It was her. It was his own beloved Ivy.
She stopped in the doorway, her brown eyes huge, and she edged forward. “Gerrit? Gerrit! You’re free!”
He dashed toward her, banged his ankle on a chair leg, pulled her into his arms, kissed her, hugged her, kissed her, hugged her.
“I knew they’d believe you,” she said between kisses. “I knew it.”
“Charlie?” He kissed her again. She was too sweet not to kiss. “How is he?”
“He’s fine. He’ll finish his recovery here in England.” She laughed, turned to the side so his kiss landed on her soft cheek, and righted her hat. “Gerrit, I’d like to introduce my parents.”
The parents of the woman he was mauling with kisses.
His face warmed, and he turned to the couple he recognized from Ivy’s drawings.
But they were smiling, and her mother looked misty-eyed.
Her father extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Gerrit. Ivy has told us many wonderful things about you.”
His right hand accepted the handshake, while his left opened and flexed in absolute certainty. “Dr. Picot, may I have your daughter’s hand in marriage?”
“Gerrit!” Ivy gasped and clutched his arm. “You might want to ask me!”
He might indeed. His jaw hung open. His cheeks flamed.
Her eyebrows lifted high above her big brown eyes, and her mouth hung open too.
Was it too soon? What if she didn’t want to marry him at all?
Ivy shut her mouth and gave the slightest of nods. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” A glow built in her gaze, a glow of hope and joy and forever.
“You will?” He gathered her close and reaped another crop of kisses.
Her parents! Gerrit sprang back, one arm about Ivy’s waist, and he addressed her father. “May I?”
The elder Dr. Picot laughed, big and hearty. “You don’t seem to need my permission to kiss her.”
“To marry her, sir, ma’am.” Gerrit held Ivy close to his side. “Ilove her dearly, and I want to make a home with her for as long as the Lord gives us. In Jersey.”
“In Jersey?” Ivy’s eyes rounded even more.
“Where else?” Gerrit gave her a teasing smile. “You belong there, and I belong with you.”
A soft sigh, and Ivy leaned her head on his shoulder. “And I with you.”
Her love was a result he hadn’t tried to obtain and hadn’t earned, which made it all the more beautiful.
chapter
47
St. Helier, Jersey
Monday, July 9, 1945
