by Haley Oliver
"Oh, Owen," I choke out as hot tears skate down my face.
"I'm right here. "
I turn to find Owen standing in the doorway. That secret smile is still on his face, but his gaze is uncertain, almost shy. Almost as if he still doesn't know what my answer might be.
With the back of my hand, I swipe at my tears. When I open my mouth to tell Owen how much I adore him, he is no longer standing in front of me.
He's down on one knee in front of me, a blue Tiffany ring box opened in his fingers. My heart stills.
"I love you, Amanda King. Be my wife." I gasp as he takes my hand and slips the large but exquisitely cut diamond ring halfway onto my finger.
Next thing I know, I'm flying into his arms. Owen laughs as I collide with him, and brings his free hand up to catch and hold me to his chest. His solid warmth steadies us both.
" Yes, yes, yes. Forever yes," I whisper into his neck.
The memo flutters through the air behind me and caresses the floor with a soft whisper as I breathe, "I love you, Owen."
Wearing the cocky grin of his that I know and love so well, Owen brushes back a flyaway strand of my hair, kisses me on the tip of my nose and whispers, "They met when she came to work for him."
"He took her for granted, at first," I narrate. "But she knew the day she met him that he was someone worth protecting."
"He took her for granted," Owen echoes with his own narration, "but he never overlooked her. She snuck her way into his thoughts...all the time...and even though he thought he was trying to win another, his heart..."
He leans in close, and I lean back into him.
"...was already won."
NEXT IN THIS SERIES…
Valerie and Daniel’s story is coming soon!
Chloe pressed her finger down on the ‘delete’ button, watching the letters disappear from the page. It was garbage. Sighing deeply, she changed the font type, and then the font size. She started again.
It was hard trying to sound like a grown-up. She knew exactly what she wanted to say. It was a bit like writing thank you letters. Making sure to come across as polite, kind and cheerful. But as a ten-year-old girl, it was difficult to write one while pretending to be a fully-grown man.
She looked out of her window, being careful to keep an eye on her father. He was standing in the paddock at the back of the ranch, walking one of the horses, a mare they’d recently bought who got spooked easily and was having trouble adjusting to her new stables.
Chloe’s father was so patient with animals, and they loved him for it. All the animals on the ranch flocked to him, from the chickens they kept, to the bison in neighboring fields.
He’s a great dad, thought Chloe. He always seemed so strong and solid. Whenever she skinned her knees or elbows, she knew that a few kind words from Dad and his first aid kit, complete with Wonder Woman Band-Aids would set her straight. She never needed to worry about anything when he was around.
But, even Chloe knew that couldn’t last forever. She was growing out of kid stuff like Wonder Woman Band-Aids. Lucille, her very best friend at school, had started her period. She had told Chloe all about it in gory detail, and Chloe had almost passed out at the horror of it. Lucille had warned her that she’d be next. But, her dad wouldn’t be able to help her with that. Chloe was absolutely positive that those types of emergencies weren’t going to be helped by a first aid kit.
Although there were tons of temporary ranch hands hired each year, the only other full-timers that they had on the ranch were Josiah and Wesley, the two other ranch hands that made up their small family. Both men were loads of fun, Josiah was like a second dad and her resident sitter, always willing to play a game of Monopoly, and Wesley was a really handsome sixteen-year-old who taught her how to ride horses. But, what would happen if she got her period in front of Wesley? She would want to crawl in a hole and die.
It had started to become increasingly apparent to Chloe that what she needed was a mom. One who would fix her hair in the mornings, in the same complicated way that Lucille’s mom did—with spiral curls or French braids. She had tried to educate her dad on these things, but he was next to useless, though she would never tell him that. Every time he tried to do French braids for her, after dropping Chloe off at the school gates, she would run behind the bike shed and untie the lopsided attempts, leaving her hair loose for the rest of the school day. They were that bad.
Chloe, with renewed determination, turned her attention back to the letter. She studied the picture of the woman the agency had emailed. She looked perfect. She wasn’t able to have children, so there would never need to be anyone but Chloe, and she could cook. She also had really, super kind eyes, and long, shiny, brown hair. Her name was Heather. It was a nice name. It sounded like a woman who was good at giving hugs, someone that was nice, and kind to animals.
Before re-starting the letter, Chloe checked her list of requirements, the same one she’d given to the agency last week. It was scribbled down on a scrap of paper, kept in the pocket of her jeans at all times. Running through the list, Chloe confirmed that it was likely Heather would check off on every single one. For some, like being kind to her father, she would have to wait and see.
Going back to the letter, Chloe wondered whether or not to include that fact that she thought her dad was sad without a wife. She was quite sure it was true. Sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t around, he would sit on the sofa in the evenings, staring out of the window looking so sad, like Chloe would have looked if Lucille wasn’t around. But maybe saying her dad was sad in the letter was off-putting? She decided it was.
It was an hour later when she finished. Finally, it was perfect. She retrieved her dad’s credit card from his desk drawer, and typed in his information carefully. She noticed it was very expensive, but if they were charging a lot, Chloe reasoned, then it was more likely that Heather would be the absolute perfect mom.
Chloe pressed ‘send’ on the website, and crossed her fingers tightly. This had to work.
“Chloe, dinner!” Her dad bellowed from downstairs. She jumped and hastily shoved the credit card back in the draw and shut down the computer.
“Coming!” She yelled back, giving the room one last glance over to make sure that she hadn’t left anything out. It all looked okay. She turned to leave, not noticing the list of ideal attributes lying just behind the computer screen, gently fluttering in the breeze of the open window.
*
“What have you been doing all day, trouble? I haven’t seen or heard a peep from you.” Her dad questioned her from his position at the kitchen counter.
“I’ve been busy, Dad. I had things to do.” Chloe stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the kitchen activity. “Dad, are we having pork chops, again?”
“Aw, come on Chloe, you know you love ‘em.” Her dad turned to her with a wink.
“No, Dad, I do not love them. Plus, we had them last night, and I didn’t like them then. I’m going to like them less today, because now they’re leftovers.” Chloe pursed her lips. This really sucked. She knew for a fact that Lucille never had leftovers, except on Sundays, and that was okay.
“Well, well, well, I can hear a princess causin’ her old man trouble.” Josiah popped his head around the screen door, and shook his cap at Chloe. “Is that any way for a young lady to behave?” He ran in and started chasing her around the table. Chloe squealed in delight and ran behind her father. He laughed and grabbed her, putting Chloe back in the firing line of Josiah. “Dad!” she yelled, “you’re supposed to help!”
Just then, Wesley walked in and Chloe abruptly stopped hollering. He towered above her, tall and tan and shooting Chloe a huge grin. “I heard a lot of yelling coming from in here.” He eyed Chloe. “You causing mischief, Miss Chloe Holt?”
“No. No, I wasn’t. I am annoyed that we’re having pork chops, again. This is the fourteenth million time, and I’m sick of them.” Chloe recalled her main gripe of the evening, and stood her ground.
> “Hmm” Wesley looked thoughtful. “Well, that is a mighty shame.” He turned back to Chloe’s father who’d started to plate out the offending chops.
Josiah looked at Wesley and agreed, “It is. It’s a shame.” The old man shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head. Chloe’s father just looked bemusedly at both men.
“What?” asked Chloe. “What’s a shame?” they all just shook their heads at her. Staying silent, Chloe folded her arms and jutted out her chin. “You have to tell me. What’s a shame?”
“Well, I don’t know if you know about Mrs. Maybelle’s fair winning cream pie…” Wesley trailed off, as Chloe gave a small yell and jumped in the air.
“Really? Wes, do you really have Maybelle pie?”
He grinned at her, “Yeah, really I do, because Josiah and I went down into town special for you, and bought it. But,” he paused, “I’m not sure you should have it, on account of you being mean about your dad’s food.”
“I’m sorry!” Chloe grabbed the proffered plate out of her father’s hands and carried it over to the kitchen table.
She ate happily, wolfing down the food. And, truth be told, it really wasn’t all that bad. She wouldn’t have to put up with it for very long, she reminded herself. She might have a mom by next week, a mom who would spend all day in the kitchen creating special treats and wonderful dinners for Chloe and her dad.
* * *
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