by Melissa Tagg
Mara laughed at the pure appreciation on her father’s face as he popped off the lid of his paper cup and made a show of smelling Coffee Coffee’s house blend. She tucked her mocha into the cupholder between her seat behind the wheel and Dad’s.
Dad. Here. In Iowa.
He’d flown in this morning and they’d gone straight to the bank. He hadn’t even seen the Everwood yet, though he’d have plenty of time to explore the house in coming days. He planned to stay for the whole week.
She planned to stay . . . for a whole life. The papers she’d just signed at the bank—her signature next to Dad’s—gave her roots here. Gave her purpose and direction and so much excitement.
She owned the Everwood. She owned the Everwood. She shifted in her seat to face her father. “Dad—”
“Please don’t thank me again. All I did was cosign.”
“That’s hardly all you did. There’s that little matter of the down payment.” A breeze brushed in through her open window, carrying the scent of freshly mowed grass from the sloping knoll across the road.
The riverfront bustled with activity today—someone walked a dog along the path that traced the river, shop doors opened and closed as townspeople took advantage of the sunlit morning. City employees were at work, filling the flower baskets hanging from lampposts and tending to the riverbank.
Mara drove her father through the downtown—showing off the town square where she’d been in that hilarious pet fashion show. They passed the bakery where she’d first met Jen and Sam, Jen’s newspaper office, The Red Door where Mara had made her speech. When they reached the edge of town, she pointed out the sign for the Valley Orchard, where Lucas worked with his sister.
She skipped taking him past the depot, though. Memories of that particular Maple Valley landmark were still a little too fresh.
She’d almost texted Marshall so many times in the past week. She’d considered calling. Emailing. Just to tell him the good news. To tell him about Dad and the Everwood and . . .
But every time, she’d stopped herself. He’d made a decision, and she needed to respect it.
Finally, she pointed her car toward the lane that led home. “That’s the Everwood Bed & Breakfast up ahead.”
Fresh white paint gleamed against the backdrop of the grove. Purplish-blue shutters bordered all four windows at the front of the house on the second floor and sunlight glinted from the attic’s circle window. Clusters of hedges and flowers surrounded the house, and new pavers led the way from the parking lot to the porch. All Marshall’s doing while she’d been at the hospital in Illinois.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” And it was hers.
Of course, there was still so much more work to be done on the inside, and taking care of the grounds alone might end up being more challenging than she realized. She might need to hire someone, take on an employee or two. She’d have to figure out how to pay for the extra help. Maybe in the off-season she could find a part-time job.
“Lost in thought?” Dad asked.
She rolled up her window as she neared the parking lot. “Oh, just a little reality setting in. That’s all.” But this was a good reality. A really, really good reality. Only one thing—one person—could make it any better.
Or maybe two. It’d be lovely to have Lenora here, as well.
But Lenora had her own new beginning to enjoy. They’d stay close, visit each other. Mara had convinced Lenora to buy a cell phone. Davis had promised to teach her to use it.
A promise he’d clearly followed through on considering the number of texts and calls Mara had received.
Dad leaned forward, his crinkly-eyed gaze peering through the windshield. “Say, I thought you said you only had one guest at the moment.”
“Yeah, though we’ve got a couple more coming in. But not until the end of the week.”
“Then why are there two trucks in the parking lot now?”
Huh. She recognized Lucas’s truck, but the other . . .? “Maybe we have an unexpected guest. Yikes, at some point I’m going to need to figure out what to do when I’m not here. Just lock the doors and put up a Closed sign? I should ask Lenora what she did back before I arrived. She manned the place on her own for a few months before—”
Surprise stole the rest of her words as the porch came into better view. Since when was there a swing on the porch?
“Mara?”
“Uh, sorry, I’m just confused all of a sudden.” She pulled into the lot and shifted into park. “There wasn’t a porch swing when I left the house this morning.”
It swayed just slightly in the breeze. Had Lucas hung it? Sam? But what would’ve made them think to do it? She’d had the thought a couple times that the far end of the porch would be the perfect spot for a swing, but she didn’t remember mentioning it to anyone. It reminded her of that magazine ad she’d seen on Marshall’s nightstand.
She slipped from the car and started toward the house, the sound of her dad’s closing door clanging behind her.
At the bottom porch step, she stilled. Two porcelain dolls, situated in the center of the swing, green and yellow pillows on either side.
“Marshall Hawkins.” She breathed his name in a whisper, her heart beginning to thud.
She raced up the rest of the steps. “Sorry, Dad,” she called over her shoulder. “I have to check on something. I have to find . . .” She barreled into the house, toed off her shoes. “Marshall?”
She veered from the lobby toward the open staircase, started up and immediately tripped over something. Lenny! She caught herself on the banister, stepped over the cat, and ran back down. No point in looking upstairs first. Marshall was probably in the den or the kitchen or maybe out back. “Hey, Lenny,” she called over her shoulder. “Sorry to run you over.”
Dad stood in the open doorway, and she barely caught the look of amusement plastered on his face before swerving into the sitting room. Empty.
Dining room. Empty.
She burst into the kitchen.
And smacked into a wall of plaid. Marshall.
Did she say his name or only think it as she toppled backward amidst a shower of . . . cereal?
His low rumble of laughter was pure music as he grasped her hand just before she hit the floor in the most un-graceful move of her life. He hoisted her upright, but one foot landed on the cereal box he must’ve dropped, which nearly sent her sliding again.
And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Because Marshall tightened his grip and pulled her to him. And what had only been a blurred view at first came into focus. His bristled cheeks spread into a grin, complete with those grooves that were most definitely dimples. Gray eyes etched with flecks of gold she hadn’t noticed before—like a sunlit calm after a summer rainstorm. Plaid shirt rolled to his elbows, unbuttoned and loose over a dark tee. A piece of cereal caught in the cuff of his jeans.
Her gaze traveled back up. “You . . . you’re . . . you’re eating my cereal.”
“Well, I was until you spilled it.”
“Good thing I always keep a backup box in the pantry.” He still held her hand and she stood so close to him she could swear she heard his heartbeat, pulsing nearly as loudly as her own. “There’s a porch swing.”
“So there is.”
“And . . . and dolls.”
“So there are.” He tugged her free from the mess of cereal around their feet until she stood with her back against the kitchen wall.
“Are you going to explain?”
“Shouldn’t I get a ‘Hi, Marshall’ first? An ‘I’m glad you’re back’ or an ‘I’m happy to see you?’” His free hand came up to the wall beside her. “I mean, that is, assuming you are happy to see me. If you aren’t—”
“Of course I’m happy to see you, you exasperating man.”
He released her hand and brought his to his chest only long enough to say, “Me? Exasperating?” And then that hand was on the wall too—on her other side, hemming her in.
She couldn’t breathe and she did
n’t really want to. Because if this wasn’t real . . .
He inched closer, the oh-so-faint tangy scent of his cologne enveloping her. Oh yeah, it was real.
“You are exasperating. The dolls. My cereal.” She tipped her head to meet his gaze. “I didn’t think you were coming back. You’ve been gone three weeks.”
His lips were a breath away from hers when he spoke. “Well, I’m here now.”
And then he kissed her. Softly, at first. Sweetly. But when her hands slipped under his top shirt and her fingers grasped the back of his tee, when she whispered his name on his lips, his kiss became something else entirely. Deeper, hungrier. He wrapped her in his arms, and she returned his kisses with everything in her.
Until a throat clearing in the kitchen doorway yanked her from her bliss.
And Marshall swung his gaze over his shoulder.
And Dad crossed his arms. “You must be Marshall. You’ve got some explaining to do.”
He’d seen Mara blush before. But this was her most adorable look yet—cheeks so rosy her cute freckles almost disappeared. Her aqua gaze shot from Marshall to the man in the doorway and back to Marshall once more.
“That’s my dad,” she whispered, her arms still twined around him.
And it was all he could do not to completely ignore the man and kiss her all over again. But wait, her dad?
He couldn’t decide whether to be overjoyed for her or annoyed on his own behalf. Sure, it’d be good to meet the guy, but they’d kind of been in the middle of a little something here.
Or a lot something.
Something that had been even better than he hoped for. He’d hoped she would be happy to see him. He’d hoped she’d welcome him back and hear him out and not hold what he’d said at the depot or the way he’d left against him.
But this . . . her . . . just now . . .
Great, was he flushing too?
He turned, reluctant to face Mara’s father. “Uh, hi.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?”
What was he supposed to say? That he was a little flustered at the moment because of what a good kisser the man’s daughter happened to be?
Mara’s laughter saved the moment. “Dad, this is Marshall. Marsh, this is my dad, Stephen Bristol. Shake hands or something, will you?”
Cereal crunched underfoot as Marshall stepped forward to obey Mara. They shook and by the time they parted, the older man had given up biting back his grin. “I really wanted to play the stern father role solely because I missed out on doing that when Mara was a teen. But clearly the time for that has passed.”
“Um, Dad, could you give us a couple of minutes? Marsh and I need to talk for a sec.”
He harrumphed. “Talk. Right.”
“Dad.”
He smirked before retreating.
Marshall turned to Mara, taking in everything he’d missed earlier. Her hair reached past her shoulders in loose waves. Black and white shirt, yellow sweater, black leggings.
Bare feet. His smile widened as his gaze swept upward. “Your dad is right. I do have some explaining to do. But I’m not the only one. Your dad is here.”
“I know.”
“He’s back in your life.”
“He is. It’s still a little awkward but it’s good.”
“Mara—”
“What are you doing here, Marshall. You have to explain.”
He took a step toward her.
She stepped back. “No. If you get too close, I’ll kiss you, or you’ll kiss me, or we’ll both—” She shook her head. “Explain.”
He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and motioned for her to sit. “I went to see Lenora.”
She sat. “You did?”
“Just yesterday.” He dropped into the chair next to her, scooting it over the floor until he faced her. “I had this great plan. I was going to stop her from selling the Everwood. But she told me I was too late.” He reached for Mara’s hand. “Someone else was already in the process of buying it. And there was no chance in the world she’d be talked out of it.”
“She told you who the someone was?”
“Yep.”
“And now you’re here because . . .”
He could live on the captivating mix of hope and desire in Mara’s eyes. If he could just find the right words . . .
He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand and the words found him. “She would’ve liked you.” He heard the rasp in his voice, the uncertainty. But he kissed her hand and willed himself on. “She was always saying she wished she had red hair. Like Anne of Green Gables.”
He looked up to see tears in Mara’s eyes. And it was all he needed to keep going.
“Laney would’ve loved you. She’d have loved your taste in food—sugary cereal, especially.”
Mara gave a small laugh as a tear slipped down her cheek.
“She loved running. I always figured she’d end up as a track and field girl or maybe a cross country runner. I’d have to be that parent going to meets and sprinting to get pictures of her.” He reached for Mara’s other hand. “Speaking of which, I brought some pictures of her if you’d like to see them.”
“Of course I would.”
“And you’re okay with me staying?”
“For how long?”
“As long as you’ll have me.” One of her tears landed on his knuckle. “I think . . . I think I’m still grieving, Mara, and maybe there’s a piece of me that always will be. But I’ve spent enough time being broken. I’m ready to let God put me back together. I know now that there’s life beyond the brokenness. But I can’t imagine that life without you.”
She was crying now, her shoulders shaking, and she pulled one hand away to swipe her eyes. He gently towed her from her chair and onto his lap and as she cried into his shirt, arms around his neck, a joy he’d thought once lost forever settled into his core.
And it reached deeper still when her fingers brushed from around his neck to his face. With both hands on his cheeks, she looked into his eyes. “Marshall Hawkins. Thirty-five. Milwaukee. I love you like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I love you too, Mara Bristol.” He kissed a stray tear on her cheek then pulled her close. “But there’s one thing I should tell you.”
“What?”
“It was my birthday a few days after I returned to Milwaukee. I’m thirty-six now. And you should probably amend the Milwaukee part too. I’m selling my townhouse. I’m hoping to talk Sam into giving me a job. Maybe just part-time at first so I can still help around here.”
She laughed against his neck as his arms tightened around her. “Marshall Hawkins. Thirty-six. Maple Valley. I like the sound of that.”
Epilogue
Four Months Later
Mara tucked her feet underneath her, the first breaths of autumn prodding the porch swing into a lulling sway. Lenny curled on her lap, purring and content. Really, Mara should be inside putting the finishing touches on the bedrooms Lenora and Davis would occupy when they arrived in a few hours.
Or helping Jenessa with the breakfast dishes.
After staying at the Everwood off and on all summer, Jen had officially moved in a couple of weeks ago, seeking solace from the disarray of her parents’ house as she finally began readying it for sale. The process seemed to be dredging up painful memories, though she hadn’t entirely opened up to Mara about it.
There was more to Jenessa’s story than she’d ever shared. Mara was sure of it.
Same with Lucas. Though he, too, appeared to have found peace at the Everwood. He’d extended his stay through the summer while continuing to help his sister at the orchard. So far, he hadn’t mentioned returning to Mexico. Did that mean he was sticking around indefinitely?
If so, maybe he’d finally tell Jenessa how he felt. What a picture they’d make. Stylish, chatty Jen. Casual, quiet Luke.
“I knew you’d love the swing.”
Marshall appeared from around the porch corner. For all the guests wh
o’d filled rooms over the summer, this was the man she kept wishing lived here up in his old room. Instead, he’d insisted on bunking in Sam’s spare bedroom ever since moving to Maple Valley.
But he spent plenty of time here, helping around the place whenever he wasn’t working at the police station.
He took the porch steps two at a time and crossed to the swing in long, easy strides. The knees of his jeans were grass-stained and the T-shirt underneath his open hoodie bore the evidence of how many times he’d wiped dirt-covered hands over his chest.
Over his forehead too. She licked her finger as he sat beside her and rubbed at the smudge just above his brow.
And when he smiled, she kept her palm against the warm, scratchy skin of his cheek. She traced his long dimple with the pad of her thumb. “Laney would’ve loved the swing too.”
“She would’ve.”
“And the purple door.”
“Mara, you can call that door purple as many times as you want, and I’ll still say it’s blue.”
She laughed and dropped her hand, settling against him as his arm went around her shoulder. “I’ve been terribly lazy this morning,” she said. “Here you’re getting all dirty planting trees and bushes and I don’t even know what all, and I’m just sitting here.”
“You’ve been working your tail off for months. I thought you were joking last spring when you said cleaning is your hobby. Now that I’ve seen it firsthand, all I can say is you deserve to be a little lazy now and then.”
“I wonder what Lenora’s going to think when she sees everything.”
“She’s going to think she left the Everwood in capable hands.”
Mara’s gaze drifted from the porch to the lawn, now dotted by scrawny trees that would one day produce bright blossoms in flamboyant shades of pink and violet. Oh, she couldn’t wait for spring.
Except that she could. Because autumn promised its own gorgeous show of color, and then would come winter—sparkling snow, Christmas—and through all of it, she had this beautiful house, friends who had become like family, a newfound faith, and a growing relationship with her father.
