“Yeah, I feel like that, too,” a different man’s voice said.
Alice stood and whirled around, stunned by Jack’s sudden arrival. He looked vibrant and alive, and carried a bouquet of wilted daisies.
“Jack! When did you get back in town?”
“Just now,” he said and extended the wilted daisies to her. “I bought these when I stopped for gas a couple hours ago, but they didn’t hold up so well. Sorry.”
She took them, cradling their drooping blossoms. The fact that he brought her flowers was kind, but a little confusing, too.
“I thought you were gone for good,” she said.
“Yeah, I kinda thought that for a while, too.”
Brandon stood, startling Alice. She had completely forgotten he was there and she scrambled to include him. “You remember Brandon Tilney,” she said to Jack. “His tree ring data pinpointed the date of the Roost’s construction.”
The two men shook hands, then Brandon took a step back while adjusting his scarf. “I suddenly remember an important meeting in town. A support group for third wheels,” he said with a wink at Alice.
She choked back a laugh as she watched him walk to his car, all while a seed of hope began blossoming inside her. This was thefirst time Jack ever brought her flowers, and it wasn’t something he would have done casually.
“Did you submit a proposal for Camp Lejeune?”
“Nah. I ran out of time and decided to drop it. I was on my way to North Carolina when I got word that my dad died.”
The daisies fell out of her hand and dropped on the ground. “Jack, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded and stared out over the spring, where a pair of mallard ducks landed on the water, leaving ripples in their wake. Several more pairs came behind them. The flock was surely migrating to warmer climes, just taking a brief rest here. Maybe like Jack himself.
“I went to the funeral and stayed at Sophie’s house. It confirmed everything I’ve always suspected about families. They mean heartache and baggage and worry and disappointments. But, Alice, I saw the really good stuff, too. I realized that I’ve been a coward because I spent the last twenty years running away from anything or anyone who tried to tie me down, and it almost cost meyou.”
He turned her shoulders to face him. “I don’t want to keep running,” he said with tired affection. “I had the best summer of my life here with you, and I want it to turn into the best autumn, the best winter . . . actually, the best rest of my life. Once the golf course is finished, I can stay here and run it. I’ll probably still hit the road to design other courses if someone pays me enough, but I’m ready to settle down. Here.”
She gazed up at him, this strong, tough man with such hidden depths of tenderness and vulnerabilities. She loved all of him, even the crude humor and rough edges.
“Good,” she said simply.
He glanced over her shoulder back at the Roost, where construction workers were busy framing the new additions.
“I’ll need someone to manage this place,” he said. “I’ve been told it should be an academic who understands history and has fancy degrees, but they also have to have an eye for design and outreach. You interested?”
“Are you offering me a job?”
“Yeah, if you want it.”
Instead of answering, she hugged him tightly. He returned the hug, and his heart thudded so hard she could feel it all the way through their clothes. It was the only sign of how nervous he’d been.
“Sorry about those miserable daisies,” he said, and she brushed his apology away. She didn’t care if the daisies were wilted and frail. She and Jack were both dinged-up too after a long, challenging year.
“I can save them,” she said. “I’ll press them between wax paper, then seal them in clear laminate sheets to make bookmarks. They’ll last forever.”
Jack put his hands on her shoulders, and pulled back enough to meet her gaze. That was when she noticed he was shaking. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out,” he choked out. “I love you. I love you, love you,love you. If I was a poet I would know better words, but all I can say is that I would be really grateful if you’d take me back. Alice, sometimes I can be a real idiot.”
Tears prickled the backs of her eyes as she hugged and rocked him from side to side. Jack wasn’t an idiot. His education came from the streets, from foster care, from the world of sports and locker rooms and hospital corridors. Very little of it came from a college classroom, but that made it no less valid, and she cringed that she ever dreamed that it was. She was grateful that Jack had overlooked her initial snobbish judgment of him. Now she’d have the chance to join his rollicking zest for life and couldn’t wait to start spoiling him.
“I’m going to make you the world’s best chicken pot pie. What do you want for dessert?”
“Blueberry pie,” he said instantly.
Blueberries weren’t in season, but she could use frozen and he’d probably like it just as well. Life didn’t have to be perfect. It was better to appreciate the blessings they’d been given rather than nitpick at imperfections.
