by Lynn Rae
“We can probably tag along with the police. I’m sure they’re going to want to collect evidence there.” The night stretched ahead with more responsibilities. He had a lot to process, but the only thing he truly cared about at this point was making sure Emily got home safe. She’d been through enough.
Chapter 12
As she watched two of the city’s maintenance guys unload the crate containing Great-Great-Uncle Peter’s head to a safe corner in the city garage, Emily tried not to let sadness overwhelm her. She should be feeling great; the statue would be restored, her nemeses Roger and Dave were in a world of trouble, and Paul was wonderful.
The looming specter of talking with him about her impending job loss weighed on her. They’d been too tired to do much last night after talking with the police and making sure the head was safe for her to bring it up, and this morning had been a flurry of activity between updating the city website with a carefully worded announcement about the discovery and answering the questions of everyone who stopped by wanting a first-person account of what had happened. As she’d been advised by the city attorney, Emily limited her descriptions to what she’d done, and when asked about Roger and Dave, had stated, “no comment,” with as straight a face as she could muster. As far as she could tell, the two men had conspired to decapitate the statue in a futile attempt to rouse community spirit for an upcoming football game, with an additional bonus of putting Emily on the spot.
The maintenance workers shoved at the crate, and it squeaked on the concrete flooring. One was tall with very black hair, and the other was balding and burly.
“How’s it look?” the black-haired man questioned her, and she nodded at him.
“It’s great. I’ll let Shelly know it’s here as soon as I get back to the office.”
“Heard you were the one that had to hand over the money in the dark, all by yourself. Thanks for taking it on.” The shorter man shook his head and pulled off his work gloves. He held out his hand, and she automatically shook it and then repeated the gesture with his companion.
“Yeah, I hated seeing that poor old statue all messed up. Palmer owes you one,” the taller man said with sincerity, and tears pricked at Emily’s eyes. She did feel a part of this place, even after just a few short months.
She quickly introduced herself to cover for her discomfort and learned they were Emmett Bigger and Travis Smith. Surprisingly, Emmett was the bigger of the two. They offered her a ride the couple of blocks back to the city building, but she declined, deciding that a brisk walk would help clear her head and even out her mood. Perhaps she could come up with a good way to tell Paul. It didn’t seem fair that they’d weathered so much only to have something as mundane as a job come between them.
The weather was good for November, but it was still chilly enough she walked quickly, wanting to keep her blood flowing. By the time she’d gone a block, she was warmer and had reached the southern edge of the park. Directly across its lawns would be the center of town and her office, so she decided to cut through and save some time. The ground was clear of leaves, thanks to the hard work of folks Emmett and Travis, but in her current mood she wouldn’t have minded having something to kick out of her way. The statue loomed to her right, and she veered that way, just to look him over.
He was still swaddled in the bright yellow tarpaulin, his proportions thrown off by his missing top.
“You’ll have your head back soon, I promise.” She didn’t feel silly talking with the inanimate object. This Ellison had taken on a personality to her. “I’m going to start e-mailing restoration companies as soon as I get back to my desk.”
“That’s good news.”
For a split second, she thought the statue was talking back to her, but the familiar voice belonged to Paul. He leaned around the side of the granite base of the statue and smiled at her. Her heart continued to race but for different reasons.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, but I didn’t know you were there until you talked.”
Just seeing him made her shake. A potent brew of love and fear boiled up inside, and she rushed to him, squeezing him tight as he staggered a step and wrapped his arms around her.
“What brought that on? Not that I mind at all.” His deep rumble reassured her, and she drew back to look at him, hoping her happiness at seeing him would disguise some of her sadness.
“What are you doing here?” She needed a diversion, something to distract her from the upcoming discussion, which, no matter how many possibilities might come up, was only going to result in the inevitable: her leaving Palmer.
“I decided since the statue is going to be repaired and cleaned up, maybe there should be a nice garden around him. I’m getting some measurements today so I can design over the winter, and then when decent weather rolls around, I’ll be ready to plant. I’m thinking some rose varieties that were popular in the late eighteen hundreds would be good. Do you want to help me?”
His excitement at the project and willingness to include her, expecting her to be here, made her heart ache.
“Shelly told me there isn’t money in the budget for my job next spring. So, I just have this winter, and then I’m unemployed.” She just blurted it out; keeping it bottled up inside was no longer possible when he was touching her. Paul drew in a quick breath and grasped her tighter.
“I see.”
“I don’t.” She pressed her lips together to keep them from wobbling. “What am I supposed to do?”
“We can’t solve it today, I know that much.” Paul sounded entirely reasonable, and she felt a spurt of irritation with him. Why wasn’t he as upset as she was? “Come on over here and sit with me a minute.”
He led her to a nearby bench where he’d left a tablet of graph paper and some pencils. After gathering them up, he gestured for her to take a seat, then joined her, stowing his materials on the ground next to them. She quivered with worry, anxiety eating away at her newfound joy.
“What do you want to do?”
She gaped, unable to articulate her desires immediately. She’d had a sleepless night to consider all the negative things she didn’t want, like losing her job, moving, and most importantly, leaving Paul. Somehow, her mind hadn’t moved on to what might be possible.
“I-I…I don’t want to leave.” Everything she wanted was here. Here in this small, quirky town with its sugar beets and picky bakers, but most importantly, here on this worn park bench sitting beside her.
“Then don’t leave.” Paul raised his eyebrows as if to say, “problem solved.” She would have pushed at him with frustration but he’d already circled one arm around her shoulders. It felt too nice to dislodge.
“But my job—”
“Is just a job. You’ll find another one, either here or somewhere in commuting distance. Lots of companies are looking for people with the skills you have. You’re lucky you have so much time to look.”
“Lucky!” Emily gusted out a breath, the oppressive weight of her dread inexplicably lightening as Paul’s dark eyes twinkled. She was lucky. She could find another job, especially if the incentive was staying here with him. He mattered more to her than anything. “I love you.”
The humor in his eyes morphed into something richer and more intimate, and she shivered. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in months.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, too.”
She crawled onto his lap because there was nowhere else to go and kissed him right there in the park, in front of Great-Great-Uncle Peter and anyone in Palmer who cared to look. Paul Ellison was hers, her first choice in everything.
Epilogue
The air above the enormous commercial tulip fields outside Gronigen, Holland was filled with the scent of damp earth and growing plants. Paul sucked it in with relish. They were on their fifth day of the garden tour, and somehow Emily was more beautiful than ever before. She walked beside him along the pebbled road, camera at the ready as she listened to the guide ahead of them explain ho
w blooms and bulbs were harvested.
Shelly had graciously allowed Emily two weeks off from her job so she could take this trip before starting work with a new media firm in Palmer. Perhaps his sister had felt some remorse about how she’d behaved, but he liked to believe Emily had finally won Shelly over since things had eased between them as her days of city employment dwindled. Courtney had friended Emily on Facebook just before Christmas, and he knew his daughter and Emily exchanged texts with some regularity. It was a start.
Emily had been in a state of high excitement since they’d left for the airport. Jet lag hadn’t dented her enthusiasm, nor strange beds, or their admittedly geriatric travel companions. She embraced the euro, the new foods, and had worn her language and travel guides to the spine. They’d seen the flower auction, cruised the canals, and he’d bought an inordinate amount of Delft pottery at the factory tour.
Emily snapped a few pictures and then let the camera hang by its strap to reach for his hand, her eyes bright. “This is so amazing. I know I keep saying it, but it is.”
She kissed him, heedless of the titters of a few of their companions. He drew back, momentarily dizzy. He could blame the acres of vividly colored blooms surrounding them, or the beer he’d had at lunch, but he knew the truth. He just had to find the right spot.
Glancing around, he found a division between some candy-pink tulips and frilled dark purple, as close to blue as he was likely to find. The impossibility of tulips in the fall had brought them together. Now, he hoped the vivid blooms would take them the rest of the way. With a little tug, he maneuvered her between them and stared at her. She smiled back, and any hesitation he might have felt melted away.
With only a slight wobble from his trick knee, he knelt in front of her, gravel from the path pressing against the complaining joint. He barely registered the gasps of fellow tourists as he watched Emily’s eyes widen as she took in his posture. When he reached for her hand, he felt it quiver.
“Emily Fontaine, I love you with all my heart. Please, marry me?”
With a little squeak, she dropped to her knees and flung her arms around him, her camera digging into his stomach as she squeezed him tight. He felt her breathing hard, his heart hammering in counterpoint as he waited for her answer. “Well?”
“Of course I will.”
Her whisper in his ear gave him a new tomorrow. He’d never thought he’d get a second chance at love, but this woman kissing him senseless had given it with such courage and compassion, he couldn’t imagine waiting another minute to start their lives together.
“Do you think the tour-bus driver is allowed to marry us, like the captain of a ship?”
She laughed as he’d hoped.
“Let’s go find out.” She stood and helped him rise as the flower aficionados around them gave them a round of applause.
The End
Publisher’s Note
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About Lynn Rae
Lynn Rae makes her home in land-locked central Ohio after time spent in the former Great Black Swamp, beside the Ohio River, and along the Miami and Erie Canal. With professional experience in fields ranging from contract archaeology to librarianship, along with making donuts and teaching museum studies, Lynn enjoys incorporating her quirky sense of humor and real-life adventures into her writing (except the naughty bits). She writes sci-fi, contemporary, and historical romances.
