by Nicole Deese
“One is all I would have needed.” He kissed the arch of my brow and then the tip of my nose. “You’re amazing.”
“I think you’re amazing.”
“We could argue this all day and still, I would win,” he said.
“Spoken like a man.”
“In love.” He stroked his thumbs down the sides of my neck. “Spoken like a man in love.” And then he kissed me until I no longer cared about winning or losing or playing games of any kind at all.
The bang of the front door signaled the end to our kiss.
“It’s time, Patrick,” I said on a wavering breath.
He wrapped an arm around my waist and cinched me closer, lowering his mouth to my ear. “Just a little longer.”
I pressed my head into his chest. “Just a little longer.”
It was those words that would stay with me in the days and weeks and months ahead—those words that boosted my hope and soothed my heartache. They were the words that reminded me that winter only lasts for a season.
And this year, I was ready for spring.
Epilogue
My daughter was a die-hard sign carrier.
We had been standing in baggage claim for nearly seventeen minutes and not once had she lowered her carefully colored WELCOME HOME poster. And I knew she wouldn’t, not until she saw her favorite overseas pen pal. Patrick had faithfully sent her a postcard each week he was gone—and all sixteen of them were taped to the back of her bedroom door.
At the sight of a new rush of people coming down the escalators, Savannah stood on her tiptoes, as if the neon sign with Patrick’s name could somehow be missed.
“What if he forgets what we look like?”
“He won’t, baby.”
“Does he know you work at my school now—that people have to call you Miss Hart?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “He knows.”
A marching band, all wearing school uniforms that could double as bumblebee costumes, swarmed the carousel next to us searching for their luggage.
She rocked back on her heels, no longer able to see over the mass of yellow and black.
“Maybe I can bring him for my show-and-tell next week?”
“You’ll have to ask him about—” My words were cut short.
Patrick.
Savannah tossed her sign to the ground and charged toward the foot of the escalators, her arms and legs pumping at the same speed as my heart. He lifted her into the air with ease and used one very tan arm to secure her to his side.
I paused as I watched her cling to him. She planted a hard smack of a kiss to his right cheek and giggled when he returned the gesture. It was a sight that made the last one hundred twenty-four days of his absence worth every single lovesick second.
Until this moment, I’d been certain that the man I’d committed to memory months ago would be the same man I would pick up at the airport.
But I was wrong.
This man’s smile was brighter, his hair longer, his skin darker, his eyes . . .
His eyes were an endless layering of blues. As if every patch of sky he’d seen, and every span of ocean he’d crossed, had taken up residence there.
Patrick had told me once that it takes seeing the world through someone else’s eyes to realize where you fit inside it . . . I hadn’t understood it at the time.
But I did now. When our eyes met, I could see exactly where I fit.
And then the last few feet of the distance separating us was erased and our arms were tangled in a triangle-shaped hug.
Savannah patted the top of Patrick’s head and then squirmed out of his hold.
“Well?” she demanded when her feet touched the floor. “Aren’t you gonna kiss her?”
His smile sent a rush of heat to the center of my chest.
He pulled me closer. “I was sure planning on it.”
Savannah clapped as he dipped me low and kissed me fully.
Unlike every kiss we’d shared in the past, this kiss wasn’t tainted by a pending good-bye.
This kiss was a welcome home.
Acknowledgments
God: So thankful you are the author of my life.
My husband, Tim: Do you remember that time we moved three thousand miles cross-country exactly one week before I started writing A Season to Love? And do you remember how you made every single trip to the grocery store for three months straight so that I could hole up in my writing cave? And do you remember how you managed our household, worked a full-time job, and bought me case after case of La Croix Sparkling Water because you knew it made me the happiest girl ever—all so I could make my deadline? Well, I do. And I will never, EVER forget the ways you have loved me. You are my greatest blessing. I love you.
My boys: Your patience, understanding, and free back rubs are only a small part of why I think you two are the best kiddos in the world. I pray that someday I will be able to encourage you in your dreams the way you have encouraged me in mine.
My family: Mom, Dad, Ashley, Daniel, and the entire Deese tribe, thank you for your unwavering support. You are a huge part of my life story. I love each of you so very much.
Tammy Gray: THIS BOOK WOULD NOT EXIST WITHOUT YOU. Though I am sometimes (cough, cough) prone to exaggeration, the statement above is 100 percent accurate. If I could add up all the hours we’ve spent calling, texting, and e-mailing each other over the writing and revision process of A Season to Love, I would be looking at months. Your generosity, honesty, and die-hard spirit are the foundation of what has become an irreplaceable friendship. Thank you for telling me the hard stuff first so that I could believe the good stuff later. Thank you for saying, “Give me more Patrick!” ten dozen times in the first draft, and thank you for reminding me of my “why” on the days I wanted to turn off my laptop and bury it in the ground. So glad God set us up when he did.
Amy Matayo: Thank you to my “writer wife” for giving me some epic moments of comic relief during the writing of Willa’s story. There is no text too random, no conversation too ridiculous, no topic too off-limits . . . and that’s just the way we like it. I love our kind of crazy. Looking forward to many, many, many more years of friendship and fun.
Kristin Avila: Your titles have increased over the last few years—editor, writer, beta reader, office supply enthusiast—but I will always, always think of you first and foremost as my fabulously organized friend. There is little you haven’t done for me, like when you showed up at RWA with all the things you knew I’d never think to pack (and you were right!), or when our flight was cancelled and you were willing to drive us eight hours if the airline couldn’t rebook, or how even after I moved many states away, you still send me all the latest happenings in our industry along with reminder e-mails so I don’t miss a deadline. Thank you a million times over.
My agent, Jessica Kirkland: Praise the Lord for unlimited mobile-to-mobile minutes. Our conversations are never short on words but always full on heart. Thank you for your wisdom, friendship, and authenticity. Looking forward to our next getaway weekend. (I’ll bring the gluten-free cupcakes this time!)
My editor, Kristin Mehus-Roe: Thank you so much for your thoughtful corrections and feedback on A Season to Love. Your edits pushed this story to the next level and your overall care and concern for these characters shined through each and every comment. I hope our paths cross again.
Amy Hosford, Associate Publisher, Waterfall Press: Thank you for believing in A Season to Love (and in small-town romance) and for encouraging me to write from my heart. I’m so grateful to have found a home at Waterfall.
Waterfall Press: I LOVE being a part of your team! Thank you for caring as much about your authors as you do about the work they produce.
Beta readers: Amy Matayo, Ashley Brahms, Britni Nash, Carmen Hendewerk, Christa Allan, Conni Cossette, Jenny Jones, Joanie Schultz, Kacy Koffa, Kristin Avila, Lara Arkin, Nicki Davis, Rebekah Zollman, Renee Deese, Sarah Price, Tammy Gray. Thank you!!!
Jennifer and John Fromke: Thank you for an
swering my many obnoxious medical questions while on family vacation!
Melissa McClenathan: Thank you for replying to exactly 5,490 text messages on teacherly stuff and never once telling me to go find it on Google.
Real Life home group: For your many, many prayers and for your eagerness to befriend the “new girl.” So blessed to have you in my life.
About the Author
Photo © 2014 Renee Deese, Renascent Photography
Nicole Deese is a lover of fiction and writes contemporary romance with an inspirational twist. She is the Kindle bestselling author of the Letting Go series and A Cliché Christmas, the first book in her new Love in Lenox series. She lives in northern Idaho with her husband and two sons.
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