70. Viola
Viola
After bravely kissing Jacob the evening before, I was shy in the morning light, hesitant to look my feelings squarely in the eye.
But I recognized them—and, for once, didn’t try to push them away.
I hesitated to meet his gaze at breakfast. Flustered and fluttery and foolishly hopeful, I finally dared a quick peek, and found his warm eyes on me.
And I knew all was well between us. When he helped me into the wagon for church, I couldn’t help returning his broad, unguarded smile.
And if he clasped my hand longer than necessary, it was probably because I couldn’t let go.
When we reached the churchyard, I waved at those I recognized from my September visit, now able to put names to many of the faces. My neighbors. My town. Already it felt like home—especially with Jacob beside me.
Jacob said, “You look especially lovely this morning, my dear.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks at both the compliment and the endearment. “Thank you. I feel lovely.” I didn’t tell him that he was a large part of the reason why, but I would. Someday. We just needed to figure out the someday part.
After church, we made our way down Main Street toward the Inn. I waved at Ellie as we passed her family’s store.
Jacob said, “Now I’ve seen everything. You and Ellie Porter are friends?”
“She’s not who you think. It can be hard to shake a reputation when everyone presumes they know you because of long acquaintance.”
He laughed softly. “Viola VanMartin, you are well on your way to becoming the wisest woman in Harmony Lake. Mrs. Newman would be proud. The Lady of the Lake will start coming to you for advice.”
Arm in arm, we climbed the infamous steps to the Inn where George had reserved the private dining room and ordered a Sunday feast. After the meal, George pulled me into a bearish hug and said, “It warms my heart to see you smile again, dear sister.”
“Thank you, George.” I kissed his cheek. “For getting me here.”
He would return to Chicago on tonight’s train, but I would stay with the Jensens for another ten days.
And when I returned after that—it would be for good.