The October night was warm, so Michael sat on the porch and watched the lightning bugs twinkle in the night. Nature going about her business while the lingering smoke hung like a pall over the house. Life had happened in the house, but so had death. When he went inside to check the house, he paused to stare up at the graceful stairway. Would a family ever run up and down it again?
Lights flashed in the front windows when someone pulled into the driveway, so he wasn’t surprised by a voice behind him a few minutes later.
“What are you thinking, Michael Keane?”
He wasn’t even surprised that it was Alex. Just grateful. Very grateful she had come back. He turned to look at her in the doorway. Moonlight lay softly behind her, but her face was in shadow.
When he didn’t answer her right away, she went on. “You can’t make up an answer. You know the rules. You have to tell exactly what you were thinking no matter what it was.”
They’d played this game when they were kids, but he’d never been sure she played fair, since her thoughts always seemed to be deep and meaningful while his were usually simply about how much he liked being with her no matter what game they were playing.
He started not to play fair himself, but then he did. “I was wondering if this place would ever be home to a happy family again. And then I turned around to see you and my only thought is how beautiful you are.”
She laughed softly. “Same old line every time.”
“But true every time.” He reached toward her and she let him take her hand. “And never truer than right now, this minute.”
“Come on.” She tugged on his hand. “Let’s get out of here before I start smelling like smoke again. I brought you some coffee. Betty Jean told me you’d still be here. Protecting the world.”
Her hair, still damp from her shower, swung against his arm as he stepped up beside her. “You’re my world.”
She ducked her head to hide the smile that slipped across her face. Hope bounded higher inside him, but he didn’t rush out more words. It was her turn.
“Here’s your coffee and Malinda made you a sandwich. She says you never remember to eat.” She handed him the food she’d left on the porch railing.
Michael took a bite of the sandwich. Pimento cheese as always. He gulped down the coffee and then put both the thermos cup and the sandwich back on the railing. “I’ll eat the rest later.”
She climbed down the steps and then glanced at him and away quickly. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m thinking?” She looked out at the yard.
“Okay. What are you thinking, Alexandria Elaine Sheridan?”
Alex whirled back toward him. “I can’t believe you remember my middle name. I was hoping that would be one of your lost memories.”
“I never want to lose any memories of you.” He drank in the sight of her, standing in the traces of moonlight that filtered down through the trees. A moment to store in his heart no matter what happened. “But you can’t forget the rules of the game. I asked you what you were thinking.”
She reached for his hand. “I was thinking how lovely it would be to take a walk in the moonlight. Away from the streetlights.”
“Where did you have in mind? Down by the lake?” Wherever she wanted to go, he was ready. Somebody would be back to check on the house soon.
“That would be lovely, but I was thinking somewhere closer.” She motioned toward the cemetery. “Let’s go stroll among the silent citizens of Hidden Springs.”
The gate in the side yard screeched when he pushed it open and the cat appeared out of the shadows to trail along after them.
“She must think you have a mouse in your pocket,” Alex said.
“Could be I smell like I do. Maybe we should put off our walk until I take a shower.” With smoke and worse odors clinging to him, he wasn’t at his best to entice the woman he loved into his arms.
“We’ve put off too much between us too many times.” Alex slipped her hand under his elbow and leaned against him as they walked between the stone monuments. “Besides, you smell like life. And danger. Who would have ever imagined being a deputy sheriff in Hidden Springs would be so perilous?”
“Not me. I was happy directing traffic on high school ball game nights.”
“But that wasn’t meant to be.”
“What was meant to be?”
“Perhaps that you would be here in Hidden Springs when you were most needed. To protect the innocent. Like Maggie. Like Anthony.” She stopped in front of a tall spire and stepped away from Michael to trace the name on it with her finger. “Keane. Your roots are all around us, from Jasper right on down to your father, James.”
Michael didn’t take his eyes off Alex to look around. He didn’t need to. He knew the graves of the Keanes around him.
“But I’m not buried here.” Relief swept through him at that thought after the events of the day. Alex was there in front of him breathing the same air he was. “Why are we here, Alex?”
“Is that a philosophical question?”
“No.” He kept his eyes on her face. “Did we come out here to simply play out the goodbye scene again?”
“Is that what you want?” Her voice was low, almost timid.
“You know it isn’t.” The distance yawned wider between them. Two steps and he could have her in his arms, but he stayed where he was. Perhaps rooted too deeply, as she claimed.
“What do you want?”
“You know that too. You’ve always known that.” He felt almost like he was swallowing her with his eyes. “You.”
“But what about your roots?”
“We can grow new roots together wherever we are.”
She was silent for a moment, but she didn’t slide her gaze away from his. “I never really thought I had roots. You know how my parents were always moving when I was a kid. I used to wonder how it would feel to have your kind of roots. The type of roots people here in Hidden Springs have. But I always thought I floated above that. Free to go wherever I wanted. To land for a brief interlude or zoom off if I decided.”
“Like a balloon without an anchor.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought. But then you asked and I answered.”
“I never believed in my heart you would say no and then you did.”
“I didn’t think I could give any other answer. Not if I truly loved you. Not if I wanted to stay free to float wherever I willed.”
He didn’t say anything then, not sure if he wanted to hear her next words. He couldn’t bear another knife stab to the heart.
“But I was wrong about not having an anchor. And the anchor isn’t my work.” Her eyes glittered in the moonlight, but she didn’t move toward him. “It’s you. Without you, I’ll float off into outer space. Lost forever.”
“A cemetery isn’t the most romantic place for a proposal.”
“I don’t want you to propose.”
“You don’t?” Michael’s heart was getting sore from all the rises and falls.
“No. It’s my turn.” She pushed away from the gravestone and stood up straight. “Michael Keane, will you marry me?”
The word yes wanted to explode out of him, but he held it back. She wasn’t ready for his answer.
She took a tiny step nearer him. “I don’t know if I can live in Hidden Springs. I don’t know about children.”
“What do you know?” His voice sounded husky in his ears.
“That I can’t live without you and that I’m trembling like I just went before the judge in my first case waiting for the only answer I need right now. So what are you thinking, Michael James Keane?”
“That you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
“Same old line.” Her eyes glistened in the moonlight as she stared at him. “But did I win my case? Yes or no?”
“You knew the verdict before you presented your case. I will marry you, Alexandria Sheridan. Right now if you want me to wake up the county clerk to get our license. I can pull strings here in Hidden S
prings.”
She laughed then, the sound sweeping through the air to wrap around him. “Tomorrow will do.”
“Any tomorrow you say.” He held his arms out to her and she stepped into his embrace. She tilted her head up, offering him her lips. An offer he was more than willing to accept.
And then it was as if he were floating with her. Love was the only anchor they needed.
Acknowledgments
I am so blessed to be able to do what I’ve wanted to do ever since I was ten years old and that is to write stories. I started out, way back then, writing a wish-I-could-be-a-Hardy-Boy mystery and now many books later, I’ve circled back to mysteries. I thank each and every reader who has given my stories a try. I especially appreciate those of you who have trailed along with me through my Shaker books, Hollyhill and Rosey Corner family stories, a side trip back in time to 1855 Louisville, and now to Hidden Springs to solve some mysteries. You’re the best.
I’ve also been blessed by many helping hands to turn my stories into books. Many thanks go to Lonnie Hull DuPont for liking my first Hollyhill book enough to open the door for me into the Christian publishing world. It’s been great working with Lonnie on every book since then. She always sees ways to make the story better.
I appreciate Barb Barnes, whose careful editing makes my stories the best they can be. Cheryl VanAndel and her team came up with yet another outstanding cover. I love the cats on the covers of these Hidden Springs mysteries. I thank Karen Steele and Michele Misiak who are ever ready to help in so many different ways. I appreciate all the Revell and Baker people behind the scenes who get my books out to readers.
I have more blessings to count with my agent, Wendy Lawton. She’s not only always ready to help with whatever I need, she’s a prayer warrior for me and for all her clients.
And of course, I have to count the blessing of having a family who supports me as a writer and loves me as a wife, mother, grandmother, and sister.
Last but certainly not least, I thank the Lord for giving me stories and for letting me share those stories with you, my reading friends.
A. H. Gabhart is a pseudonym for Ann H. Gabhart, the bestselling author of more than thirty novels for adults and young adults. Angel Sister, Ann’s first Rosey Corner book, was a nominee for inspirational novel of 2011 by RT Book Reviews magazine. Her Shaker novel, The Outsider, was a Christian Book Awards finalist in the fiction category. She lives on a farm not far from where she was born in rural Kentucky. She and her husband are blessed with three children, three in-law children, and nine grandchildren. Ann loves reading books, watching her grandkids grow up, and walking with her dog, Oscar.
Ann likes to connect with readers on her Facebook page, www.facebook.com/anngabhart, where you can peek over her shoulder for her “Sunday mornings coming down,” or walk along to see what she might spot on her walks, or laugh with her on Friday smiles day. Find out more about Ann’s books and check out her blog posts at www.annhgabhart.com.
Books by A. H. Gabhart
Murder at the Courthouse
Murder Comes by Mail
Murder Is No Accident
Books by Ann Gabhart
The Outsider
The Believer
The Seeker
The Blessed
The Gifted
The Innocent
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Words Spoken True
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Angel Sister
Small Town Girl
Love Comes Home
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Christmas at Harmony Hill
THE HEART OF HOLLYHILL
Scent of Lilacs
Orchard of Hope
Summer of Joy
www.AnnHGabhart.com
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