Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
T wilight painted the lake in watercolor hues as Meara and Artek strolled along its shore. Pine-scented breeze carried hints of woodsmoke and approaching winter, ruffling her hair. Her fingers intertwined with his, marveling at how natural such intimacy had become.
“I never thought I’d find this,” she admitted softly. “After losing my parents, then Betsy... I convinced myself art would be enough. That I didn’t need anything else.”
Artek stopped walking, turning to face her. “And now?”
“Now I can’t imagine my life without you.” The words tumbled out, straight from her heart. “You make me feel safe enough to dream bigger, to take chances. To love without fear of loss.”
His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “You changed everything for me too. Before you, I thought protecting the sleuth was enough. That I didn’t need the vulnerability of letting someone in.” His voice roughened. “But you painted yourself right into my soul, little artist.”
She stretched up to kiss him, but he pulled back slightly, eyes intense. “Wait. There’s something we need to do first.”
Leading her back toward the cabin, Artek’s quiet anticipation seemed to charge the air. As they rounded the corner, Meara gasped.
Twinkling lights draped every surface of the porch, creating a magical glow. Chrysanthemums and dahlias formed a pathway to the door, their rich autumn colors—deep crimsons, burnt oranges, and royal purples—creating an artist’s dream of texture and vibrancy.
“Artek...”
“Shall we see what’s inside?”
The floral path continued through the door, leading to a transformed living room. Candlelight danced across the walls, and more bouquets filled every corner. Near the crackling fireplace, a picnic blanket spread invitingly, complete with champagne and her favorite Italian pastries.
Meara pressed a hand to her mouth, tears flowing freely now. For the first time since losing Betsy, she allowed her heart to fully open to the love that had been growing steady and unstoppable as a rising tide.
“Meara.” Artek dropped to one knee, his own eyes suspiciously bright. “I know we’ve moved fast, pushed by circumstances and danger. But I need you to know—there will never be anyone else for me. You’re my mate, my partner, my heart.” He produced a ring that caught the firelight like captured stars. “We can take this as slow as you need, but I want you to know that you’re it for me. I love you, and you don’t have to say it back yet. I’ll wait as long as?—”
“Yes.” She extended her left hand, laughing through her tears. “And I love you too, you ridiculous bear. More than I ever thought possible.”
Before he could slide the ring on her finger, cheers erupted from various hiding spots. Frenchy burst from behind a curtain, dabbing his eyes with a silk handkerchief. “Finally! Though I must say, the floral arrangement was my suggestion. These bears have no sense of aesthetic drama?—”
“I helped!” Trey emerged from the kitchen, grinning. “I carried all the heavy stuff while you arranged petals.”
“Someone had to direct the artistic vision,” Frenchy sniffed. “And now we can finally start implementing all our December wedding plans! I’ve already drafted layouts for the snow-covered pines, crystal ice sculptures, and those gorgeous white fur accents we discussed.”
“Perfect timing too,” Vida appeared from the hallway with Carys, both women beaming. “I just got confirmation that the grand clearing by the lake is available for the date we wanted. The lighting design team has been standing by, ready to transform it into our winter wonderland.”
“Plus,” Carys added, “all the bears will be extra cuddly. It’s hibernation season, after all.”
“We do not hibernate,” Artek growled, but his eyes sparkled as he pulled Meara close.
“Could have fooled me.” Trey dodged Artek’s half-hearted swipe. “You get pretty snuggly when it’s cold.”
Later, as their friends debated cake flavors and flower arrangements, Meara and Artek slipped away to their favorite spot on the back porch. The moon painted silver paths across the ground, and a crisp breeze carried the promise of winter.
“Happy?” Artek murmured, drawing her close.
Meara touched the ring on her finger, thinking of Betsy, of art, of love that transformed everything it touched. “More than I ever dreamed possible.”
His answering kiss tasted of joy and promise, of futures painted in colors she’d only just discovered. Behind them, the cabin glowed with warmth and laughter, finally transformed into the sanctuary Betsy had envisioned—a place where art and love could flourish, protected by the strength of a bear’s devotion and an artist’s endless dreams.
A few weeks later, laughter and creative energy filled the cabin grounds as Meara oversaw their next artist retreat. Easels dotted the landscape like abstract sculptures, while small groups gathered for meditation and sketching by the lake. The early winter air carried the scent of oil paints mixed with pine, and bright banners fluttered in the crisp breeze.
Frenchy flitted between artists, his lavender silk coat catching the sunlight as he managed schedules with his usual flair. Near the tree line, Trey supervised security with subtle efficiency, while Artek moved through the grounds ensuring everything ran smoothly.
“Now this,” a familiar voice called out, “is exactly what Betsy would have wanted to see.”
Meara turned to find Gerri Wilder ascending the porch steps, her silver-white hair gleaming in the sun. She carried her signature basket of fresh-baked cookies and a bottle of champagne.
“A thriving creative sanctuary,” Gerri continued, setting her offerings on a nearby table, “protected by love and surrounded by family.” Her blue eyes softened with memory. “Betsy came to me with such hope in her heart. She knew you needed someone special—strong enough to protect your independence but gentle enough to cherish your creative spirit.”
Meara blinked back tears as Artek appeared beside her, his arm sliding around her waist.
“She loved me.”
“She wanted you to find a love that would make you paint in colors you’d never imagined,” Gerri added with a knowing smile. “I’d say she got her wish.”
“That she did.” Meara leaned into Artek’s warmth, watching their guests explore the grounds. Everything she’d dreamed—art, love, family, purpose—had somehow woven together into something more beautiful than she could have painted alone.
“Though I must say,” Gerri’s eyes twinkled mischievously, “a December wedding will add the perfect sparkle to this masterpiece. I hope you’re planning to hang some of your winter landscapes for the reception?”
“Already chosen,” Artek rumbled, dropping a kiss on Meara’s temple. “Along with that bear sketch she won’t admit she drew.”
“I knew it!” Frenchy’s voice carried across the porch as he joined them.
Their laughter rang out across the grounds, mingling with the sounds of creativity and joy that now defined their sanctuary by the crystal lake. As Meara gazed up at Artek, she saw her future reflected in his eyes—a masterpiece painted in shades of love, family, and endless possibility.
She knew, somewhere, Betsy was smiling.