He could not help it, though. For August loved Margaret Meyers. He loved her in the way he had always longed to love someone. And yet, even his imaginings of what passion could be like held no candle to its realized state. Each day, she grew more beautiful. Over the last few months, her cheeks had taken on a roundness and a color they hadn’t possessed when he met her. She laughed more now, too. Talked more. Smiled more.
How could August not spend each minute of every waking day with such a divine woman on his mind?
Opening his eyes, August shook his head and forced himself to get back to work. The sooner he focused, the sooner he would finish and be on his way to finding Margaret.
With a new will made of iron, he flew through the rest of the afternoon’s tasks and put his papers away. Mr. Walsh was in the back office with a client, so August grabbed his hat from the hook and departed softly through the front door.
And with impeccable timing, too, for, across the street, Margaret entered the bakery.
August’s stomach flipped. He had meant to go home and wash up some, then call on her after supper to see if she could take a walk in the evening air, but seeing her made waiting impossible.
Crossing the street, he went into the bakery, finding it full of laughter.
“That mule is as ornery as I’ve ever seen,” Marci Aarons said. Standing behind the counter, she fanned herself with her hand and shook her head. Next to her, her daughter Lydia arranged rolls on a rack. Margaret stood with her back to the door, her sunbonnet pushed down and dangling loosely from her neck.
“Mr. Jones will keep on trying, though,” Margaret said. “He says he’ll get it to plow his land, even if it kills him first.”
“That mule might kill him,” Lydia answered. “Give him a heart attack.” Her eyes shifted past Margaret and landed on August. “Oh, hello.”
Lydia gave Margaret a knowing smile, and Margaret turned around. At the sight of August, she smiled wide.
“Soda bread, Mr. Dowdell?” Marci asked.
“Not today, thank you.” Realizing he still held the door open, August closed it and stepped forward. “How are you doing, ladies?”
“Fine,” Marci and Lydia answered at the same time, both women looking at Margaret.
August’s skin itched. He’d wondered a million times before what women talked about when there were no men present, but now he thought he liked being ignorant.
“I am getting some pretzels,” Margaret said, opening the cloth on her basket to show him the stacked goods there.
“Ah. Beautiful. May I walk you home?”
“Yes.” Margaret beamed. “That would be wonderful.”
August offered her his arm, and the last thing he saw before the bakery door closed behind them was the Aarons conspiratorially bending their heads together and whispering.
“They are... lively,” August said.
“I know.” Margaret pursed her lips. “They like to talk. They are good fun, though. Ever conversation with them is full of laughs.” She paused. “You do not mind them that much, do you?”
“Oh, no,” August said quickly. “I like them. They are good women. I just noticed that they... like I said, they like to talk. I am glad that you feel comfortable with them.”
Over the past few months, Margaret had come further out of her shell. She’d started going to the women’s group at the church and she even attended a birthday party with August.
At first, this socializing had been hard for her. August had been able to tell as much just looking at her. Gradually, though, she became more and more comfortable.
“Are you ready for next week’s dance?” August asked.
“I believe so.” Margaret pulled her sunbonnet back on, and August took the basket from her so she could refasten the strings as she walked. “I do not know much about dancing, though.”
“We could practice ahead of time.”
She took the basket back from him. “I would like that very much.”
August nodded in pleasure. They were drawing closer to the Bain’s, but he was not ready to let her go inside just yet.
“Take a walk with me,” he said.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Margaret looked at the house. Muffin lay on the front steps, flicking her tail and watching the street’s activity.
“I have so much to do,” Margaret protested.
“I’ll take this inside for you.” August tried to take the basket from her, but she held on with a tight grip.
“August,” she laughed, “What is going on? Why are you behaving so oddly?”
“Because I am nervous,” he blurted out.
“Nervous? About what?”
A memory flooded his vision, and he remembered standing in the same street months ago, right after the January blizzard ended, and working up the courage to ask Margaret to allow him to court her. He’d been so nervous he’d thought he would not go through with it, but it turned out that anxiety was not nearly as bad as today’s.
Asking a woman to go sleigh riding was one thing. Asking her to share a meal or take a walk was another. What August was about to do... the question he needed to release...
Did he have what it took?
Looking in Margaret’s face, he found the answer. She was what he had sought his whole life. All the nerves in the world could not stop him from trying to make her his.
This time, he was gentle as he took the basket from Margaret’s hands and set it on the porch next to Muffin. His fear vanished, and the street around Margaret blurred. All he saw was her: the one thing that mattered.
Taking both her hands in his, he swallowed and did his best to speak from the heart.
“Margaret, I had initially planned to do this at the dance, but I found I could not wait another week. And then I thought I would do it tonight, but I saw you and found I could not wait even three more hours. I love you, Margaret Meyers. Tremendously.”
Instantly, tears filled Margaret’s eyes. She squeezed his hands. “I love you, too.”
It was the first time they’d said the words to each other, and August wanted to repeat them again and again. There would be time for that, though. Hopefully.
It all depended on how the next part of the conversation ended.
Letting go of one of her hands, August reached in his pocket, pulled out the ring box, and opened it. The diamond ring he had purchased the week before flashed in the late afternoon night.
Margaret’s eyes widened.
“I said I was nervous,” August said. “But I am not any longer, because I am so certain that what I am about to do is the right thing. Margaret Meyers, will you marry me?”
“Me?” Margaret breathlessly whispered.
August kept his eyes on hers as he nodded. “You.”
“Yes.” She grinned wide, tears flowing down her cheeks.
Joy burst through August, and he took the ring from the box and slipped it onto Margaret’s finger.
A mew sounded nearby, and they looked over at the steps. Muffin stretched and sat up.
“She brought us together,” August said. “In a way.”
“Yes,” Margaret mused. “How shall we repay here?”
“I think she is fairly happy as it is,” August said, watching as the cat moved to a spot in the sun and plopped down there. “What about you?”
Margaret glowed, the bright May day no comparison to the light shining from inside of her. Twining her fingers in August’s, she pulled him closer.
“You changed me,” she said quietly, her eyes intense. “I thought the world held no joy for me, and you brought me out of that darkness. You brought me into a brighter world.”
“It’s where you belong,” August said, running his thumb down her cheek.
He pulled her close. He kissed her. And the happiest of days began.
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The story goes on…
I hope you have as much fun reading this book as I have writing about it. If you wish to find out about the romance between Thea and Wakefield, you can head on to read:
Book 6 - Her Silent Burden
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Book 1 - Her Winding Path
Book 2 - Her Western Heart
Book 3 - Her Wild Journey
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Book 5 - Her Unexpected Destiny
Book 7 - Her Fearless Love
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