Alli’s green eyes thinned to a blade of grass. “Just spit it out, Mother, what exactly has changed?”
“I think I can answer that.” Logan rounded the table, his smile growing with every confident stride. Hands braced on the back of Cait’s chair, he scanned the table, feigning that lovable scowl that always brought a smile to Cait’s face. “I’m afraid Andrew won’t be able to make it.”
“What do you mean Andrew won’t be able to make it?” Blake said with a frown. “Last time I checked, you need a groom to have a wedding.”
“Excellent point,” Logan said with his usual grace and aplomb, “so I have a proposal to make . . .” Reaching into his pocket with a wink, he produced an exquisite diamond ring. “Literally.”
A collective gasp echoed in the room, and none louder than Cait’s, as Logan dropped to one knee. “Caitlyn Stewart McClare,” he whispered, “from the moment I laid eyes on you, you have been the desire of my heart and the love of my life. So with a heart of profound gratitude to the God who brought you into this family, I’m asking . . .” A shaky smile tilted his lips that almost made him look like a shy little boy. “And, admittedly, with more humility than I have ever possessed in my life . . .” A lump bobbed in his throat as a sweet sheen of love shimmered in gray eyes that shone like silver. “Will you marry me?”
No one moved or breathed, the silence as deafening as the pulse pounding in Cait’s ears.
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Mother, just say yes,” Alli said with a groan. “At the very least, you won’t have to change the initials on the towels!”
Nervous laughter tittered through the room before another hush settled, more taut than the last, every breath suspended when Caitlyn began to cry. And then with a sob that merged with joyful laughter, she flung herself into his arms, weeping unashamedly against his chest. “Oh, yes, Logan, yes—a thousand times yes!”
Wild whoops, shrieks, and laughter thundered the walls as everyone surged to their feet, surrounding Cait and Logan with laughter and love, weeping and wonder, over a true miracle in their midst. Caitlyn could do nothing but sob. Oh, Lord, forgive me—I’ve been so blinded by fear. Greatly humbled by the thought, she hugged her daughters, all of them with tears in their eyes except Maddie, who giggled and bounced in her arms.
“Merciful Providence, Mother—it’s about time!” Alli said, cheeks flushed with both tears and excitement. “Everybody but you could see Uncle Logan is perfect for you, and I honestly couldn’t understand why you were so blind.”
Caitlyn chanced a peek Logan’s way, cheeks flaming when he gave her a wink over Jamie’s shoulder in the midst of a hug. “Yes, darling, well, fear is the greatest blinder of all, it seems.”
“Is Uncle Logan going to be my new daddy?” Maddie shouted, and Logan’s laughter all but boomed through the house.
“You bet, sweetheart!” He tugged Maddie from Cait’s arms, promptly administering a snuggle-monster kiss which unleashed squeals that could have shattered the crystal chandelier. “Just call me Uncle Daddy.”
Cait blinked, then chewed on her lip. “Logan, really, I don’t think that’s appropr—”
A sharp whistle silenced the room. “Hey, what’s all the commotion?”
Caitlyn’s heart leapt at the sight of their second Thanksgiving miracle, if her prayers held any sway. Bram! Her gaze darted to Meg, breath hitching when the blood immediately drained from her daughter’s face. The poor darling had only seen Bram a handful of times over the last three months, and always later in the evening for pool tournaments with Blake and Jamie, never at dinner and never alone. Cait uttered a silent prayer, hoping the rest of the evening would go as planned. But all concern melted at the touch of Logan’s palm engulfing hers, the tender brush of his lips to her cheek a heady reminder—again—that she needed to trust God, not fear.
Bram circled the table to pump Logan’s hand with a wide flash of teeth, a twinkle in his blue eyes that Cait hadn’t seen in a long, long while. “From one altar to the other, eh, sir? Congratulations to both of you, Mrs. McClare—I can’t think of anything for which to be more grateful on this glorious Thanksgiving Day.”
“Really?” Logan draped a leisurely arm over Bram’s broad shoulders, his loaded chuckle braising Bram’s cheeks with a ruddy color that matched the cranberry stains on Maddie’s chin. “Need some help, Bram? Because I can.”
“Hey, what are you doing here anyway, Padre?” Jamie quipped, slipping arms around Cassie’s waist. “I thought you were having Thanksgiving at the Darlingtons’.”
Bram grinned, his gaze searching out Meg to give her a wink. “I did, but I heard something about Bug’s warm peach cobbler and Rosie’s chocolate cake, so I couldn’t resist.”
———
Heat swarmed Meg’s cheeks, Bram’s fondness for her peach cobbler a well-known fact she’d exploited on more than one occasion. Dropping her gaze, she reached for her water, dismayed to discover Mother had already depleted it. She sighed. Oh well, at least there’s something he can’t resist about me . . .
“Sit here, Bram,” Logan said, hands braced to Mother’s shoulders. “You take Cait’s chair, and I’ll scout out another from the kitchen so she can sit next to me.” Flashing a victorious grin, he took her hand to lead her to his seat at the end of the table. “I aim to keep her close until the vows are said. No sense in taking any chances.”
“All right, everyone—name your poison,” Rosie shouted as she and Hadley pushed through the swinging doors with trays laden with pumpkin pie, peach cobbler, and chocolate cake. Meg couldn’t help but smile when the crotchety housekeeper dared to give Logan a wink. “You first, Mr. Beware.”
Uncle Logan grinned. “A piece of each, Mrs. O’Brien, if you don’t mind.”
“Don’t mind a’tall,” the crusty housekeeper said with more civility than Meg had ever seen with Logan before. She plopped a piece of each on his plate without ceremony, the edge of her lip tilting up. “As long as you make Miss Cait happy, that is.” Dark eyes narrowed to spear him with a warning. “If not, you can name your poison anytime, sir, and I’ll happily supply it.”
“Rosie, really!” Mother said with a blush that matched the housekeeper’s name.
Uncle Logan grinned while Rosie finished serving, nudging Mother’s shoulder with his own. “I think she’s warming up to me.”
“It’s good to see you again, Meg,” Bram whispered, leaning so close, his breath feathered her ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
She gulped before giving him a skittish smile, the clean smell of soap and the haunting scent of Bay Rum making her dizzy. Good heavens, talk about warming up!
“Sho, Brem, where’s Melia?” Blake mumbled, peach cobbler rolling around in his mouth.
Gagging on her first bite of dessert, Meg slammed a napkin to her lips, more to hide the blaze of her cheeks than to cover her choking.
“Good heavens, Blake, we do not talk with our mouth full.” Her mother was aghast, which mirrored Megan’s feelings to a T. “One would think you were raised in a barn.”
Jamie leaned close with a sniff. “I think that’s a given.”
Blake swallowed. “Sorry, Mother, just wondering why Padre didn’t bring his fiancée.”
Fiancée. A second piece of cobbler stuck in Meg’s throat. The fact Bram had already given Amelia a ring didn’t stunt her shock one whit. No napkin could prevent her coughing fit now, nor the fire in her cheeks that burned brighter than the tapers.
“Meg, dear, are you all right?” Her mother stared at her with concern along with everyone else, but she simply continued to hack, gulping the glass of water that Bram offered.
Which didn’t help.
Meg shot to her feet, napkin to mouth. With a furious shake of her head, she flailed an arm at the door, signaling her wish to be excused for a moment.
For a moment? Her coughing now akin to the croup, she dashed from the room. Try forever, she silently moaned, locking herself in with the commode. One look at he
r red-rimmed eyes in the mirror, and her coughs heaved into sobs. She dabbed her napkin to her cheeks, blubbering like Maddie when she didn’t want to go to bed. “Oh, Lord, it’s bad enough Devin betrayed me,” she whispered, wadding pieces of toilet paper to desniffle her nose, “but do you have to taunt me with Bram too?”
“Meg? Are you all right?” Bram’s voice, as always, was deep with concern.
No, I’m not. She blew her nose. “Yes, just a coughing spell that’s now under control.”
Pause.
“And the crying spell—is that under control too?” His words held a tenderness that pooled more tears in her eyes.
“Go away, Bram,” she said, her voice a weak moan as she leaned limp against the door. “You’re not responsible for coddling me anymore.”
“Sure I am, Bug . . . as much as I can through two inches of lumber.”
She blew her nose again, louder this time, and could almost feel his smile through the door. He cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”
Memories flooded—hiding in closets when someone had injured her heart, weeping curled in a ball on her bed, locking herself in a bathroom to sob on the commode. Each and every time, Bram had found her, comforted her, held her until every tear had dried. Palm and profile pressed to the door, she closed her eyes, wishing more than anything she could hide in his arms like she did as a child. “I c-can’t rely on y-you forever, Bram—I need t-to do this alone.”
“No you don’t, Bug—open the door.” It was a gentle command, the kind he’d always given when he’d dusted her off and told her she could do whatever she thought she couldn’t. A deep and silent authority that—then and now—always won her respect. Heaving a weary sigh, she put her hand to the knob.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered when she opened the door. Taking her hand, he led her into the parlour. “Aren’t you happy about your mother and Logan?”
“More than anything,” she said quietly, perching on the edge of the sofa while he sat beside her. “It’s just that—”
“You miss Devin . . . ,” he said calmly, yet she detected a trace of hurt in his tone.
“No, not Devin.” Her eyes trailed into a somber stare. “More the feeling of being loved and desired, I guess . . . scared that it may never happen for me.”
“Meg.” There was a wealth of tender emotion in the very utterance of her name, but she knew she had no right to it anymore, not with his ring on Amelia’s hand.
“No, Bram,” she said, shifting away to distance herself. “I’m a grown woman now, not a little sister you can pat on the head and soothe in your arms.”
He reached for her hand. “Trust me, Bug—nobody knows that more than me.” His thumb grazed her palm in lazy circles that quickened her pulse.
She shot to her feet. “Stop! You can’t fix my heart anymore.” Her cry constricted into a sob as she attempted to leave.
“Oh, I think I can,” he whispered. Staying her with a gentle hold, he rose and gathered her close with a shuttered look that spiraled heat in her belly. “Because I love you, Meg, and I desire you too . . .” His words paralyzed her, but when those blue eyes sheathed closed and his mouth gently took hers, a shocked moan slipped from her lips. Fire surged at the press of his hands to the small of her back, possessive hands that drew her close when he deepened his kiss. “Meg,” he said, a desperate ache in the very whisper of her name, “I love you—and want you—more than I ever dreamed possible.” With an urgency that defied the calm and steady man that she loved, he skimmed her jaw with lips hungry to partake of a passion too long denied, coaxing another moan when his mouth found the soft flesh of her ear. “Marry me,” he breathed, his chest heaving against hers, “and I will cherish and protect you forever.”
She pushed him away with a harsh gasp of air. “But . . . but . . . Amelia!”
“Is in love with an Italian duke,” he said firmly, his breathing as ragged as hers.
“But . . . but . . . your father . . . ?”
He chuckled, the love in his eyes weakening her knees. “Is far wiser than his son . . . and far more forgiving, thank God.”
“So, y-you’re . . . f-free?” she stuttered, her oxygen level painfully low. “To do whatever you want? With whomever you want . . . whenever you want?”
A boyish grin eased across his face. “Well, not exactly, Miss McClare.” He shot a quick glance at the clock on the mantel. “You see, I’m told I’ll be unemployed if a ring doesn’t appear on your finger by the stroke of midnight.”
She couldn’t help it—she grinned. “Oh, glory be and God bless Uncle Logan!”
His eyelids lowered to half mast when his gaze flicked to her lips. “He already has,” he whispered, swaying forward as if he were going to kiss her again. “Now it’s my turn . . .”
Stifling a giggle, she held him at bay with two palms to his chest. “Excuse me, Mr. Hughes, but I believe there was mention of a ring?”
“Oh, right . . .” He jolted straight up while he fished a tiny box from his jacket, sporting a silly grin. Bending on one knee, he opened it to dazzle her with a diamond so bright, it surely glittered like the tears in her eyes. “Will you marry me, Meg?”
With a tiny squeal, she plucked the ring from the box and literally launched into his arms, bowling him over. “Oh, yes!”
Chuckling, he lumbered to his feet and then tugged her along. “Excuse me, Bug, but did you just knock me down?”
He took the ring from her hand and slid it on her finger, and she giggled, heart near to bursting. “Absolutely not, Mr. Hughes,” she said with a sassy smirk, “you just fell head over heels in love.” Giddy with joy, she held her hand up to admire the sparkle of her brand-new diamond ring. “You do realize this is going to alter our friendship, don’t you?”
The smoky look in his eyes was back when he reeled her into his arms. “Count on it, Meg,” he breathed in her ear, turning her limbs to jelly when his lips trailed off to explore.
“Hey, you two—you don’t want your cobbler getting cold, do you?” Jamie’s voice carried into the parlour.
“Cold?” The tease in Bram’s eyes literally smoldered. “Better the cobbler,” he said before his mouth descended for more.
“Wait!” Meg pulled back with a start, mischief brewing in her normally shy smile. “Does this mean I don’t have to let you win at chess anymore? That I can just beat you outright?”
Bram’s chuckle was husky and low, brimming with the quiet confidence the man always seemed to possess. “Or try.”
“Mmm . . . I may have to lay some money on that.”
“Awk, put your money where your mouth is, put your money where your mouth is.” Eyes flashing, Miss B. two-stepped the bar right on cue.
Bram’s grin grew as he leaned in to comply, melting her laughter with the warm breath of his kiss. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” His mouth nuzzled hers, tasting of peaches and cinnamon and the promise of love just as sweet. “That is one smart bird.”
Acknowledgments
To my agent Natasha Kern and my editor Lonnie Hull Dupont—treasured gifts from a very wise God who knew exactly what I needed.
To the truly talented team at Revell—I am privileged to work with each and every one of you. Extra hugs to Michele Misiak for her kindness and patience, to Cheryl Van Andel and Brandon Hill for their remarkable talent and creativity, and to Barb Barnes, whose name always makes me smile when it pops up in email, and to her remarkably able assistant, Julie Davis. You guys ROCK!
To the Seekers—twelve of the finest women I have ever met—I am beyond blessed to claim you as dear friends, confidants, prayer partners, and therapists on call.
To Bonnie Roof—not only the top winner of my newsletter contest to have a character named after her in this book, but a dear, dear reader friend who has become so very much more. You are a true sister in Christ, an encourager extraordinaire, and a relentless prayer partner. I treasure your friendship more than I can say.
To Megan Joy Burdzy, A
bbi Hart, Brittany McEuen, Sarah Baker, Beata Andrianova, Ann Miller, Linda Marie Finn, Wanda Barefoot, and Jennifer Fuchikami—all winners in both my newsletter and video contests to have a character named after them in this book. You are some of the kindest and dearest reader friends I’ve ever had the privilege to meet, and I thank God our paths have crossed.
To three ladies who cover me in prayer and without whom I’d be absolutely lost—my precious prayer partners, Joy Bollinger, Karen Chancellor, and Pat Stiehr—love you guys!
To my sisters, Dee Dee, Mary, Rosie, Susie, Ellie, and Katie, and to my sisters-in-law, Diana, Mary, and Lisa—thank you for your love, support, and prayers.
To my daughter Amy and my son-in-law Nate, my son Matt and daughter-in-law Katie, and to two of the most precious blessings in my life, Rory and Micah—I love you ALL to pieces.
To Keith Lessman—talk about “surprised by love”! God blew me away when He blessed me with you, babe, and you took over from there—blowing me away with a love that grows sweeter every day. I may be the romance writer, Keith Lessman, but you taught me what true romance really is.
And finally to the God of the universe—I am in total awe of who You are and the depth of Your love for me and each of us You call Your own. I pray the words that I write bring You both glory and praise all the days of my life.
Award-winning author of The Daughters of Boston and Winds of Change series, Julie Lessman was American Christian Fiction Writers 2009 Debut Author of the Year and voted #1 Romance Author of the year in Family Fiction magazine’s 2012 and 2011 Readers Choice Awards. She has also garnered seventeen RWA and other awards and made Booklist’s 2010 Top 10 Inspirational Fiction. Her book A Light in the Window is an International Digital Awards winner, a 2013 Readers’ Crown Award winner, and a 2013 Book Buyers Best Award winner. You can contact Julie and read excerpts from her books at www.julielessman.com.
Books by Julie Lessman