“You’re welcome.” She took a sip and hummed happily, slipped off her shoes and drew her feet up under her. After a few seconds’ silence, she sighed and turned to me. “Thankyou, Christa.”
“Oh. For the flowers? Well, of course—”
“No, honey. Not for the flowers. Or the gift for Payton, or for the casserole—which was delicious, by the way. Would your gran be willing to share the—” She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head with a self-deprecating look. “Thank you. For my son.” She faced me full on now. When I didn’t respond, she continued. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve given me the best present I could ever wish for. My baby went to war and he survived, thank goodness, but he never came back to us. We’ve glimpsed him maybe once a year for the past few years. Then, you fall into his life and suddenly, he’s here all the time. You’ve brought my son back.”
Overwhelmed by this outpouring of honest emotion, I gulped from my drink, eyes stinging from the booze and the heat and, okay, yeah, from the tears, too.
“You don’t have to say anything Christa, honey.” Janie’s hand grasped mine. “Just know that whatever’s happening here, we approve.” I opened my mouth, though I had no idea how to respond, but she just shook her head at me, sniffed, and squeezed my hand one last time before getting up to head back toward the kitchen.
Movement drew my eye to the other doorway and I knew, without a second’s doubt, that it was him.
My man.
Everything else faded as our eyes met.
This thing between us—thislove—felt new and raw as a fresh cut, fragile as a young sapling.
Delicate, but not weak, because for a new tree to survive in the forest, it would have to plant its roots deep, wouldn’t it? There’d be work happening underground. It had to be strong to make it at all. Growth that our eyes couldn’t see but that we’d feel. Like the work we’d done in our hearts.
Like this connection between us. This thing, the strongest emotion I’d ever felt, was as real to me as anything in my life. More real, maybe, since I could lose a car—the most expensive item I’d ever owned—and though it had been a heavy hunk of metal, it had no substance. It didn’t matter like this did.
I’d come out of the that night with more than I’d had when I went in. I’d come out with everything.
“Ready?” I asked, full of warmth and spices and the love of this good man.
“Always,” he said, without a trace of a smile. “Always.”
