He smiled. “Guess that means we have another Zoe and Jackson mission to go on.”
Zoe stared at him for a long moment, her heart doing that dangerous, hopeful thing again. “Together?”
He nodded. “Together.”
THIRTY-FOUR
JACKSON
Sunday, March 23rd
Jackson wasn’t expecting things to go back to the way they used to be. Real life didn’t work like that. But Zoe was giving him a chance, and he was grateful she hadn’t given up on him. Even if it was only for their friendship. Maybe someday she might be willing to give him more.
Zoe eyed the horse warily. “You’re sure this is safe?”
Jackson gave the stallion an affectionate pat. “He’s solid as they come. I’ll steer. You just hold on.”
He helped her up first, his hands steady at her waist as she swung a leg over the saddle. When she was settled, he mounted behind her in one smooth motion, his chest brushing her back as he adjusted the reins.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be.” She smiled nervously.
Jackson guided them away from the farm, along the fence toward the trails. The morning air was cool and sweet after last night’s rain, the scent of damp grass rising all around them. Sunlight filtered through the trees in soft gold shafts thatdappled the ground and brushed over Zoe’s hair, making it gleam.
“Just don’t expect me to chase down a runaway horse if something spooks him.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He smiled.
Jackson’s hand rested loosely on the reins, their knees brushing with each step. The world was green and still and new.
He knew Zoe still wasn’t sure about him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He’d pulled back so many times before, but he was done with that now.
Words had always come too late for him. So he hoped that his steady action and the way he stayed beside her might say more than his words ever could.
For a while, they rode in companionable silence, the rhythmic clop of Xavier’s hooves filling the quiet. But as the trail narrowed, Zoe shifted slightly in the saddle, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “So…Meg from the bookshop gave me something this morning,” she said, her tone a little tentative.
“Oh?” Jackson raised a brow, shifting the reins in his hand. “Is this about the flower?”
She nodded, pulling a worn, leather-bound book from her satchel. “Meg said she found it in the basement, tucked behind a stack of old Maple Falls history books. It’s calledMaple Falls: Myths, Legends, and Local Lore. She even put a bookmark in for me.”
Jackson chuckled softly. “Of course she did. That woman probably alphabetizes her teacups.”
“She’s a treasure,” Zoe said with a fond smile. “Anyway, listen to this.”
She opened the book carefully, the spine creaking, and began to read.
The Legend of the Moonlight Kiss
In a humble cabin near the bend of a river lived a young woman whose name was Clara. Winter was beginning to loosen its grip, and spring whispered its arrival. But the long, cold months had drained her spirit, and she had grown weak with illness. Despite the tender care of her mother, she faded with each passing day. The heavy winds of winter still howled through the land. The promise of spring seemed a distant dream. The local wise woman said it would take more than medicine to save her.
Elias, her true love, could not bear to see her suffer. He knew that her heart had always been wild with a love for nature. In her youth, they had spent hours together walking through the hills, chasing the first signs of spring. He knew, too, that her favorite flower was one they had discovered together. It was a rare silvery-blue bloom, as delicate as the stars, that grew only on the highest ridges.
Desperate to save her, he decided to find those same flowers and bring them to her side. It was a bitter, freezing night when he set out, knowing the hills would be treacherous and that most flowers had not yet bloomed. Day after day, he trekked through icy rain and wind, feeling the cold seep into his bones. But he was driven by the hope that these flowers could somehow restore her. And just as the last light of day faded on the fourth night, Elias found them. Those rare blue flowers, glowing faintly in the twilight.
He gathered them gently, pressing them close to his chest, and raced back to Clara’s cabin, his heart pounding. It was dark when he arrived, his face pale from exhaustion and worry. She lay in bed, frail and weakened, her mother’s worried eyes meeting his. He knelt beside her, the full moon shining through the window.
With trembling hands, he placed the blossoms on her chest and his lips brushed hers in a tender kiss in themoonlight. The soft scent of the flowers filled the room, and something miraculous happened. The color returned to Clara’s cheeks. Her eyes blinked open, bright and clear once again.
