The Year of Chasing Dreams (21 page)

“No more sad talk. I want to ask you something before Eden and this Garret fellow arrive day after tomorrow and life gets crazy around here.”

She pulled away, arched a shapely eyebrow. “So ATV attacks on my fields, broken fences, an accident that hammered
me, and night patrols by man and beast don’t qualify as crazy life to you?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Point taken.” He reached into his shirt pocket, extracted a small red velvet pouch, and held it out. “Then before there are any other complications or distractions, please take a look at this.”

Intrigued, she took hold of the soft material, undid cording holding the bag closed, pulled it open, and dumped the contents into her other hand. Her breath caught. In her palm lay a band of gold, that even in the weak gray light, glimmered enough for her to see intricately carved images of birds and fruit.

Her heart skipped a beat and her gaze flew to Jon’s. Words jammed in her throat. Rain pounded on the roof. A gust of wind swept moisture through the opening and Ciana felt the wetness on her skin, her hair, in her eyes.

“Marry me,” he said.

Ciana burst into tears.

Jon recoiled, looked shocked. “I—I didn’t mean to—I mean—”

She shushed him with a kiss, pulled away, said, “I love you, Jon Mercer. Dammit.”

He laughed loudly. “
Dammit?
You do have a way with words, Ciana.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, opened her tightly closed palm holding the ring. “I am battered and stitched and I have big ugly bruises all over my body and you think it’s the perfect time to get engaged?”

He ignored her complaint, peered into her cinnamon-colored eyes. “Thought I’d pick a time when you were vulnerable. Did it work?”

She held up the ring, slid it on her finger, but it wouldn’t slide over her knuckle. “Previous owner had small hands.”

Jon watched her turn her hand to catch the feeble light on the exquisite ring. “It once belonged to my great-great-great-grandmother on my mother’s side. Isabella Elena Cordoba-Cortez. According to Mom, she was from an old Castilian family, a descendant of German, Visigoth, and Roman conquerors. Her husband had this ring fashioned for her as a wedding gift.”

“Tell me more.” Ciana spun the ring, admired the carvings clearly created by a master artisan.

“Well, his name was Bolívar and he brought her from Spain to Mexico, and together they built a cattle empire that was said to span a third of the country. She was blond and blue-eyed and so beautiful that peasants fainted when they saw her.” He grinned. “Great story. Course, the cattle empire is long gone and my mama’s people are poor and living in Texas. Mom wore this ring when she married Wade, took it off when they divorced. When I went home over the holidays, I told her I’d found the one girl in the world I wanted to give Isabella’s ring to, and she let me bring it back. I want you to wear it, Ciana.”

She watched his eyes as he spoke, her heart so filled with love for him that it ached. “Well, since this is a wedding ring, on the day we marry, I’ll put it on forever.”

“Is that a promise?”

“My oath.”

“Then all we’re discussing here is
when
, right?”

“Can I heal first?”

His grin made his green eyes glow. He gathered her in his arms, lay across the old quilt with Ciana pressed against him. She felt the rhythm of his heart under her hand resting on his
chest. Above, she heard the music of hard rain and distant thunder. Below, she heard the horses moving in their stalls. She was surrounded with the scent of spring rain, fresh hay, old lumber, and the spice of Jon’s skin. She floated between her past and her future on the dreamlike cusp of all her tomorrows. In Jon Mercer she had found her soul mate. It had been written in the stars that night they’d first met, but impossible for her to see at the time. And later, when they’d again come together, her friendship with Arie had held her feelings for Jon hostage, so that even after Arie’s death, Ciana had been unable to allow herself to love him the way she wanted to. No longer. From this moment on, she would face her life with this one perfect person by her side.

Two days later, Eden and Garret bounced into the flow of Bellmeade life inside a white camper loaded to the brim with camping gear and luggage. Even before the vehicle stopped rolling, Eden bounded out like an exuberant puppy, ran up the porch steps, and threw herself into Ciana’s waiting arms. Ciana held her breath, willing her ribs to not hurt through the squeeze of Eden’s embrace. Alice Faye hugged Eden next and finally Jon.

“G’day, mate.” Garret’s words from the porch step cracked into their reunion.

Eden whirled, grabbed Garret’s hand, and pulled him up next to her for a round of introductions. “Where are my manners? This is my mate … my friend, Garret Locklin.”

Ciana kissed both his cheeks in the manner she’d learned in Europe. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” He looked around with keen blue eyes. “Nice digs.”

Eden had called from the airport the day before to announce
their arrival, so Ciana had watched from the porch the whole day. She’d said they’d drive over and get them, but Eden had insisted they’d arrive under their own power. “A camper?” Ciana now asked, looking out at the truck with metal housing that could sleep two.

“Bought and paid for in Nashville. Figured we’d need it to get around the country,” Eden explained. “Plus we can stay in it while we visit.”

Ciana understood the unspoken message. Eden and Garret were lovers and the camper would be their nighttime home. “You’d better stay a while!”

“We’re here as long as you want us.”

Garret said, “Won’t wear out our welcome, though.”

Alice Faye intervened. “I have fresh sweet tea and a homemade cake waiting to be cut in the kitchen. Come inside. And later you two bring in your luggage. No guest of ours is going to sleep in my driveway in a truck. It’s uncivilized. Eden, your old room is waiting, clean sheets on the bed. And Garret, you’re on the third floor in the room with Jon Mercer.”

Ciana saw Garret and Eden exchange glances, a look of panic passing between them. With unmistakable charm, her mother had just laid down the house rules—no cohabitation allowed. Ciana suppressed a smile as Alice Faye hooked her arm through Garret’s and walked him to the door. “Welcome to America, and to Bellmeade, Garret. So
happy
you’re here.”

Eden lingered in bed, stretched, reached for Garret, then remembered he was upstairs in another room. She sighed. It was the first morning she’d awoken without him beside her in many weeks. They’d slept together at his house throughout the long process of telling friends and family goodbye while
waiting for tickets and Garret’s visa. Even on the long flight from Australia, they’d slept holding on to each other. Eden formed dark thoughts toward Alice Faye, felt contrite and quickly erased them, realizing the woman still embraced the Southern morality code: propriety above all else. Even Gwen, not always the best reflection of motherhood, had complained about appearances when Eden had moved in with Tony. Eden knew there had been other reasons for her objections, but with Garret, it was different. They were madly in love, and being in each other’s arms every night had only strengthened their bond.

“It is what it is,” she told herself, and tossed off the covers. Olivia’s former room was just as she remembered it—quaint and cozy, decked out with lace pillows and old quilts and highly polished mahogany furniture over a hundred years old. And despite not being able to have Garret in the room with her, it felt wonderful to be back. To be home. She saw the alarm clock, realized she’d overslept, dressed quickly, and hustled downstairs to the kitchen where all except Jon sat around the table talking and drinking coffee.

Garret got to his feet, kissed her soundly. “Ciana’s mother thinks I talk funny,” he said, seating Eden and going for coffee.

“No way,” Eden teased. “He speaks four languages, including Aussie.”

Alice Faye had turned bright red. “I didn’t say funny. Just different.”

“You only need to know a few phrases, Mom,” Ciana said. “ ‘G’day’ is good morning or good afternoon or good evening—”

“ ‘Short black’ and ‘long black’ refer to the size coffee you want to buy,” Eden interjected.

“A ‘bloke’ is a man,” Ciana added.

“A ‘sheila’ is a girl—”

“ ‘Billy boil’ is a teapot of hot water.”

“ ‘Ear bashing’ is something a nonstop talker does—”

“And in the south we say ‘kiss my grits’ when people are heckling you,” Alice Faye announced with a flourish.

Everyone laughed. Alice Faye went to fixing breakfast, and soon the smell of bacon mixed with the aromas of coffee and baking biscuits. Garret turned to Ciana. “My bunk mate was gone when I woke up. Maybe I was snoring.”

“Jon went to tend to the horses. He’ll have breakfast with us,” Ciana said.

Jon did, but as soon as he was finished, he headed back to the barn. Eden poked Garret. “Go see if he needs any help. Ciana and I are going to settle in for a nice long chat. Lots of catching up to do.”

Ciana had barely closed her bedroom door when Eden pounced. “What happened to you? Did you think I might not notice your bruises? Or the way you favor your right side?”

Ciana stretched out on her bed gingerly, leaned against the headboard. “Gee, and I thought you’d tell me about your near drowning experience and Garret’s hateful old girlfriend first thing.”

Eden had emailed Ciana about the beach party and Alyssa’s outing her dark secret but had insisted that she was doing fine and that she’d fill in details when she got home. The two friends stared at each other, then simultaneously threw their arms around one another and sniffled, telling of how each had missed the other and how glad they were to again be together. When they finally settled down, Eden grabbed tissues, blew her nose, and said, “You first, Ciana.”

Ciana started with the vandalism, which Eden knew about, and ended with the accident, which she hadn’t known about. “You should have told me.”

“Nothing you could have done from so far away except fret. You’re here now and can see for yourself I’m banged up, but fine.”

After grumbling at Ciana anyway, Eden recounted her story, finishing with the camping trip.

“So I guess Mama’s edict about separate rooms for you two seems prehistoric.”

“We won’t go against your mother’s wishes.” Eden conceded defeat. “But we’ll find private time together because we need to be with each other. Maybe drive the camper someplace where we can be alone. You and Jon can borrow it if you wish,” Eden added, cutting her eyes to Ciana.

“Not going there with Jon until I can move freely. I want our first time together to be perfect.”

“When two people are in love, it is perfect,” Eden said.

Ciana tipped her chin. “And no need to use your camper for alone time. There’s a loft in the barn, and an old trunk with a quilt and throw pillows in it. Barn’s mostly empty all day, and after Jon shuts it down, place is empty most nights, too … except for the horses, and they won’t talk. Take a bottle of wine with you,” she added with a wink.

Eden grinned. “I’d have never thought of that. Any reason you have a quilt and pillows in the loft?”

“I go there when I have downtime and read Olivia’s diaries.”

“The diaries!” Eden smacked her forehead. “How’s that going? You discovering all about her past?”

Ciana grew somber. “Maybe more than I need to know.”

“Tell me.”

Ciana sighed, shook her head. “I think … I believe she had an affair with Roy.”

Eden’s eyes widened. “Really?” She saw the tortured impact of the revelation on Ciana’s face, decided to tread softly. “What makes you think that?”

Ciana shifted to try to get comfortable. “For some reason, she was all alone for almost a week during a January ice storm. Roads were impassable. She had no electricity, not much food. She had to melt ice for drinking water in the fireplace, and actually burned some furniture to stay warm. It wasn’t long after Charles Junior had been killed. She wrote that she thought she was going insane with loneliness.” Ciana looked up, shook her head sadly. “She was trapped, couldn’t leave Bellmeade, but in spite of the weather she had a visitor.”