Tears stung Miranda’s eyes. She wished she could wave a magic wand and make Mrs. Litey remember her brother.
Suddenly Mrs. Litey pushed the blankets aside. “Corky?” She struggled to fasten the belt to her robe. “Corky, for the love of Pete, what are you doing here?”
Corky?
“Leonora.” The reverend, visibly moved, collected Mrs. Litey in his arms as she rose unsteadily from the bed. “I’m here, sis.”
“Who’s Corky?” Miranda asked.
“Reverend Donahue. That’s her nickname for him,” Will said. “He told me on the drive here.”
“Mrs. Litey must think they’re still children.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Will nodded at the pair.
The two senior siblings were hugging and laughing. It was a reunion many years overdue.
“I’m so glad for them.” Miranda’s emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
“We should probably give them some time alone.”
Miranda agreed. She and Will went out into the front room where, in their absence, Arthur had arrived. As usual, he hovered by Babs’s side. Himey had emerged from his room for the first time that morning.
Miranda sighed. She would miss them all terribly.
Nell, God love her, had prepared rounds of nonalcoholic eggnog, and the group toasted Babs and Arthur’s engagement. Miranda wanted to get Will alone and ask him about his trip, and what, if anything, his newfound ability to leave Sweetheart meant for them and their future.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Litey and the reverend joined them. Miranda’s questions for Will were put on hold while another toast was made to honor the siblings.
“I can’t thank you enough.” Reverend Donahue approached Will and shook his hand. “You’ve given me back my sister.” He looked to Miranda. “You, too. She’s almost her old self.”
“I’m so glad.”
“I realize it may not last.”
She smiled sympathetically. “Unfortunately, people with Alzheimer’s don’t generally make spontaneous or lasting recoveries. But they can improve.”
“Which seems to be the case here.”
Mrs. Litey came over to stand beside her brother and linked her arm through his. “Did you tell them?”
“I was just about to. I’ve decided—Leonora and I together have decided—that she’s going to remain here. In Harmony House.”
“Oh, Reverend.” Miranda was deeply moved. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me, that you’d let her stay.”
“Do I hear a but coming?”
“As much as I want to...” Her gaze encompassed all the people so dear to her. “The plain fact is I’m not making enough money to keep Harmony House open. This last month I’ve had to work part-time at the Paydirt Saloon in order to make ends meet. I was hoping to start an adult day-care program after the holidays.” She paused. “But that isn’t going to happen, either.”
“Miranda,” Mrs. Litey said with obvious concern, “you can’t close down Harmony House.”
It was the first time in months Mrs. Litey had addressed Miranda by her name. She wished it had been under better circumstances.
“I have no choice. Things might have been different if I’d been able to refinance my mortgage. But the savings and loan turned me down. Twice.”
“Have you tried another lending institution?” the reverend asked.
“They’d have the same requirements as my current one. Namely that I bring in more income than my expenses.”
“I might be able to help.”
Miranda couldn’t stop herself and chuckled. “You’re in the mortgage business, too?”
“No.” He laughed in return. “My business is, was, serving my congregation. One of the benefits, however, is getting to know people from all walks of life. Including banking.”
Miranda narrowed her gaze. “Are you saying you have connections?”
“I am. If you wish, I could make a few phone calls on your behalf. There’s a favor or two owed to me I can collect on. Land you a meeting, at least.”
“That would be truly wonderful, Reverend.”
He looked at her questioningly. “I’m hearing another but.”
She sighed. “Even with a lower mortgage payment, and that’s if I’d qualify, two residents just isn’t enough. Babs is leaving to marry Arthur and live with his family. I need to stick to my plan and take the nursing job in Reno.”
“What if you had four residents? Not two.” Everyone turned to look at Arthur. “I could move in here. If you’d give Babs and me the big bedroom.”
“Your daughter—”
“The heck with her.” He winked at Babs. “I’d sure as shootin’ rather live here with my beautiful new wife than in my daughter’s home. Babs would, too.”
“Arthur, I love you.” Babs’s eyes grew teary.
“Are you serious?” Miranda had to be sure.
“Never been more serious in my life,” Arthur said.
“It’s settled, then,” the reverend boomed, and gave Miranda a bear hug. “You’re keeping Harmony House.”
She was?
She was. “I am!”
Miranda was instantly surrounded. Hugs and kisses on the cheek were freely dispensed. Will’s was the most meaningful.
“Thank you,” she told him, love filling all the previously empty places in her. “Money will still be tight, but now at least I can hang on until I find a fifth resident.”
“What if that fifth resident didn’t need elder care?”
“I thought about taking in boarders. Not sure that would work. And I might lose my certification.”
“Not a boarder. A husband.”
A thrill coursed through her, illuminating her from the inside out. “What are saying?”
“This wasn’t how I planned it.” His hands shook and his breathing became shallow.
She reached for him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I think.” He struggled for air.
“Here.” She took his arm. “You need to sit down.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re having a panic attack.”
“I’m not.” He swallowed. “I’m just nervous.”
“About what?”
“Proposing. To you.”
“Eeek!” The loud squeal came from Nell.
Miranda was shocked into silence for, perhaps, the first time in her life.
“Don’t say yes yet,” Will told her. “I need help. Lots of it. With my PTSD. I can get it, too, while I’m in Reno. Going to school.”
She found her voice. “You’re accepting the town’s offer!” That made her almost as happy as his proposal.
“Yeah. Now that I know I can make the drive. I have you to thank for that.”
“You did it on your own.”
“I love you, Miranda. I’m only sorry it took me five years to work up the courage to tell you.”
“I love you, too.” She launched herself at him, hugging him fiercely.
“Is that a yes?”
She buried her face in his shirt. “Only if you’re sure. There are a lot of people living in this house. You won’t feel...crowded?”
“I think it’s long past time I felt crowded.” He kissed her then, in front of everyone and with no reservation or shyness.
She definitely liked this brand-new Will.
“I told you so,” Nell declared when they broke apart.
“Well, well,” the reverend said. “Appears I have my first two weddings to perform. That is, if you want me to officiate.”
“When’s the soonest you’re available?” Arthur asked. “My darling and I are in a hurry.”
“Pick a date.”
“Should w
e wait until the Mega Weekend of Weddings?” Babs asked.
“That’s not till this summer.” Arthur went down on one knee in front of her wheelchair and took her delicate hands in his. “I can’t wait that long. I can hardly wait till this weekend. Marry me next Saturday.”
“You are truly the man of my dreams.” She cradled his face and pressed her lips to his.
Miranda didn’t think she’d ever seen anything sweeter.
Until a while later when Will whisked her upstairs to her room after all the commotion had died down. There he, too, went down on bended knee in front of her as she sat on the bed.
“I want no other woman than you, Miranda, and never will. I will do my dead level best to make you happy.”
“You already have.” She pulled him onto the bed with her, accepting his proposal for the second time. How could she not? He’d done the impossible for her: driven to Carson City and brought back the reverend. Saved her home and her business. Made her life complete.
“I feel bad about telling the county no,” Miranda said as they lay spooned together. Just holding and touching.
“Who’s to say you can’t open a second Harmony House? One for foster teenagers.”
She sat up. “You think I could?”
“I think you can do anything. Talk to the county. Have Sam’s construction contractor remodel one of the abandoned houses in town.”
“Will, that’s an incredible idea.”
“Then the contractor can build us a new house.”
“Us?”
“I need a place to park the town’s fire truck. And I’m not living in your attic forever. Especially after we start having a bunch of kids.”
“You want a family?”
“I do. With you. And I don’t care if they’re biological or fosters.”
“What about one of each?” she asked.
“Just one?”
She was too busy covering his face with kisses to give him an answer.
Epilogue
Will stood at the altar, waiting for the bride to make her entrance. His palms were clammy and sweat soaked the collar of his tuxedo shirt, making his neck itch like crazy. He tried not to fidget; this was no time for a panic attack, but Arthur noticed.
“You got ants in your pants, young man?”
“No, sir,” Will whispered.
“Steady, gents,” Reverend Donahue warned, a serene grin on his face, the Bible in his hands open to the page he would read during the wedding ceremony.
“I’m fine,” Will said, and he was.
This New Year’s Day was one of celebration. His and Miranda’s lives lay stretched before them, full of endless possibilities and unlimited potential.
Suddenly the rear door to the chapel opened, and the strains of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the room. The entire assembly stood as the bride and her escort appeared. There were very few dry eyes in the sanctuary. The people gathered weren’t just watching any wedding. This couple was two of their own, and that made the occasion special.
Will couldn’t take his eyes off Miranda as she walked slowly down the aisle pushing Babs’s wheelchair. She’d been honored when the elderly woman had requested Miranda give her away. Will had been equally honored when Arthur had asked him to serve as best man.
He tried to pay attention during the ceremony. It was hard. Miranda completely captivated him. He stared more at the pew where she sat after giving Babs away than at the wedding couple. It took two reminders from Reverend Donahue and one poke in the ribs from Arthur to pull Will out of his trance. With a sheepish grin, he handed Arthur the simple gold ring from his pocket.
Nell, who was Babs’s matron of honor, shook her head. “Men. I swear.”
At the reverend’s words, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” everyone cheered and applauded. When he said, “You may now kiss your bride,” Will went over to Miranda, hauled her out of the pew and claimed her mouth with a warm kiss. More cheers followed.
It was Arthur who pushed Babs back down the aisle during the lively wedding march. Will took Nell’s arm, doing as he’d been instructed and walking her down the aisle after the newly married couple.
She swatted him away. “Good gracious, leave me be. Miranda’s the one you want to be pawing.”
He did. Escorted Miranda from the sanctuary, that is. At the end of the aisle, he bent to whisper in her ear. “Next time we’re in this chapel will be for our wedding.”
Outside in the atrium, the wedding party assembled in a line to receive the guests. Will and Miranda were noticeably absent. They’d snuck off to the bride’s dressing room.
Will had learned to tolerate large crowds. He even liked them. But there were moments when nothing beat privacy. He took full advantage of this one—and would again, every chance he got, for the rest of his and Miranda’s lives together.
* * * * *
Watch for the next book in Cathy McDavid’s
SWEETHEART, NEVADA trilogy,
MOST ELIGIBLE SHERIFF,
coming March 2014
only from Harlequin American Romance!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A SMALL TOWN THANKSGIVING by Marie Ferrarella.
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Prologue
The day began like all the days that had come before. It was too hot with too much to do and none of it to my liking. I was bored and yearning for excitement, for an adventure that would take me away from trying to coax a bit of green, a bit of growth out of the parched, dry ground that destroyed more than it yielded.
I was young and wanted to live before I was old and dried up before my time, like Abuela and Tia Josefina. Tia and Abuela came to live with Papa after Mama died. Papa said she died bringing me into the world. I have no way of knowing if that is true since she was gone by the time I started to remember things. But Papa does not lie, so I suppose it must be so.
Frustrated with my futile efforts in the garden, I went to fetch water from the stream that ran on our property. Anything to get away from the boredom and the hard work, if only for a moment.
The stream is always cool and I can take my shoes and stockings off so I can feel the water against my sweating skin.
Sometimes, when I go to the stream, I pretend I am a princess, held against my will, waiting for a prince to come rescue me and take me away to his castle in the mountains. I pretend so hard that once or twice, I thought I heard the whinny of a horse and the sound of hooves against the ground.
I am disappointed when I look to see that the sound belongs to my imagination. Or to a stray mustang running closer than he should.
There are horses here that have no masters, that run where they want to and are freer than I am. I envy them. Or I did before...
But since that afternoon, I find myself longing for the boredom of home, for the tedious labor of scratching the ground, coaxing life from the hard, dry soil. For the feeling of triumph the few times I succeeded. When you lose something, that is the time when you realize that you really wanted it and did not have the sense to value it when
it was yours.
But that day, when I went to fetch the water and dreamed of princes searching for their princess, the sound of horses existed outside my imagination. They existed in the real world.
The sound belonged to the Indian ponies that came galloping at me. Indian ponies mounted with riders. When I saw them coming, I ran as if the very devil was after me because he was. Abuela and Tia and Papa all warned me to be careful, that the Mescalero-Apaches would just as soon kill us than look at us. Papa said that they thought we invaded their land. When I asked him if we had, he told me that we were making it better, but that they did not understand that. I think they do not understand that because we do not speak their language and they do not speak ours.
I was swift of foot and could beat my brothers whenever we ran, but I was not swifter than an Indian and one of the riders caught me and picked me up as easily as I could pick up one of Tia’s baby chicks.
I begged him to put me down and the rider yelled something to another rider and then at me, but I could not understand.
For the first time in my fourteen years, I thought about dying for I was more frightened than I could ever recall being.
I prayed for God to welcome me and to make my dying less painful.
* * *
LETTING OUT A long breath, Miguel Rodriguez stared at the faded ink in the worn book he had just discovered and been reading for the past half hour. The pages of the book were so dry they fairly crackled beneath his fingers as he turned them. Afraid they might tear, he was handling them as gently as humanly possible for a man with hands the size and thickness of leather catchers’ mitts.
The book was one of half a dozen or more such tattered, cloth-covered journals he had just uncovered in his attic.
He had come up to the attic driven by a sudden desire to put his house in order figuratively and literally, something he’d felt compelled to do since suffering a heart attack earlier in the year. The unexpected event had unceremoniously brought him to the brink of his existence and taught him how truly fragile life was—as if he really needed that lesson since his beloved wife had passed on all these years ago.
His Christmas Sweetheart Page 20