I was enraptured.
In retrospect, I don’t know how long the balloon ride lasted. I do know that it must’ve gone on for at least an hour, possibly two. We never left the beauty of the mountains, though we drifted past the famous Biltmore House and Gardens, and then past lakes and valleys and rivers and streams and even a city or two. When we finally began to land, I didn’t know where we were. It was another field, another limo was waiting, and then we were escorted to the comfort of the massive vehicle and whisked away down the road. This time I didn’t look out the window. I simply wrapped myself in Tom’s arms, my head against his shoulder, my eyes closed tight.
“Thank you for that,” I whispered. “Thank you more than you’ll ever know.”
I tilted my chin up and kissed him again, much more gently and sweetly this time. As we kissed, I thought about how I loved the feel of him, the very taste of him. Though he was here and he was real, there was something about the entire day that was so unreal, probably because we had waited for it for so long.
I didn’t know what our destination would be, but finally we slowed and turned onto a driveway of shells, crunching along as we pulled through overgrown oak trees and up a gentle incline. It looked like a farm of sorts. We drove along a white wooden split rail fence, passing a small pond with two ducks floating on the surface. As we climbed, the driveway curved to the right, and up ahead I could see a huge house lined on one side with giant picture windows. The leaves on a weeping willow tree blew gently in the breeze next to a stone terrace.
We drove around to the far side, and that’s when I realized that this wasn’t one big house as I had thought, but rather three separate, smaller homes connected by covered walkways.
“Where are we?” I asked.
The car came to a stop, and a man and a woman appeared from the smallest of the three buildings, let us out, introduced themselves, and began unloading our things from the trunk. I watched as the man carried my suitcases toward the house on the right.
Taking my hand, Tom led me to the one on the left, up the steps and into the room with the massive picture windows. From there we looked out over a long, sweeping lawn, the pond down below, and more mountains visible in the distance. In a side pasture, I spotted several horses grazing among giant oak trees. Tom gave me a tour of the elegantly furnished home, taking me full circle through the entire place and ending on the terrace outside.
“Believe it or not, the view from the guest house, where you’ll be staying, is even better,” he said. “And don’t hesitate to ask the Millers if you need anything. They live here full time as the caretakers.”
I took it all in, wondering how I could tell him that while all of this was wonderful, none of it really mattered. I didn’t need the things. I just needed him.
“Where are we?” I asked again. “This place is beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it? It belongs to a friend of mine. He said we’re welcome to use it while he’s out on tour.”
“On tour?”
“With his little band.”
He winked and hummed a few bars of a familiar song, but I couldn’t quite place the tune. Eyes twinkling, he brought me out to the pasture to meet the horses, picking a green apple from a nearby tree and holding it out over the fence.
“This is Paula,” Tom said, introducing me to a chestnut mare who trotted over and grabbed the apple from his hand. “And that one’s Simon.”
Paula? Simon? I thought again of the tune he’d hummed and then laughed, remembering what it was, a hit from one of the past winners of American Idol. Leave it to Tom to be on house-sharing terms with a pop star.
Shaking my head in wonder, I held out an apple to Simon, who took it greedily from my hands. When a third horse ambled up from the back pasture, I looked at Tom and said, “That’s Randy, no doubt?” He simply nodded and grinned.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, Tom turned to me and spoke.
“Now that we’re finally here, Callie, my greatest hope is that we can spend some time just hanging out. I need to rest, and I’m sure you do too. I don’t want us to think about anything but each other.”
I looked up at him, and in his eyes I thought I could see so much. I could see his sweetness. I could see the future. I could see love.
“Are you scared?” I asked, reaching out to pat the horse’s flank.
Tom gazed at me for a long moment before looking away.
“I’m scared I might disappoint you,” he said. “I’m scared you might decide you want nothing more to do with me once you know everything there is to know.”
I laughed.
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Callie, things aren’t quite as simple as they seem. As you get to know me better, there might be elements of my job, of my past, that are difficult for you to hear.”
I held out another apple to Paula, and she grabbed it from my hand, crunching it loudly with big square teeth.
“We’re not kids, Tom,” I said softly. “We both come to this with full, rich histories of our own. I look forward to learning about you—to learning everything about you, in time. Your past has made you who you are. That’s all.”
He nodded and reached out for Simon, who stepped forward and nuzzled his chin against Tom’s hand. Beside me, I thought I could feel Tom’s muscles slowly relax.
“So how about you?” he asked. “Are you scared?”
“Sure I am,” I said, glancing at him and then turning my gaze back to the horses. “Most of all, I’m scared I won’t ever hear the words you’re thinking, the words I know you’re just dying to say.”
Now it was his turn to laugh.
“Oh, yeah? How do you know what I’m dying to say?”
“I just know,” I told him. “I know because it shows in everything you do.”
Growing serious, he turned to face me and took my hands in his.
“You’re right,” he said simply. “There is one thing I have been wanting to say. I love you, Callie.”
To my surprise, tears filled his eyes. I reached up and touched the side of his face. He was no longer some far and distant dream but a reality, standing in front of me, needing to hear the words I also longed to say.
“Ah, Tom,” I replied. “Don’t you know? I love you too.”
Contact the Author
Mindy Starns Clark is the bestselling author of 17 books, with Harvest House:
The Million Dollar Mysteries Series
A Penny for Your Thoughts
Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
A Dime a Dozen
A Quarter for a Kiss
The Buck Stops Here
A Smart Chick Mystery Series
The Trouble with Tulip
Blind Dates Can Be Murder
Elementary, My Dear Watkins
Standalone Mysteries
Whispers of the Bayou
Shadows of Lancaster County
Under the Cajun Moon
Secrets of Harmony Grove
The Women of Lancaster County Series
The Amish Midwife (cowritten with Leslie Gould)
The Amish Nanny (cowritten with Leslie Gould)
Nonfiction
The House That Cleans Itself
A Pocket Guide to Amish Life
Gift Book
Simple Joys of the Amish Life (cowritten with
Georgia Varozza and illustrated by Laurie Snow Hein)
Mindy is also a popular inspirational speaker and playwright. Originally from Louisiana, she now lives with her husband and two daughters near Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.
Visit Mindy’s website for more information about the Million Dollar Mysteries, including book club questions, fun freebies, and many other exciting extras.
www.mindystarnsclark.com
About the Publisher
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To learn more about books by Mindy Starns Clark
and to read sample chapters, log on to our website:
www.harvesthouse
publishers.com
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
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A Dime a Dozen Page 33