Page 72 of More Than This Land

“We made it worth it.”

A pickup truck pulled into the lot, and they stepped apart slightly, though Luke kept one arm around her waist. Tom Martin climbed out and waved on his way into the diner. Claire waved back, no longer self-conscious about being seen.

That was new too. Being part of a couple. Being known as Luke’s girlfriend. The term felt inadequate for what they were to each other. Partner. Best friend. The person who knew all her difficult edges and loved her anyway.

“I should let you get to Granny Mama’s.” Luke kissed her forehead.

Claire pulled out her phone to check the time. “We’re eating at six. You can help me set the table.”

“Is that code for kissing you in the kitchen when Granny Mama’s not looking?”

“Maybe.”

Luke grinned and opened the passenger door for her. “Then I’m definitely coming.” He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding hers, giving her the entire trip to watch his profile and the scenery rolling past on the other side. A sense of rightness she’d been missing for years stitched together the broken pieces she’d guarded so jealously.

He’d helped her with that. Between God’s nudging and Luke’s persistence, she managed to find her way to a happiness she hadn’t thought possible.

Luke parked in the driveway and came around to help her out, though she could manage perfectly well on her own. She let him because she’d learned he liked doing small things for her. Liked taking care of her in the ways he knew how.

They walked up the porch steps and straight into the house, where the smell of roasting meat and vegetables caused her stomach to grumble despite the pie.

“That you, Claire?” Granny Mama called from the kitchen.

“It’s me. And Luke.”

“Good. I need someone to reach the serving platter on the top shelf.” Granny Mama hadn’t had a dizzy spell in a month, and she’d made it well known she fully expected to get back to her regular activities. Her doctor had agreed, thankfully, and Granny Mama puttered around the kitchen with enough glee to make a kid at Christmas look depressed.

Luke squeezed Claire’s hand and headed for the kitchen. Claire stayed behind to hang her bag on the hook by the door and slip off her shoes. Luke’s voice mingled with Granny Mama’s, the two of them chuckling together.

She entered the kitchen to the sight of Luke standing on a step stool to retrieve the platter while Granny Mama supervised from below.

“There you are.” Granny Mama turned to her with a smile. “Set the table, would you? We’re eating in ten minutes.”

“Of course.” She didn’t remind Gran that she’d been setting the table every night. It made the older woman feel good to have the energy to give directions, even if she said it every single night.

Instead, she moved through the familiar routine. Plates from the cabinet. Silverware from the drawer. Glasses for water and sweet tea. Luke helped once he set the platter where Granny Mama directed, choosing to fold napkins of all things before he placed them beside each plate.

They ate dinner on the small kitchen table with the window open to let in the evening breeze. Granny Mama asked about the garden project once Luke brought it up, and Luke explained while gesturing with his fork, animated in a way he never used to be.

After dinner, Luke insisted on doing dishes while Claire and Granny Mama retired to the living room. Claire sank into her favorite chair—the blue one by the window—and let the peace of the evening settle over her. Luke stood just within sight at the sink, his sleeves rolled up, methodically washing and rinsing each dish. Maybe that was why she loved this chair. It gave her a great view.

“He’s a good man.” Granny Mama sat in her rocking chair with her knitting in her lap, needles clicking in a soothing rhythm.

“He is.”

“You’re happy.”

It wasn’t a question, but Claire answered anyway. “So happy. Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life. I can’t believe I get to have this.”

“You deserve it, sweet girl.” Granny Mama’s needles paused. “Your parents would be proud of the woman you’ve become and the life you’re building.”

The familiar clog returned to her throat, and she waited for it to clear before she spoke. “I think about them sometimes. Wonder what they’d think of Luke and Covenant Creek.”

“They’d think you made a brave choice.” Granny Mama resumed knitting. “That’s all they ever wanted for you. To be brave enough to love well.”

Luke appeared in the doorway, drying his hands on a dish towel. “I’m heading out. Early morning tomorrow.”

Claire stood. “I’ll walk you out.”