by Sharon Sala
Glory savored the words, hoping they were true. Had she and Wyatt truly found each other, or would he be saying goodbye now that she was safe?
“So, what are your plans now that the worst is behind you?” Toni asked.
Glory shrugged. “I have none, other than to rebuild my life.”
A little surprised by the singular way in which she’d expressed her plans, Toni couldn’t help but ask, “You sound as if you’re planning to do this alone.”
Glory paused, considering the best way to express her feelings, yet unashamed to admit what they were.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. “What happens between us now is not up to me. It’s up to Wyatt. He knows how I feel.” And then she smiled slightly. “In fact, most of the time he also knows what I think. I’m supposed to be the psychic and he reads my mind.”
Toni’s eyebrows arched, and she squeezed Glory’s hand just a little, as if in jest. “You’re kidding, of course.”
“No, I’m not.”
Toni gasped. “Really? He can do that?”
Glory shrugged. “For some reason, we now share more than a few pints of blood.”
“Good Lord!”
Toni looked back at Lane as he stood talking to her brother, trying to imagine what it would be like to live with someone and have him know her every thought. And then something occurred to her, and she started to smile.
“So…my big brother knows what you think?”
“He sure does.”
Toni put her hands on her hips and gave Glory a wicked smile. “Then give him something to think about. Let him in on some…uh, innermost thoughts, then see if he’s man enough to take them.”
The idea was audacious, just like Toni. She couldn’t help but grin. “You’re a lot like Wyatt, aren’t you?”
“How so?” Toni asked.
“You don’t waste time on details. You just jump in with both feet?”
Toni grinned even wider. “Well now, I didn’t know I was so transparent, but if you need an answer, then I guess all you need to do is look at Lane Monday. I wanted that man from the time I pulled him out of a flood.” And then she paused, and grinned even broader. “I need to amend that slightly. I wanted him, but I was willing to settle for making a baby with him.”
Glory couldn’t hide her shock. “Good Lord, Wyatt was right.”
“How so?” Toni asked.
“He said once Lane met you, he never had a chance…or words to that effect.”
“Like I said,” Toni reminded her. “If you want something but don’t give it a try, you have only yourself to blame.”
“Hey, you two, time’s up,” Wyatt shouted. “You’ve had time enough to plot the fall of man.”
“Just about,” Toni whispered, and winked at Glory.
Glory shivered with anticipation, and then started to smile.
“I’m glad you came,” she said softly.
Toni hugged her. “So am I, Glory. So am I.”
It was well toward evening on the second day of the dig when the revelation came. Birds, disturbed from their normal scavenging, were circling the air above the pit where the garbage was being moved. Yard by yard, earth was scooped then dumped as they continued their search.
Anders Conway stood on the precipice, wondering if he’d made a mistake by putting his cards on the table too soon by calling in the state police, and wondering how he was going to explain his mistake when someone shouted, and another man started running toward him, waving him down.
Wyatt stood alone, watching from a distance away as the men began to converge upon their latest location. Even though he was high above the spot and hundreds of yards away, Wyatt could tell they’d found what they’d been looking for.
He took a long, slow breath, and said a quiet prayer, thankful that Glory wasn’t here to witness it. Even from this distance, he could tell that what they found wasn’t pretty. The once-white spread she’d been wrapped in was a stiff, dirty brown, and what was left of Betty Jo Foster was even worse. He turned away. He didn’t need to see anymore.
“By God, Hatfield, they found her!” Conway said, as he came up and out of the pit a short time later.
Wyatt nodded. “I saw.”
Conway looked around, expecting to see Glory Dixon somewhere nearby with a satisfied expression on her face.
“She didn’t come with you today?”
“No,” Wyatt said. “We were up late last night visiting with Lane and my sister. They left for home early this morning. Glory wanted to sleep in.”
Conway nodded. “I guess it’s just as well, but I thought she’d be here…wanting to know if the body was down there after all.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Wyatt said. “She didn’t need to come for that. It was making you believe enough to look for the body that mattered. When your people started to dig, her worries were over. It was inevitable that you’d find what she already knew was there.”
“You came,” Conway said. “Does that mean you didn’t believe her?”
Wyatt’s smile never quite reached his eyes. “Oh, no. I came to make sure you didn’t quit on her.”
Conway flushed. “I suppose I had that coming.”
“I think I’ll be going now,” Wyatt said. “Looks like you’ve got everything under control.”
“Looks like,” the chief said, but when Wyatt started walking away, Conway called him back.
“Hey, Wyatt!”
He paused, and then turned.
“I don’t know how she does it,” Conway muttered.
This time, Wyatt’s smile was a little less angry. “Neither does she, Chief. Neither does she.”
By the time they had Betty Jo Foster bagged and out of the pit, Wyatt was already gone.
Glory was down in the creek below the cabin, wading through the ankle-deep water with her jeans rolled up to her knees and her shoes in her hand. The soft, gentle breeze that had come with morning did not blow down here. Leaves drooped silently on heavily laden branches as an occasional dragonfly dipped and swooped only inches above the water. She moved without purpose, content only with the cool, constant flow between her toes and the ease that comes from knowing she belonged.
A squirrel scolded from somewhere in the canopy above her head, and she closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath, realigning herself with the world in which she’d been born. Enclosed within the confines of the steep rocky banks, once again she felt safe and cleansed.
It would take longer for the anger to go away, and even longer before she learned how to live with the pain of her loss, but the guilt that had held her hostage was gone.
Something brushed against her ankle. She opened her eyes and looked down, smiling as tiny tadpoles wiggled past. And then something else, just below the surface of the water, caught her eye. As she stooped to look, her braid fell over her shoulder, baptizing the ends in the cool, Kentucky stream.
Her heart began to beat with excitement as she lifted a perfect arrowhead out of the creek.
“Oh, my gosh! J.C. is going to love…”
Realization struck. Staggered by the pain of loss, her lip trembled as she clutched it tightly in her fist. The time had come and gone for adding to her brother’s beloved collection. Glory held it between her fingers, staring down at the cool gray piece and its perfect triangular shape.
Someday, there’d be another boy who was as fascinated by the past as her brother had been. The arrowhead should be there, waiting for him to find. She held her breath and let it go, watching as it turned end over end, dropping into the water and then settling, once again, into the rocks.
And then she heard someone calling her name and looked up. Wyatt was standing at the top of the bank. She could tell by the look on his face that it was over. Without looking back, she stepped out of the water and started up the bank with her shoes in her hand. He met her halfway.
“I got your mail when I came by the box,” he said. “There’s a letter from your lawyer. It’s on the
table.”
Refusing to cry anymore, she stifled a sob, and just held him.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I am now,” she said. “Help me up the bank.”
But before they moved, he tilted her chin, forcing her to look him in the face.
“Would you like to go see your granny again?”
A smile of delight spread from her eyes to her face.
“Could I?”
“Honey, you name it, it’s yours.”
“Be careful what you say,” she warned. “I may ask for more than you want to give,” then laughed at the shock on his face.
It was as if the old woman hadn’t moved since they’d been there last. She sat in the same chair, in the same clothes, with the same lost expression in her eyes. Staring out a window into a world from which she’d withdrawn, she rocked without thought, moving only when the urge struck her.
“Granny.”
Faith Dixon blinked, and then turned her head toward the pair at the door.
“Comp’ny? I got comp’ny?”
“It’s me, Granny. It’s Glory.”
Identity clicked as she smiled. “Well, come on in,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”
As before, Glory knelt at her granny’s feet as Wyatt took the only other chair.
“Did you bring my gingersnaps?” she asked, and then cackled with glee when Wyatt promptly handed over a small white sack bulging with a fresh spicy batch straight from the bakery in Larner’s Mill.
“I’ll save some of these for your daddy,” she said. “My Rafe does love cookies.”
It hurt Glory just to hear his name. But she knew that keeping silent about the truth was the best thing for all concerned.
“Yes, he does, doesn’t he, Granny?”
The old woman nodded, and then patted Glory’s head. “He’s lookin’ real good, don’t you think?”
A frown marred Glory’s forehead as she tried to stay with her granny’s train of thought. She supposed she must be referring to Wyatt, although they’d been discussing her father only seconds before.
“Who, Granny? Who looks good?”
“Why, your daddy. Who else?” She smiled to herself, and then looked up at the sky outside. “He was here jest a day or so ago,” and then she began to frown. “At least I think it was then. I lose track of time, but I’m sure it warn’t no longer than that.”
Oh, Lord, Wyatt thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“Honey?” He touched her shoulder, asking without saying the words.
Glory shook her head, and then whispered, “It’s all right, Wyatt. It’s not so bad.”
Unaware of their aside, Faith was still lost in thought about her son’s visit. Suddenly the frown slid off of the old woman’s face.
“No! I’m right. It was only a day or so ago cause I ’member askin’ him why he didn’t come with you before.”
Glory froze. What kind of tricks was her granny’s mind playing on her?
Granny started to rock, happy that she’d settled it all in her mind. “Said he was goin’ on some trip.” She slapped her leg and then laughed. “I swear, that boy of mine ain’t been out of Kentucky three times in his life and now he’s goin’ on some trip.”
“Oh, God,” Glory said, and rocked back on her heels. When she felt Wyatt’s hand on her shoulder, she all but staggered to her feet.
Faith frowned a little, continuing to talk to herself, even forgetting that they were still there.
“I’ll be seein’ you soon, he said.” She nodded confidently, as her tiny white topknot bobbed on her head. “Yep. That’s what he said. I’ll be seein’ you soon.”
Glory turned. Her eyes were wide, the expression on her face slightly stunned.
“Wyatt?”
There was little he could say. The implications of what Faith Dixon was saying were almost too impossible to consider. And then he thought of the connection that he and Glory shared. It was a bond stronger than love, that even death would not break.
“I heard.”
“Do you suppose…?”
He pulled her to him. “It’s not for us to wonder,” he said. “Whatever happened is between that woman and her boy. If she believes she saw him, then who are we to question?”
Glory went limp in his arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, and then looked back at her granny as she rocked. The scene was one that Glory had seen a thousand times before. But this time, she was struck by the peaceful, almost timeless quality of the sight. And as she looked, in a small way, she began to accept the inevitability of the circle of life. One was born. One died. And life still went on when yours was gone.
Suddenly, she reached out and took Wyatt by the hand.
He felt the urgency with which she held him. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Take me home, Wyatt. I want to go home.”
Moonlight slipped through the parted curtains, painting the bodies of the couple upon the bed in a white, unearthly glow. As they moved together in a dance of love, the sounds of their sighs mingled with those of the wind outside the door. Sometimes easy—just above a breath; often urgent—moving with the force that was sweeping them along.
With nothing but the night as a witness, Wyatt destroyed what was left of Glory Dixon’s defenses. And when it was over, and they lay arm in arm, trembling from the power of it all, he knew that he would take the same road that he’d taken before. Risk losing his life all over again, for what he now held.
Wyatt smoothed the hair from her face, gentling her racing heart with his words and his touch. “I love you, Glory Dixon.”
Weak from spent passion, Glory still clung to him, unwilling to let him go.
Ah, God, Wyatt thought. Making love to you every night for the rest of our lives would be heaven.
Glory gasped. She’d heard that! For the first time since their relationship really started, she’d read his mind. He’d said it couldn’t happen. That he never let down his guard.
She turned her cheek, hiding her smile against his chest. He didn’t know it yet, but he’d done more than let down his guard.
When he let her into his mind, he let her into his heart. Now she knew there were no more walls between them.
“Wyatt…”
The sound of his name on her lips was sweet music. “What, darlin’?”
“You’re more than welcome to try…if you think you’re able.”
For a moment, he couldn’t think past the shock. The little witch! She just read his mind!
“Oh, my God!” He sat straight up in bed. “What did you just do?”
She only smiled, then stretched enticingly, arching her body like a lazy cat.
“You heard what I thought…didn’t you?”
“Why, yes…I believe that I did,” she said.
“That does it,” Wyatt said, and then pounced, pinning her with the weight of his body, and with the dark, hot fire in his eyes. “I’m done for.” His words were rich with laughter, the kisses he stole from her smile were warm and sweet.
Glory shivered with longing. Even though they’d just made love, she wanted him all over again. And then she remembered his sister’s advice about letting him know what was in her heart.
“Are you sure you’re done?” she whispered.
“Lord, yes,” he laughed.
I’m not done, Wyatt. I’ve only just begun.
The laughter stopped. And when he looked in her eyes, his heart almost followed suit. Although her lips didn’t move, he heard her whispers as clearly as if she were leaning next to his ear. The surge of desire that came with the words made him shake with longing. What she said…what she asked…what she wanted to do!
“Have mercy,” Wyatt muttered. “Not unless you marry me.”
Glory blinked slowly as she began to refocus. “Is that a proposal?”
He raised himself up on his elbows and began to grin. “Why do I feel lik
e I’ve just been had?”
Her eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Oh, no, Wyatt. You’re the one on top. I believe it’s me who was just had.”
His eyes twinkled as he scooped her into his arms, rolling until the mattress was at his back and they were lying face-to-face.
“Now, then, where were we?” he whispered. “Oh, yes, I was waiting for an answer.”
“I will marry you, Wyatt Hatfield. I will love you forever. I will make babies with you and share your life until I draw my last breath.”
Tears came unexpectedly. The beauty of her vow stunned him.
“And I will be forever grateful,” he whispered.
“So what are we waiting for?” Glory asked.
I guess I’m just waiting for the sound of your voice.
Glory paused, gazing down at the face of the man she’d come to love, and lightly traced the path of the scar across his cheek.
Quietly…in the dark…in the tiny cabin in the deep Kentucky woods, she called his name aloud.
A single tear rolled down his cheek, following the path of the scar. It was the sweetest sound that he’d heard on earth. Someone was calling him home.
Epilogue
Spring had been a long time coming. Kentucky had wintered through more snow than it had seen in years, delaying the finishing touches that Wyatt and Glory Hatfield kept trying to put on their new home. It hadn’t been so bad, wintering in that tiny cabin nestled deep in the woods, but the ground had long since thawed, and Glory had already seen the first Johnny-jump-ups beneath the trees around Granny’s cabin.
Their dark, shiny green spikes with a single white flower suspended at the end of a miniature stalk were among the first woodland flowers to part the mat of rotting leaves. They were nature’s signal that it was time to work the ground and plant the crops.
And for Wyatt, spring was a homecoming in more ways than one. He’d started out a child of the land, and despite a lot of lost years between then and now, it had called him home, just as his wife had done. He couldn’t wait to put plow into ground, and he’d been thinking of buying some Hereford heifers to start a herd of cattle.