room tonight. You’re stuck with me. What can I get you to drink?”
The stranger readjusted the menu and peered over the top of it, the whites of his eyes darkened by the shadow of his baseball cap.
“I need to see Joyce now.”
Annie hesitated, narrowing her eyes to study him. He was tall with a broad frame and a muscular build, but if she was pressed to give a detailed description to the police, she wouldn’t be able to manage more than “gray T-shirt and faded Levi blue jeans.”
“What do you want with her?”
The stranger dipped his head and grumbled, “It’s important.”
Annie tapped a pen on the top of her order pad for a moment before sauntering back to the office for her boss.
“A fellow at the end of the counter wants you,” she called. Joyce, a round woman well into retirement age, hoisted herself out of her desk chair and scurried past Annie to the dining room, trying to catch her breath along the way.
“Miles,” Annie whispered, slipping back to the kitchen’s order window. The young cook craned his bandana-covered head to see her. “Grab me a frying pan. There’s some weirdo out there asking for Joyce.”
“What’s he want with her?”
“I don’t know, but he’s acting dodgy.”
Miles raised a discerning eyebrow. “What do you wanna do?”
“Miles,” Annie said, holding out her hand. “Come on.”
“Annie Curtis, you’re gonna hit a guy with a frying pan?”
“No...” she said as her subconscious protested. “Maybe.”
Miles paused. “Seriously?”
“There’s something about him that’s very familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. Did a convict escape from the prison?”
“How would that be familiar?”
“Miles, sometimes you see a story on the news, but it doesn’t register in your consciousness until later.”
“You’re going to need more than a frying pan if there’s a convict sitting out there.”
“I don’t know if it’s a convict, Miles. That was just one theory. Something about him reminds me of...” Annie gasped and touched her fingertips to her lips.
“Oh.”
“Annie?” Miles’s eyebrows pinched together. “Are you okay?”
“Keep the pan on standby,” she muttered before scooting to the kitchen door and peeking out the porthole window. A cool sweat pricked every dainty hair down her neck as if someone had opened the door and let in a draft. It had been almost a dozen years since she’d waited anxiously on her mother’s back porch for that man to come for her, and now that he had finally returned home, he’d brushed her off. Sitting coolly behind the counter and hiding under the shadow of his cap, he was merely yards away and yet still so distant.
Annie watched Joyce spring into his arms and clutch him in a bear hug. His profile was an aged, heavier version than the boyish one she’d hopelessly spent hours admiring so many years ago. She had run her fingers along the scruff of his chin and nipped at his mischievously curled lips for an entire summer, back when she’d been young and careless. It had been the last summer of her youth, the last summer of innocence, the last summer before...
Annie drew a sharp breath and thrust open the kitchen door with a surge of adrenaline she didn’t yet know how to expel. Storming up behind the counter to size up the heartless cad who basked in his mother’s enthusiastic affection, she clenched her jaw and squared off in front of him. Joyce had quickly worked herself into a tizzy, clasping William’s face between her palms and shrieking with joy as patrons jumped in equal parts amusement and alarm.
“Baby boy, where have you been? I can hardly breathe. Look. Look! My hands are shaking.” Joyce turned to nearby patrons and announced for all to hear that her son was home from the Navy, and her prayers had finally been answered. Folks nodded and smiled politely, turning attention back to their Salisbury steaks and Reuben sandwiches.
“Did you decide?” Annie asked in a strained voice, attempting to interrupt Joyce’s hysterics.
“A coffee, please. Decaf, if you have it,” William said without casting his eyes in her direction. Annie scowled as he squeezed Joyce’s tear-stained face into his chest. He had a lot of nerve showing up with that easy grin plastered across his face. For a moment she imagined smacking it clear off him with the frying pan, tiny white teeth scattering to the ground like it happened in cartoons.
“William,” Joyce said, slightly releasing the death grip she had on him. She retrieved a tissue tucked between her bosom, dabbed her eyes and scowled up at him. “Dontcha recognize who this is?” William paused and studied Annie for a moment as she reciprocated with a cold glare. She had no desire to supply any word of help to the self-centered jerk. Joyce finally filled the awkward silence. “It’s Annie.”
Annie waited as recognition fell over William’s sun-kissed face. There had been a time when Joyce would have described her to William as “your Annie,” but those days had long passed. Though as she stood before him, memories thundering toward her like a freight train, she doubted they would be long
buried.
“Annie Curtis?” he said, his smile fading to a wince. “H-how are you? I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Obviously,” she said, pouring his coffee with a jerk to splash it over the rim of his cup. “How long’s it been now?”
William faltered, raising the brim of his hat to reveal those pool-blue eyes in which she had once swum laps. They were the one thing that hadn’t aged a day and were still just as hypnotizing. If the rest of his weathered face blurred so all she could see were those eyes, she might as well be peering at the eighteen-year-old boy she’d once called “her William.”
Joyce hugged William again and pulled his face down for another smooch, snapping his gaze away and releasing Annie from the spell. Pressing her round nose against William’s, Joyce giggled.
“Oh, shucks, sweetie, I’m so excited to see you. I almost had a heart attack when I saw that face. Can you drop dead from pure happiness?”
Annie glanced up at the ceiling as she turned to place the coffeepot back onto its burner. The prodigal son appeared, and Joyce was itching to throw him a ticker tape parade. Between running the diner, worrying about losing business and...well...other problems, times had been hard on Joyce. Annie wanted to be happy for her friend. She wanted to make Joyce’s joy her joy, because she loved that old woman as much as she had loved her own mother. Instead, she flexed the muscles in her clenched jaw.
Perhaps Joyce was eager to forgive and forget, but Annie had a long memory and wasn’t about to pretend William Kauffman had done anything other than abandon his mother when she had needed him most. Besides, Joyce hadn’t been the only person William had bailed on; her own pride suddenly felt very tender and bruised, recalling the memory. She had stood there for hours and hours...
Joyce patted William on the arm. “Whatcha hungry for? You musta been eat’n junk on the road. Let me wrap some things up real quick while Miles fixes you anything you want. And when we get home we’ll celebrate with sometin’ fancy.”
Falling for the Cowboy Dad Page 23
