He carefully took the paper off this one, fearing he might find another fragile gift inside. While wrapped in a shirt box, it was much heavier than one would be. Lifting the lid, he found an old photo scrapbook and carefully removed it from the box.
Even before opening the cover, he knew to whom it had belonged. Sure enough, the first page included photos from the ’40s of Gram, both in her uniform and with another man in uniform. No doubt, his grandfather, as they had enlisted at the same time.
The backs of his eyelids stung, and he blinked away the discomfort as he turned the page. Realizing he hadn’t said anything to her yet, he looked up, cleared his throat, and uttered a lame “Thank you.”
Riveted once more to the pages, he glanced down and saw photos of a baby on a bed. The white on black script below the photo identified the infant as his mother with a simple “Margaret at three months.”
“My mother.” He met Tillie’s expectant gaze again. “This is going to be a bittersweet journey for me, watching my mother grow up through these pages.”
“I’m sure she’ll love seeing it.”
He shrugged. “She and Dad are on a cruise in the Mediterranean right now. I’ll show it to her when they come home.” He needed to mend fences with them and at least let Tillie meet them. Like it or not, once they met and got to know Tillie, they’d have to accept that the subject of Gram would come up. If they couldn’t, then perhaps he’d have to sever any ongoing relationship with them.
“It’s been in the office all these years,” Tillie said, breaking into his thoughts. “I’ve pored over its pages more times than I can count, especially when I was missing her. Unfortunately, the span of years in the album is fairly limited. Mostly photos of your grandparents and mother, although there are some of a friend of hers named Caroline and her daughter. The little girl is only shown up to 1941. Of course, while Mrs. Foster was serving in the war, she wasn’t keeping up her photo albums. And Caroline disappeared after Christmas 1945.”
“Gram mentioned Caroline a lot in the journals.” Greg looked at the photos on the page, across at Tillie, and then back at the album, furrowing his brow. Uncanny. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re the spitting image of Caroline Simpson?”
“No. Well, toward the end, Mrs. Foster sometimes called me Caroline by mistake, but I assumed she was thinking of her friend as she looked back on her life.”
“Look at the photos again,” he said, handing her the album. “Don’t tell me you can’t see the resemblance.”
Tillie leaned closer to the page and scrutinized the images before her eyes opened wider. “It’s like looking into a mirror. We even share the same chin and nose. How did I not see that before?”
“Maybe you’ll figure out the connection as you read Gram’s journals, but I should warn you, she didn’t have a very happy life. She’d been left pregnant by a man who died before marrying her. Sadly, Caroline committed suicide shortly after Gram returned from her service in Hawaii.”
“That explains why Caroline disappeared from the photo albums. I wonder…” Her face became ashen.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded rapidly, but he could tell she was upset.
“What’s wrong?”
Her voice came out barely a whisper, and she didn’t meet his gaze. “My great-grandmother committed suicide after the war. Do the journals say what happened to her daughter?”
“She was given up for adoption when she was between five and six years old.”
“How can this be?”
He leaned closer and stroked her arm, worried about what was going on. “What is it?”
“You don’t suppose…”
“Suppose what?” What the hell was the matter?
“At the risk of you thinking I’m nuts or grasping at straws, there’s something I need to tell you.” Drawing a deep breath, she began. “My mother told me how tragic my grandmother’s life had been and that she’d been given up for adoption at the age of five to a family in Bardstown. I never knew my great-grandmother’s name, but am almost certain now that it was Caroline.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Do you suppose Mrs. Foster recognized her in me that day I showed up with her cat?” Was that the reason she’d taken to Tillie so quickly?
“I don’t see how she wouldn’t have seen the resemblance, but Gram had a big heart and probably would have invited you in anyway.”
Tillie glanced away. “I hope so. It wouldn’t change how she made me feel so special, even if she initially connected with me because I looked like her deceased friend.”
“I can’t wait to dive into these journals. While initially I simply wanted to learn more about Mrs. Foster’s life, I have a feeling that they’re going to uncover all kinds of things that explain a lot of the missing pieces in my own. For instance, the women in my family never painted a positive picture of the men in their lives. So many disappointments.”
“I’m glad you didn’t hold that history against me.”
She smiled, and he relaxed for the first time since he’d pointed out her resemblance to Caroline. “Let’s just say you surmounted my misgivings with your incredible heart—and magic hands.” She winked at him before picking up the journal she’d been reading a few minutes ago. He watched her a while then turned another page in the photo album. The two of them were lost in their memories and treasures until his stomach growled.
“I forgot all about breakfast,” he said.
“It’s in the oven on the timer actually and”—she glanced at the watch pinned to her breast—“should be ready in about ten minutes. I brought my sourdough starter from home and made my traditional Christmas morning coffee cake. Oh, and all the fixings for jam cake that we can enjoy with Derek tonight.”
“What’s jam cake?”
Her eyes opened wide. “Seriously? You’ve never heard of jam cake?” Why did she think he was asking? “I can see I still have many, many of your grandmother’s wonderful recipes to share with you. Imagine a dense spice cake with blackberry jam and black walnuts mixed in the batter before baking, topped with caramel icing.”
“Sounds amazing. I’m going to need to ride my bike a hundred miles to work off all that food, but it’ll be worth it.”
Everything Tillie did was steeped in love and tradition, two things sorely missing from his life before now. They had a lot of interests in common, too. He flipped the pages of the album and watched his mother grow up before his eyes. She didn’t have the hard edge to her that was all he could remember about her. What had made her so cold and bitter?
He couldn’t wait for them to meet Tillie. Time to let go of the past and mend fences with her. Maybe she could help Mother see Gram through different eyes.
He glanced over at Tillie, who was grinning at something she read in the pages of one of the journals. He’d been won over by Tillie’s sunny disposition and kind heart from the beginning, once he forgot about the preconceived notions he had about her.
When a buzzer went off in the kitchen, she jumped up. “I’ll take the cake out and start another pot of coffee.”
The woman never took a day off. He had no clue what life would be like if she accepted his proposal or even where they might live, although he leaned toward moving to Kentucky rather than bring her up here other than for visits. Being an innkeeper was her life. He might prefer to keep her all to himself, but that would be selfish of him.
After breakfast, he bundled her up in her new outerwear, kissed her again, and drove out of the city limits. He hadn’t told her about this part of the day yet, but like most visitors, she probably expected the falls to be outside the city anyway and wouldn’t suspect anything until they arrived.
* * *
The landscape surrounding them on all sides was a sea of white sprinkled with bare-limbed trees and snow-tipped evergreens. “I can’t believe all this snow on the ground,” Tillie said, “yet even the rural roads are cleared.”
“We’re more used to handling snow up here.”
“I’ll say. This would have me snowed in for days, if not longer, back home. Any chance of snow today? Not that you need more to call this a white Christmas!” She couldn’t remember a whiter—or more special—one.
“It’s overcast enough to snow.” He didn’t sound happy about the prospect, but snow must get old when it lingered on the ground four or five months of the year.
Greg turned into a private lane rather than the falls park. She gave him a sidelong glance and saw the smile on his face. “I have a little surprise for you.”
Parking next to the barn, she saw a dark-haired woman harnessing a gorgeous black horse to a two-seated sleigh.
“Greg! You remembered!”
“How could I forget? You’ve made me sit through so many of your favorite movies, and I don’t think a single sleigh ride passed without a sigh from you.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned across the seat to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I love you. Thanks so much. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m going on an honest-to-goodness sleigh ride!”
Tillie exited the vehicle and waited for him to join her before they went over to the horse and its owner. They wished each other a Merry Christmas, and Greg introduced her as a partner in his architectural firm. Karen then introduced them to Betsy.
Tillie reached up to pet her. “She’s a Friesian, isn’t she?”
“Yes, indeed. I see you know your horseflesh.”
“Well, I’m from Kentucky,” she said with a shrug. “Although these aren’t common there, I saw some at the Kentucky Horse Park once. Such beautiful horses.”
“Greg, do you want to drive or enjoy the ride?” Karen asked.
“Oh, no way am I taking the reins. I’m trying to impress my lady here and know my limitations.”
My lady. Tillie’s heart soared at his words, and she smiled up at him.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Wait here.” Greg hurried off and returned from the Rover with something hidden behind his back. With a courtly bow, he presented it to her.
Tillie squealed. “My muff! You thought of everything.” She accepted it from him and leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “But I’d been fantasizing lately about having you keep my hands—and other parts—warm on a sleigh ride.”
The mixture of torture and desire in his eyes made her giggle. Greg helped her onto the rear seat and climbed in beside her.
Karen handed them a small basket covered in a plaid cloth. “There are two containers of hot cocoa in there, plus some of my Christmas cookies.”
“Wow, you don’t miss a thing,” Greg said. “We really appreciate you doing this on Christmas Day.”
“No worries. Betsy loves any chance to romp in the snow, and with what fell overnight, she’s going to have a blast.”
Once the two of them were tucked under a mound of lap robes, Tillie curled against him, and he wrapped his arm around her, perhaps for added warmth, but more likely to create an intimacy between them.
The horse-drawn sleigh set off around the side of the barn and through an open gate.
“Oh, Greg. This has to be the most incredible Christmas I’ve ever had. And it keeps getting better.”
Greg reached inside the hand muff and squeezed her hand. “The best is yet to come.”
“There’s more? Oh yeah. Minnehaha Falls!”
How could the day be any more magical? The soft ringing of the sleigh bells, the slicing of the sleigh’s runners, and the crunch of the horse’s hooves were the only sounds surrounding them. Karen kept her eyes on the horse and their path, giving them their privacy.
Tillie’s right hand ventured out of the muff and onto Greg’s thigh. When he didn’t protest, she teased him by moving it closer to his—
“Is that what Barbara Stanwyck would be doing?” he asked her.
“I think so. Of course, they couldn’t show that due to the movie censors of her day, but you’d be surprised what lives the Hollywood stars led on and off the set.” She was rambling now and focused again on his face. He grew serious and closed the gap between them, his lips warming her frigid ones and melting her from the inside out.
He lifted the top quilt up to her shoulders, and she thanked him before his hand cupped her breast. Apparently, he hadn’t covered them to make her warmer. She supposed turnabout was fair play, and soon he squirmed in the seat.
“Okay,” she whispered, glancing toward Karen to make sure she wasn’t listening to them. “Let’s call a truce. Until later.”
“Later, it is.”
Oh my! The promise in his words assured her it would keep getting better.
And then something cold landed on her cheek. And another. “It’s snowing! How did you manage that?”
Greg chuckled. “I don’t think I can take credit for the snow flurries.”
“Well, if you ask me, you’ve made this day perfect in every way.”
* * *
Greg hoped he hadn’t planned today’s activities in the wrong order, but loved her enthusiasm during the sleigh ride. All too soon, though, they were at the barn once more. Judging by her red nose and cheeks, forty-five minutes in the cold air probably was enough. He cranked up the car’s heater to warm her before their next excursion outdoors.
Halfway there, the sun came out. Crazy weather, but he’d take it as a good omen for the rest of their adventures today.
They arrived in the park a little after noon.
“What a beautiful park. I can’t believe we’re right in the middle of Minneapolis.”
“Most visitors are surprised by that as well. I wish you could see it in the summer or fall sometimes, but what I want to show you won’t wait until then.” While what he planned was slightly illegal, he doubted anyone would be patrolling the falls on Christmas of all days because crowds would be thinner than usual. Which is how he wanted it. An audience would ruin the moment.
“Watch your step.” Greg held on to her elbow as he guided her over the icy sidewalk toward the steep steps.
“The sign says we shouldn’t go beyond this barricade.”
“It’s okay. I’ll steer us clear of any danger.”
She held onto the icy metal railing and cautiously traversed the stairs, avoiding the slick spots. He tried not to bang the backpack against the cliff walls. When they reached the landing, the two of them turned toward the falls together. He hadn’t been down at this level during winter since he was a kid.
“Oh, Greg! I’ve never seen anything so magical!” Her awe and excitement only made the experience more special for him, too.
Greg pointed the way toward the falls. “Let’s head that way, but be careful. I’d carry you, but am afraid you’d be hurt if I slipped.”
“We can get closer?” she asked.
“Oh yeah. With our rubber-soled shoes, we can walk on the frozen creek right up to them. You’re in for a treat.”
As they meandered along the path, he was happy to see that the icicles hadn’t blocked the entrance to the cave, which might have interfered with his plans. Not that he’d have let a small stumbling block deter him today.
“Greg! There’s an opening in the falls over there!”
Seizing the opportunity, he took her elbow once more. “Watch your head as you go inside.”
“They let you go behind the falls?”
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience I’m dying to show you.” Tillie bent over and walked under the icy arch. “Watch your step. There’s usually a dry shelf behind the ice. Aim for that.”
“I see it!”
* * *
After settling onto the dry bedrock, Tillie took in the wavy wall of ice to her right with wide-eyed wonder. In some places, the ice was intense blue, while others shone a mossy green. “Unbelievable!”
Behind the falls, it felt as though they were the only two people in a prehistoric land. Surreal.
“Minerals account for the colors,” he explained.
“I’ve seen seasonal ice falls on Kentucky interstates before spilling out of t
he rock. They have the blue and green colors, too. Of course, I couldn’t go behind them and see the light shining through like this. Pure magic. I can see why it was important to you that the sun be shining.”
“Special is an understatement, not unlike the lady I’m showing it to.”
She smiled up at him before giving in to the intense desire to touch the ice with her gloved hand. Oh no, that wouldn’t do. She shed the glove, and her right hand brushed over the water, frozen with gritty bits of rocks and dirt barely visible to the eye. When heat from her hands began melting the surface ice, she pulled away.
Greg took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the top and sending warmth through her. He didn’t let go, though, and turned it over to place a kiss on her palm. When she expected him to release her, he continued to hold onto her hand until she met his gaze.
“Tillie, it seems impossible, but you’re even more beautiful in this light.”
Heat suffused her cheeks. In Greg’s eyes, she truly felt beautiful.
“Before we’re interrupted…” Greg wrapped both hands around hers and stared deeply into her eyes. His sudden seriousness made her heart skitter to a stop for a second. When he bent to one knee, her jaw dropped.
Oh God. He isn’t!
“Tillie, you have brought light and love back into my life. Perhaps ‘back’ isn’t the right word because I don’t think I allowed myself to feel love from any woman before I met you.”
When she opened her mouth to say something—although she had no idea what—he brushed a finger over her lips, leaving them tingling again. “Wait, I have more to say.” He took a deep breath, released it, then reached into his pocket to take out a ring box. After retrieving the ring, he held it up to her.
She couldn’t see all of the detail through the tears in her eyes, but the silver art deco pattern boasted a large diamond in the raised center surrounded by smaller ones.
“Matilda Hamilton, would you do me the great honor and privilege of becoming my wife and partner in this life?”
Jesse's Hideout (Bluegrass Spirits 1) Page 32
