Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2)

by Lucy McConnell

  And talk he did. Lindy stood to the side observing. Armand sat like a classy French souvenir in front of the hokey pioneer backdrop seemingly un-phased at the long line. He took time with each person, looking at them, asking a question, listening to their enthusiasm. With a moment of laughter, a smile, or an exchange of shared interest, the woman would leave with more than a signature. So much for the diva persona she had attached to him a few weeks ago.

  Had it only been that long she had known him? Her heart disagreed. The undeniable connection between them, the ease and realness which they could communicate on both a verbal and nonverbal level, told her something more.

  A lady wearing black and holding a camera, with lenses hanging around her neck, moved down the line. Over the past few days, media had been helpful but mostly hit and miss. But today, several stations and papers had been represented and they appeared like ants all over the festival— interviewing, clicking, and heightening the evening’s anticipation.

  For good or bad, she couldn’t say.

  Betty tapped her on the shoulder. “So are you ready to start the reading? We have a winner!” she said as she triumphantly waved a piece of paper in her hand.

  Lindy swallowed. It was go time.

  Betty used an unnecessarily loud megaphone to tell people to sit down on one of the several blankets now provided on the grass. The dark of evening enveloped them except for the bright electric lights that hummed in the background. She called their attention to tonight’s reading, the book giveaways, and an extensive, glowing, personal review of Armand who was beside her. He bravely bore it all, standing like a display mannequin in dark trendy jeans, his trademark open-at-the-collar white shirt, and a camel-colored sport coat. The women didn’t mind the lengthy introduction as much as they might have.

  The loud voice acted as an all-call— people continued to swarm from various parts of the fair until the space overflowed, including the media who unapologetically climbed over people to get to the front.

  With a last longing look at Armand, Betty walked to her reserved side folding chair, touching her hair as she went.

  Lindy walked up next to Armand. She pretended cool confidence and used her outside venue voice. “Thank you, Betty. And good evening, ladies and gentlemen, we’re happy you could join us to share this coveted time with Armand D. Beaumont. Your genuine Echo Ridge welcome has made him feel right at home.” A round of applause erupted.

  He stood close enough that as she spoke his right hand surreptitiously grazed hers, several times. It both soothed and unnerved her. “And now the moment you’ve waited for…the winner of the Reading Raffle.” The sound of humorous groans. “I know, we’ll get to Armand. First, thanks to Echo Ridge generosity, this venture earned an extra $2500 for the library. And the winner is…Pastor Louis.”

  Applause resounded as the man of the cloth gave a gesture of praying hands from his spot on the sidelines. Lindy suppressed a chuckle— prayer, my eye. Betty had told her he personally had added another $150 from his brother in Des Moines.

  As Lindy and Armand stood to the side, Pastor Louis came forward and took his spot in front of the hushed crowd. For the next fifteen minutes, he read from Deception & Deliverance. His gentle but inviting voice gave an unintended irony to the passages of Detective Maximillian Dupont deftly defying a car chase with three gun-toting thugs, and a final shoot-out at the scene of the murder.

  After the applause for his fundraiser-worthy performance, Lindy’s stomach squeezed. It was now or never.

  “Thank you, Pastor Louis, quite masterfully done. We won’t be surprised if your Sunday sermon includes a car chase to the mount of Beatitudes.” Laughter rippled across the crowd.

  Lindy smiled while a nervous twist battled in her stomach. The electric lights flickered. “And now, a new and never-before enjoyed experience. Because of our privilege to have heard some of his novel already by our gracious pastor, Armand won’t be reading from his own work.”

  A mix of confused groans popped from the crowd.

  “Instead, he will share with you a favorite pastime of his bestselling and beloved character, Maximillian. He will read to you…French poetry.” A questioning gasp. “In his native tongue.”

  A swooning sound. Lindy let go of the breath she held.

  With a knowing look at Lindy and a discreet wink from her, Armand took the wooden chair provided in front of the group and produced a worn brown book with a French title.

  “Bon sua, madame and messuers. I hope you enjoy this favorite indulgence of Maximillian. It is one of my own as well. The passage I read, it— ”

  The lights flickered again. Then a sharp buzz, and darkness.

  Amidst gasps and chatter, Lindy knew Betty was already on it, using the megaphone to assure people to stay put and she would have Don check the generator. Within a few moments a candle had been lit by Milo, a friend of Britta’s. Then another. Betty and another lady from the crowd helped place the lanterns closer to Armand while others used their cell phone flashlights to see what was happening. Placing a lantern close to Lindy, she gave a triumphant look to Lindy. “We think of everything.”

  Lindy returned the smile with genuine gratitude. She glanced back at Armand and they shared a moment of disbelief at their good fortune. Even better. In the soft glow of the lantern light, Armand sat slightly diagonally so as to gaze at the book and be able to discreetly glance at Lindy as he chose.

  The mostly female crowd hushed expectantly. Armand’s resonant, baritone voice carried in the fall air.

  Puisque j'ai mis ma lèvre à ta coupe encore pleine;

  Puisque j'ai sur ton front 1 posé mon front pâli;

  Puisque j'ai respiré parfois la douce haleine

  De ton âme, parfum dans l'ombre enseveli;

  He paused, and she used the English translation he had provided earlier.

  Since I have placed my lip

  To your still brimming cup,

  Since my pale brow has leaned

  Into your sheltering hand,

  Since I at times have caught

  The hidden fragrance of your heart—

  At first, Lindy thought what a perfect passage this was for a female audience. But as he continued to the second, third, and fourth passages, his voice took on more emotion, and the words— he paused, emphasizing their meaning.

  Votre aile en le heurtant ne fera rien répandre

  Du vase où je m'abreuve et que j'ai bien rempli.

  Mon âme a plus de feu que vous n'avez de cendre!

  Mon coeur a plus d'amour que vous n'avez d'oubli!

  With a hesitation, and then steadying her voice, Lindy translated the last verse.

  Let time's wing brush the jar

  I've filled to the brim nor

  Spill one drop. I've more flame

  In my heart now than time

  Has ash and I possess

  More love than time forgetfulness.'

  His earnest look made it clear this was chosen for a purpose. With a glance, their eyes connected, charged with meaning. He was reading this for her.

  Although Armand continued to explain about Victor Hugo and the origin of the poem, Lindy felt suddenly out of time and space. His voice, his words, his being. Then a ticker-tape of thoughts and experiences from the past few weeks— his patience in tagging the antiques, the argument over the painting, his protecting her from the glass, his cooking dinner, sitting in the woodstove area talking of Keats and American cheeseburgers. Each action and word had painted a picture of their relationship so far.

  And his true character. His defiance at preparing to cancel, his angst at opening himself to the truth, his willingness to trust her solution. Lindy felt each choice deeply, her heart turning to him with each memory. This was Armand. Kindly talking with middle-aged women and standing as a token fundraiser next to Betty. Openly admitting his failings in business or crowds, and yet facing them down, with her help.

  With. Her. Help. A sudden vision in her soul that she would never b
e able to explain gave a glimpse of her future. Loving Armand— being with him, working with him, helping him, using her talents to fill his lacking areas. And he loving her— encouraging her success, sitting by the fire in deep discussion, cooking to soothe her difficult day. These were what had been and what would be.

  Tears started in her eyes and threatened to spill over at the depth of love rising within her. At this very moment, she knew. Whatever waited in her distant future, she knew exactly what to do, now.

  As if they were the only two people, he raised an eyebrow in question, the one in his mind and soul. She gave a single nod, and put her hand to her heart.

  The sound of thunderous clapping roused them both to reality. Armand smiled graciously and waved, then moved toward Lindy. Betty didn’t wait, rushing to the front of the crowd, wiping tears and thanking Armand in yet another lengthy monologue about the power of his words and the beauty of this evening. Lindy knew the additional fundraising pitch was coming but she didn’t hear it.

  Amidst the crowd, Armand had stolen through the slight space between two barn wall sections and, taking her hand, had brought her with him.

  Stealing behind the signing backdrop they were back into the inky night. Only the full moon shone down on them through the fall leafage of the red maples and chestnut oak. Armand gathered her in his arms.

  For a moment neither said a word. Lindy soaked in the warmth of his taut chest, his firm and sure arms enveloping her, the familiar aroma of woods and running rivers. His hand slid up the back of her neck and into her loose hair, the soft, lilting tones of beautiful French words that she must find out their meaning later. He whispered closely in her ear, “How can I begin to thank you. It worked, beautifully. Like you. This was the right solution, and you gave that to me.”

  She leaned back slightly. “And you gave me mine. Yes, I’m in. We’ll put our skills together and make something incredible. And us, together,” she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “All of it, together.”

  He stood absolutely still. In the moonlight, his expression could clearly be seen— the bright blue eyes reflected his boyish earnestness, the sincerity of his heart, the firmness of his resolve to do whatever it took to make them happy. With a searching glance, he leaned in, moments from her lips, taking her in and drawing her closer each step of the way. And then in a gentle but firm voice, he spoke so that she could feel his soft breath on her lips. “I love you, Lindy Marrshan. Are you truly mine?”

  She paused, feeling her answer. “I am yours, Armand.” Voicing the words, a joy surged through her.

  His eyes widened, with a look of wonder. With his gentle touch on her lips, an electricity of a different kind moved in her. Nothing mattered but the two of them, together, as one. Knowing he felt the same, Lindy gave in to the sheer exhilaration of sharing feelings through a language that didn’t need words.

  The intensity rose, no longer an expression of wonder but of joy, and fulfillment and desire. Lindy’s body awoke in waves, tingling and sensitive to the slightest touch of his lips and fingers. With her hand at his nape she drew him closer. Responding, he wrapped his arm more strongly around her waist, until she could hardly distinguish between the two of them.

  Armand pulled back for a moment, taking her in. “My Lindy, mon cher. Is it possible that you could be mine forever?”

  Lindy took in a quick breath. But the thought settled peacefully on her heart. She gave a coy expression. “It is a possibility.”

  With a glorious smile, Armand leaned in for a confirmation. Lindy pulled him closer to happily oblige.

  THE END

  Ingredients:

  4 oz. bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

  3/4 c unsalted butter

  1 c. and 3/4 c. sugar

  3 large eggs

  1 c. flour

  1/2 tsp. salt

  1 c. semisweet chocolate chips

  3 TBSP water

  1/4 c. heavy cream

  1 1/2 c. toasted pecans, roughly chopped

  1/2 tsp. sea salt

  Heat oven to 350 degrees. Line an 8-inch square baking pan with parchment paper (leave about two inches overhang on all four sides).

  Over medium heat, melt the chocolate and butter in a saucepan. After removing from heat, put in a bowl and add 1 cup of sugar and the eggs. Stir in the salt and flour. Fold in the chocolate chips.

  Spread the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for about 25 to 30 minutes. Let cool completely in the pan.

  To make the topping: In a medium heavy-bottomed pan, combine the 3/4 cup sugar and water. Heat over medium-heat (do not stir,) swirling the pan as needed, until sugar is dissolved. Increase the heat and boil until the sugar is a deep caramel color (do not stir). Immediately remove from heat and stir in the heavy cream (it’s normal for it to bubble up), then the pecans.

  Pour the mixture evenly over the cooled brownies and sprinkle with the sea salt. When cooled, use the overhangs to transfer brownies to a cutting space and cut into 25 squares. Yum!

  CONNIE SOKOL is a mother of seven, and a local and national speaker for over fifteen years. She is a TV core contributor on KSL's “Studio 5 with Brooke Walker” and a national blogger for “Motherhood Matters” at www.ksl.com. She is a former TV and radio host for Bonneville Communications, and a newspaper and magazine columnist. Mrs. Sokol is a bestselling author having penned 14 books including What Every 6th Grader Needs to Know, Faithful, Fit & Fabulous, Create a Powerful Life Plan, and 40 Days with the Savior. She is one of seven mother hosts of The Living Room, a value-based online radio show dishing on everyday life, love, and learning, found at www.fromthelivingroom.com. Mrs. Sokol marinates in time spent with her family and eating decadent treats. For her radio and TV segments, blog, podcasts and more, visit www.conniesokol.com.

  Dear Reader,

  We’re thrilled that you came to visit Echo Ridge with us again in this second offering of novellas. We hope that you loved each of these stories as much as we loved writing them.

  If you enjoyed this anthology, we’d love to hear from you! Reviews posted on Goodreads, Amazon, or any other store where you purchase books is a huge help. Thank you in advance for taking the time to rate this book.

  We invite you to subscribe to our reading group at www.echoridgebooks.com where you’ll receive free ebooks, recipes, and tips from all of us at Echo Ridge.

  If you’re interested in becoming a regular reviewer of these anthologies and would like access to advance copies, please email contact@echoridgebooks.com

  Thank you!

  The Echo Ridge Anthology Authors