“Then why right now?”
You.
His heart all but shouted her name. “It's something I feel deep down. The art gallery is for Marianne's memory. The art show is for now. For
us
. For Hearts Crossing. Somehow binding our two households together. And I never meant to overstep. To rush things. We can take all the time you need. I'll slow down. I promise. I'll wait a lot longer than three days.”
“Three days?” Rachel's face crinkled. “Are you talking about Kenn and Christy?”
“No. It's a reference to Esther. You know. The three days she prayed and prepared to face Xerxes.” A flush warmed his neck. For years he hadn't given God's word and the lessons of His people much thought at all.
She smiled, and his heart slammed into a rib. “So you're comparing yourself to a great historic ruler?”
“Not on your life.” He barked out a laugh. “I'm just a guy, hoping you'll give me a chance.”
“Hmmmm.” She squeezed through the fence to stand next to him, facing him. Eyes squished closed like a little kid's. “I
can
see Grim-Gram's stuff in an art show. Her message is a brilliant one. A blessed one. I'm thinking she wouldn't mind her faith on display for others to see. After all, it's the Great Commission.” Her voice sobered. “Seeing her art has sure helped remind
me
of what's important. As for the three day deal, I'm not waiting that long.”
“Waiting that long for what?” Brayton's breath hitched. Another date?
She lowered her eyelashes. “For this.”
She stepped closer and instinctively, Brayton opened his arms to gather her against his heart. She had to feel it pummeling into her body. Against his pounding chest, she rested her head, hair smelling of spice and autumn. Then he gently moved a hand to tip her face, savoring the sweet moment of desperate anticipation. The moment right before the first kiss.
His mouth met hers, mingled, and the thrill running through him heated the blood in his veins. Better than his wildest dream. She sighed against his lips, and then raised her arms to clasp his neck. Oh, she belonged there, she surely did, and he'd never let her go.
“Good one,” she muttered finally, breathless, leaning back a bit to look into his eyes. “Kinda makes me wish I'd gone for it the other day.”
“No. No. This was perfect as is. Right now.”
“I'd say so.” She moved into him again. Sublime moment tinged with crisp breeze and bright sun.
Suddenly Rachel pulled away, eyes glazed with something like panic.
“What is it?” Alarm grabbed him.
Then she laughed out loud, and he relaxed. “I just figured it out. Why Ma got so cuddly with me, talking about Doyle. Doyle Calhoun, her gentleman friend. And why Kelley's got chipmunk cheeks and needs to get off her feet. Oh me, oh my.”
Brayton pulled her close once more. “Explain it later.” He mumbled into her hair, moving his mouth to hers once more and tasting the hope of tomorrow.
â¦
Tomorrow, next week. Next month, next year. And no matter the outcome, He will care for us
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Epilogue
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The following June
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After a quick toss of her bridal bouquet, Rachel took Brayton's hand. The simple touch had her heart pounding as he helped her step into the flower-strewn carriage drawn by two of Addie's rescue horses. A stiff breeze off Old Joe's Hole rustled the rosemary and white roses that wreathed Rachel's head.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” He leaned close as she settled against him, breath ruffling her hair, his nearness setting her on fire.
She caught her breath. “Only fifty times,” she said, dabbing a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “You're mighty good-looking yourself.”
Indeed, his well-cut black suit with just-broken in boots added the perfect combination of dress up and outdoors. Perfect, in tune with the outdoor wedding grotto at Old Joe's Hole. The venue's scent of shadowed pine lingered in the wind.
“This was absolutely the perfect place for a wedding,” Brayton mused as if reading her mind. “And your dress⦔
With a rush of pure love for him, she smoothed the skirt of the dress he'd picked out. Second time around, they neither believed in bad luck. The detachable tulle ball skirt would leave behind a cream lace sheath for the party.
Chelsea separated from the swarm of giggling females, ran close and waggled the bouquet at them. “Did you
really
have to throw me this?” she grumped with both a grin and an eye-roll. “It's weird enough, being my own mother's maid of honor.”
“Not quite as weird as having a double wedding with her,” Rachel said, chuckling. For a second, she caught sight of their mother, almost majestic in a lovely but practical tea-length gray jacket dress, her one splurge the elaborate concoction of silk roses and feathers on her head. Hands clasped with her new husband, Ma steered him toward his helicopter in a clearing a hundred yards away. They'd be back at the ranch in ten minutes, but the other guests on horseback or riding in hay wagons would slowly follow Rachel and Brayton to the ranch for the reception.
“Can't believe she hooked Doyle Calhoun.” As Brayton shook his head, his manly ocean scent drifted over her. “What a guy. I've watched his âLast Real Rancher' reality show for years.”
Rachel shrugged against him. “Maybe that's part of why you came here.”
“Could be. Our God works in mysterious ways.”
“That He does.” Rachel pondered the mystery of His grace. Both she and Ma would be splitting time between Hearts Crossing and their husbands' ranchesâthe log cabin Brayton had designed on Rachel's inherited acres was nearly complete. After much prayer, both had decided to return to Hearts Crossing and leave Woodside Meadows to other happy families. And the horse rescue operation at Red Hill was strongly underway, with folks from everywhereâincluding Crusty and his Scout troop and Carol and her kidsâhelping out.
“I guess we better make tracks. Matty's in good hands,” she said, unworried. Kelley, who had declined to be
anybody's
matron of honor in her ninth month, had undertaken nanny duties along with Jason. Addie, although she adored the little ring bearer, had been too occupied standing up for Rachel in a sweet lilac dress she'd worn to the seventh-grade spring dance.
With a loud laugh, Brayton pointed. Right now, Rachel's new daughter and her little boy chased through the trees the military service dog they'd taken into their “forever home.” Stanley, a black and tan German shepherd, was magnificent even with the white satin bow around his neck. Nate, Brayton's best man, corralled the kids and critter. Rachel laughed, too. Joy all but choked her. “Once we start off, everybody will follow.”
“Step up.” Brayton soft voice and gentle hands on the reins set the horses to a brisk trot. Such a good man, she mused. So gentle with kids, with animals.
Rachel had long forgiven Nick forever and for real. But she'd never forget his goodness, the good times, and would always keep him alive in Matty's mind.
God had known it all, all along. Each tomorrow, each week, month and year. Leaning hard against Brayton's shoulder, she breathed out a prayer that had no real words.
God was listening anyway.
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