“He is a good man, Mother. One of the best,” Ginny said, sniffling as she mopped at her tears again. “He lives a humble life because he’s a humble man. I’ve never met anyone like him. He is so generous, kind, and patient. According to Luke, he makes plenty enough money, he just chooses to live a simple life.”
“Well, I’m glad when you marry him, you won’t be poor,” Dora said, offering Ginny a watery smile. “That is something I promised myself you’d never be, was poor.”
“What makes you think I’ll marry him? Do you really think he’d have me, Mother? As far as he’s concerned, I ran away and never gave him another thought until I came back a few months ago,” Ginny said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “If he’s smart, he’d never speak to me again.”
“Oh, I do believe that young man is plenty smart. That’s why he’s head over heels in love with you. Even your father commented on how smitten he seems to be with our beautiful daughter.”
Dora brushed Ginny’s unruly curls away from her face and kissed her cheek. “Please, Ginny, I have no right to ask, but I’m begging for your forgiveness. What I did was wrong and hurtful, and I’m very sorry.”
Giving her mother a hug, Ginny kissed the top of her head. “I forgive you, Mother. It doesn’t mean I’m still not mad at you or hurt by what you did, but I do forgive you. You had your reasons for your actions. I just hope someday Blake can forgive us both.”
“Why would he need to forgive you? What did you do?” Dora asked, confused.
“I left him in the first place. If I’d thrown a big enough fit, you would have stayed. You wouldn’t have forced me to go. If I loved him as much as I claimed to, I would never have left him behind,” Ginny said, tears trickling down her cheeks again.
“Hush, darling,” Dora said, wrapping her in a comforting embrace only a mother can offer. “You were fifteen. You needed to gain a little experience in the world before you figured out where you truly belong. I think you’ll discover everything has worked out for the best.”
“I hope you’re right. I hope and pray you are correct.”
Taking a chance that Blake would be home, Ginny bundled up in her warmest clothes and told her family she wanted to go for a walk.
As she picked up the box with her letters, Dora winked at her and Luke told her to say hello to Blake for all of them.
Shaking her head, she stepped outside into the crisp afternoon, grateful for the sunshine. Glistening on the mounds of snow, the sunny beams made it sparkle with icy diamonds. Ginny breathed deeply of the fresh air and strolled out of town.
Looking behind her, she noticed Bart tagging along and called to the dog. He loped beside her, slapping his tail against her leg while his tongue lolled out of his mouth, making him look slightly crazy.
“You are the strangest dog, you know that?” Ginny said, stopping to look for a stick and seeing one peeking through the snow on the side of the road. Tossing it for the dog, he barked and chased it down the road, retrieving it and hurrying back to her side.
They played fetch all the way to Blake’s house. Her arm was tired of throwing the stick by the time they arrived and she knocked on his door.
Not hearing any movement in the house, she tapped on his workshop door and stuck her head inside, not seeing him there either.
Wandering to the barn, she heard the deep rumble of his voice and stepped inside.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark interior, she saw him in a stall brushing down Samson. Walking softly toward him, she realized he was humming a Christmas song as he worked.
Stepping around the end of the open stall door, she watched Blake work for a while before the horse nickered and moved her direction.
“Hi, Samson,” Ginny said, holding out her hand and gently patting the horse’s neck. He rubbed his face against her, just about knocking her down.
“Hey, boy, not so rough,” Blake said, reaching out to steady her, while stepping between her and Samson. “I guess that means you’ve won him over.”
“Now, if I can just work on his owner,” Ginny teased, giving Blake a flirty grin. The look that swept over his face made her take a step back and her eyes widen.
“I think you’ve already worked on him sufficiently,” Blake said, closing the stall door then wrapping his arms around Ginny and kissing her chilly cheek. “What brings you out in the cold?”
“I… um… there’s something I need to discuss with you, Blake.” She looked up at him with moisture filling her eyes. Swallowing twice, she willed away the tears, knowing that wouldn’t make what she needed to say to Blake any easier.
“Let’s go in the house where it’s warm. I can make some tea,” Blake said, taking her arm and walking her toward the door, noticing the box she carried in her hand. Bart sat waiting by the front step and Blake rubbed the dog’s head before telling him to stay close to the house. Bart barked and flopped down on the porch.
“He’s a funny dog,” Blake said, helping Ginny remove her coat then taking off his before going to the sink and washing his hands.
Ginny looked around the front room while Blake made tea. He seated her on a worn but serviceable sofa and set down a beautifully carved wooden tray bearing a teapot, cups, sugar, and a few cookies.
“Mrs. Ferguson had me fix a hinge on a door yesterday, so my payment was in oatmeal cookies,” Blake said, filling Ginny’s cup with tea.
Accepting it with a nod, she remembered Blake’s mother pouring tea from the same pot many, many times when she was a young girl.
“So, what would you like to discuss? It must be something important for you to walk out here when I just saw you a few hours ago at church,” Blake said, trying to keep his tone light although something told him whatever Ginny had to say he probably didn’t want to hear.
“I’ll get to the point, Blake. The reason you never received the letters I wrote to you is that my mother made sure they never left our house. Last night she confessed confiscating them before they reached the mail, along with intercepting your letters,” Ginny said, feeling the sting of tears prick her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the box from beside her and handed it to Blake. “I’m at least grateful she saved them so you can read them. Maybe now you’ll understand how hard it was for me to leave you.”
“Thank you, Ginny,” Blake said quietly, looking at the stack of letters in the box. Something that had hardened in his heart suddenly melted and raw emotion flooded through him. “I appreciate you telling me that and bringing the letters.”
“I’m so sorry, Blake. I had no idea Mother would do such a thing. She, of course, feels terrible about it now. She said… she indicated… anyway, she’s very sorry.”
“Of course she is. Otherwise she wouldn’t have saved these and brought them to you,” Blake said, running his fingers over the letters. Setting the box aside, he got to his feet and disappeared down the hall. When he returned, he held a bundle tied with a blue ribbon.
“I assume, then, it was your mother who returned these to me?” Blake said, holding out a stack of envelopes to Ginny, tied with one of her old ribbons. She remembered Blake stealing it from her hair one summer afternoon. He’d taken more than one and she wondered, suddenly, if he still had the others.
“So she said,” Ginny whispered, clutching the letters he’d written so long ago to her chest. “You kept them?”
“Yes, although I attempted to burn them more than once. Every time I tried, something held me back and I’d retie them with that ribbon and put them back in a box for safekeeping.”
“I’m ever so glad, Blake,” Ginny said, feeling tears wet her cheeks as she set down her cup of tea.
“Me, too, Genevieve,” Blake said, brushing away her tears with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t cry, love, don’t cry.”
“Oh, Blake,” Ginny said, throwing herself into his arms and sobbing against his chest. He murmured words of comfort and rubbed her back soothingly. When she finished, he handed her a white handkerchief from his pocket and watched as s
he wiped at her face.
“Better?” he asked, kissing one cheek, then the other. His lips trailed along her jaw, tasting the remainder of her tears in the salt on her skin. Moving to her lips, he kissed her so gently, so tenderly, she felt like weeping again.
“You must know by now, dear girl, that I love you,” Blake said, his breath warm by her ear where his lips nibbled at her lobe.
“I love you, too, Blake,” Ginny said, putting her hands on his face and pulling his head around so she could look in his eyes. “I never stopped loving you.”
“That is good news, indeed, Genevieve,” he said, turning so her back rested against his chest and his chin nestled on the pile of curls atop her head.
“Do you know you are the only person who calls me Genevieve?” Ginny asked, loving the way her name sounded when he said it with his light British accent. It made her feel like a princess.
“I do realize that particular fact and that is precisely why I use that beautiful name. I want it to be special when you hear me say it,” Blake said, his finger brushing a tantalizing pattern along the exposed skin of her neck.
“Believe me, it’s special,” Ginny said, feeling a shiver of delight work its way from her toes to her head.
“Yes, I believe it just might be.” Blake lifted her onto his lap and kissed her with such ardor Ginny thought she might die right there from the delight of it.
Regaining the tiniest glimmer of sense, she pushed a hand against his chest before he could capture her mouth with his again.
“I do believe it’s time for me to go home,” Ginny said, registering the look of disappointment in Blake’s eyes.
“Since I can’t seem to keep from kissing you, then I suppose you are probably right,” Blake said, setting Ginny on her feet then rising from the sofa. “May I take you home?”
“That would be agreeable, Mr. Stratton, if it isn’t an imposition.”
“None at all, love. None at all,” Blake said, kissing her thoroughly one more time before going to the barn and saddling Romeo.
When he returned inside to get her, Ginny was holding a sewing box he’d finished making the previous evening in her hands. He’d meant to deliver it on his way to church that morning and forgot.
“It’s you,” Ginny said, looking at him with wonder and surprise on her face.
“Yes, it’s me. You’ve known me your whole life,” Blake said, giving her an odd look.
“No, you’re the one who’s been leaving little gifts around town,” Ginny said, setting down the sewing box that bore a tag with Aleta Bruner’s name on it. Ginny was in the store last week when Percy and his sister were fighting over something and Alice pushed Percy over. He happened to fall on his mother’s sewing box, smashing it beyond repair. Aleta was quite upset about her children destroying something that had been a keepsake.
“What are you talking about?” Blake asked, unable to look Ginny in the eye and deny her claim. He enjoyed making little surprises for people. It was great fun for him to hide the items somewhere they’d be sure to find them, but not know who provided the gift.
“I’m talking about you making Mrs. Jenkins a rolling pin and Mrs. Ferguson a cutting board and who knows what else,” Ginny said, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. “You really are such a good man, Blake. I think you’re one of a kind.”
“According to my mother, one was more than plenty,” Blake said, kissing the top of her head then helping her on with her coat. “You… um… won’t share your discovery will you?”
“Of course not,” Ginny said, squeezing his hand as they started out the door. “At least I won’t as long as you let me know when you hide the sewing box for Aleta. I’d love to see her face when she finds it.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Blake said, standing beside Ginny as she stood looking up at his big stallion, Romeo.
“Where’s your wagon?” she asked, not thrilled at the prospect of riding the huge horse back to town, even if it did mean riding close to Blake.
“Here, now. Where’s your sense of adventure?” he asked, swinging into the saddle with ease. “Give me your hand and I’ll pull you up.”
Blake held gloved fingers out to Ginny and moved his foot out of the stirrup. Lifting her skirts, she placed her foot in the stirrup and grasped his hand, expecting to swing up behind him. Instead, Blake pulled her in front of him, holding her across his lap, nestled against his chest.
“You are determined to make a spectacle out of me, aren’t you?” Ginny asked with a cheeky grin, thrilled at the feel of being in Blake’s arms while Bart woofed from the top step of Blake’s porch.
“I do what I can,” Blake teased, kissing her lips followed by her nose before calling to the dog. “Come along, Bart. Let’s head to town, old boy.”
The dog barked and ran ahead of them, as if he was showing Blake the way.
Blake rode around town, trying to shield Ginny from receiving too many curious stares as she sat across his lap. Stopping at the end of the walk at Granger House, Ginny reached up and pulled Blake’s head down for one more incredible kiss. Scorching heat flamed through her as his arms tightened around her and she was kissed more thoroughly than she’d ever imagined possible.
The horse shifted beneath them restlessly, causing Blake to pull back just enough that she could see the longing in his eyes.
“I believe Romeo has decided it’s time for me to be on my way,” Blake said with a hint of humor. Leave it to a horse named after a romantic character to put an end to his little interlude with Ginny. It was probably for the best. If they kept kissing each other like it was the last one they’d ever share, Dora would no doubt come outside and set him on his ear.
Giving her a peck on the cheek, he gently set her on her feet, tipped his hat and started to ride away.
Watching him, she waved when he turned around and grinned. “I love you, Genevieve Granger!”
Blowing him a kiss, she ran around to the back door, tripping over Bart. Telling him to stay out of the way, she was grateful to find the kitchen empty when she stepped inside. Flinging off her outerwear and tossing it on a peg, she hurried to her room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Curling up in the chair beneath the window, she took a breath, ready to read Blake’s letters. A tap at the door made her frown, especially when Dora stuck her head in the room.
“Is everything all right, darling?”
“Yes, Mother. Blake gave me the letters he wrote and I just wanted to be alone for a while to read them,” Ginny said, looking at her mother with a raised brow, hoping her mother would take the hint and give her a few moments of solitude.
“Then we’ll certainly leave you alone, dear,” Dora said, closing the door.
An hour later, she and Filly both stood outside Ginny’s door, listening to the girl sob, wondering if they should go in or leave her alone.
“Leave her be,” Greg said quietly as he put a hand on their shoulders, guiding them toward the kitchen. “Sometimes you girls just need a good cry.”
“Is that so, Mr. Granger?” Dora asked, eyeing her husband speculatively. “How did you become so smart and well-versed in women?”
“By marrying you, dear,” Greg wisely said, kissing Dora’s cheek before wandering off in search of Luke.
The four of them were about to sit down to dinner when Ginny walked into the kitchen, her eyes red and puffy from crying, but a look of contentment and happiness on her face.
“Better now?” Dora asked, rubbing Ginny’s back as she took a seat at the table.
“Yes, Mother. Much,” Ginny said, looking around at the meal and realizing she was feeling much better - and very much in love.
Chapter Seventeen
“I can’t thank you enough for your strong arms and backs today,” Blake said to Luke and Greg as they helped him carry in props for the church program.
They spent the better part of the morning helping him deliver orders around town and to a couple of outlying farm
s. The few pieces he had left to deliver the following day were light enough he could move them without putting any strain on his arm.
Forgetting about the stitches yesterday when he’d tugged Ginny up on the horse in front of him, five popped and bled impressively before he decided he better have the doctor look at them.
Receiving an earful from Doc about taking it easy and being careful, he had a fresh bandage around his arm and a threat to have the limb amputated if he couldn’t behave himself.
“Heard you were at Doc’s first thing this morning,” Luke said as he carried in the new manger Blake constructed.
“Yeah. Popped a few stitches yesterday,” Blake said, carrying in the star scene Ginny painted.
“What are you doing packing all this around today, then, son?” Greg asked, taking the scene from Blake and leaning it against the wall, behind the lectern at the front of the church.
“Spreading Christmas cheer,” Blake said with a grin, going back out to the wagon for the last load.
“He’s a hard worker,” Greg mumbled to Luke as they trudged back outside.
“And hard-headed,” Luke said, taking one end of a prop that looked like a barn wall. He and Blake carried it to the front of the church and left it with the rest of the props.
“When are the ladies coming to decorate?” Blake asked, picturing how things would look with the curtain Ginny wanted to put up for the program and the festive touches he was sure Filly and Dora would add.
“Right after lunch. You might as well come home with us and have a hot meal,” Luke said, slapping Blake on the back as they returned outside.
Abby approached from the direction of her store with Erin chattering along happily beside her.
Spying two of her favorite people, Erin squealed and ran toward the men. “Unca Wuke! Unca Bake!”
“Hi, honey,” Luke said, picking her up and kissing her cheek, and getting a tight hug before passing the wriggling little girl to Blake.
“Hello, sweetheart. Are you helping your mama today?” Blake asked, kissing her cheek and looking to Greg to see if he wanted to hold the child. Greg nodded but waited to see what Erin would do.
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