Jackson walked around the table and squatted down next to Caroline’s chair. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.
“Please don’t send me away,” she said as he brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I forgive you. I’m just so afraid of letting you into my heart again.”
“You can entrust it to me, I promise.”
Jackson rose and helped her up, then took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs across the backs of them. “You didn’t imagine the way I looked at you when I came back from the war. I wanted to spend my life with you. Although I grew to love Amanda, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about you since I left. I tried not to feel it…buried it so deep I thought it might die. I tried to hide it from her, too, but she knew.
“My love for you is quieter now. But it’s deeper and stronger than ever.”
Caroline’s eyes didn’t waver, just glittered with light from the waning fire.
“Do you still love me?” he asked and held his breath.
“Yes. Even in my anger, I never stopped.”
Jackson placed Caroline’s hands on his shoulders and stepped closer. She touched the edge of his collar, smoothing it, so he leaned in until her breath was brushing his cheek. His hand hovered near her jaw then came to rest against it, as if he was touching something sacred. When he finally kissed her, it was tender and unhurried, his soul cherishing a precious gift that had been delayed too long.
Jackson rested his head against Caroline’s then pulled her into a snug embrace and held her in silence. For the first time since their reunion in the garden, he felt as if he was home.
The snow had stopped sometime in the night, and morning broke quiet, frost edging the corners of the windows and the world beyond blanketed in white.
Jackson stood at the edge of the parlor, coffee cup in hand and heart filled with satisfaction. There was no tree or fancy decorations—just the evergreen boughs and the scent of fruitcake baking. Still, the morning felt festive and momentous.
The fire in the stone hearth glowed across the plank floor where Jewel sat, legs splayed in her flannel nightdress, trying to open a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
Caroline knelt beside her, helping her fingers untangle the knot. “Let’s see what Papa tucked in here.” The paper gave way to the blue calico dress he’d bought.
Jewel hugged it at once. “Pwetty! Tank you, Papa.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Celia made it.”
Noah sat on the rug next to Ranger, turning over a wooden boat in his hands and running a finger down its hull. “Who made this?”
“Mr. Green did.”–out of scraps of wood from the mill, but you’d never know that from the way Noah admired it.
“I bet it’s fast,” he said, skimming the boat across the rug.
Jackson reached behind the rocker where he’d tucked away a special bundle. His fingers lingered on the cloth a moment before he took it over to Caroline and the children.
“There’s one more gift,” he said as he sat on the hearth and placed three small flat packages on the rug.
Noah reached first, then paused, glancing up. “Can we open them?”
“Go on. Jewel and Aunt Caroline, too.”
“Me?” Caroline asked.
Jackson nodded. Inside the paper wrappings were framed sketches of Amanda.
Caroline helped Jewel get started then unfolded the paper around hers. “Oh, Jackson...”
Noah lifted his out and stared. “It’s Mama.”
“Mama,” Jewel echoed and cradled the picture just like she’d done her new dress.
“I got them for you as a remembrance,” Jackson said to the children, “so put them someplace safe.”
Caroline looked up at him, eyes shining. “They’re beautiful. Did Mr. Green draw these?”
