by Jessica Wolf
She started up the drive that led to the front door of Yellow Brook. Home, this was home.
“Luciana, Luciana!”
A smile lifted her lips when she heard Esther’s voice coming from the beach. She redirected her steps down the hill toward Esther sitting on a blanket. Reed stood a little ways off, skipping stones on the ocean waves. He was failing miserably by the looks of it.
Luciana gave Esther a gentle squeeze when she reached the blanket. “I’m so happy to see you better, mio caro,” she said, smoothing down the girl’s hair.
“I’m happy to be better.” She lowered her voice. “Father says you’re getting married.”
Luciana tilted her head. “Am I? To whom?”
“To Father, of course.” Esther giggled. “I always knew you would.”
Luciana rose from her crouch as Reed walked toward her. She clasped her hands before her and raised her eyebrows.
“I heard there is to be a marriage.”
He tossed a rock back and forth between his hands. “There might be. The bride is still undecided.”
“Oh, is she? I thought I heard she made up her mind.”
“Has she?” Luciana’s heart began to beat faster at Reed’s smirk. “What has she decided? I assume you know since you seem to be so intimately acquainted with her.”
She was really going to do this, wasn’t she?
“I think she decided to say yes.”
“Yes?” Reed smiled, stepping closer. He dropped the rock in his hand. It let out a dull thud when it hit the ground.
She nodded vigorously, unable to keep herself from laughing. “Yes.”
“Does this mean you’re staying?” Esther asked.
Luciana looked at the girl she had once despised. She couldn’t picture her life without her or her father now. She smiled. “Si, it means I’m staying.”
Reed’s arms slipped around her back. She latched onto his shoulders when he spun her around and around in a circle. Unrestrained joy filled her heart and stretched the very core of her being. She had known only suffering since coming to England: her family dead, no way home to Italy, a broken heart caused by mere assumptions. To feel such joy flood through her told her she had made the right choice.
When he brought her back to Earth again, his hand was cupping her cheek.
“You’ll marry me?”
“I’ll marry you,” she said.
He bent his head and kissed her. “Good.”
She kissed him again for extra measure, holding on a little longer than he had. “Good indeed.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked, motioning toward the blanket. “Esther insisted on making a picnic.”
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
Reed slipped his hand in hers. She smiled at him and he smiled in return.
“Then come and sit by me.”
He led her to the blanket and she sat beside him, their fingers entwined, her head on his shoulder. As the birds cawed overhead and Esther regaled them with an account of her most recent dreams, she couldn’t help but think this was only the beginning.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Faith Blum for being an incredibly kind and generous proofreader. To Christia at Paper and Sage for designing such a beautiful cover. To my beta readers who read The Shipmaster’s Daughter when she was in her infancy and far from perfect.
Thank you to my family for your patience in waiting to read my work until after it was published. Thank you to Christel Ruzicka for always believing in me and teaching me how to share my voice.
Finally, thank you, reader, for sharing your precious time with me and my story.
Psalms 91:1-2 ESV: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”