The Return

by Evans, Marianne;

  Good riddance.

  Her chin quaked all over again, because she was only kidding herself. The leaving of Phillip Fisher was definitely not ‘good riddance.’

  For the first two hours of her day she scrubbed tables until they shone beneath blocks of cheery sunlight that flowed through the windows. Wretched bands of happy gold. She arranged table vases with fresh flowers, fussing them to perfection when all she wanted to do was wilt, and sulk.

  Determined to beat her funk, Mila baked a batch of yellow cupcakes topped by delicate swirls of white crème frosting flavored by vanilla and cinnamon. She piped each creation by hand, then sprinkled the tops with additional cinnamon for both color and flavor. That cheered her a bit. The sweet treats were headed to the sixteenth birthday party celebration of Laura Lake. Laura’s mom would be stopping by around lunch time to pick them up.

  Starting to hum, sinking into the rhythm of her task, Mila dusted her fingertips against the flower-specked front of her dark blue apron. Rolling her neck, she sighed as pressure eased…

  And when a pair of strong, wide hands began to gently kneed taut shoulder muscles, she jumped…then melted.

  Phillip.

  She could nearly taste him in the air.

  “Hey, Mila.”

  “Hey, traitor.” She kept her voice light and teasing, but there were shades of truth in humor.

  “Traitor?”

  “Just kidding. How’d the family take your news flash? Everything OK?”

  “Well, things sure did happen quicker than I thought they would.”

  Meaning Millenbech. Meaning Indy. Meaning Phillip Fisher, gone. Mila stiffened, pasted an accepting, friendly expression into place. All she could do now was wish him well, and swipe some form of anesthetic lotion against the broken pieces of her heart and piece it back together again.

  She surrendered Phillip’s magical shoulder rub and turned to face him fully. Mila swallowed a sigh of feminine pleasure. He looked so relaxed and confident—so compelling and self-assured. Dressed casual, in blue jeans, a plaid shirt splayed open over a crisp white tee. She wanted to rest her head on that broad, perfectly muscled chest, sink into his warmth, and live there forever. But fate was a cruel mistress. She maintained eye contact by dent of stubborn will. He wouldn’t see her crack. Period. “Congratulations on the new job.”

  His smile went wide—in a Cheshire-cat-I’ve-swallowed-the-canary kind of way. “Thanks. Fort Wayne isn’t in our backyard, but it’s close enough, and the job is amaz—”

  “Fort Wayne?” That didn’t compute. Mila shook her head. Hard. “You were in Indy. What about Indy?”

  Phillip shook his head. “Indy is a dead point. Gone. Off the map. Closed. I belong in Antioch. I belong with my family. I belong with you.” He went silent, looking deep into her eyes, as if letting the statement sink in. “I received an offer from Millenbech, but when that happened, once the dust settled yesterday evening, I e-mailed Jason Longbourne at Maddox Ag Industries. Turns out the firm was ready with an offer of their own. An offer he e-mailed me this morning. An offer I’ve signed and accepted.”

  Oh, heaven help her, her knees were about to give way. Joy, love, hope, and relief performed an almighty flood through her body. “You’re…staying…? You’re sure…you’re…you’re staying…?” The babbling response was about all she could manage.

  Phillip nodded. “Um-hum. But, in all good conscience, I couldn’t do so until I made a promise to your dad.”

  “A promise? To my dad?” For the life of her, Mila struggled to track the pattern of this conversation. She couldn’t quite wrap herself around the emotions and reality of what played out between them. Roots curved eager and strong, slipping into place through her spirit, pushing to life.

  “You remember, don’t you? From one of our first dates? I had met with your dad, and I told you the ways he was looking out for you, like any good father tends to do. When we met, he asked me about my intentions toward you.”

  She gulped. “I remember.”

  “I promised him that when something of importance happened between the two of us, he’d be the second one to know about it.”

  “Second? Because?”

  “Because you’d be the first. Thing is? I was wrong.”

  “I can’t even follow this conversation, Phillip. My mind and my heart are spinning all over the place, and I can’t even—”

  “As it turns out,” he interjected smoothly, stepping forward to claim her hands—and help her remain grounded, steady. “He was the first to know.”

  “To know what?”

  Phillip lifted her hands, kissed the tips of her fingers.

  Mila tingled, yearned.

  “Last night, I told him my intentions toward you end in one place. Marriage. I’ve asked him for your hand, and the funny thing is, he didn’t seem the least bit surprised.”

  Mila clutched his hands like a drowning woman searching for purchase in overwhelming seas.

  Phillip continued. “He knew our feelings are strong, and he gave me his blessing.”

  All over again Mila wanted to fold against him and collapse, but she remained steady and even, wanting to savor every second of being the recipient of a God-touched blessing.

  “Mila, I don’t have a ring for you yet; I want to start my job with Maddox Ag and see my family through the rest of the harvest season first, but I want to know exactly where I stand—if you’ll have me.” He paused, took a deep, meaningful breath of air. “Mila, will you marry me?”

  Undone, Mila covered her lips with a hand that trembled. His question, tenderly spoken, crashed into the dam wall she had constructed with swift surety around the perimeter of her heart. Granite crumbled to dust, releasing itself in a flow of tears that began—and ended—on a melody of joy. Pure, unmitigated joy. “Phillip, do you mean this? Are you sure? Are you—”

  She got no farther than that in her quest for reason and understanding. Phillip tugged her close and held her tight, safe and secure, just seconds before his head dipped and he feasted on her mouth. Her tears salted their lips, but she laughed—oh, how she laughed—with happiness unbridled, released from her depths as he lifted her and spun in a fast, dizzying circle.

  “Mila, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you.”

  “Then all I can say is yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

  And so, he spun her once more, her squeal of delight blending with the rich cascade of his laughter. Chains stretched, burst free.

  Once on her feet, she wove her fingers through his hair, drew him down for a long, hard kiss.

  “Mila…” He gasped and murmured between breaks for air. “You taste like cinnamon.”

  Kisses poured like rain. “Yeah. So?”

  He laughed against her lips, the vibration carrying through to her tummy, to the tips of her toes.

  “I love it, but…”

  “But?” She reared back in his arms, sassing him with a narrow-eyed stare.

  “But do you want to know what I really, really want right now?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I want one of your world famous hot fudge sundaes. Think you can hook me up?”

  At longest, sweetest last, she laid her head on his chest, snuggled against him in perfect alignment. “I think that can be arranged, Phillip. I think that can be arranged.”

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