Candice (Seven Sisters Book 6)
Page 8
He smiled. “I like it too.”
“Okay. I’m tired. Stop being interesting so I can go back to sleep now.”
He looked up at Bob and Barbara, then over at Rebekah. “I think she’s going to be just fine.”
Chapter Nine
Candice sat on the couch in her parents’ living room, her head pounding, as she listened to everyone report on the things that had been taking place over the last few days. She’d only been released from the hospital an hour ago, but she didn’t want to wait—she needed to know. Had they been successful? The reports she’d been given at the hospital weren’t complete.
“Now that the rain has stopped, we’ve been able to help people rebuild their fences and drain out their basements,” Zachary said. “The sandbags kept the damage to a minimum—I really think some homes would have been lost without them.”
“The power company has to completely restring our property, and we won’t have full power for a while, but it seems a small price to pay,” Steve added. “Thank you for spotting that, Candice.”
“Well, it was sparking like a Fourth of July fireworks display, so I couldn’t help but notice it,” she replied. She was so pleased to hear how everything was shaping up, and how the community was coming together to make sure everyone had what they needed. It was one of the things she loved most about small-town living.
After she’d heard all the reports, Candice said goodbye to her sisters, who had been instructed—by their mother—to let Candice rest. When the last car drove away, she turned and looked at Greg, who hadn’t moved.
“I thought everyone was supposed to go away and let me rest,” she said teasingly.
“I don’t think she meant me. I’m a very restful person to have around.”
“Oh? If that’s true, why does my heart beat faster whenever you’re around?”
“Because I’m extremely good for your cardiac health.” He put his arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head on his chest. Her poor, poor head. She wondered if she’d ever stop feeling like a cracked coconut.
“You know, I was thinking about something on my way over here,” he said. She could feel his deep voice rumbling through his chest against her cheek. “Would you say that the flood is over?”
“Well, yes. The flood is over, but the aftermath will take a little longer to clean up.”
He nodded. “Absolutely. But the flood itself is over, right?”
“Yes. Pretty sure I just said that.”
“Okay. Because I had to be sure.”
She sighed. Her head hurt too much for this. “Sure of what?”
“Well, it seems to me that you and I were going to talk about the possibility of marriage for a little while, and then after the flood, we’d see about getting engaged.”
There went her heartrate again.
“But we never actually did talk about the possibility,” she pointed out. “We were too busy sandbagging and getting stitches in our heads and stuff.”
“True, but I don’t see any harm in fast-forwarding a little. We had every intention of talking about it, didn’t we? That means we can move to the next step without guilt.”
“I like not having guilt.”
“Me too.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Candice, I’m in love with you. I think I have been since we first met, but I was so afraid of what the future held—or didn’t hold—that I didn’t let myself recognize my feelings. Now I’m not afraid anymore because I know that whatever comes our way, we can face it together. Will you marry me?”
She leaned back and looked at him. “That was a very nice proposal.”
“Thank you. I thought of it myself.”
“You’re quite talented.”
“Now I’m blushing.”
She grinned. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to marry you if you promise that when you kiss me, you’ll be very careful with my head.”
He seemed to contemplate that. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Then yes, I’ll marry you.”
Very, very slowly and very, very carefully, he slid his hand behind her head and brought her closer for the sweetest, most wonderful kiss she’d ever had in her whole life.
***
The whole family gathered at the McClains’ house the following Sunday afternoon to celebrate Candice’s engagement to Greg. It was wall-to-wall people, but that’s exactly the way she loved it. She and Greg hadn’t set any definite dates yet—that would all depend on what she learned when she went back to San Antonio with him to look into a job with the Red Cross. It was a long shot and she knew it, but the police chief and the mayor had each written her a letter of recommendation for all her good work during the flood, and she hoped that would open a few doors at least.
After everyone had eaten, Rebekah stood up and looked around nervously. “So, this is Candice and Greg’s party, but Jeremy keeps nudging me to say something, and if he doesn’t stop it, I’m going to be more bruised than Candice.”
“Oh, so funny,” Candice replied. Her bruises were fading, but they were still plenty painful.
“So, basically, I’ve been accepted to medical school,” Rebekah said, and gasps went up all around the room.
“I knew it,” Marti said smugly.
“You realize that when you’re a precog, you don’t get to be smug, right?” Tracy told her.
“Why not? That takes half the fun out of it,” Marti retorted.
“Oh, honey, you’re going to be the best doctor ever,” Barbara said, hugging Rebekah tightly.
“So, this means that I’ll be moving to San Antonio, and Jeremy’s going to see about transferring back there. We’ll live there together after we get married, obviously, but I want to practice here, so after I’m done with school, we’ll see about moving back.” Rebekah gave a nod. “And that’s all I have to say, so I’ll now turn the time over to Candice.”
“Um, I don’t have anything to follow that up with,” Candice said. “You already know we’re engaged, so saying it again wouldn’t be exciting, and you already know there was a flood and stuff. I think Rebekah’s news wins.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to steal your spotlight,” Rebekah said.
“That’s all right. I’m happy for you, no matter when you announce it.” Candice took Greg’s hand and looked around the room. There sat most of the people she loved most in all the world. Heather wasn’t there, of course, but so much love filled that house, it felt as though it would burst at the seams. Now she realized that her gift was just as important as anyone else’s in the family—she and Marti together had done something incredible. They’d taken a situation that would have cost lives and instead created a situation that would only take a few more weeks to clean up. With their family behind them, they’d made a tremendous difference.
She turned to look at Greg, studying his features. She had no idea what the future held for them—she’d leave that to Marti. What she did know was that come what may, they were going to make an awesome team. They’d already proven it in one whale of a tough challenge . . . and there was another water pun. She grinned to herself. She had a feeling she was going to be very, very happy with this man.
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About Amelia C. Adams
Amelia C. Adams is a wife, a mother, an eater of tacos, and a taker of naps. She spends her days thinking up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you just might see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels.
You can reach her at ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com.
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