by Tanya Hanson
This time she didn’t look at him, but fiddled with a buckle. “I know Tranquility group is a subsidiary of BrayMet. Of which Brayton Metcalf is founder and CEO. Something I found out from a glossy brochure. Not you. I guess I feel you’re holding back.”
The longing in her voice got to him.
She flushed. “Why so secretive about owning that fine enterprise?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to seem like I’m bragging. I guess I just feel guilty, sometimes. I made a fortune on the inflated prices of homes. Foreclosed homes, empty homes. It’s hard to envision the hardships families go through. The staff I had to lay off when I’ve reaped so much.”
She nodded, sunlight glinting from her hair. “But you’ve done good things too. From those given much, the Lord expects great things.” Her voice softened. So did the hand on his cheek.
“What?”
“It was my confirmation verse. From the gospel of Luke somewhere. Wow. I…can’t believe it. I haven’t thought about it in years.”
Her eyebrows rose as she spoke, but he knew she spoke sincerely. Her shoulders straightened as if a load had been lifted.
“Well, there’s a good reason you remembered it now.” He took one hard swallow, aching to hold her, finally and for real. “I’m realizing it too. We aren’t traveling down here alone.” God was nearby, to guide and lean on. Brayton knew it more than ever. “I didn’t mean to, well, withhold information from you. I’m so sorry.”
“I understand. Apology accepted. I haven’t known you long, but I know you’ve done good things. And will. Look at the art gallery. Look at Addie. You’ve no need to be unsure of yourself.”
He shrugged, looking away. “I suppose. I liquidated some companies to get better severance for the folks I had to lay off. I…don’t know how I could have slept at night, otherwise.”
“You helped many people out by buying the Red Hill. Not to mention the saddlery.” Her voice was gentle, as was the squeeze of her fingers now on his arm. “Keeping the hands employed when things were going under. That has to mean something. Saving all those horses, too.”
“I never quite looked at it that way.” As if to keep her fingers there, he laid his own hand over hers, warmth and pulse seeping into him. “At times I almost felt like I was taking advantage of somebody’s misfortune.”
“Well, I kind of understand. But I’ll bet folks looked at it as the solution to a problem. The answer to a prayer.” Her voice slowed, and their hands disconnected as she moved against a post. She took several deep breaths. “I think I’ve slowly been learning that about Nick. The Lord expected great things of him, and he gave back. I don’t understand why, back home again, he had to suffer more. But God was there to lean on. For Nick and for me. It was our choice that we didn’t. That I haven’t been. But…” She didn’t say any more, but he read her eyes. She was leaning on Him now.
Before he could reply, a smile split her beautiful face.
“Come on.” She pulled a halter hanging from the fence. “Go get Curiosity. She isn’t getting much exercise these days, tourists done and Tiffany so near her due date. There’s something about the trail.” She raised her face as if smelling the air, tasting the word. Then she looked him straight on. “Something that helps us get things figured out. Someone.”
“You finding your way back, Rachel?”
“Yeah.” She shook her head with a little laugh. “And it must be showing. Ma just said the same thing.” Then her eyes widened with questions that stabbed his heart. “But Brayton, if you don’t want to seem like a bragger...why did you name your enterprise after yourself. I mean, come on.”
Heat brushed his cheekbones. “The arrogance of youth, I guess. I made it big, quick and pretty easy. It was Marianne who kept my head on straight. Who kept me humble.” He tossed her a look he hoped she understood. “That was part of her legacy.”
It didn’t hurt to say Marianne’s name, or to think of her. Hadn’t for a while. His heart swelled. Time had come to move on for good.
“I think I get that. Nick taught me things, too.”
“For what it’s worth since I’ve known you...” He pushed on, else lose courage. “...It hasn’t hurt to mention her name, or to remember her. I knew the first time I met Marianne she was somebody special. It took her a bit longer, but we gave ourselves the chance to find out for sure. Just like…” He hesitated the same time Rachel did, as she prepared to slip between the fence slats into the corral.
“Just like what?” Her soft voice mixed with the whicker of horses as she jumped to her feet on the other side.
“Just like I hope we have the chance…to find out.”
Inside the corral, she faced him. “You might be onto something. Since meeting you, I haven’t had bad dreams.”
“That’s good.” He reached for the hand she held out and the spark traveled down his spine.
“Very good.” Her shy gaze focused on the ground. “So I guess that might mean what you mean right now. Or what I think you mean.” Her fingers twiddled against his. “You know. That you and I should give ourselves the chance to find out. What this is. What it might be.”
He nodded. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I know Marianne wouldn’t mind. I can’t stop seeing you. Inside my head. Invisible but visible at my side. It was you who walked all through the townhouse next to me today.”
He leaned against the corral post and grinned at her. “I’m not about to give up. But I am aware I moved too fast.” He might as well confess. At first, Marianne had run scared, too. “But it’s my nature. Lest the best deal get away from me.” Her eyes widened, and he reconsidered his flippant words. “Or the best girl.”
Rachel laughed out loud. “You sound like my brother Kenn. He proposed to Christy after a three-day wagon train trip. He just couldn’t let her go.”
“Sounds like a smart man.”
“But I’m not much like that. I’m not one to jump into things. I can’t deny I feel something. Something for you. Something that could go somewhere. Felt it from the first. But…” She whistled and a horse came to her side. After tying the gelding to the post, she lifted the saddle over his back like she’d done a thousand times. And probably had.
Home on the range. Home in his heart.
“But what, Rachel?” He had to know.
She faced him squarely. “The thing is, Brayton, it might be hard for me to be with a guy who rushes in.”
Abashment glazed him. She was right. Far too often, he’d rushed head-first. This time, however, was heart-first.
“I know, Rachel. And I’m sorry. I was so enthused. But the art exhibition isn’t a done deal. It’s all up to you to begin with. And the exhibition has to pass a bunch of administrative rigmarole.” He might as well tell her the whole truth. No might as well. This is how it would be between them from now on. “Thing is, I’ve meant for years to endow an art gallery in Marianne’s name.”
“Then why right now?”
You. His heart all but shouted her name. “It’s something I feel deep down. The art gallery is for Marianne’s memory. The art show is for now. For us. For Hearts Crossing. Somehow binding our two households together. And I never meant to overstep. To rush things. We can take all the time you need. I’ll slow down. I promise. I’ll wait a lot longer than three days.”
“Three days?” Rachel’s face crinkled. “Are you talking about Kenn and Christy?”
“No. It’s a reference to Esther. You know. The three days she prayed and prepared to face Xerxes.” A flush warmed his neck. For years he hadn’t given God’s word and the lessons of His people much thought at all.
She smiled, and his heart slammed into a rib. “So you’re comparing yourself to a great historic ruler?”
“Not on your life.” He barked out a laugh. “I’m just a guy, hoping you’ll give me a chance.”
“Hmmmm.” She squeezed through the fence to stand next to him, facing him. Eyes squished closed like a little kid’s. “I can see Grim-Gram’s stuff
in an art show. Her message is a brilliant one. A blessed one. I’m thinking she wouldn’t mind her faith on display for others to see. After all, it’s the Great Commission.” Her voice sobered. “Seeing her art has sure helped remind me of what’s important. As for the three day deal, I’m not waiting that long.”
“Waiting that long for what?” Brayton’s breath hitched. Another date?
She lowered her eyelashes. “For this.”
She stepped closer and instinctively, Brayton opened his arms to gather her against his heart. She had to feel it pummeling into her body. Against his pounding chest, she rested her head, hair smelling of spice and autumn. Then he gently moved a hand to tip her face, savoring the sweet moment of desperate anticipation. The moment right before the first kiss.
His mouth met hers, mingled, and the thrill running through him heated the blood in his veins. Better than his wildest dream. She sighed against his lips, and then raised her arms to clasp his neck. Oh, she belonged there, she surely did, and he’d never let her go.
“Good one,” she muttered finally, breathless, leaning back a bit to look into his eyes. “Kinda makes me wish I’d gone for it the other day.”
“No. No. This was perfect as is. Right now.”
“I’d say so.” She moved into him again. Sublime moment tinged with crisp breeze and bright sun.
Suddenly Rachel pulled away, eyes glazed with something like panic.
“What is it?” Alarm grabbed him.
Then she laughed out loud, and he relaxed. “I just figured it out. Why Ma got so cuddly with me, talking about Doyle. Doyle Calhoun, her gentleman friend. And why Kelley’s got chipmunk cheeks and needs to get off her feet. Oh me, oh my.”
Brayton pulled her close once more. “Explain it later.” He mumbled into her hair, moving his mouth to hers once more and tasting the hope of tomorrow.
…Tomorrow, next week. Next month, next year. And no matter the outcome, He will care for us
Epilogue
The following June
After a quick toss of her bridal bouquet, Rachel took Brayton’s hand. The simple touch had her heart pounding as he helped her step into the flower-strewn carriage drawn by two of Addie’s rescue horses. A stiff breeze off Old Joe’s Hole rustled the rosemary and white roses that wreathed Rachel’s head.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” He leaned close as she settled against him, breath ruffling her hair, his nearness setting her on fire.
She caught her breath. “Only fifty times,” she said, dabbing a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re mighty good-looking yourself.”
Indeed, his well-cut black suit with just-broken in boots added the perfect combination of dress up and outdoors. Perfect, in tune with the outdoor wedding grotto at Old Joe’s Hole. The venue’s scent of shadowed pine lingered in the wind.
“This was absolutely the perfect place for a wedding,” Brayton mused as if reading her mind. “And your dress…”
With a rush of pure love for him, she smoothed the skirt of the dress he’d picked out. Second time around, they neither believed in bad luck. The detachable tulle ball skirt would leave behind a cream lace sheath for the party.
Chelsea separated from the swarm of giggling females, ran close and waggled the bouquet at them. “Did you really have to throw me this?” she grumped with both a grin and an eye-roll. “It’s weird enough, being my own mother’s maid of honor.”
“Not quite as weird as having a double wedding with her,” Rachel said, chuckling. For a second, she caught sight of their mother, almost majestic in a lovely but practical tea-length gray jacket dress, her one splurge the elaborate concoction of silk roses and feathers on her head. Hands clasped with her new husband, Ma steered him toward his helicopter in a clearing a hundred yards away. They’d be back at the ranch in ten minutes, but the other guests on horseback or riding in hay wagons would slowly follow Rachel and Brayton to the ranch for the reception.
“Can’t believe she hooked Doyle Calhoun.” As Brayton shook his head, his manly ocean scent drifted over her. “What a guy. I’ve watched his ‘Last Real Rancher’ reality show for years.”
Rachel shrugged against him. “Maybe that’s part of why you came here.”
“Could be. Our God works in mysterious ways.”
“That He does.” Rachel pondered the mystery of His grace. Both she and Ma would be splitting time between Hearts Crossing and their husbands’ ranches–the log cabin Brayton had designed on Rachel’s inherited acres was nearly complete. After much prayer, both had decided to return to Hearts Crossing and leave Woodside Meadows to other happy families. And the horse rescue operation at Red Hill was strongly underway, with folks from everywhere—including Crusty and his Scout troop and Carol and her kids—helping out.
“I guess we better make tracks. Matty’s in good hands,” she said, unworried. Kelley, who had declined to be anybody’s matron of honor in her ninth month, had undertaken nanny duties along with Jason. Addie, although she adored the little ring bearer, had been too occupied standing up for Rachel in a sweet lilac dress she’d worn to the seventh-grade spring dance.
With a loud laugh, Brayton pointed. Right now, Rachel’s new daughter and her little boy chased through the trees the military service dog they’d taken into their “forever home.” Stanley, a black and tan German shepherd, was magnificent even with the white satin bow around his neck. Nate, Brayton’s best man, corralled the kids and critter. Rachel laughed, too. Joy all but choked her. “Once we start off, everybody will follow.”
“Step up.” Brayton soft voice and gentle hands on the reins set the horses to a brisk trot. Such a good man, she mused. So gentle with kids, with animals.
Rachel had long forgiven Nick forever and for real. But she’d never forget his goodness, the good times, and would always keep him alive in Matty’s mind.
God had known it all, all along. Each tomorrow, each week, month and year. Leaning hard against Brayton’s shoulder, she breathed out a prayer that had no real words.
God was listening anyway.
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May God’s glory shine through
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