His Two Little Blessings

by Mia Ross

  “Not at all.” After settling in beside her, he reached over to shut off the navigation screen. “You’re in charge of getting us there and back.”

  “I’m in charge,” she repeated with a smug look. “I like that. When you’re the youngest in your family, it doesn’t happen very often.”

  Chuckling, he started the engine and began following her instructions. He’d been to the neighboring small city of Waterford many times during the past few months, but never through it to the other side. They drove past several dairy farms and even got delayed behind a buggy being piloted by a woman in Victorian garb, complete with the biggest plumed hat Rick had ever seen.

  “That’s Moira Delaney,” Emma explained, waving out the window as they slowly moved past a high-stepping horse the color of rich mahogany. “She competes all over the northeast in driving competitions. Her horses have won so many trophies and ribbons, she had to clear out a room in her house to display them all.”

  “We have a lot of buggies in Charleston, but they’re mostly for the tourists,” he commented as he turned in front of a lighted sign that read Waterford Inn. Established 1872. Pulling around the circular drive and into a free parking space, he asked, “Is everything around here from another century?”

  “Pretty much. We’re proud of our history, so we take good care of it. If you don’t, things start to disappear, and you can’t get them back.”

  Intrigued by the comment, he shut off the engine and turned to face her. “That’s a nice way to look at it.”

  “Is there another way?”

  “Some people think it’s better to keep moving forward, replacing old, broken-down things with new ones that work better. It’s called progress.”

  “It’s called shortsighted,” Emma countered, a determined edge on her usually gentle voice. “You can’t get anywhere worth being unless you know where you came from.”

  “‘Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.’”

  “Exactly. So you get what I’m saying.”

  He tried to smother a grin. “Yes, I do.”

  “Good answer.”

  “What would you say if I disagreed?”

  Giving him a sugary smile, she batted her eyes in an obvious Southern belle impression. For his benefit, no doubt. “Take me home, kind sir.”

  Rick burst out laughing in a way that he seemed to be doing a lot more frequently since meeting her. Getting out of the car, he escorted her up the lighted brick walkway, pausing here and there while she pointed out some of the more intriguing features of the Federal-style building.

  “It was a Calhoun cousin’s private residence at first,” she explained, “and then the man who built it died, leaving behind his wife, Felicity, and seven children. Back then this was a major crossroads through the area, so it was a busy place.”

  “Hard to imagine that now,” he observed, looking around the peaceful clearing in the woods. The centuries-old pines shielded it from any traffic noise, providing a cocoon-like effect.

  “Like we were saying earlier, things change. Anyway, the farm couldn’t support them on its own, so she took advantage of the location and opened an inn for people traveling through here on their way to other places. Originally, she did all the cooking, and the family ate with their guests while the children did their schoolwork.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Tilting her head back, she took in a deep breath of the pine-scented air. “It’s so pretty out here. The spot where Dad proposed to Mom is down by the pond. He kept getting interrupted by a very loud loon,” she added with a laugh.

  “Sounds like a great evening.”

  “It was. That’s why they keep coming back.”

  Memories like that made up the patchwork of a lifetime, Rick mused as they continued up the walk and into the restaurant. Someday, the pain and grief would be behind him and he could get on with his life. Tonight felt like it might be the new beginning he’d been longing for.

  And maybe, just maybe, he could finally stop stumbling over the past and move forward.

  * * *

  Emma couldn’t eat another bite.

  Setting down her fork on her delicate china plate, she sighed in contentment. “Don’t tell Gran, but that’s the best lemon meringue pie I’ve ever had.”

  “Mum’s the word,” Rick promised, winking at her in the sort of lighthearted gesture she rarely saw from him.

  Now that she thought about it, though, he’d been doing more things like that lately. Maybe he was feeling more comfortable in Liberty Creek, now that he’d met more of the people who called it home. Whatever the reason, it was nice to see the lighter side of him more frequently. When their waitress brought over the check for their meal, he didn’t even look at the amount before tucking his credit card into the leather folio that held their bill.

  “Most people at least take a peek,” she teased, taking a last sip of her tea.

  “Whatever it is, it’s well worth the investment.”

  Playing along, she asked, “Of time or money?”

  “Both.” He flashed her that elusive, playful grin she wouldn’t mind seeing more of. After signing the credit slip, he tucked his wallet back into his inside jacket pocket and stood. “It’s a nice night for a walk. Would you mind showing me around the grounds?”

  “Not a bit,” she replied, thrilled that he’d suggested prolonging their evening. When he pulled her chair out for her, she couldn’t help admiring the old-fashioned gesture. Then again, she reminded herself that Rick Marshall had been raised to be a Southern gentleman. Those gallant manners probably came with the territory.

  “So,” she began as they went out the side door onto a brick patio, “what would you like to see first?”

  “I keep smelling roses, so I’m assuming there’s a garden around here somewhere.”

  “The original one,” she confirmed, pointing to a sign with an arrow guiding visitors to its location. “It’s away from the house, but it’s worth the walk. There’s even a maze done out of boxwoods. Felicity set it up to entertain her guests.”

  “Something to set this place apart from other inns and bring in the customers,” Rick said in the tone of a businessman who appreciated the logic behind her approach. “Not many women back then thought like that. She was ahead of her time.”

  Emma wished her ancestor was here to take her bow. Since that wasn’t possible, she accepted the praise and smiled. “Yes, she was. We Calhoun women can be very resourceful when we have to be.”

  “Your whole family is. Ellie’s been successful doing what she loves. Sam’s built a solid business as a contractor, and Brian’s bringing the past right into this century. And you,” he added, shaking his head. “You created an arts program from nothing, and kept it going out of sheer determination. None of that could’ve been easy, but you’ve all made great things happen for yourselves and the town.”

  Unaccustomed to praise for simply being herself, Emma wasn’t sure how to respond. She wasn’t as shy as she used to be, but sometimes she still found herself at a loss for what came next in a conversation. Fortunately, they were turning into the maze, and finding their way through the first jog gave her time to think. “You know all about my family and where I’m from. Tell me about Charleston.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he said simply, adding a nostalgic smile. “Lots of old houses, historic buildings and the harbor’s full of every kind of boat you can imagine. Even you would never run out of things to paint.”

  “I’ve been to Boston a few times. Is it like that?”

  “Sort of, but warmer and more laid-back. Plus, we have more crabs than lobsters.”

  Just thinking about the coastal town revived memories of the bustling wharf. From the unfamiliar sights to the briny scent of the daily catch, it was still one of her favorite trips. “I love fresh seafood, and watchi
ng the boats come in and out. Sailboats are so pretty silhouetted against the sunset.”

  “Spoken like a true artist,” Rick said, reaching down to lightly take her hand in his. Raising their linked hands, he studied them for a moment, then chuckled. “Let me guess. Some of your students were painting sky scenes today.”

  Glancing down, she was mortified to see that she’d missed a good-sized swipe of pale blue on her wrist when she was cleaning up after her last class. She almost pulled her hand free, but something stopped her. She and Rick were friends, after all, so it wasn’t a huge deal that he knew she wasn’t perfect. Besides, her hand felt warm and protected in his larger one, and it felt nice to be connected to him in such a personal way.

  So she did her best to laugh it off. “Yeah, it’s an occupational hazard. Sometimes I don’t get it all off. When I’m finishing up a fall landscape, my hands look like one of those camouflage jackets that hunters wear.”

  “I like a woman who really gets into her work.” Beneath the teasing tone was a current of something Emma couldn’t put her finger on. Then he stopped in the middle of the crushed stone pathway and turned to face her. Taking her other hand, he stared down at her with a look she’d never seen from him. When a corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin, she braced herself for yet another surprise from this man she thought she knew so well. “Especially when that woman is you.”

  Those compelling eyes held hers in a warm gaze that short-circuited her brain for a few seconds before she could get it going again. “I—well—what a sweet thing to say.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “No, it’s just—” He’d never looked at her this way, and she quite literally had no idea how to react. A few times she’d wondered how it would feel to be the object of this handsome man’s affection, the woman he chose to share all his free time with. Now she knew, and it was at once exhilarating and terrifying.

  “I can be sweet,” he murmured.

  Lifting her hands, he brushed his lips over the back of one and then the other in an unhurried motion that had the effect of turning her insides to mush. How he managed that, she couldn’t say, but it was the most incredible thing she’d ever felt. A commanding kiss couldn’t have touched her nearly as much as those gentle touches, and she couldn’t keep back a sigh. “I know that, Rick. The first day in the park, when you helped me pack up my jewelry table and take it home, I knew.”

  Letting her hands drop, he slid his arms around her waist to bring her close. Male admiration glittered in his eyes, warming as he stared down at her. “How did you figure that out so fast? Most people never even think to look for that side of me, much less find it.”

  Bitterness edged his usually mellow voice, and it made her sad that he believed something so harsh about himself. But they both knew he was right, so there was no point in her trying to convince him otherwise. “It’s just part of who I am, I guess.”

  “I guess it is,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss over her lips. He lingered for a heartbeat, then drew away slightly. It felt like a question, as if he was asking her permission to do it again.

  Reaching up to his cheek, she drew him back in for another kiss. And there, in the rose-scented moonlight, in the middle of Felicity Calhoun’s treasured maze, she lost her heart to Rick Marshall. It seemed appropriate somehow, because even while she cuddled into his strong arms, she knew only too well that she’d just stepped into a maze of her own.

  A very personal, complex one, with plenty of blind corners that might very well end up winding around in circles with no solution in sight. But in this moment, they had tonight.

  For someone who’d learned to live each day as it came, that was enough.

  * * *

  Rick hated hospitals.

  Emma’s oncologist had an office next to Waterford Memorial, and as they walked through the automatic doors, he took a moment to summon his considerable patience for what he expected to be a difficult visit. The lobby had a cathedral ceiling and skylights, which let even more sunshine into the surprisingly pleasant space. Painted a soothing gray, it was furnished with several styles of living-room-style pieces that gave the place a homey appearance. If it hadn’t been for the wheelchairs in the entryway, he might have thought they were at a law firm.

  Then a door opened, and a haggard woman shuffled through, supported by a younger woman who had an arm wrapped protectively around her. “I know that was tough, Mom,” she said in a chipper tone that had a forced ring to it. “But you did great. How ’bout a milkshake?”

  The older woman’s sunken eyes lit up, and she managed a semblance of a smile. “Strawberry?”

  As they made their way past him, Rick’s heart twisted with empathy for them. Cancer was a common foe these days. The worst thing was, you couldn’t be sure that even your best efforts would be enough.

  When he heard Emma’s voice, it had a nudging tone that told him she’d been trying to get his attention. Turning to her, he said, “Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

  “That I can have Mom bring me home so you don’t have to stay. It might take a while, and I’m sure this is the absolute last place you want to be.”

  That she’d picked up on his mood was impressive. Ordinarily, he was able to mask his emotions around others, projecting a calm, self-assured demeanor that people appreciated in the man they’d put in charge of their money. Then again, he thought with honest admiration, Emma Calhoun was an extraordinary woman. It shouldn’t surprise him that she’d see through his smooth act to what was going on underneath.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay.” He waited while she checked in at the desk and then motioned for her to go ahead of him. Once they were both seated, he asked, “What gave me away?”

  “The way you looked at that woman and her daughter. Like you knew how they were feeling, and it made you sad to think of someone else going through that.”

  “It does make me sad,” he admitted with a quiet sigh. Gazing over at her, he quietly added, “It’s hard for anyone, even someone as brave as you.”

  That got him a peal of laughter. Several people glanced their way, and she blushed before continuing. “I’m not brave. I’m just doing what I have to do. It’s either that or give up, and I’m not a quitter. I know that leukemia might get the better of me someday, but it won’t be without a serious fight. Every year researchers come up with new treatments, and the chances of surviving improve. I put my life in God’s hands a long time ago, and I trust His judgment about how long it will last. When you think about it, that’s all any of us can do, cancer or no cancer.”

  Not long ago, hearing someone refer to the Almighty that way would have made him very uncomfortable, possibly even angry. Until now it had never occurred to him that God had taken Sarah when He did because it was her time to go. He still didn’t understand why she had to die so young, but his recent exposure to religion had begun teaching him that things happened for a reason, whether he understood or not.

  And in a flash of epiphany, the answer to that vexing question appeared in his mind as if someone had switched on a light. Swiveling to face Emma, he made a conscious effort to keep his voice low. Because he didn’t know quite how to start, he just went for it. “I think I know why Sarah died when she did.”

  Sympathy flooded Emma’s beautiful eyes, dulling some of their usual sparkle. “Why?”

  “God knew how much she was going to suffer, and how hard it would be for our family to watch her keep getting weaker. He took her so she wouldn’t have to fight so hard, only to lose in the end.”

  Straight from his heart, those words hung in the air between them for a few moments before drifting away. Reaching over, Emma clasped his hand in a show of support that very few people he’d ever known could manage.

  “I think you’re right about that,” she agreed, adding a gentle smile for good measure. “Your family had suffered so
much already, He didn’t want you to continue on the way you were. Hard as it was to let her go, it was best for Sarah and you, and the girls, too. It gave you the chance to move forward and make a fresh start somewhere else.”

  With someone else, Rick added silently. It still felt odd to him, but that awkwardness was starting to fade, leaving him feeling grateful to this remarkable woman who’d reached out to him in friendship and was gradually becoming more to him than he could ever have imagined a few weeks ago.

  Lifting her hand, he kissed the back of it before folding it into his. “Thanks for saying that. It must be weird to talk about a man’s wife like that.”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “Not really. We’ve talked about her quite a bit.”

  “True, but things are different now.” The puzzled look remained, and he worried that he might have misinterpreted their moonlit kiss the other night. “Aren’t they?”

  “Do you want them to be?”

  Did he? Rick wondered, recognizing that this was his opportunity to disentangle himself from a woman who both enchanted and terrified him, depending on the situation. He treasured his time with Emma, but there were days when he questioned his sanity for breaking his own rule about pursuing a relationship with someone fighting the same disease that had broken his heart and devastated his young daughters by taking Sarah from them.

  But in a flash of understanding, he realized that he didn’t want an out. He wanted to be with Emma. He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger and smiled. “Yes, I do.”

  “That’s good,” she said, relief flooding those beautiful eyes. “Because I do, too. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel, now that we’re sitting here, waiting for my test. Leukemia is sneaky, so I’ll probably need to have more of them in the future,” she added, clearly giving him one more chance to pull away from her.

  Even though he knew her family would be around to support and encourage her, whatever the circumstances, Rick had no intention of taking her up on her very generous offer. Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he drew back to smile at her. “I know. I can take it.”