Monday morning Gunnar took a deep breath and opened the newspaper. No headline about the committee. Not one word buried in the back of the Herald about the story, either. Whew. It was his first day back at work, where he’d be on desk duty for at least a month, and he was glad to be on the job again. Hell, he’d had to twist Kent’s arm to sign him off medical leave, but last Friday, after agreeing to only work inside, his buddy had given him the okay. He’d felt lost the whole week at Elke’s. Recuperating had been a pain in the…well…shoulder, and had driven the point home how much his job had to do with his identity.
Until yesterday when Lilly had taken him on a surreal trip to ancient Japanese tradition.
He drove and gulped some coffee from his traveler’s cup and forced his mind back into the moment, and the day ahead.
It might be boring working the desk, but it was better than sitting at home feeling sorry for himself. Plus, an emergency meeting for the city hall committee had been called that night, which would surely be interesting. He’d prepared himself to take the fall if Lilly took the story and ran with it, and honestly, he was still holding his breath but choosing to believe in her promises and honorable intentions. She’d changed. Hadn’t she proved it to him with the tea ceremony? A woman couldn’t very well personify harmony, purity, tranquility and respect one moment then make a play for headline news in the next, could she?
As he parked his car and walked into work, he texted Lilly:
Have I told you lately that I love you?
He entered the building and there stood Lilly at the door to the newspaper, dressed in a pencil skirt, open-collared white blouse with a single, simple string of pearls around her neck, and hair back to its short, springy, fun style, her cell phone in hand.
After Sunday afternoon, they’d stayed away from each other last night. It had been hard, but he needed to move back home from Elke’s, and Wolverine needed some extra attention. To be honest, she’d worn him out with her traditional “tea” ceremony, and he realized the gunshot had taken more out of him than he’d thought.
Lilly smiled and waved. Making a snap decision, he strode directly toward her and kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks. After, she had that discombobulated gaze, which he always dug, and her ears pinked up. “Meet for lunch?”
“Sure,” she said.
“I’ll text you when I know what time.”
By the time he walked through the police department door he got her reply text.
Love you, too.
He grinned and walked straighter.
So far, the day had gotten off to a great start.
Later, over yellow pea soup and mixed baby greens in the Hartalanda Café, he told her about that night’s meeting. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pursue the subject. This was a welcome change and it forced Gunnar to realize they’d both grown since they’d broken up and he’d gotten shot. He understood her perspective better as a news reporter, and she seemed to appreciate the need for Heartlandia to remain the town with a storybook history.
As they left that topic behind, they alternated between eating and gazing at each other. Things had definitely changed between them for the better. They’d both needed some major attitude adjustments and all of the events of the past couple of weeks had forced that on them. He drank his soda and remembered the first day she’d arrived, all fashion model and attitude, and right now, how especially glad he was that she’d jaywalked.
Seven o’clock at night Monday, Gunnar entered city hall and headed to the conference room. Everyone but Elke and Ben were there, and surprisingly, a few minutes later, they came in together. Ben’s second-degree burns from the first arson fire were still noticeable but healing around his neck and jaw. His frequent cough proved his lungs were still in the process of healing. Elke looked happy, and Gunnar wondered what was up with that?
Come to think of it, she’d gotten a few phone calls while he’d stayed at her house, which she always went into the other room to take. He’d assumed it had something to do with the city college, but maybe he’d been wrong.
At 7:05 p.m. Gerda Rask called the meeting to order. “I think we all know why we’re here tonight,” she began. “Before we get started with our discussion, does anyone have any new business?”
Gunnar smiled inwardly. Did falling in love count?
Elke raised her hand. “I wanted to inform everyone that we’ve selected the artist to paint the city college mural. Her name is Marta Hoyas and she is the great-great-granddaughter of the sculptor who created our town monument. She comes from Sedona, Arizona, and plans to arrive in Heartlandia next month.”
“That’s great news,” Gerda said, the others joining in with quiet applause. “It’s good to hear something positive for a change.”
“We’ll need to find a place for her to stay, though.”
“That’s something we can decide when the time grows closer.” Gerda’s expression quickly changed, growing serious again. “Now I’d like to open up a discussion about our problem and how best to handle it.”
“I think we should hold a town meeting and inform our citizens about the error in our town history,” Adamine Olsen, the business woman on the committee said.
“I agree, but this should be a two-phase deal,” Leif Andersen chimed in. “Tell the first part now, but hold off on the buried treasure part until later. Let them take in the first part before we bowl them over with more crazy news.”
“Agreed,” Gunnar said.
“Maybe we can distract them with the shipwreck information,” said Jarl Madsen, the director of the half-destroyed-by-fire Maritime Museum. “They can concentrate on finding that for a while, then after things calm down, we can bring up the sacred burial ground issue.”
This brought on a long and drawn-out discussion about how best to handle the shipwreck along with all of the other information.
When the committee had talked and argued about their sticky situation, and finally come to a consensus, Gerda stepped back in. “Our first order of business is making a public statement about our findings at the college. Then holding a town meeting for those interested telling more about it.”
“We could use the Heartlandia Herald as a source of information,” Gunnar said. “Getting the complete story out there, but holding back on the buried treasure at this point. Lilly Matsuda would be perfect for the job.”
“Once the dust has settled on the pirate part, we can reveal the shipwreck, maybe invite teams to search for it,” said Jarl. “Make it a fund-raiser to help rebuild our Maritime Museum,”
“Great idea,” said Adamine. “That could help our local merchants, too.”
“I don’t think we should mention the buried treasure.” Ben’s soft-spoken voice drew everyone’s attention to him and squashed the swell of enthusiasm over rebuilding the museum. “It will upset too many people. Just keep the secret.”
“We could have a vote whether or not to dig up the treasure or leave it there. What do you think?” Adamine continued.
“I don’t think we should,” Ben insisted. “It will divide our town.”
The room fell silent.
“Let’s call a vote on the first part,” Gerda said. “We’ll deal with the buried treasure at a later time.”
Gunnar nodded. Hopefully that vote would come at a much, much later date.
*
Wednesday morning, Lilly’s bi-weekly column—I Dream of Sushi in Storybook Land—was on the second page as usual, her bright-faced picture right beside it. The good news was, the front-page headline was about Heartlandia choosing the artist for the city college mural, and nothing about the meetings.
They’d decided to unfold the news in three parts. First, announcing a citywide meeting at the community college auditorium, then the mayor’s speech and finally Elke discussing the historical authenticity of the journals.
Of course there would also be a question and answer component including all of the committee members, but all had agreed to hold off on disclosing the whereabo
uts of the potential hidden treasure for now. They all hoped to distract from that with the possible shipwreck.
Gunnar had secured Lilly and the Heartlandia Herald as the main source of information for the town. It was a huge responsibility that Gunnar knew without a doubt Lilly could handle. Smiling, he began reading today’s column.
Heartlandia has grown on me. Two months ago I arrived in town as an outsider looking for a way in. Today, having had the opportunity to meet and learn about so many of the wonderful citizens in town through this column by telling your stories, I feel like one of you. Yes, I still dream of sushi and hope Cliff Lincoln of Lincoln’s Place will add it to his menu one day alongside his soul food, and I miss my roots in San Francisco, but there’s one thing I don’t miss. Feeling anonymous. It’s easy to exist in the shadows of big cities, to get lost in the daily routine, focused on navigating the streets instead of getting to know the inhabitants. Here in Heartlandia, that’s impossible. You’ve invited me into your lives through sharing your jobs, recipes, family stories and rich Scandinavian and Chinook history. You’ve initiated me into the wealth of Heartlandia with smiling faces, pride for your heritage and a willingness to learn about mine. More importantly, you’ve taught me honor, honor that is earned by keeping tradition alive, by taking the skills passed down from ancestors and putting a personal touch to them. By carrying out time-tested chores without seeking glory. I finally see that I don’t have to blow the top off of Heartlandia with an earth-shattering story to make my name. I can celebrate the people of this community who embrace the simple, everyday joys in life, which is a sure sign of down-home wisdom. Thank you for sharing and showing me that.
Most of all, one person in particular has taught me there is more to life than a great news scoop. Thank you, Sergeant Norling, for teaching me about the hazards of jaywalking, for opening my heart, for teaching me to work with others and for setting me back on the right path.
Today, I salute the people of Heartlandia for helping me find my new home. Thank you for adding me to your roll call.
Grinning, thinking what a great gal he’d fallen for, Gunnar paged through the rest of the newspaper. Something on the next-to-last page snagged his attention: “Maritime Museum Arsonist Rants About Ancient Revenge, by Lilly Matsuda.”
With the arrest of Roald Lindstrom, accused arsonist of Olaf’s Microbrewery and the Maritime Museum, come claims of justification for starting the two fires. The accused was enrolled in the Heartlandia City College extension program, studying genealogy when he found, what he insists, is evidence of his relatives being shanghaied by pirates three hundred years ago, citing this as his motive for setting the two fires. Mr. Lindstrom will be arraigned on charges of arson and attempted murder of a police officer once he has been found of sound mind and able to face trial. At the time of this publication, the accused unemployed factory worker stands by his story.
Perfect. She’d handled the information like a true journalist, not a writer for a gossip rag flaming the fire of controversy, though in this case she certainly could have. The focus on the man’s mental instability was the perfect ending to the brief article, casting doubt on Roald’s motives and putting the onus back on him instead of his relatives possibly being shanghaied by pirates.
Gunnar checked his watch. It was only nine-thirty on his midweek day off, since he was scheduled to work that Saturday. But it wasn’t too early to take his best gal out for a ride. He’d made a trip to Sven’s Jewels on Tuesday and something was burning a hole in his pocket. Maybe if he asked real nice, Bjork would let him borrow Lilly for the rest of the day.
*
An hour and a half later they drove in silence up the hillside to his favorite lookout spot. He’d stopped at the market and picked up some fruit, cheese, crusty bread, and chocolate, plus some fancy bottled tea to share, something to draw out the moments while they enjoyed the view of the Columbia River off in the distance.
It was a crisp, clear, last-of-summer kind of day with twinges of fall making the sunshine more golden than bright. He parked and grabbed the grocery bag of goodies, wishing he could take Lilly’s hand and lead her to the bench, cursing the sling, even though right now it served a perfect and important purpose.
She sighed when she sat and looked out over the pine trees below and outward to the body of water. In the far distance was the superlong bridge connecting Oregon to Washington.
He’d come here throughout his life whenever he’d needed time to think things over. He’d hidden out up here the day his father had left, the day he’d had his first kiss, when he’d finally saved up enough money to buy his first car, the night before he’d graduated from high school, the afternoon he’d applied for the police force and the day before he’d made up his mind to purchase the land and build his house. This weathered old wooden bench had seen him through many deep thinking sessions. Always seeking the wisdom and solitude of Heartlandia, he’d never, in all the years, brought someone with him.
It wasn’t as if the place was a secret or anything. Plenty of people knew about the spot. But to him, it was almost sacred ground.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Lilly said, drawing him out of his memories.
“I knew you’d like it.”
“Wow. I could use a place like this to run away to on tough days.”
“Or great days. Milestone days. That’s why I’ve always come here.” He opened the bag and placed the contents, as best as he could with one hand, between them to share. “Feel free to borrow it anytime.” If she picked up on the significance of bringing her here, she didn’t let on.
Instead she stared out over the vista nibbling bread and cheese, then popped a grape into her mouth.
They sat in silence, enjoying the weather and view, and each basking in the comfort of the other. They’d come a long way in six and a half weeks, from strangers to lovers to today. A very special day by all standards.
For the sake of not seeming nervous, though he really was, he ate and drank some tea. “I’m planning on taking the lieutenant’s exam next month.”
“That’s great.”
“Have I mentioned I also plan to be the chief of police before I turn forty?”
“No, but I think you’d be perfect for the job.”
“And mayor after that?”
She paused from eating some bread. “Seriously?”
“I’ve wanted to be mayor since I was a kid, like my favorite chief of police was. He’s my role model.”
She studied him, munching on another grape. “You can do it.”
The way she’d said it, there was no doubt she believed in him, and it felt damn great.
He gulped another drink of the flavored bottled tea, finally deciding to broach the foremost subject on his mind. “Will you be able to put up with a guy that driven?”
“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met my parents yet, have you.” She wasn’t making it easy on him, playing dumb on the one hand and self-deprecatingly snarky on the other.
Gunnar laughed anyway, her smart-alecky remark helping to take the edge off his nerves. He’d never done this before, had never had the slightest desire to. He looked toward the river to calm his jitters and gather his words.
Lilly must have picked up on his silence. “I’ll put up with your being the mayor if you’ll put up with me as a newspaper mogul.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Only seems fair.”
“Bjork told me he plans to retire next year, and I already told him I want to buy him out when he does. The guy looked so excited that I think he might be revising his plans for earlier.”
“That’s fantastic, Lilly.” So she was definitely sticking around, a really good sign, considering what he wanted to ask. “Did I also mention I’ve given Leif the okay to start building the next phase of my house?”
“You’ve been doing a lot of thinking and planning while you recuperated.”
“Yeah, so I’m thinking about getting a roommate.”
That grabbed
her attention. Her head snapped toward him.
“You interested?”
The corner of her mouth twitched, and she scratched it. “Only if you put a ring on that offer.”
“Why, Lilly Matsuda, are you asking me to marry you?”
She tossed her gaze at the sky in frustration. “You’re the one who brought it—” stopping midsentence she noticed him fish something out from his sling. He’d kept the small, velvet box hidden there in case the perfect moment cropped up, which it just had “—up.” She snapped her mouth closed appearing dumbfounded.
When he knew he had her undivided attention, he started the short speech he’d rehearsed all morning after reading the newspaper.
“I don’t have a beautiful tea ceremony to show you how much I love you, but I do know one tradition.” Gunnar stood then dropped down onto one knee. He opened the box, exposing a simple white-gold band with a solitaire diamond surrounded by tiny emeralds. Taking out the ring, he reached for her hand, then slid the delicate ring onto an equally delicate finger. “Will you marry me, Lilly?”
She’d grown oddly quiet, but from the sudden gushing of tears, followed by her flinging her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off balance and nearly squeezing the life out of him, he figured she’d heard every word.
As if on cue, a Western Meadowlark sang from the shelter of a nearby tree.
Gunnar grinned, feeling all was right with the world, holding the woman he loved and trusted with all his heart, and having a pretty darn solid hunch what her answer to his marriage proposal would be.
*
Watch for the final installment of
the HOME IN HEARTLANDIA series
when the town discovers their true history
and must decide what to do about hidden
treasure in the sacred burial ground.
If you loved this romance,
you won’t want to miss
FALLING FOR THE MOM-TO-BE,
the next instalment in Lynne Marshall’s
fabulous HOME IN HEARTLANDIA series.
Available in June 2015
from Special Edition.
Her Perfect Proposal Page 19
