by Heather Gray
Gen stood up, the length of her gown reaching all the way to the floor. She looked elegant and alluring and… inviting. Richard searched her face. She gently tugged her hands from his grasp and reached them up to hold either side of his face. “Richard Blakely, will you please kiss me?”
Chapter Ten
A couple months had passed since that fateful night when Genevieve fell asleep on Richard’s sitting room sofa. She had remained committed to making time and space for him in her life. In doing so, Genevieve discovered that, as she invested time in her husband and got to know him better, her attraction for him only grew.
She and Richard were hosting the Sunday afternoon meal this week. The honor was a rite of passage in her family, an important part of their tradition. Their home still had a way to go before anyone would consider it truly childproof, but they were off to a good start. Breakable works of art had been removed from downstairs, and baby gates were scattered everywhere to keep the little ones out of rooms deemed unsafe, such as the kitchen.
As everyone began arriving, Genevieve threw open the front door and welcomed her family into the home she and Richard shared. There was a lot of ooh-ing and ah-ing. Jenny, by far, was the most taken with the show of wealth. Genevieve winced when she noticed one of Jake’s girls with grape jelly on her hands touching the wall and leaving a trail of purple grime behind. She glanced up in time to see Richard had noticed it too. He winked at her and smiled, and she was reassured, not for the first time, that everything was going to work out.
The menu was extensive with a little something for everyone. Pork loin served with roasted vegetables, ham with an orange glaze, grits with a tomato and bacon gravy, homemade buttermilk biscuits served with butter and honey, collard greens, and a watermelon fruit salad filled the table until Genevieve thought there wouldn’t be room for the people to sit. In what felt like the blink of an eye, the food was devoured.
Then the teasing began. “He doesn’t actually let you in the kitchen, does he?” “Does he know how many times you’ve caused one of us to go the hospital with food poisoning?” “Richard is a brave soul to eat anything you’ve touched!”
They were family, and the teasing felt wonderful to Genevieve. They’ve decided to like him. Despite the fact that she had pulled her entire family together and apologized to them for the way she’d handled the wedding, relations had still been awkward and a little tense between her husband and her family. She blamed herself for the rocky start, but as she watched them all interacting today, she knew they were moving in the right direction. Before long they’d be treating him just like one of the family, laughing at his foibles most days but standing in solidarity with him when the storms of life assail.
The main course came to a close, and Genevieve began dishing up strawberry shortcake for everyone when Jake said, “So, tell me, Richard, what made you fall in love with Gen?”
Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat. Truth be told, she was head-over-heels in love with her husband. She hadn’t yet told him so, and he’d never said the words to her, either. It had taken a while, but she’d finally decided she would be okay even if he never made a declaration of love. There was enough love in her heart, she figured, for both of them. Besides, even if Richard never said it, he still treated her with love, whether he realized it or not.
“Well, Jake,” her husband answered slowly. “It wasn’t just one thing that made me fall in love with your sister.” Genevieve kept her eyes down. She knew she’d make a spectacle of herself if she looked up. “There are, in fact, ten million reasons why I fell in love with her, and it happens to be my good fortune that I get to continue discovering new reasons to love her each and every day.”
****
Later that evening, after all the family had gone, Genevieve was sitting at a barstool in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee. Richard walked in and asked her, “Everything alright? You look miles away.”
She gave her husband a smile and said, “Everything’s fine.”
“Anything you want to ask me?”
When she looked up at him, she saw forever in his eyes. “This thing between us, it’s actually going to work, isn’t it?”
“If I have anything to say about it, yes. I meant what I said, Gen. I love you.”
“When did you first know?”
“Looking back, I’d say I was half in love with you by the time I finished reading your survey results,” he answered. “By the time you made fun of my girlie ice cream, I was already a lost cause. There was no turning back.”
“What if I’d turned down your proposal?”
“I would have let the money go. There was no one else I wanted as my wife. Winning your affections would have become my daily goal.” Moving in close to where she sat, he tipped her chin up so she was looking straight into his eyes. “I am incalculably blessed to have you in my life. I love you.”
Genevieve wrapped her arms around his middle and cuddled in close to her husband.
“Want to know when I started to fall in love with you?” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. Richard pulled back a bit, giving himself a better view of her face. Smiling, she said, “When you let me make fun of your girlie ice cream.”
After a heartbeat, he said, “That’s when you started. Have you finished falling in love yet?”
Genevieve shook her head, “Nope, not yet.” She saw the question in his eyes and didn’t have the heart to tease him for long. “I plan on spending the rest of my life falling in love with you a little bit more each day. I don’t ever want to be done.”
Richard leaned in. His fingers tangled in her hair as he claimed a kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. When he eventually pulled back, Gen looked into the endless blue of his eyes and asked, “So, about that clown college…?”
Richard’s laughter rang out around them and echoed through the house only to be silenced when his wife, hands on his shoulders, pulled him closer until their lips again met.
Acknowledgements
I want to express my gratitude for those who helped make Genevieve and Richard’s story possible. Had it been left to me, I’d have completely bungled any discussion of cross-country running. Thank you Jonathan Lewellyn for your help! Any remaining errors are wholly my own. I’d also like to say, “You rock!” to my husband, who made sure I got that coveted peace and quiet when I needed to concentrate on edits and the paperwork associated with having a book published.
About the Author
Aside from her long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather’s greatest joys in life are her relationship with her Savior, her family, and writing. Years ago, she decided she’d rather laugh than yell. Heather carries that theme over into her writing where she strives to create characters that experience both the highs and lows of life and, through it all, find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her.
Also from Heather Gray:
Chapter One
Larkspur, Idaho Territory
April 1878
Sarah had noticed a number of new faces in town over the past few days, and it was beginning to make her more than a bit uncomfortable. The new faces were all men. Sure, men outnumbered women in every frontier town, but Sarah had seen more than a dozen new men and had heard rumors that Mrs. Ginty’s boarding house was full-up, which had never happened before. Larkspur was a small frontier town in a territory sparsely populated, and Sarah had never before heard of Mrs. Ginty having to turn away customers.
New people in town can sometimes mean good news. Businesses certainly like having more customers. It can mean trouble, too, though, when the newcomers start to outnumber the homegrown townsfolk. Sarah had heard tell of towns where ruffians had swarmed in, taking over the town and practically holding the locals prisoner by sheer force of number. A small shudder overtook her at the thought of such brutality.
Sarah’s papa had well trained her how to take care of and provide for herself, but ever since he passed away, she had no
one to protect her should the need ever arise. Sighing, she forced her loneliness back down, beating it into submission by sheer force of will.
Keeping her eyes directed down, Sarah walked from the small house she had once shared with Papa. She was heading to the stage office for a long day of work and, with all these new people in town, did not want to make eye contact with the wrong individual. The workday hadn’t even yet begun, but Sarah couldn’t wait for the day to be finished. This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it, Sarah quoted in her mind as she reminded herself to be grateful. She was looking forward to sharing a meal with her dearest friend tonight. Dinner with the Smiths held much more appeal than another long day at the stage office. Visiting with Minnie and her folks was always delightful. Sarah also hoped Minnie’s father, who was mayor of Larkspur, might be able to shed some light on the flood of strange men showing up in town.
Sarah heard a commotion to her left. Before she could even raise her eyes to see what was going on, someone came barreling out from the mercantile and plowed right into her. Sarah’s feet flew out from under her, and she landed out in the street, far from the boardwalk on which she had a moment ago been walking. Before she could take stock of the situation to determine if she’d landed in mud or manure, at least a dozen hands were reaching out to help her up. Frightened by all of the men crowding in around her and not sure of their intentions, Sarah scrambled to her feet and backed up from the growing crowd. She did not recognize a single face from the group that continued to step closer to her.
As she scurried backward, Sarah ran right smack into a wall. She didn’t remember a wall being there in the middle of the street, but sure enough, she was trapped between the wall behind her and the wall of men walking toward her.
“Pardon me, gentlemen, but I think you have frightened the lady here.” Sarah stiffened as she heard the wall behind her speak. Her head whipped back and up. With the sun shining right into her eyes, she couldn’t see the face of her rescuer, but his voice was confidently calm, loud enough to carry to all of the men who had been reaching toward her without actually sounding as though he’d raised his voice. “Miss, are you okay?” It took Sarah a moment to realize the talking wall was speaking to her.
“Y-y-yes, thank you.” Sarah struggled to get the words out past a suddenly dry and scratchy throat.
“That was quite a fall you took. Are you sure you are alright?”
Glancing down at her dress, Sarah saw that, thankfully, she had landed on a dry patch of dirt and, though dusty, was not covered with mud or worse. She knew she would be sore later, but she was still in too much shock right now to feel the effects of her fall into the street. Thank goodness a horse or carriage had not been riding by at the time – she could have been badly hurt!
“Yes, sir, thank you. I am fine and must be on my way now.”
Sarah considered the path up Main Street toward her destination and saw what now appeared to be more than twenty men standing around ogling her. Completely beside herself with discomfort at the situation, she tried to take a step back only to be reminded of the talking wall behind her.
Without removing her eyes from the crowd of men, she spoke to the one behind her. “Pardon me, sir, but could I be so bold as to request your assistance in a small matter?”
There was a smile behind the man’s voice, Sarah was certain of it, as he softly answered, “I will accommodate you if I can, Miss. With what do you need assistance?”
Sarah felt the hint of a shiver she knew could not be attributed to the weather. It was either fear because of the men in front of her… or something else because of the man behind her. Not wanting to dissect her feelings quite yet, she uttered, “I need to pass these men to get to the stage office. I find that…” Sarah tried to think of a delicate way to say she wasn’t sure if she’d make it there safely if she went alone.
Before Sarah could even take a full breath, though, or find the correct words, she felt herself lifted by the waist and placed back up onto the boardwalk. The talking wall immediately joined her and offered his arm to her. Sarah tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, still not knowing the man’s name.
In the shade now, after having been blinded by the sun, Sarah took another glance up at her talking wall but still could not make out any features on the man’s face. She knew he was quite tall, but Sarah could not even identify the color of his hair, let alone any distinguishing features.
“I wonder what all of these men are doing in town. It’s a trifle disconcerting,” she said to the man walking beside her.
“Ah,” he replied. “I believe they are after the same thing most people are after.”
Not sure how to take that answer, Sarah asked, “What, then, is it most people are after?”
“Love.”
Sarah was surprised at the laugh that bubbled up inside of her, for she was the serious one, not prone to outbursts of laughter, or so she had always believed. Not sure what to think of her own laughter, she instead puzzled over the companion’s answer. She would not have associated a fanciful notion such as love with the talking wall that had rescued her.
She heard the smile in his voice again as he went on, “Either that, or someone to raise their children and do their laundry.”
“A wife then?” Sarah questioned. “Why would anyone come to Larkspur looking for a wife? We have no more women than any other town in the territory.” Certain the man beside her was having a joke at her expense, she waited for the punch line, but none was forthcoming. They arrived at the stage office where, without delay, Sarah unlocked the office door, stepped inside, and began opening the curtains.
“Thank you for escorting me. Could I offer you some coffee, Mr….” Hoping the talking wall would provide her with the information she sought, Sarah let her sentence hang. What she got for her effort was a deep-throated chuckle that seemed both sincere and humor-filled, and again she felt the joke was somehow at her expense.
Disgruntled, she put her satchel away and then stood there next to the percolator specifically not making any coffee. She gave him the best Do-As-I-Say look she could muster under the circumstances and made not a single move toward the coffee tin as she awaited his response. Sarah was shocking herself with her own audacity. Something about this man was making her act different, bolder. Sarah quickly decided she liked this new side of herself and that she also liked the man who drew it out of her.
“My apologies, Miss. You reminded me so much there of one of my cousins I couldn’t help but laugh. I sincerely meant no harm.”
Sarah relaxed her shoulders, somewhat mollified by his words.
“The pleasure of escorting you was all mine, I assure you. No thanks are necessary.”
As she continued to look at him pointedly, he held out one hand and began ticking off fingers as he spoke to himself in a voice intended to carry. “Let’s see. She thanked me for the escort, and I responded. When she didn’t like my laughing, I apologized. She offered me coffee… aha!” Looking up at her with a distinctive twinkle in his golden brown eyes, he said, “Why yes, Miss, I would enjoy a cup of coffee if it’s not too much trouble.” Winking at her, he added, “Samuel Livingston at your service.”
Sarah tried to be unaffected, but the way he swept his hat off and bowed as he introduced himself had her heart fluttering faster than a bumblebee in a field of clover. As for his wink, Sarah wasn’t sure which was more scandalous – the fact he winked or the way her heart raced at the sight of it.
****
The moment Sarah got the small stove lit, Cesar Martinez came into the office. “Good morning, Miss Jenkins.” He tipped his hat to her and asked, “What do you need me to do first this morning?”
Sarah instructed Cesar to sweep out the office and the front walk. She was going to send him on an errand, but she didn’t want him to go quite yet. Being alone with the talking wall no longer seemed the wisest choice. As Cesar collected the broom to start sweeping, Mr. Livingston hung his hat
on the hook near the front door and leaned against the counter behind which Sarah normally worked. His relaxed posture made him seem less formidable. Without his hat on, Sarah could get a good look at his face for the first time. Casually stepping behind the counter, she hoped to get a better view of her talking wall without being obvious.
“Are you alright, Miss?” asked Mr. Livingston. Sarah nodded and glanced over to where the coffee was not quite ready. He was, by her own design, directly in her line of sight. All hope for an unobtrusive glance at her rescuer quickly fled as she absorbed the sight of him with all her senses. She was stunned to realize how beautiful he was. Never before had she seen a man whose mere presence took her breath away. Her heart no longer fluttered like a bumblebee. It thumped like a herd of wild mustangs.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Sarah allowed his image play across her mind’s eye. He was tall, but she’d already known that. He had intense eyes, chocolate brown at the outer edge and pure glittering gold around the pupil. His hair was cut short but remained just unruly enough to hint at being curly, and it, too, was filled with various hues of gold. He was tan but not the weather-worn dark tan of a rancher or farmer. He had a strong jaw, a straight nose, and lips that curled up in laughter even when he wasn’t laughing. He was dressed like a businessman, only flashier. The suit he wore was a fairly traditional grey, but his vest was bright red. He had a flair about him that Sarah could not quantify. One thing was certain, though. Sarah was sure she would drown in those eyes, forever losing herself, if she stared too long.
“Are you alright, Miss?” Mortified at her own imaginings and wandering mind – something she was definitely not prone to – Sarah tried to control her staring eyes and nodded, then quickly blushed. Feeling the heat of embarrassment climb up her neck and into her cheeks, she quickly turned her back on the man and went back over to where the coffee was percolating. Grabbing two mugs, she filled them both, handing one to Mr. Livingston and taking the other back over to her work counter. As she set her mug down she realized the brew appeared no stronger than what you might give a baby to drink. Groaning inwardly, Sarah hoped the man liked weak coffee. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t weak coffee. It was colored water!