by Lisa Wingate
Love believes, and believes, and believes, even when it has been disappointed, and wounded, and thwarted by the weaknesses of the human soul. Standing once again beneath the ancient oak tree, I knew I wanted that kind of love. The bold, brave, never-ending kind. I knew I had it to give, and when I looked at Zach, I knew he was the one I wanted to give it to.
As the crowd shifted to let the procession depart, he fell in with the line, following Becky and the Hawthornes until he reached me. Slipping out, he stood by my side as Graham and Laura passed by. Graham was playing “Happy Trails” on the guitar. Laura grinned and gave me the OK sign. On the road, Gracie blasted the cruiser sirens, leading the wedding party toward two white horses in shiny black and silver saddles waiting to carry the bride and groom off into the sunset.
I looked at Zach, and he smiled just slightly, and my heart floated up and up and up. In his face I saw the mirror of everything I felt, and I knew that the passage from Paul’s letter had made him see the truth, just as it had me. What we felt for each other was a gift, a miracle beyond the comprehension of human logic.
“Hey, Doc,” I said to Zach as the crowd moved on. “Done surgery on any windmills lately?”
“Nah.” His eyes twinkled, the deep, dusty green of wild sage. “My nurse quit on me.”
I dropped my gaze to the spray of flower petals blowing through the grass. “She shouldn’t have. She’s an idiot for running away.”
Nearby, Gracie’s siren blew, and Zach and I turned to watch as the bride and groom rode their white horses off the pavement and turned onto the shortcut road. Waving to the onlookers, they kicked their mounts into a run and disappeared over the hill.
I stood with Zach as the procession came back, with Sydney, Bailey, and some other children now riding in the police car, which came down the road with sirens blaring and excited children making airplane hands in the window draft. Beneath the Lover’s Oak, Gracie stopped and Sydney leaned out the window. “Hey, Mom, isn’t this boss?” Another one of Whitney’s words.
“It’s boss,” I agreed.
“We’re gonna go down to the diner and have leftover cake, ’K?” Sydney asked, and Bailey echoed, “Edober tate, ’K?”
“ ’K,” I said, then waved as the cruiser drove away. When it passed my jeep, Mr. Grits poked his head up, let out a long, mournful howl, then squeezed himself through the window, which Becky had left open way too far.
“Looks like we might have another dog chase on our hands,” I said, watching Mr. Grits greet the passing crowd as he trotted toward us.
“I think I know where he’s headed.” Zach nodded toward the tree. Turning to me, he took on an earnest look. “I never should have let you go.” He stroked my hair and I leaned into his hand. “You had something of mine.”
“You had something of mine, too.” Whether it made any sense or not, Zach Truitt, cowboy veterinarian, occasional Tonto, and tilter at windmills, had my heart. I slipped into his arms, and all felt right with the world.
His lips parted into a wide smile. “You realize, of course, that Becky is taking credit for bringing you back here.” He shrugged over my head, and I swiveled around to see Becky giving the Blum sisters an earful as they walked toward the diner. I could tell by the hand motions that right now she was illustrating our harrowing trip through the mud pit. “She’s pretty proud of herself, because usually she’s the one tanking other people’s relationships.”
“Guess there’s hope for all of us.” I laughed, turning back to Zach.
“Guess so,” he agreed. “Of course, the Blum sisters will tell her it’s the Lover’s Oak that did it.”
Leaning back, I considered the ancient canopy of branches overhead. White rose petals hung tangled in the leaves for just a moment before they pulled loose and floated upward. I watched them swirl on the breeze, in no particular hurry, until a whiff of Texas wind grabbed them and whisked them off into the unknown.
Turning back to Zach, I looped my arms around his neck, and he pulled me close and twirled me in the air. From somewhere nearby, Mr. Grits let out an excited yip as Zach stopped at the base of the old Lover’s Oak, pressed me up against the tree, and kissed me. A kiss of pure magic, of true love, of trust and hope, and all the things they write about in fairy tales.
The Blum sisters saw it all, of course. When I opened my eyes they were standing there staring as the procession passed by. I smiled and waved, and offered a giddy, “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
The sisters flushed and pretended to have been checking the condition of the old tree. “Oh, my goodness, Zach,” the taller one said. “We didn’t even see you there. We were just noticing that the Lover’s Oak looks in fine form today.” Linking arms, they toddled off down the street, whispering something about secret bones and the FBI.
Zach chuckled under his breath. “Guess we should go have some cake before people start to talk.”
“I think they already are,” I said, looking around for Mr. Grits, who had settled into a cool spot beside the old stone sign. For the first time I noticed the words etched into the base, Ende Gut, Alles Gut. The same phrase that adorned the door frame of the pioneer house that Caroline and Jeremiah built.
“What does that mean?” I pointed as Zach and I turned to leave.
He smiled at some private irony. “Ending good, everything good,” he translated, slipping his hand over mine. “All’s well that ends well.”
Laughing together, we headed off toward the Big Lizard Diner, hand in hand, already over the moon.
And all the Lindseys lived happily ever after.
Ende gut.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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