by Ellen Parker
He nodded and signaled his turn into the restaurant. “I’m looking for hope. I don’t mean to rush you. Do we have a chance?”
“I’m damaged goods.”
“You’re a smart, strong, pretty woman.”
She turned her head toward him at an angle easy to imagine an inspection finding him lacking.
“Life. The future. I’d like to have you beside me.” He eased the Jeep into a parking spot and turned off the engine.
“I have an attitude about lawyers. Can you handle it?”
“Half my family sends me lawyer jokes every chance they get.” He turned toward her and grasped her hand. “I think I’ve found my professional home. The law isn’t a stepping stone into politics for me. I want family and dogs away from the office. Can you imagine yourself within that movie?”
“Mr. Dray,” her voice started stiff on the first syllable but morphed into a soft blanket, “keep flirting like that and you’ll have an outside chance.”
He smiled and leaned forward. With a silent curse to the dark glasses which concealed any sparkle in her eyes, he followed the invitation of her mouth. She tasted sweet, her lips a delicate fruit both satisfying and creating a craving for more.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beth entered the old farmhouse with Dancer at her side. It was late Saturday morning of Thanksgiving weekend, and this was an ideal time for her to be alone with her thoughts in a favorite place.
Big Cat Farm was hosting Anita’s parents for the holiday. After breakfast, people had scattered. Anita and Sam were in town, doing some vague project at his house. Anita’s parents had taken Steve, Sam’s brother, on a run to the large home improvement store in Eau Claire. Carla had put on Christmas music and was digging into the boxes containing her mother’s nativity set collection.
Closing the door against the late November cold, Beth turned at the foot of the open staircase. Quiet air laced with dust and new wood enveloped her in solitude. The sound of her soft footfalls and Dancer’s tapping toenails drifted up and disappeared in the open space.
“She did it, Dancer. Anita and Sam made their engagement official. By June, this will be their home. You and I will be guests.” She eased down to sit on the second-to-bottom step.
The shepherd tilted her head at the words as if she understood.
“I know. It won’t bother you. Your dreams aren’t about houses.” She picked up one of the stain samples for the downstairs floor.
Now that the carpets had been pulled, narrow board hardwood floors, top of the line in 1929, awaited sanding, staining, and layers of clear topcoat. She tipped the wooden square to catch the best of the late morning light and admired the deep, rich brown. This one in her hand was almost a perfect match to the wide window and door casings. It would be her pick. But it wasn’t her choice to make. Anita gets the house. The mountain of decisions and coincidences which would have enabled Beth to live here again didn’t happen.
Dancer stood staring at the door, on alert, but with a slight swish to her tail.
“What’s going on, girl?”
“Anybody home?” Jackson called.
“It’s unlocked.” She pressed a palm against the newel post and stood.
“Thought I’d find you here.” The words were barely out of his mouth before Bailiff bounded in and skidded to a halt.
“Is he under control?” Beth asked.
Jackson shrugged. “Adolescent. And male. You decide.”
She laughed loud and short, interrupting the canine sniffing ritual. “You know how to brighten my day.”
“Glad to hear that. I want to talk to you. Seriously. About your Christmas present.”
She set the floor sample with the others and led him to the small side window of the living room. Crossing her arms, she studied the view. Across the wide, wooden bridge, Jackson’s black Jeep looked as if it belonged.
“Dime for your thoughts.”
“You’d be overpaying.” She ran her gaze over him from shined shoes, dress trousers, to a pale blue shirt. He was too well dressed for a casual visit. “You’re early. I didn’t expect you for hours. Did Mona change mealtime from early supper to lunch?”
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“No.” She enjoyed his company too much to suggest missing any time together. Glancing toward the steps, she lifted a hand and pointed. “Let’s have a seat. I’ll give you the highlights of yesterday’s phone conversation with Gertrude.”
“Deal.” He waited for her to settle before easing down beside her.
“They’ve set a date for the burial service. Bruce’s parents are handling it. I… just… it was too much.”
Nodding, he let a calm silence fill the room. “When?”
“First Saturday in January. His mother didn’t want to add any more misery to Christmas.”
“Will you attend?”
“Absolutely. Celeste volunteered to drive Gertrude and me down. The burial will be in a northern suburb of Chicago. Next to his grandfather.” She closed her eyes for a moment, allowed an image from the graveside portion of Uncle Joe’s service to form. Would she be brave and stoic like Carla? Or make a scene and embarrass herself and others?
“I wish you safe travel and good weather. I won’t be able to go.”
“I didn’t expect it. I guess this will be the final punctuation mark on my time in the Morse family.” She started to pet Bailiff only to have Dancer firmly inset her nose between them.
“Really?” Jackson rubbed Dancer behind one ear. “I had the impression Gertrude would like to remain your grandmother.”
Beth smiled, remembering the tone of the conversation. “You may be right. And what Gertrude wants, she generally gets.”
“Anything further about Kevin’s charges in Illinois?”
“Nothing new. The medical examiner has ruled the death undetermined. It could have been either a fall or something more sinister which caused the fatal blow.” She lightly traced the healing scar on her scalp. One more blow. One more hour. The entire medical team agreed she would have died if not discovered within a narrow time window. A shiver raced up from her toes. “Did I tell you they found Bruce’s personal effects in Kevin’s safe deposit box? It explains why they never found a watch or wallet.” Or wedding band. She closed her eyes and immediately opened them to banish the image of her late husband’s nervous habit of twirling the plain gold band. “May we change the topic?”
“Gladly. I came with questions.” He gave the dogs a hand signal to settle and turned to almost face her. “Do you have plans for the day after Christmas? I’d like you to be my guest at a wedding.”
She opened her mouth to make a joke, but no sound came out. “Who? Anyone I know?”
“Daryl and Kathy.” His grin spread wide.
“She set a date? Finally! I wouldn’t miss it.” She smiled at him, studying the sparkle in his blue eyes. Then a doubt crept in. “I’m still not functioning at a hundred per cent. Especially in crowds.”
“You have four more weeks for recovery. And the actual wedding will be small.” He rubbed one of her hands. “My dad is doing best man duties. He and Daryl go back to kindergarten. The reception in the American Legion Hall will be the large, noisy portion of the day. Kathy was only half joking when she called it Crystal Springs’ event of the decade. Aside from feeling obligated to attend the first few minutes, I’ll whisk you away from the crowd and confusion whenever you like.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” She wondered what sort of face the neurologist would make when she asked if dancing would be permitted. At present, she was happy to get fifteen minutes of computer time instead of slips of five minutes.
Jackson walked into the dining area and stopped at the wide arch to the kitchen. “You’ve made nice progress. The living and dining rooms look way different than the last time I was in here.”
“Anita’s dad and Sam worked in here most of yesterday. Steve too. Between the three of them, all the carpet is out in the rented dumpst
er.” Beth held in a giggle when Jackson pulled a chew toy out of his jacket pocket and flipped it to Bailiff.
“Pardon the distraction. Mr. I’ll-Chew-Anything was eyeing the broom.”
“I think he’s taller than the last time I saw him.”
“He grows daily. I’m waiting for the brain to catch up to the body.”
She laughed and signaled Dancer to settle. “Maybe next year.”
“However,” he put a serious tone in his voice, “I didn’t come here to admire the house or show off my dog. I came to ask a serious question.” Before she realized what was happening, he took a few steps toward her and eased down until one knee rested on the exposed, dusty hardwood. He reached into his coat pocket and concealed what may have been a cube of some sort. “Will you marry me?”
She blinked in disbelief and raised her hands over her mouth in case the wrong words jumped from her throat. It was too soon. Too fast. Yet that warm seed of desire low in her core refused to consider timing.
When Dancer broke her settle command and eased between them, Jackson continued to study her face while raising an elbow to discourage the dog. “You control the length of the engagement. I’d run off to Vegas with you tonight, but you deserve something better. More elegant. I’d like to give you friends and family and music and dancing.” He presented a small red box. For a moment, he fumbled with the lid, then turned it around to display the contents. “I’ll try to be patient. But could you please make it shorter than the four years it took Daryl and Kathy?”
A sheen of moisture came to her eyes, threatening to swell into tears. She inspected his eyes rather than the ring. “Are you sure? I’m damaged goods.”
“I love and admire every dent and scratch.”
“You’re…” She shifted her attention to the gift in his hand. A round diamond set in white gold shined up at her. The sparkling gem was flanked by two teardrop topaz stones, matching her pendant. But the image that stayed in her brain was the hope pouring from his face. “Yes. Mr. Dray, I accept.”
An instant later, she felt his arms around her, lifting her, twirling her around.
Woof. Woof. Dancer and Bailiff jumped around them, eager to join in this new dancing game.
“Our friends make for an excitable audience.” He set her down without releasing her.
Beth felt the dizzying swirl of motion taper from trot to walk. She opened her mouth, but before a sound could escape, he kissed her. This was not a polite end-of-date gesture or even the more urgent tastes they’d shared during their recent, brief times alone. This kiss claimed her. And she surrendered, tumbling into his world.
She returned his kiss. Exploring and tasting consumed all of her thoughts. He tasted of joy and hope mixed with a trace of mint mouthwash. Pausing to catch her breath, she sagged against him, ignoring the muscular dogs pressing against their legs. Safe. And more. A new feeling—admiration and promise mixed with excitement—opened a tender blossom in her heart.
“I love you, Jackson Dray.”
“I’ve been yours since the first day I saw you.” He brushed a fingertip across her cheek. “I want to spend forever counting your freckles.”
Her heart and skin warmed at his words. “I think you have the time span about right.”
* * *
Beth snuggled into Jackson’s side as they followed the dogs across the bridge to the newer farmhouse. One kiss had led to another. Whispers shared desires which would need to wait—for a variety of reasons.
Sam’s truck pulled in and stopped beside the Jeep. Beth turned her face toward Jackson’s. “Let me pick the time to tell them.”
“Guess what?” Anita jumped out of the truck before Sam could get around to her door.
“Save time and tell us all.” Beth gestured to the house. “Carla was going down memory lane with Christmas boxes when I deserted her.”
“It’s a good day for that sort of thing.” Anita took Beth’s arm and led her ahead of the men.
They walked inside and found Carla in the living room, sorting through decorations.
“I thought I heard Sam’s truck. Oh, when did you arrive, Jackson?” She shoved a plastic tote out of the way an instant before Bailiff galloped through the open door.
“A short time ago. I found Beth over in the other house.”
“We’ve… what is that on your hand?” Anita tugged Beth’s left hand into plain view.
Beth tipped her head as if studying her toes as a flush raced over her face. An instant later, she found her courage again and looked first at Anita then Carla. “It should be pretty self-explanatory. He asked. I answered. You’ll have this house to yourself soon, Carla.”
“Saw it coming for a couple months now. Although I expected a Christmas engagement instead of Thanksgiving Saturday.” Carla alternated her gaze between her cousins.
“Well, this is really your day, Beth.” Anita recovered most of her composure. “Sam and I talked it over, inspected his house, and have decided to live in town.”
“Really?” Beth struggled to pull in her next breath. Did it mean…? Could she…? Would he agree?
“You’ll be closer to the kennel. My crops and chickens don’t require as many late-night check-ins.”
Beth wrapped her arms around Anita in an intense hug. “You are the best cousin. Ever.” She pulled Carla into the embrace and almost missed Jackson’s wink at Sam. “You too.”
“It’s all good.” Jackson walked across the living room and opened the cabinet below the TV. Pulling out champagne glasses, he directed his words to Sam. “The bubbly, non-alcoholic in deference to Beth’s meds, is in my Jeep.”
A short time later, Beth stood between Jackson and Anita while Carla documented the two recently engaged cousins—and the shepherd puppy who managed to photo bomb at least half of the shots. She basked in the glow of family. Jackson and Sam fit into the fabric of their lives at Big Cat Farm as easy as any of their own siblings. She shifted her gaze to Jackson, her fiancé, the love of her life.
“One, two, three freckles. Four, five—”
She kissed him before the others caught the gist of his game. “Shhhh. Later.”
“To be continued,” he whispered back.
“Absolutely.” She kissed him again.
A giggle rose from her toes, along with Gertrude’s simple wisdom. Yes, you could tell a lot about a man by how he treated a dog.
Previously in Crystal Springs…
Starr Tree Farm
Laura Tanner eagerly accepts the opportunity for a winter vacation in Crystal Springs, the tiny Wisconsin town filled with childhood summer memories. Her duties on the Christmas tree farm while her relatives take a vacation gives her the perfect change of scene one year after her husband’s murder. She plans to work on a delayed dream of a bookstore -- and prod her private investigator uncle to take some action on her husband’s case.
Brad Asher’s military career ended with injuries in Afghanistan. Family welcomed him home, where he’s still finding his place via several part-time jobs. Laura’s return to the community gives him hope for a second chance with the girl who spent summers with the neighbors.
But trouble follows Laura from St. Louis. Will Brad be able to keep her safe and in his life?
Hiding Places
Mona Smith receives a warning from her brother – a local drug kingpin intends to collect money she doesn’t have. She hurriedly stuffs what she can into a backpack and flees Minneapolis.
Linc Dray has been rejected by the final candidate on his list. Unless he marries within thirteen days, he won’t be able to inherit his grandfather’s farm – and continue the dream of growing the current tiny apple orchard to commercial size.
Mona sprints into Linc’s life, begging for a ride out of the city. He wants to do the right thing. Is she a clever con artist or the answer to his dilemma? After a bumpy beginning, he proposes a marriage of convenience. But before they can exchange vows, Linc is framed for murder. And what can they do about these inconvenient emot
ions?
Acknowledgements:
Many people supplied valuable information and critiques during the writing of this novel. I’d like to especially thank a few of my fellow writers – LaShaunda, Phyllis, Laura, and Terri – for their encouragement when the end of this project appeared to be slipping away from me.
About the Author
Raised in a household filled with books, it was only natural that Ellen Parker grew into an avid reader. She turned to writing as a second career and enjoys spinning the type of story which appeals to multiple generations. She encourages her readers to share her work with mother or daughter – or both.
Ellen currently lives in St. Louis. When not guiding characters to “happily ever after” she’s apt to be reading, walking in the neighborhood, or tending her tiny garden. You can find her on the web at https://ellenparkerwrites.wordpress.com/and https://www.facebook.com/ellenparkerwrites/.
