Chapter Thirty-Three
New Year’s Eve, Prospect
GWYNN SPOONED potato salad onto her paper plate and eyed the other options of meats, cheeses, fruits, and sweets laid out along the island counter. Ahead of her in line, Gramps snuck his third chocolate cupcake. Behind her, Lainey loaded a plate while detailing her upcoming trip to Europe. Gwynn nodded occasionally, her gaze roaming the Forresters’ grandiose living area.
Conversations drifted from different groups assembled on folding chairs or tucked around the dining table or clustered at the foot of the stairs. Sporadic laughter rose from the teenagers playing a dice game at the coffee table. Uncle Russ and Aunt Maude chatted with Uncle Erik and Aunt Dani on a pair of sofas perpendicular to the stone fireplace. And above the mantel, the flat-screen TV showed the mounting excitement in New York City as people counted down the last forty-seven minutes before the annual ball drop.
“…and the dish ran away with the spoon.”
Gwynn blinked and turned to her cousin. “The dish did what-now?”
Lainey gave a good-natured groan. “How much did you miss? I knew better than to gush about my plans tonight. You’re too spacey.”
Gwynn winced. “Sorry.” She plucked a biscuit from a straw basket and stepped away from the food. “I’m still a bit shell-shocked. A month ago, I was planning to ring in the New Year like I usually do—alone with the TV and my goldfish, waiting for my suite mates to return from whatever party they’d attended.”
“Um, that’s depressing.”
“But familiar. And safe.” Gwynn brought a grape to her lips. “Yet, here I am, celebrating way outside my comfort zone. It’s surreal.”
Hands slid around her waist from behind. She started, dropping the grape, then relaxed as the telltale mix of spice and wood shavings drifted over her shoulder. Lips grazed her earlobe, shooting off an internal shower of fireworks.
“Have to reassure myself you’re real,” Cash murmured, his arms tightening, “and not a figment of my imagination.”
Gwynn balanced her plate in one hand and laid her other atop his, lacing their fingers together. “You and me, both. Besides the part where Irene fired me, this does have a dreamlike quality to it. Packing up my things and returning to my hometown right after Christmas … Starting a new job with this crazy carpenter—”
“Crazy hot carpenter,” Cash said, nuzzling her neck.
“Reconciling with family … Definitely the stuff of dreams.”
“Mostly because of the hot carpenter, though, right?”
“Mostly because he’s letting me splash paint all over his gorgeous creations.”
Cash straightened. “I don’t remember seeing ‘splash’ in the contract.”
“I don’t remember a contract.”
“A handshake, then.”
Lainey laughed. “It’s good to see you two back together. An odd pairing, when you think about it, but love rarely makes sense.” She patted Gwynn’s arm and moved away, adding, “All is right in my world again.”
“Odd pairing?” Cash grumbled. “I think we’re perfect.”
Gwynn set her plate on the counter and rotated within his arms. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “Oddly perfect? Perfectly odd?”
Cash smoothed a strand of hair from her temple and tucked it behind her ear. “What say we take our perfect oddities someplace more private to talk? Front porch sound good to you?”
“It’s below zero out there.”
He winked. “A few kisses ought to keep us sufficiently warm.”
They bundled up, and on their way to the door, Gwynn caught Aunt Dani’s gaze. She indicated that she and Cash were stepping outside. Aunt Dani nodded, her eyes creasing in a smile, and returned to her conversation.
“I’m so relieved the Davisons and Forresters are getting along,” Gwynn said, traversing the porch with Cash and leaning into the railing. Moonlight highlighted the barn and surrounding fields of the Forresters’ small farm.
Although Erik and Dani rejoiced when they learned Gwynn was alive, they envied the years Maude and Russ had maintained a relationship with her. Those first few encounters between the two couples would have made Jack Frost freeze. But Gwynn trusted God would fully restore their friendships.
A bleat came from one of the goats in the barn. She propped an elbow on the handrail and faced Cash, her cheeks already stinging from the cold. “Remember our last New Year’s Eve together?”
He mirrored her stance with a saucy grin. “We made out in your barn’s hay loft.”
Gwynn quirked an eyebrow. “We watched the fireworks our nearest neighbors were shooting off.”
“Hmm.” He removed his gloves then pulled the mitten from her hand resting on the railing. “I don’t recall that part.”
Frigid air danced atop her skin. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Now that we won’t be trespassing, we should reenact the making out part.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips, one at a time.
Her stomach swirled, and heat blazed along her limbs, chasing away the chill. She loosened her scarf. “A little more than three months until I turn twenty-five and the ranch is legally mine.”
“What did the Davisons say about your idea to sell the property and gift them part of the profits?” Cash slid his fingers between hers, and her skin tingled.
“You were right—they vehemently rejected it. Like, I have a new appreciation for the ‘shooting daggers’ idiom. I almost suffered lacerations.”
He laughed. “I’d say ‘I told you so,’ except you already admitted as much.”
“I can’t live at the ranch, Cash.”
“I know.”
“So, I came up with a new idea.”
He cocked his head as if to say, Tell me more.
“What if I subdivided the property, sold the portion with the house, and kept the other portion for myself? Or for a future investment? With the profits from the house sale, I could build a cabin and use some of the land’s timber for projects at the Plane & Knotty.”
Cash opened his mouth, but Gwynn put her free hand to his lips. “Or I could sell the property as-is, or still sub-divide and sell, but regardless, I could take the profits to help you buy out Gramps and expand your business. Or maybe I gift money to Ainsley for college.” She lowered her hand. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m about to add to your heap of ideas.” He crooked his finger through one of her belt loops. “I finally heard back from a collector regarding the Confederate and US bills that are in decent condition.” He tugged on the belt loop. “She’s interested in buying them for a fair price, if you’re interested in selling.”
Gwynn caught her bottom lip in a smile. “So … we have several options.”
Cash walked his hand around to the back of her waist. “I like the sound of ‘we.’ Does this mean you’re still considering me a part of your future?”
“You know I am.”
“Good. ’Cause I have something for you.” Straightening, he laid his gloves on the railing, dug into his jeans’ pocket, and withdrew a chain necklace. A silver cage pendant dangled from it. Reaching around her neck to clasp the chain, he looked into her eyes. “The next piece of jewelry I give you will involve an insane amount of bling. But for tonight”—he ran his hands down her arms—“I thought this was more appropriate.”
Intrigued, Gwynn lifted the pendant and squinted at the small object inside the wire cage. Her eyebrows rose. “The bullet that was lodged in my peacoat.”
Cash nodded. “Its purpose is twofold. First, to remind you that God still has a plan for you, and you’re not worthless, no matter how you feel at times. The truth is, you’re invaluable—to many people, but especially to me.” He fingered the pendant. “And second …”
She wet her lips. “Yes?”
“I want you to think of this as a type of promise ring. My promise to pursue you with the goal of making it permanent one day—soon, I hope—before God.” His hand moved to cup her cheek. “I thought I lost you a decade ago. I almost lost you a few weeks ago. Lord willing, I won’t lose you again until we’re old and gray and can look back on a life well lived and well loved. Deal?”
Eyes stinging, she slipped her arms around his waist in a hug. “Deal,” she murmured against his chest. “You know what else this pendant represents?”
“What?”
“My fears.” She gave him a squeeze. “Because now they’re caged, and I’m free to dream again.”
The Lord had done that for her. She’d begun the month in a complacent daze, not realizing her soul withered in an emotional prison, yet God had moved in both herself and others to help liberate her. Thus, as December drew to a close on a year of “meh,” she emerged onto green pastures, her mind whirring with fresh direction, inspiration, and hope for what her future held.
Thank you, Lord, for answering the prayers I didn’t know—or forgot—I had.
One being the man in her arms.
Gwynn snuggled into Cash. This is the start of something wonderful.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Lifting her chin, Cash trailed his lips along her jawline to her mouth. “Now, if you would quit thinking out loud and kiss me …”