by Arlene James
Denise reeled inwardly. “W-wedding night?”
“Wedding night,” he confirmed. “I want to spend it here, and I want to do it soon.”
He’d taken her by such surprise that her mouth was hanging open. He closed it gently with a hand beneath her chin and then kissed it tenderly.
“I love you, Denise, and I’ve never been more certain of anything. I think that you love me, too, almost as much as I love you.”
“More!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I love you so much!”
He beamed down at her. “So. Will you marry me... soon?”
Her mouth was hanging open again, but she couldn’t have gotten a word out of it anyway. All she could do was nod her head and throw her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to hug him tightly enough to cut off his breath. Laughing, he pried her off and kissed her hotly, saying afterward, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She laughed, tears spilling from her eyes.
“None of that now,” he said softly, tugging off one glove to thumb away the droplets. “We’ve cried enough for several lifetimes, the two of us, and really, darling, we have so much to be happy about. We’ve suffered losses, yes, but only because we had so much to lose. It occurred to me the other day, you know, that my sister will never know the depth of grief that I have because she’s never known the kind of love that I have. It was there for her, but somehow she couldn’t accept it. I wonder how many of us can? The thing is, though, not to get trapped by the pain. You showed me that.”
“Only because you showed me first,” she said, sniffing.
He laughed, not because she’d said anything humorous but from sheer joy. “Your parents will come for the wedding, won’t they, and Troy and May and the kids?”
“I’m sure they will.”
He slipped an arm about her shoulders and turned her back to the valley below. The sunlight was as bright as crystal, the sky as blue as baby bunting, the snow the purest white imaginable. Even the brown and gray of the stony ground and the green of the trees seemed deep and vibrant colors, clean somehow and brimming with life. “We’ll have a real family Christmas next year,” Morgan said with something like wonder.
She lifted her arm about his waist. “Yes.”
“And every year after that.” He looked down at her. “Before long our lives will be overflowing with family, even grandchildren one day, though you’ll be the youngest granny imaginable.”
Her chin trembled. “I never thought to be anyone’s granny after Jeremy died.”
“I never thought I’d be the man my own father was, but now I think ... think I just might be one day.”
“He would be so proud of you,” she told him.
He wiped at his eyes and chuckled. “I’m rather proud of myself at the moment.”
“I keep seeing them, you know, how you described them that day, Ben and Jeremy, hand in hand, and ever since then, I’ve seen us the same way.”
He pulled her close and tucked her head beneath his chin. They held each other, gazing out over that valley, their breath frosting in the Christmas air, knowing that they would go inside soon and drink the last of Ben’s cider in the healing warmth that had less to do with the fire laid on the hearth than the love that survived all. It was so much, so very much. It was, in fact, everything.
Arlene James has another heartwarming story for
you next month. Look for
MARRYING AN OLDER MAN.
Coming in March
from Silhouette Special Edition.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-5933-1
MR. RIGHT NEXT DOOR
Copyright © 1999 by Deborah A. Rather
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