“Gemma threw up on Granny,” Dinah announced.
“But she’s all right now, Molly,” her mother assured her. “She went right to sleep. Must’ve had a cramp on her tummy.”
Molly grinned down at her four-year-old daughter. “You be a good girl, Dinah,” she said, holding out her arms for a hug.
The child ran to her mother and crawled up into her lap. Gazing up at Molly with her enormous gold-rimmed brown eyes and her mop of golden curls, she lisped, “I can read, Mama. Granny and Auntie Anna teached me.”
Molly hugged the child close. “I know they teached you, darling. And Papa and I are very proud of you.”
Dinah played with one of Molly’s buttons. “You gonna teach music today, Mama?”
“No, sweetheart. Not today. We’re having company, remember? When you and the boys get back from school, there will be a very pretty lady here to visit with us.”
Dinah touched her mother’s cheek. “Not prettier’n you, Mama.”
Molly planted a wet kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now,” she added, inspecting her daughter’s clothing, “here come Dusty and Tomas with the wagon. You mind your granny, and I’ll see you later.”
As the wagon clattered out of the yard, Buck sauntered toward her from the corral. Her heart fluttered. She’d loved him forever, yet, if it was possible, her love had grown each day.
He joined her on the porch and took her in his arms. “Ummm,” he murmured, kissing her deeply. “My favorite part of the day.”
She savored the taste of him, trapping it on her tongue, remembering the countless mornings they had made love after everyone had gone. “Unfortunately, not this day, darling.”
Nuzzling her hair, he said, “You mean I’m going to miss my fix?”
“Can you manage?” she asked saucily, looking up into his handsome, weather-toughened face.
“For Nicolette, I’ll manage.”
“Oh, Buck. I’m so anxious to see her.” Nicolette was on the final lap of her first national solo piano tour. Molly and Buck hadn’t been able to get away from the ranch to hear her play, but she’d apparently brought the house down in San Francisco. Not only was she a gifted musician, she was beautiful and so personable, that everyone loved her.
Over the years, they had received many letters from Nicolette in which she kept them current on the status of her son, Daniel, who was still being cared for by friends in Texas. Molly had to wonder if the young woman who had wanted it all, and apparently had it, was happy with it.
“I wonder if she’s really happy,” Buck mused.
Molly gave her husband a peck on the chin. “I was just wondering the same thing.”
He pulled away briefly, bringing her slightly deformed wrist to his lips. “If it hadn’t been for this, you could have done what she’s doing.”
His love and concern tunneled deep into her heart. “No,” she answered. “I never wanted that to the exclusion of everything else, darling.” She studied his renegade-handsome features. “Now, you I did want at the exclusion of everything else.”
His familiar, heated gaze warmed her. “I love you, woman.”
She kissed him again. “And I, you.”
They stood together on the porch, looking out over their land. Each knew what the other was thinking, and both recognized that nothing in the world could be better than this.
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Author's Note
Dear Readers:
Buck’s story, Forbidden Moon, is the third and final story of the “Moon” trilogy. I’ve created many char acters in. these books that may warrant stories of their own, but for now, they will just continue to live in my imagination while I go on to other settings.
My goal is to entertain, although it’s still necessary to create historically accurate settings. I met a young Micmac Indian woman from Nova Scotia on an air plane recently who appreciated romantic fantasy, but who also told me that in order for me to truly under stand her way of life, I would have to live with her and her family for ten years. I believe this, and it would be my fantasy if I could actually do it.
Until then, I’ll continue to read, study, write, and hopefully entertain.
Jane Bonander
Forbidden Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Three Page 32
