Page 82 of Heart on the Line

“I won!” She grinned up at him and poked him in the chest. “You owe me a favor.”

He frowned, obviously not quite as delighted as she by her victory. “If you wanted a favor so badly, all you had to do was ask. Goodness, Grace. You frightened me half to death.”

He helped her gain her feet, then took her by the arm and led her to the middle of the blanket, where a picnic basket sat waiting for them.

Her heart melted at all the trouble he had gone to: finding a beautiful spot by the river, setting out a blanket, arranging a basket of refreshments. He must have been working on this all morning. But then, Amos was like that, going out of his way to make her feel special.

Like the code he created to tell her he loved her over the telegraph lines without anyone else understanding: . - - - - . . . . - . . . - - Anyone who happened to be on the wires after hours would simply think it was a call sign, when in fact the numbers 143 stood for the number of letters in each of the three words that made her heart sing. I love you.

Not only had they resumed their evening chats, but over the last three months, Amos had made a point to visit Harper’s Station nearly every two weeks. He even surprised her once with an extra return fare so she could travel to Denison and meet his family. She’d stayed with his sister and instantly felt at home with the vivacious Lucy. Amos’s mother was a dear too, welcoming Grace without the slightest hesitation. And two-year-old Harry was about as adorable as little boys came, even with his penchant for grabbing bonnet strings while one’s bonnet was still attached to one’s head. Apparently, if spectacles weren’t available, the little scamp had no trouble improvising. She loved Amos’s family and couldn’t wait for the day she’d claim them as her own.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Amos asked as he helped her take a seat on the blanket.

Grace nodded. “I’m perfect.” She glanced around at the river, the blue sky, the birds soaring on the currents overhead. “How could I not be? It’s a beautiful day”—she looked at the man at her side—“I’m in wonderful company, and I just bested Amos Bledsoe in a bicycle race!”

He smiled at her, the tender playfulness in his expression heating her insides enough that she could probably remove her heavy wool coat without fear of setting her teeth to chattering.

“What will you claim as your favor?” His voice deepened, grew richer, darker. The sound of it set her heart to fluttering. Every time he’d won, he’d claimed a kiss.

She thought of asking him for the same but held back. As much as she loved his kisses, she wanted to savor her victory a little longer. “I’m going to hold onto it for a bit,” she said, a healthy dose of sass in her tone. “One never knows when a favor will come in handy.”

He chuckled, raising his gaze from where it had been resting on her lips, and turned to open the picnic basket.

Hmm . . . maybe she shouldn’t have given up her claim to that kiss so quickly.

Amos pulled out a glass jar full of apple cider and two lovely engraved goblets in a pattern she thought she recalled seeing in his mother’s china cabinet.

Grace sat up a little straighter, her stomach dancing.

Amos said nothing as he poured the cider into the two glasses. He handed her one and kept the other for himself. Then he reached inside the basket a second time and pulled out a small box wrapped in a red ribbon.

Grace toyed with her goblet, not sure if she should sip her cider or wait for her companion to speak. He was obviously setting the stage for something. Her gaze darted from the box to Amos to the box again. She swallowed.

Amos set the box on the blanket in the few inches of space that separated him from her. Then he held his goblet toward her and met her gaze with his beautiful blue eyes.

“For years, I searched for a woman to call my own. For the right woman. One who valued character over charisma and intellect over broad shoulders. For a while, I despaired of finding her. Then came a delicate tap across my sounder. A tap that complimented me on my ‘fine hand at the key.’”

Grace dropped her attention to her lap, her lips curving into a soft smile. She remembered that day. Emma had had some urgent banking business to convey to New York, but the operator in Seymour had been out sick and Grace had needed to find another telegrapher to relay her message. Mr. A had always impressed her with his precision on the key, so she’d approached him about her predicament, and he’d responded with speed and efficiency. It had seemed only right to thank him afterward and show proper appreciation. Little did she know, that single interaction would spark a friendship that would deepen into a life-transforming love.

Amos reached between them and gently lifted her chin until her eyes met his. “I thank God that he made me wait, Grace. Because no other woman could make me even half as happy as you do.”

The smile that stretched across her face was so wide it nearly hurt. How she adored this man!

“Grace Mallory. I love you with all my heart. I want to share my life with you, my home with you, my future with you. I know you treasure this place,” he said as he looked away from her for the first time in order to gesture toward Harper’s Station with a tip of his head, “but if you’d be willing to take me as your husband and follow me to Denison, I vow to do everything within my power to ensure you never regret it.”

Her heart full to bursting, it was all Grace could do not to toss away the fancy goblet and fling her arms about her beloved’s neck. Instead, she sat up on her knees and lifted a hand to touch his smoothly shaven jaw. “I would follow you anywhere, Amos Bledsoe.” And she would. As much as she loved Harper’s Station and the friends she’d made here, it was time to move on. This had been her sanctuary, her place to hide from danger, but now it was time to stop hiding and start living. Shoot, she might even retire her derringer.

Amos leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. “Does that mean . . . ?”

“Yes, I’ve decided on the favor I want to claim.”

He blinked a couple times as if dazed by her random change of subject. It wasn’t nice to tease a man at a time like this, but she couldn’t help it. It was just so fun to keep him off-balance.

“Oh?” he asked, pulling slightly away from her. “What favor is that?”

She found his free hand on the blanket and covered it with hers. “Make me your wife, Amos. My heart will never recover if you don’t.”

His eyes glimmered behind his spectacles, and his mouth curved into a smile so sweet, it made her insides ache. “Well, I certainly can’t let your heart suffer such a fatal blow, can I?”