Kiss Me If You Dare
Page 28
I clapped my hands together, in anticipation of congratulating Portia for her achievement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please show your appreciation to Miss Patricia Louise Amble.”
I inhaled. Did Denton have it right? I was voted Most Valuable? I looked around at my cheering, smiling team members. Humbled, I covered my mouth with my hands, blubbering like a Miss America pageant winner. Not caring that hundreds of people were witnesses, I walked to Brad’s wheelchair, stared at him with love in my eyes, bent and kissed him. A round of hoots and cheers snapped me out of my daze and I stood up, embarrassed.
Brad picked up his microphone, “I have only one question for Miss Patricia Louise Amble.” The crowd hushed, listening.
Joel came over from the side of the stage and took the mike from Brad. My ex-cop boyfriend gripped the arms of the wheelchair and strained to lift himself to a standing position. I could only stare in utter horror, worried he’d tumble and hurt himself on the hard stone beneath. He steadied himself, then he took a haltering step toward me. I tried to move forward to meet him, but Portia’s sturdy grip held me in place. Another step. And another. Not strong, not confident, just miraculous.
Brad stood before me. His hand reached into his trouser pocket. Out came a tiny box covered in black velvet. He pulled open the lid. The sparkle of a single diamond set in white gold blinded me along with a renewed torrent of tears.
Joel handed Brad the microphone. Brad’s voice echoed across the silent lawn. “Patricia Louise Amble, will you marry me?”
Not even the song of a bird broke the silence as I stared at him in amazement. All this… for me?
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” The words bounced off stone and glass, repeating themselves until scattered by the breeze.
A rush of wind as the crowd inhaled in unison, then let out a wild whoop. I laughed and cried, held close in Brad’s arms until the noise dimmed into the background of our beating hearts.
He put the ring on my finger. “I love you,” he whispered for my ears alone. Then we kissed as if we were on a deserted island. A round of hoots from the audience and we were transported back to Del Gloria. Joel situated the wheelchair and Brad collapsed into the sling seat.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur, my beloved diploma a mere afterthought on a day that had come to mean so much more.
Later, the crew from Port Silvan gathered around the hall steps. Samantha held her sleeping baby girl.
“My little cousin will officially be my niece soon too,” I said, gazing with adoration at plump cheeks and wispy eyelashes. “Puppa must be so proud.” I looked at the faces of my best supporters. “I wish he could have been here.” Joel spoke. “He wanted to be. But something came up and he left the country.”
“What? Where did he go?”
Joel shrugged. “Havana.”
“Cuba? What on earth?”
“He gave some story about the woman who went over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Everyone said it was impossible, but she survived anyway.”
I bit my lip. Candice was alive. They were finally together. “Puppa deeded the lake house to you. Said it was a wedding gift.”
I nodded, all cried out. Maybe I’d never see my grandfather again. But I couldn’t be sad over it. He and Candice finally got their happy ending.
Denton passed me an envelope.
“What’s this?” As I pulled back the tab, I wondered if I could take one more emotional moment. Inside was a travel brochure showing a beach of white sand and water so clear it looked green. On the shore was a bamboo-and-thatch cabana. Kadavu, the letters above it read.
“Kadavu,” I whispered and looked at Brad. “Our island in Fiji.” We’d found it on the Web back in Rawlings, the day Brad decided to teach me something about computers. Brad’s eye crinkles were in full action, as if he’d had some part in the plan.
“You get a beach house all to yourselves. It’s my wedding gift to you,” Denton said.
I smiled. “Thank you. It’s perfect. Everything’s perfect.” “And when you get back, make sure you stop by Cliffhouse,” he added. “I think you’ll like what I’ve got planned for the exterior.”
I shook my head, overcome. Denton and Brad were father and son again. The restoration of Cliffhouse would finally be complete.
The people in front of me blurred through more tears. My family. My friends. Things just didn’t get better than this. I wanted to preserve the moment, bottle the aura of love and happiness. Because one thing I’d learned, life didn’t stay this way very long. The lull was only temporary. And at any moment, my next adventure could begin.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Joel B., the power plant repairman I met on an airline flight, for suggesting Churchill Falls as a location for a suspense novel and graciously assisting with my research.
Thanks to Jordan Lester and Austin R. for lending me the use of their names.
A huge hug and thank you to my editors Vicki and Barb for their support and labor on the Patricia Amble Mystery Series.
Thanks to the dedicated fans of Tish Amble for their notes of enthusiasm and encouragement throughout the years.
And special thanks to my dear friends and family for their love and endurance as I reach for my dreams.
Nicole Young
Nicole Young resides in Garden, Michigan, with her children, cat, and tiny Yorkie. Home renovation is a way of life for the author whose first project was converting a Victorian into a thriving bed & breakfast. Nicole launched her writing career in 2004 with an American Christian Fiction Writer’s Noble Theme Contest win for best of show, which featured an excerpt from the Patricia Amble Mystery Series. Along with writing and parenting, the author enjoys horseback riding and performing vocals and fiddle with a gospel bluegrass band. Find more about Nicole at the author’s website, www.NicoleYoung.net.
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