Sweet Spring

by Reina M. Williams

  More losses... How could he let himself love again after so many losses? Yet, in a way, he already was. He loved many people and the land, God, and now, he felt things for Ana, too. The beginnings of what could be love.

  “¡Qué bien!” She sounded pleased, yet she turned to the window and gazed at the landscape.

  The silence lengthened. Had he said something wrong? More likely, she wasn’t pleased to be here with him when she could be doing other things. But they had a job of sorts to do, and he wouldn’t disappoint his brother, or Mrs. Gallagher, who had been a friend of Grandma Bonham.

  He turned onto Main Street, which hadn’t changed much since his childhood. Though it had been Cutler and Dean who had spent the most time here, they’d all had their turns at summers here, and sometimes travelled together to visit Aunt Manning. There was the old general store taking up most of the first block, an art gallery that doubled as a yarn and quilting shop on the other side of the street, a small clothing and shoe store, a couple of empty shop fronts, the library, the Lutheran church at the end of the block, and Gallagher’s Café down from the general store.

  On the hill, the charred remains of his Aunt’s B & B sat under a mound of snow, with the cottage Dean now lived in slightly to the side and midway down the hill. Across the river from that stood the Catholic church, where Nora and Cutler would be married in August. He’d never envisioned Cutler getting married, but it had always been part of Brandon’s life plans. Sometimes plans had to change.

  He scrubbed his hand across his face and realized he’d passed the café.

  “You okay?” she asked, her tone threaded with concern.

  He pulled into a spot near the entrance to a path along the creek that led to the river and Riverwalk, where Ana’s cousin’s bakery was.

  “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” There were plenty of reasons, but she didn’t know that, or need to know.

  “Lots of reasons, I imagine.”

  Did she imagine things about him? Hope sent out tendrils from his heart. But that was foolish, as she was simply a caring and imaginative person. No need to read more into it than that.

  He must have grimaced noticeably, since she frowned and put up her hands.

  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “This is my resting face, so my brothers tell me.”

  “You must not feel very rested, then.” She smiled slightly and it seemed the sun entered his truck, warming him and making everything, from the steering wheel to her face, brighter and more appealing. The cold places in him melted. He had it bad.

  He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, when in fact, he was in the presence of something sacred: vibrant life. That’s what Ana was, what she embodied: the full flowering of spring, the rush of the river, the heat of the sun. Hopping out, he jogged around to open her door for her. She jumped down, her grin widening when her boots crunched in the icy snow. Then she stamped forward and landed in a puddle of melting snow. It coated her pants legs and her boots.

  He reached for her, ready to help, but she merely laughed and kicked up her feet, as if she were wading into tropical waters.

  This woman could be his undoing. He forced himself to keep his frown and crossed his arms to keep from embracing her. His feelings were light years ahead of what was appropriate or reasonable.

  “Want me to take you back home so you can change?” he asked.

  She laughed again, continuing even in the face of his probably stern looks. “I’m fine. Mrs. G has a space heater we can train on my pants. It’s just water.”

  “Ice-cold water,” he said.

  Now she shrugged. Then she took a long stride onto the sidewalk. He followed and held open the door to the café for her.

  “Thank you,” she said with a silly curtsey, waving out an invisible dress. God, she was adorable. God, help me. He’d become even more of a praying man, if that were possible, since meeting Ana, pleading for the ending of his burgeoning feelings for her. But instead of an answer, he was getting the opposite results. He kept praying anyway.

  He followed her inside, where the warmth of the heater in the café, and the scents of brunch—coffee, eggs, toast, vegetables, and meat—eased his arms down and the frown off his face.

  “Ana! My sweets!” Mrs. G grabbed Ana in a fierce hug. “I saw you in that puddle, you wild one.”

  Mrs. G glanced at him and winked. He wiped his hand across his face in an attempt to mask his smile. Anyone who appreciated Ana was one smart person. But he already knew that about Mrs. G.

  Ana leaned her head on Mrs. G’s shoulder. “Papá used to call me that.” Ana’s tone had lowered, and he heard the sadness she still carried about her father’s death last year.

  Mrs. G waved a free hand at him, signaling him closer. He shook his head. If he got any closer, he’d need to touch Ana, just a light hand on her back, to show her he cared, to comfort her. But it wasn’t his place, and he wouldn’t intrude on anyone’s personal space that way without their consent.

  “Group hug,” Mrs. G proclaimed, opening up her other arm.

  He stood-stock still. Surely she was kidding.

  “We’re all working together,” Mrs. G continued.

  He glanced at Ana. But she gave no indication that she was opposed to the gesture. Waiting to give her that chance, he didn’t move, but his heart pounded against the puddling ice wall he’d constructed around it, leaving cracks that had him rubbing his chest.

  “Bring it in, Manning,” Ana said in almost a dare. Her tone said she thought he’d never agree to something like a group hug.

  I’m the world’s biggest fool, he thought as he slowly stepped into the close circle. Mrs. G clapped him on his back, but Ana slid her arm around his waist as if it were the most natural thing to do. He leaned into her and mirrored her movement. His hand settled in the sweet curve of her spine. Her warmth and closeness made his hand vibrate with life.

  “Team wedding,” Mrs. G said, “we’ve got a lot to do! Here’s to love!”

  “To love!” Ana echoed, her enthusiasm matching that of the older woman. Ana’s hand splayed on his back, pressing him closer into her touch. Her delicate fingers and bone structure contrasted her strong, firm touch.

  He was the one who had to be strong. Strong enough to hide his feelings, strong enough to deny them, strong enough to get through being forced together with the one person he most wanted to be with, and most knew he shouldn’t be near.

  He was supposed to be the strong, steady, responsible son, brother, minister, soldier, friend. But Ana’s presence made him question all that, and his knees wobbled for a moment at the weight of that, of his feelings.

  He straightened and glanced at a waitperson. “Coffee, anyone?” Brandon asked.

  “Yes,” Ana said, her voice still joyful and enthusiastic. The sound reverberated through him like the sacred harmonies he listened to, lightening and uplifting. “Lots of honey and milk in mine, please.”

  “Black for me,” Mrs. G put in.

  “Coming up.” He strode to the waitperson to put in the order. And gave himself a moment to regroup and pretend he wasn’t falling in love with Ana Delgado.

  Chapter Three

  ANA GLANCED AT BRANDON. Speaking to the waitperson, he held himself tall and, she really couldn’t think of a better word, stately. She could go down a real rabbit hole, picturing him as some period drama hero, all handsome in a suit and cravat, strong and silent, but with passionate depths that he, as a gentleman, would keep under wraps until his feelings could no longer be denied.

  She sighed. Mrs. G nudged her shoulder and Ana’s cheeks heated.

  “Let’s sit,” Mrs. G said, leading her to a nearby table, “and wait for dear Colonel Brandon to bring us our refreshments.”

  If Ana had been drinking something, she would’ve spit it out in a dramatic spray. “Colonel Brandon?”

  Mrs. G then set up a heater across from the seat Ana chose, by the window. “That’s what he was, a lieutenant colonel, when he left the army.
No one calls him ‘Colonel’ but me, and only to you. I thought you might appreciate it.”

  Did she appreciate Mrs. G comparing Brandon to one of her favorite period drama heroes, Colonel Brandon? Ana shifted in the seat by the window she’d taken. Now that Mrs. G had added to the idea and imagining already in her mind, Ana couldn’t help drawing it out further. Then the man himself strode over and sat beside Ana, effectively stopping her musings. She couldn’t very well daydream about a man who sat right next to her. And she shouldn’t daydream about him anyway. He was going to be her brother-in-law, for heaven’s sake. Related. Kind of.

  The waitress brought the coffee and Brandon slid Ana the one on the plate with a honey pot and cream jug.

  “Something to eat?” he asked in a low voice as Mrs. G spoke to the waitperson. “You must be hungry after that tramp you took in the woods.”

  Well, his almost accusatory tone cooled her fancy for him, a bit. His large hand, so close to hers, seemed so strong and capable and work-worn that her cheeks warmed again.

  “Sure. What’s the special today?” she asked the company generally.

  “Bison stew in a homemade bread bowl,” the waitperson answered.

  “I’ll try it,” Ana said.

  “Same,” Brandon said when the waitperson looked to him. He lifted his coffee mug to his lips and sipped. His jaw line, square and rough with a close-cropped beard, drew Ana’s attention again.

  Mrs. G set down her mug with a clack and leaned toward them. “Now, we’ve only got four and a half months to go until W-day. Brandon, can we count on you to be here, or should Dean be in on this meeting?”

  He sipped his coffee, letting the silence lengthen until Ana was practically squirming. Strong and silent types were all well and good in movies and books, not so much in real life. She preferred her men charming and vociferous. Though those choices hadn’t worked out well. Brandon was a good friend, a good man. She followed Brandon’s lead and dosed her coffee then drank some of the steamy brew. Those charming men had indeed proven to be unreliable at best and untrustworthy at worst. She needed to reconsider her type.

  “I’ll be here,” he said at last. Not much of a statement after so long a wait.

  “You will?” Ana asked, curious. “Where are you staying?”

  He cleared his throat and rubbed his hand across his jaw. Ana’s fingers itched to do the same, to feel the stubble of his beard, the heat of his skin. No chance of that, though. Not that she actually wanted a chance.

  “At a friend’s house.”

  “You’re at Middleton Ranch?” Mrs. G asked.

  “The same.”

  “Is that where you were surveying?” Ana glanced from Mrs. G to Brandon. Why did he make things seem so mysterious?

  “Surveying?” Mrs. G, her brows raised and head tilted, looked as curious as Ana felt.

  “Yes. So, I’m here. What comes first?” Brandon directed his terse question toward Mrs. G.

  “I thought some congenial conversation first. We have plenty of time over lunch, don’t we?”

  Ana stifled her laugh. This was why she loved the older woman. No-nonsense, straightforward, yet never a gossip.

  “My time is yours,” Brandon said with such a measure of gallantry that Ana smiled. He could be charming when he wanted to, in his own quiet way.

  “Is your surveying project a secret?” Mrs. G asked, getting back to the topic she and Ana seemed to be most interested in.

  “Not really,” Brandon said.

  “Is Middleton expanding? I thought they were moving.”

  “They are.”

  “Who’s moving in? He’s not selling up to some developer?”

  “That I can’t say, yet.” Brandon clamped his mouth shut.

  Ana shook her head slightly. He was sure close with giving information. But, she supposed, after the time she’d had with her last boyfriend, being discreet and circumspect were good things. Very good. Leaning her head in her hand, she couldn’t stop her sigh from emerging. She quickly straightened and sipped some coffee, hoping to cover her exaggerated exhale.

  “You okay,” Brandon asked in a concerned tone.

  “Yes. This coffee is really good.”

  Mrs. G caught her gaze and leaned forward, as if asking if she were really okay. Mrs. G knew all about Ana’s past, and Ana appreciated the older woman’s confidence. Being able to talk to an experienced woman had helped Ana put some of the past behind her, where it belonged.

  “Oh, and here’s our food,” Ana said as the waitperson approached with a tray of plates.

  They thanked the waitperson and Ana inhaled the rich, savory fragrance, laced with rosemary and a sweet undertone of carrot. Their family cook, Marta, had always indulged Ana’s curiosity and taught her all the markers of a good dish. Ana still didn’t really know how to cook, and neither did Nora, but they were learning a bit now, Ana more than her older sister, who could soon afford a whole house of help, if she wanted it. The Manning brothers were all quite wealthy, so Ana understood. Their families’ positions had reversed from when Ana was twelve and Dean and Cutler had lived with them at Delgado Ranch for a year. The Delgados had been the wealthy ones then. Now her half-brother John and his wife had inherited what was left.

  Another sigh squatted in her throat. She hated that Papá hadn’t made any provision for Nora and Ana in his will. How could he have been so careless? Ana liked to think it was because Papá had thought to live for much longer, and just hadn’t gotten around to changing his will. It didn’t matter. She and Nora were here now, and Nora at least had found her happily ever after.

  Ana was happy for her and for Maya, really she was. She could be happy for them and sad at the same time. Joy and grief could coexist. She’d sketched a whole picture series about that, and she tried to take those paradoxes into everything. Maybe not so much into the wedding planning, though.

  Her imagination began flipping through all her favorite wedding scenes from movies and shows, from the extravagant affairs on Marta’s favorite telenovelas to various period drama affairs. She almost wished Nora were marrying in winter, as Ana loved the possibilities, from red roses to fake-fur-lined capes. But summer weddings were traditional, which was more Nora’s style. Though August was a bit far off the usual June. Ana stopped herself from humming a tune from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

  “Something wrong?” Brandon asked, concern again saturating his tone.

  “Just...thinking.” More like daydreaming.

  “Must have a lot on your mind.” He took a bite of stew and Ana did the same. She didn’t want to address what he’d said, and it hadn’t been a question, anyway.

  “This is delicious,” she said. “You’ve got some geniuses in the kitchen here, Mrs. G.” She might not be able to get good Mexican food here, but there were still new-to-her local dishes to try. And she’d convinced Maya to add a few traditional panadería favorites as part of the regular offerings at Las Tres Hermanas.

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Does any of that thinking go to the wedding planning?” Brandon asked.

  “Yes, actually. The ceremony is pretty set, being at Church of the Sacred Heart. We’ll need a florist and caterer. I’ll decorate for the reception, though we have to decide where that will be. Or did Nora and Cutler decide?” She wasn’t up on the latest.

  “Cutler and I are talking about it,” Brandon said.

  Mrs. G was mid-bite, and Brandon dug back into his bowl. Ana waited, and waited, but he didn’t say anything else.

  “And?” Ana asked.

  “He wants to surprise Nora with something special.”

  “Okay...” Ana furrowed her brow. “Nora isn’t much for surprises.”

  “She’s not much for wedding planning either,” Brandon said.

  “I think Nora will like the surprise, sweets.” Mrs. G reached over and patted her hand. Then Mrs. G rose. “Be right back, you two.” She walked into the hall.

  Ana took in a breath. “I don’t nee
d to be surprised. How am I supposed to do my part if I don’t know the venue?” Ana clasped her hands and turned to look at Brandon.

  Brandon met her gaze with his steady one. There was something behind his calm demeanor, a spark in his expression, that made her breath hitch.

  “Trust me,” he said, his tone low and serious.

  She’d trusted over and over again and been disappointed a lot of the time. But not all the time. She counted Brandon among her friends. “All right,” she whispered.

  He sat taller. Then he grasped her hand, so gently, so tenderly, leaned over, and kissed her hand. The warmth of his lips on her skin, the way he held her hand in his, as if she were at once a delicate creature and a wonder of nature, sent a swoosh of soft petals through her limbs, a sweet opening that made her want to leap up and kiss him.

  Instead, she shook the wild thought from her head. He was just being gallant. Her heart danced a beat. She wanted him to be more than gallant. She wanted him to mean it, that kiss on her hand. For it to be an opening to a new beginning.

  Chapter Four

  BRANDON SLIPPED HIS hand from Ana’s. The trust and vulnerability in her eyes, in the curve of her lips, made him want to be the man who had earned the right to be trusted by her. He knew it was too much to ask when he hadn’t earned her trust, and it showed who she was in how she’d responded to him. Open, caring, able to see the good in others. All characteristics he admired and wanted in a partner.

  Getting ahead of himself, again, was what he was doing. His romantic life was the one area that didn’t follow his usual path of an orderly life. Not that he’d had much of a romantic life. Mostly that one love all those years ago.

  And now whatever this was he felt for Ana. But with Ana, it was different. She was much younger than he was, fourteen years his junior, and becoming part of his family through marriage. There were so many reasons to bury his feelings for her.

  Except for the vital feeling she imparted. That aliveness, and the desire to be his best self with her, he knew were good. But just because something was good didn’t mean it needed to be acted on.