by Jillian Hart
A wedding in the little church, evenings reading on the porch in summer and in front of the fireplace in winter. Horse rides and life with family. Their own family. Their love would prosper through the years watching their children grow.
"Marry me, Emily." He broke the kiss. "Please do me the great honor of becoming my wife, my one true love forever."
"Yes, forever," she whispered back, grabbing hold of his collar and pulling him down for another kiss. People around her burst into applause.
"There's a question I need to ask you." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a platinum band, boasting an enormous diamond that winked in the sunlight. "Do you like your ring?"
Her hand shook as he slipped the band on her fourth finger. She'd never felt so vulnerable, so open of heart, like her every nerve exposed all the way down to the deepest part of her soul. "I love it. It's perfect."
The love in her heart, already unbearably bright, strengthened until it was incandescent. So bright, it hurt the eye to see.
Color came back to her world, shades of the rainbow, hues of every tone. "You are my life, my everything, Cord."
"You are mine." He gazed into her eyes, his beautiful bride, and gave thanks to the Lord above for the best blessing of his life.
Epilogue
December
"You didn't post that picture, did you?" Cord wanted to know as he balanced near the top of the ladder, his boots planted on a rung, stringing Christmas lights on the back of their Montana house. "I'm almost done here, but I look like an idiot."
"I caught you blinking. That's all. It was bad timing." Emily Armstrong laughed, bundled against the cold, snowy afternoon. Her breath rose in great puffs, and the world around her looked frosted white, storybook flawless and fairy-tale perfect.
Just like her love and her life.
Her phone binged. She hauled it out of her parka pocket and had to slip her glove off to make contact with the screen. It was a text from her mom.
Booked a flight for this weekend. We all want to come stay with you and ski, ski, ski.
Perfect! Emily's smile couldn't be wider. She loved the way her parents could travel and go anywhere they wanted to, now that Dad had retired. Their world cruise trip was next. Excited for them, she took off her other glove and tapped out a reply. Come and stay as long as you want. We've got the guest wing and bonus room ready for you. Can't wait. Renee will cook up a storm. Anything you want, so what do you want? She hit send. Whoop, went her phone, and her husband laughed.
"There. Job is done." He climbed down just as the first crystal flakes sifted in the air, like sugary ice. "Looks like the storm is about to start."
"Then let's get some skiing in before we're snowed in."
The brilliant glory of this sweet, gentle life was a God-given gift. Life really is beautiful, she thought, blissfully happy as Cord's wife.
His boots clomped up the porch steps and he opened the door. He hauled out both of their pairs of cross-country skis. In the soft, white glow of the twinkle lights, he leaned them against the rail. He towered over her, his granite face gentle and his eyes full of joy.
"I love you the most," he said, pulling her into his strong arms, snuggling her against his wide chest.
"No, I love you the most." She closed her eyes, for just a second, and felt the kiss of snowflakes landing on her cheek and forehead.
Her phone binged. He laughed, and loosened his hold on her just enough for her to check her phone. He gazed down at the screen with her, and they laughed together.
Her mom had written. Whatever you and Cord want is fine with us. I love you both. Can't wait to see you tomorrow.
Emily slipped her phone into her pocket and zipped it. "We have a lot to look forward to."
"We have a blessed life."
All that could ever matter was right here, in her arms. She held him for just a moment longer, giving him a big hug, savoring the feel of his strength. Being his bride was everything she'd dreamed love could be. Two hearts bound together, happily-ever-after and forever.
"Let's go ski,” he whispered in her ear and took her by the hand.
* * *
The End
* * *
Here’s a peek at Where The Heart Is:
Logan McKaslin drew the rental pickup to a stop on the shoulder of the country two-lane.
Montana's September heat blasted him the second he buzzed down his window. He wanted to feel that puff of hot air on his face, smell the faint scent of dust and cut hay in the air. A For Sale sign swung in the wind, back and forth, back and forth.
Time to check in. Determined, he grabbed his cell and scrolled down his contact list. When he spotted his oldest brother's name, he hit dial. A cow bawled in the field across the road while the call connected.
"Are you there yet?" Conner's bark betrayed his worry. "Have you seen Gram? Is something wrong?"
"No idea, and not yet. Just got to Bluebell. I'm looking at the place now." Just up ahead, along the miles of long straight county road, he squinted to make out the gravel drive. "The hay isn't cut, still standing in the field. That can't be good."
"No. It should be baled and stacked by now." Conner's sigh came heavy. Troubled. "Do I need to fly out too? Or I could send Sawyer."
"You both stay put. You've got your business to run. I've got this." Logan ran one hand through his short dark hair and frowned, unaware of the handsome picture he made with his violet-blue eyes and chiseled features. "I'll check on her, make sure that busybody's message was nothing more than gossip."
"The last time I called Gram, she sounded just fine."
"She did to me too." Still, this was their grandmother, and she’d practically raised them. That created a bond he could not ignore. "I'll text if there's a problem. If you don't hear from me, all is well and we’re just spending time catching up."
"That's Gram. Once she gets ahold of you, she isn't going to let you go. Not even to check your phone." Conner's chuckle was strained. His concern remained.
Logan couldn't blame him. A bad feeling had settled into the pit of his stomach and refused to budge. "Talk to you later."
"Later," Conner agreed and disconnected.
Logan put down his phone, but it didn't stay silent. The electronic chime grated in the lazy country stillness. He glanced at the screen.
Seen Gram yet? The text was from Flynn.
No. He frowned, texting back. I'll let you know when I do.
Impatient brothers. He pocketed his phone and got back on the road. The blacktop ribboned through gently rolling meadows and foothills. Cottonwoods clustered together near a roadside creek rustled, their leaves starting to turn gold.
Autumn was coming. No doubt about that. Logan shook his head, remembering every Montana winter he'd weathered here in Bluebell County. Knee deep in snow—and that was if you were lucky.
His phone chimed with another text message as he pulled off the road onto the gravel drive. The truck bumped over the cattle guard and motored through the front gates.
A sign overhead swung in the wind. McKaslin Ranch was carved into the weathered wood and made him remember that message Conner had read to him.
Have you checked on your grandmother lately? Perhaps it would be a good idea. She's had a hard time of it and I can't believe you'd leave her alone at a time like this.
A hard grimace twisted his mouth, drawing it tight. That message, and the tone of it, had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Still did.
But it had kick-started a whole lot of worry, too. Especially after days went by and Gram wasn't answering her phone—neither the house phone nor her cell.
Please, let her be okay. That wish filled his entire soul as his truck bounced up the hill.
He may have left home at nineteen, joined the Navy like the impulsive, headstrong kid he was, but this was a tie he'd never sever. He stayed in touch. He called, texted, Skyped. But boots down on Montana ground?
No, it just hadn't happened. It had been, what, over fi
fteen years. So it was only right that he be the one to volunteer for the mission to check on Gram. Especially since he was the one in transition, with no current job to tie him down. A serious job interview coming up, but he had time to check in here and fly back to Seattle.
The place hadn't changed much. The creek still meandered through the field near the road, cottonwoods shedding a few gold leaves as the breeze gusted. A dozen horses grazed, a few of them lifting their heads to eye the truck curiously.
But the little signs of neglect were there. Unmown grass, weeds growing tall in the center of the driveway, the lawn around the big two-story house a little too long. The barn up the hill looked a little faded, like it had needed a good coat of paint this year and no one had gotten to it.
The feeling in the pit of Logan's gut grew. Yep, something was definitely wrong. No doubt about it. Look at that fence post listing. There was more than one sagging barbed wire.
Maybe that busybody who'd called them had been right after all.
What was going on here? Well, that was his job to find out. Logan pulled up on the concrete pad in front of the big four bay detached garage. The place was so silent, it didn't look like Gram was around.
What if something bad had happened here? Stomach tight, he grabbed his keys, shut his truck door and headed through the gravel toward the house. Absolutely silent, except for the ever-present rush of the wind and the distant bawl of a cow.
He marched up the stairs, crossed the porch and banged on the door. "Gram, it's me. Logan. Are you home?"
There was no answer.
A peek through the front window showed a quiet house, lights off, and no grandmother.
Now what? He planted his fists on his hips and glanced around. Couldn't see a ranch hand in sight. There was no one, not anywhere. He was alone here.
And that wasn't right. Not right at all.
Click to continue reading Where The Heart Is
Also by Jillian Hart
Montana Hearts
Sweet High Mountain Bride
Sara’s Gift (Sweet Version)
Garnet (Garnet’s Treasure Sweet Version)
