He didn’t want to changeeverythingabout himself, though part of him thought he might for Briar. “No,” he said out loud. “I want to be who You want me to be. And hopefully that’s the man that Briar needs, too.”
He finally felt like he’d reached a resolution in his thoughts, and he quieted. No matter what, he knew he shouldn’t be praying for Briar to like him, but perhaps for his own heart and mind to be opened, so he could see her clearly, and come to know for himself if he really could spend the rest of his life with her.
Tarr had never been very good at fitting into a mold, and Briar had never asked him to. He went up and down the aisles at the grocery store, getting more of the steel-cut oats she liked for breakfast, in addition to the bread bowls, the broccoli salad, and another bag of the gourmet Caesar that she liked.
She’d told him that she loved winter for lots of reasons, one of which was that it was soup season, and she loved nothing more than a soup-and-salad-dinner on a blistering winter night. He grabbed another bag of rolls from the bakery before getting himself a new container of protein powder, some frozen mixed berries to go with it, and a pound of sun-dried tomato turkey to make his sandwiches for lunch.
With his grocery shopping done, he returned to the farm, and as he pulled up to Briar’s cheery cabin—under a sky that was already darkening at four-thirty p.m.—Tarr realized that he should be praying for things he could control and change, and that wasn’t anything about Briar.
It was only about himself.
So, as he killed the engine and looked at the bright yellow squares of Briar’s windows, he murmured, “Bless me to know how to change and what not to change to be a man that she could love and marry.”
He wasn’t sure if he was that man right now or not, and he wasn’t sure if Briar had reached the point inside herself that she believed in love and marriage again. She’d told him she was trying, and that he had caused her to start thinking and feeling things that she hadn’t felt or believed for years. Just the fact that she had a doctor’s appointment next week told him that, and he added one more prayer to his hour-long conversation with the Lord:
“If it be Thy will, bless her with good news at her appointment…when she finally gets the courage to go to it.”
twenty-seven
Briar tugged the dark green dress down over her thighs so it would reach her knees, immediately deciding that she didn’t want to wear this dress to church today. She had already changed twice, and everything felt sohard. Growling under her breath, she reached for the hem and practically ripped the dress over her head.
She had plenty of choices, as Briar loved a good sundress and often wore them all summer long. She eyed the two still lying on her bed—one a soft lavender she felt washed her out, though she spent plenty of time in the sun and had a tan to match. The remaining dress bore a dark brown color with cream-colored appliqués all over it, and Briar felt like she aged herself ten years whenever she wore it.
Still, she had a beautiful pair of heels she could wear with it, and since it was the middle of January and not Easter or summer, the rich, earthy color felt more appropriate. She bypassed the purple dress and reached for the brown one.
It flowed over her shoulders and skin easily, and Briar sighed into it. Yes, this was what she wanted to wear. She could hide inside brown, and perhaps Tarr’s towering presence and giantpersonality would further dwarf her and keep attention on him instead of her.
“Who are you kidding?” she asked as she moved over to the mirror and made sure the crisscrossing folds of fabric in the front lay correctly over her chest. “Everyone’s going to be staring atyou, because you’ll be holding hands withhim.”
Briar sat with the thoughts as she moved into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and braided her hair back on the sides. That way, some could still hang over her shoulders, but she wouldn’t constantly be pushing it out of her face. She’d already fed Wiggins, as well as all the goats, and as far as she knew, Tucker and Bobbie Jo would attend Sabbath day services today as well.
Briar moved into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, though she’d eaten and her stomach vibrated with nervous energy that told her not to do so again.
Then Wiggins burst into a round of barking, which sent Briar spinning and her pulse crashing through her veins. “Wiggins, stop it,” she hissed at the dog at the same time the front door opened.
“It’s just me, honey,” Tarr said, and his eyes first landed on hers before he dropped into a crouch to greet her dog. “What are you always barking about, you rascal?” He laughed as he scrubbed Wiggins’s jaws and ears. “You gotta learn to be quiet when someone comes to the door.”
He straightened and looked at Briar again. “Are you ready?”
He wore his black leather jacket, unzipped over a white shirt and tie, which he’d tucked neatly into a pair of black slacks and then positioned that championship belt buckle just-so.
“That’s a pretty dress,” Tarr said. “The darker color makes your eyes seem a little bluer.”
“Thanks,” Briar said, though she wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. The part about the dress was at least. Shemoved to the end of the couch and picked up her coat. “I hate to say it, but it feels colder out there.”
“The sky is as clear as glass,” Tarr said, moving to help her with her coat. It was black and puffy, and Briar suddenly worried about it clashing with her dress. Did people wear brown and black together? She honestly didn’t know, and she looked down to her brown leather heels, suddenly feeling very drab from head to toe. Then Tarr took her hand, which usually filled her world with color, and led her toward the still-open door.
“We’ll be back in a little bit, Wiggy,” he said to the dog, and then they left.
He helped her into the cab of his truck, as he’d done many times before, and Briar sat rigidly until he joined her and pulled his seatbelt across his body. Only then did she unfreeze and do the same. She glanced over to him at the same time he looked at her.
“If it’s too much, we don’t have to go,” he said, his voice soft and low, the way she imagined he spoke to his horses when they were spooked.
“No, I want to go,” she said.
“All right.” Tarr put the truck in reverse and backed out onto the street. “How long has it been since you went?”
Briar swallowed. Her memory was quite good, but she couldn’t recall an exact date. “A long time,” she said. “More than a year—two years. I haven’t gone to church since I came to Colorado.”
