“I’m already home,” Adrienne whispered into his ear. She was only vaguely aware of the applause that rolled through the room.
Not wanting to let her go, Will reluctantly stepped back to his position as best man.
Pastor Vernon reopened his Bible. “Now, if no one else has any objections, I’d like to continue.” He gestured to Sara. “I believe you have something to share?”
Sara nodded, then unfolded the letter in her hands with trembling fingers.
Dear William,
For many years I wondered what my life would be like if the man I loved were beside me. Many days I stared down an empty road, hoping you would somehow appear. Many nights I cried myself to sleep. For all the wondering and dreaming I’ve done, it doesn’t compare to the joy in my heart. I promise to redeem the years. We may be old; our bodies may be tired and worn down. But I make you this promise: We will live, William. We’ll devour every opportunity given to us. And if I’m whisked away on the wings of angels before you are, I’ll leave you letters.
Tenderly, old hands found their way to her rosy cheeks, now wet with her own tears. Pops kissed her with all the passion of a man half his age.
After the vows, Pastor Vernon closed his Bible. “I now pronounce you man and wife.” With a half-grin, he gestured to Pops. “You may kiss the bride.”
“Now, turn and face the congregation while I present you,” Pastor Vernon said, gesturing toward the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, please congratulate Mr. and Mrs. William Bryant.”
William and Sara made their way to the back, a shower of flower petals cascading over them as they passed each row.
Adrienne and Will came together in the front.
Pastor Vernon gestured toward Will. “I can run a fifty percent off special if you two would like to go ahead and tie the knot,” he joked.
“I’m sorry for the interruption earlier.” Will put an arm around Adrienne.
The preacher, who’d known the family since Will was old enough to get into fights on the church baseball field, smiled. “Never apologize for love. I think you gave your grandfather a terrific present by ruining his wedding.”
His joke was lost on Will as he stared into the deep, brown, sultry eyes he loved. “No thanks on the offer. Adrienne’s wedding is going to be for her alone. Whatever she wants, wherever she wants.”
And he pulled her into his arms, burying his head in the soft throat that was truly, finally his.
Much later that evening, Will and Adrienne sat on the beach, still in their wedding attire. The warm embrace of love surrounded them, shielding them from the coolness of the air that danced off the Gulf water. Her toes were dotted with sand, as were his. Their shoes had been discarded nearby. The sun played on the sea, causing it to look like diamonds spread on silk.
“What about Hawaii?” She tipped her head so that she could look at him.
“What about it?” he teased.
“For a wedding?”
“I’d love to go!” He threw her a sidelong glance. “Whose wedding is it anyway?”
“Ours.”
His heart jumped at those words. Ours. Adrienne would be his wife. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Miss Carter. But I’m afraid we can’t possibly get married.”
“And why is that?”
“Haven’t you heard? We aren’t even dating. It would be completely scandalous.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and left her chair to kneel in front of him. Her hands slid over his thighs, a sly grin on her face. “It would.” She nuzzled her head into the deep hollow of his throat. “Didn’t we agree that neither of us have enough scandal in our lives?” She forced out hot breath with each word—purposely—and the action had the desired effect.
His body shuddered. “Well,” he growled, catching a handful of her hair in his hand. “For the sake of scandal.”
Present day
Will pulled his daughter closer into the circle of his arms, drawing as much strength from her as she drew from him. A funeral wasn’t the place for a three-year-old, but he’d insisted. “Will Great-Grandma Sara wake up?” Her eyes flitted to the casket once again.
They’d tried to explain, but death in terms of toddler life experience was impossible. When her toys died, Daddy put new batteries in them and they were good as new. Adrienne took Will’s arm. “We should have left her with Sammie,” she whispered.
He shook his head, gave his wife a sad smile. “No. She’ll remember this—not all of it, but some. It’s important for her to experience and to remember.”
Adrienne slid her arm through his and squeezed. “How is Pops, really?”
Will glanced over her head to his grandfather, who stood between Will’s mom and dad. As if knowing his grandson sought assurance from him, Pops looked over and winked. But the light had left Pops’s eyes, and Will tried to resist the truth that he wouldn’t have him much longer. “He’s strong.”
Three-year-old SaraAnn squirmed in her daddy’s arms. “Can I go to Grandma Peggy?”
Peg heard and reached her arms out to take her grandchild.
Will’s hands were now empty, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them, so he pulled his wife closer and gently rubbed his fingers along her arm.
Pastor Vernon began to speak. “Seven years ago, I joined a man and woman in matrimony. They had the most endearing love story I’ve ever heard. Though they spent most of their time right here in Florida, during their seven years as man and wife, they visited three continents and countless countries. Sara Ambrosia Bryant was born July 11, 1928. Like Sarah of the Bible, she was gifted late in life with a family. Sara is survived by her husband, William Bryant; a son and daughter-in-law, Charles and Peg Bryant of Bonita Springs; grandson and wife, Will and Adrienne Bryant of Naples; and a great-grandchild, of the home. Sara loved fishing in the Gulf of Mexico. She and William would often take off on a fishing excursion early Saturday morning and not return until late that night. She caught a trophy sailfish last year, one her husband swears only bit on her line to torture him.”
The pastor talked on, but Will turned his attention to Pops, who’d stood stoic throughout the service. When the memorial ended and they stepped outside, Will noticed Pops fumbling with something in his pocket.
“What have you got there?”
Pops stared down at the boat key. “Thought I’d go out for a bit this evening.”
Concern drew Will’s brows together. A cold wind whistled up his pant leg, setting his flesh on alert. Will stared up at the winter sky. “It’s supposed to be cooler tonight, Pops. Why don’t you wait and I’ll go with you in the morning?”
Pops turned to face him fully, and something, some deep-seated reserve, caused the chill to pass through Will’s entire body. “Nope. Going myself this time.”
Will had fought the onset of tears and wasn’t sure why now they insisted on burning his nose and stinging his eyes. “Really, Pops. I’d like to go. I’ll go with you tonight. The grass will be slick when we get home.”
But there was peace in his grandfather’s voice as he spoke. “I’m eighty-eight, Will. I’ve lived through a war and buried the love of my life twice. I’m not afraid of a little wet grass.” Quietly, he added. “I’m not afraid to live. And I’m not afraid to die.”
Panic caused the sobs to tighten in Will’s throat. He tried to speak, but fear so thoroughly froze him, no words came. Finally, he was able to say, “Pops. The dream.” And this broke him. His tortured voice matched the terror inside his heart.
“How many times have I told you that’s not the way I go?” He looked up at the sky, filled with encroaching clouds. “Me and the good Lord had a long talk about this some time back. One night I’ll close my eyes and . . . ”
He waited for Will to finish it for him. “And awaken in Glory.”
Pops smiled.
But whether that day was today, a week from now, or a year from now, Will wasn’t ready for it. There seemed so many things he should say. “I love you, Pops.”
But his grandfather had already turned and started to walk away. “Love you too, boy.” When he threw the look over his shoulder, Will saw it, the glint of a younger man looking out from Pops’s eyes. “Take care of Adrienne.”
Will’s fist pressed hard against his mouth.
“And don’t let SaraAnn forget about me, okay?”
Pops was a blur through the tears. Will couldn’t answer. His head gave a shaky nod.
Later, much later that night, he heard the whine of the boat motor as he smoothed the hair from SaraAnn’s face, tucking her into bed. “Tell me a story, Daddy?”
Somehow, Will found his words. “Once upon a time, there was a very brave soldier named William Bryant . . . ”
He’d barely gotten into the story when Adrienne came running into the room. “Will, I hear the boat.”
SaraAnn didn’t notice her momma’s panic.
Will watched as his wife rushed to the window and clung to the sill. He came over and placed his arms around her waist. “It’s Pops. He’s taking the boat out.”
Her eyes widened in fear. “It’s night, Will. The dream.”
But he didn’t answer, didn’t explain, just stared out the window as running board lights disappeared, swallowed by the canal.
Frustration caused her to push away from him. “What are you doing?”
When the first tear trickled onto his cheek, she quickly moved back into his arms. “I’m learning to let go.”
At 5:15, they got the call from the Coast Guard. The unmanned thirty-two-foot cuddy cabin was moored on Grace Island, one of Pops and Sara’s favorite fishing spots. At 5:32, the coroner, a family friend, stopped by. “It’s the strangest thing, Will. Your grandfather was lying on the beach like he was taking a nap, and I swear there was a smile on his face. I can’t see any reason why he died.” He rubbed a beard-stubbled chin. “The boat was tied, no signs of foul play. It’s like he just stretched out to watch the stars, closed his eyes, and—”
“And awakened in Glory.”
“We’ll know more after the autopsy.”
Will shook his hand. “He’s with Sara. I know everything I need to know. Thanks, Dr. Baker.”
Open windows filled the house with fresh air. Adrienne stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing the vegetables SaraAnn had picked from the garden. The five-year-old scurried outside to play when a fat squirrel entered her sphere of vision.
Adrienne laughed. “She still believes she’ll catch that squirrel.”
Will slid his hands around his wife, open palms grazing her growing belly and loving the fact their family was about to welcome a new member. He nuzzled her ear. “She’s curious, like her mother.”
She half-turned toward him, resting her head against his chest. “And stubborn, like her father.”
With the pad of his thumb, he tilted her chin so he could gaze into her eyes. “You know, I’ve heard of men being attracted to pregnant women. I never fully understood until now.”
She blinked innocently. “You weren’t attracted to me when I was pregnant with SaraAnn?”
He scowled. “Ridiculously. But I think it’s getting worse. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
A throaty giggle escaped her lips. “Well, who asked you to?”
He captured her mouth with his. Will angled so his body rested against hers. He lingered there, in that kiss, tasting the woman he loved until a swift knock hit him in the lowest part of his stomach.
Adrienne rubbed a hand over her belly. “Slugger’s got quite a kick.”
Will bent at the waist and addressed his unborn child. “Another few weeks, and she’s all yours. But until you make your appearance, she’s mine.” He kissed her stomach, stood up, kissed her cheek, then dove for her mouth again, losing himself in her essence.
Later that night, Will sat at the antique bureau in their bedroom overlooking the canal. Beyond the open window, waves lapped the sides of the boat, and a strong breeze carried the scents of autumn. Throughout his life, he’d learned many things. But the one that most surprised him was the power of the written word. And that’s why at night, when his family slept, he sat at the bureau and wrote letters.
Dear SaraAnn,
I’m watching you grow up before my eyes, and sometimes I wonder if I’m giving you all the advice you need. Life can be hard, but it’s also beautiful. I expect you’ll have your share of both, as we all do. But no matter what roads you travel, just one turn can lead you back home.
You and your momma are the loves of my lifetime. One day, I hope you’ll find yours. Until then, make every day count. Live a life you’ll be proud of. Be strong when life is a war. And be soft when a friend needs an understanding ear. Be yourself, SaraAnn, because there’s nothing more beautiful than you. Of all the things I may be able to teach you, this one lesson is most important. Life is to be lived.
Your biggest fan,
Daddy
I wrote this book and placed it on a shelf. It was a book of my heart, and I was content to leave it there. But there were three people who read it and weren’t satisfied with that. They insisted One Lavender Ribbon should be shared. For that, I thank you: Diane; my husband, John; and Julie Palella—who told me One Lavender Ribbon was her favorite book that she’d ever read. Those words forced me to lift it from the shelf, dust off the cobwebs, and dive back into the story of Adrienne, Will, Pops, and Sara. I’m so glad I did.
JoVon, thanks for your work, thoughts, ideas, and an unstoppable amount of enthusiasm.
Kelli, you took this book, nurtured it, cherished it, and helped mold it into something beyond what I dreamed. Your encouragement has made me a stronger writer, and your commitment to the project made it a much more powerful read. Thanks for being on this journey with me. If the pages sing, it’s your song they’re playing.
Sarah Sundin, thank you for sharing your knowledge of World War II and for being a beta reader for me. I’m so glad we connected.
A special thank-you to every man and woman who is now serving or who has ever served in the armed forces. You place your lives on the line so we can live without fear. You are my heroes.
Photo © 2012 Melinda Hanks
Heather Burch writes full-time and lives near the beach in Southern Florida. Her debut novel was released to critical acclaim in 2012 and garnered praise from USA Today, Booklist Magazine, Romantic Times, and Publishers Weekly. Living in a house where she’s the only female, Heather is intrigued by the relationships that form among men, especially soldiers. Her heartbeat is to tell unforgettable stories of love and war, commitment and loss . . . stories that make your heart sigh.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
One Lavender Ribbon Page 29