Where the Heart Is Romance Collection
Page 63
“The Arizona Miner down in Prescott is a good newspaper, but it’s too far away. Someone needs to be right on the spot to help this area grow and mature. It was my hope to be that person.”
He gave Charlene a shamefaced look. “I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d get as merely the son of the paper’s owner, so I just mentioned my name and let you two draw your own conclusions.”
One corner of Charlene’s mouth twitched upward. “There seems to be a lot of that going on lately.”
Matthew gave her a wry grin in response. “Once I got to know you and Jed, once I’d been here long enough to know how much you both mean to me, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth.” He took her hands again and held them in a gentle grasp.
“Your stories made me fall in love with this land before I’d ever seen it.” His grip on her hands tightened. “But it was being here that made me fall in love with you.”
For the second time that afternoon, Charlene was struck dumb. She searched his face, looking for signs of reproach or condemnation, but all she found was love and acceptance.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” she whispered.
The look of love in his eyes melted her heart. “If you’ll forgive me, too.”
Her heart hammered wildly, barely daring to hope. “You’re not going home, then?”
Matthew looked at her tenderly and framed her face with both hands. As he bent his head toward hers, he whispered, “I am home.”
Epilogue
On Easter morning, Charlene dressed in her finest and arranged her hair with special care. She spread an armload of blankets in the wagon bed, forming a soft pallet, while Matthew helped Jed off the porch and into the wagon. Jed’s company gave the day an especially festive air, and they sang hymns of praise as they drove through the predawn darkness.
Pulling the wagon close to the assembled group of worshipers so Jed could participate from the comfort of his pallet, Matthew jumped from the seat and lifted Charlene down to stand beside him. The congregation moved little and spoke less as they waited for Brother Jenkins to begin.
The pastor’s voice broke through the gloom, retelling the story of the Crucifixion and burial on Good Friday, the grief and desolation of Saturday. Charlene, who had heard the story countless times, felt her eyes well up with tears as she followed the sorrowing women to the tomb and heard the angel say, “He is risen.”
“He is risen!” Brother Jenkins repeated in a resounding, jubilant voice. “The grave no longer holds Him, and the power of sin has been broken. Hallelujah!”
“Hallelujah!” the people responded.
The first rays of light peeked tentatively over the mountaintops, then showered the gathered worshipers with the sun’s radiance. Matthew slipped his arm around Charlene’s waist and drew her close.
She turned her face toward his and they exchanged joyful looks, full of gratitude for the Son’s radiance. For His atonement and resurrection. For the wonder and promise of spring.
CAROL COX
Carol is the author of 30 novels and novellas. A third-generation Arizonan, Carol has a lifelong fascination with the Old West and hopes to make it live again in the hearts of her readers. She makes her home in northern Arizona, where the deer and the antelope really do play—often within view of the family’s front porch.
You can find Carol on the Web at: AuthorCarolCox.com and Facebook.com/carol.cox.
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