Chapter 33
“Are you still mad at me, Prissy?” Leaning against her SUV, I stare at Twelve Bluebells Ranch. Two weeks since I lost the property, and my realtor has been curt with me at best. “Don’t be mad at me. You know I couldn’t come.”
“I understand you needed to be with Harlan. Lee reports Alex is back to her lovely self. Thank goodness.” Prissy sighs, her gaze not leaving the house. “Besides, I don’t get upset with clients. They’re the ones who have to live with their choices.”
“You love me.” I bump my elbow to hers and flash my most endearing smile. “I know you love me. Who else would bring me out to the country for one last look around on casual Tuesday?”
I can’t be sure, but I think she’s wearing a three-thousand-dollar Dolce & Gabbana pantsuit as she strolls through the cow-patty-filled countryside.
“I can’t decide if you’re sentimental or some kind of masochist for wanting to come back one more time after you lost the sale on this property. I’ve not had a client make this request before.”
I feel a smile curve at my lips. I wondered last fall if I was some kind of masochist widow for going back to the Broadmoor.
But sometimes closure means different things to different people.
Sometimes closure means you’re grasping the hope that came from the past and letting it tether you to the possibilities in the future.
The faint smell of manure reminds me of the welcome cow I almost purchased with the house. “Where’s Isabel?”
Prissy passes me and climbs the porch steps. She turns, staring at me with an ambiguous expression. “She probably couldn’t bear to say goodbye.”
I love my realtor for many reasons. She obtained permission from the new owner for me to take pictures.
This house and land gave me space to dream.
I want to pin these photos to a board and figure out how to emulate the warmth and hope in this property, especially the boarding lodge.
Meandering through the upstairs, I fight back tears.
I pause and run my hand over the smooth front of a bedroom door.
When I arrive back downstairs, Prissy strides across the room, drawing my focus to her. She stops in front of me, presses a hand to my arm, and says softly, “Did you get what you need?”
I stare at her for two beats. “I’ll still open a halfway house for women who have aged out of the foster care system. It just won’t be here.” I open my arms and circle 360 degrees. “Maybe Twelve Bluebells was never supposed to be mine. It was just supposed to put me on a path.”
Prissy says nothing.
On our way out, the weathered wooden sign above the door catches my eye. “Alba.” Dawn. This property will be someone else’s new beginning.
Once outside, I glance at the neighboring Holcombe farm. “Just give me a minute, Prissy.”
I traipse over to the fence, prop my foot on the lower rung, and rest my forearms on the top one. The view of the chapel is beautiful, even on this cloudy day.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I climb over the fence and start walking. My legs work as if I’m on autopilot. Harlan told me the building is rarely used. He’ll be at work. And it’s so far from the ranch proper, I can’t imagine anyone would see me.
When I step inside, the musty smell hits my nose and I sneeze. Touching each pew as I advance down the aisle, I head toward a seat at the front. The tears that I thought had dried out start to fall, and I bury my face in my hands.
One last release. Then I’ll walk away.
As I wipe my face with my sleeve, a noise in the back of the room startles me. I turn around.
Harlan.
I shoot to my feet. “I’m so sorry, Harlan. I—you—you aren’t supposed to be home.” My words blurt out in stuttered beats.
Breathe, Meredith.
“It’s okay.” He uses a gentle tone and takes a slow step toward me.
Concern washes over me. “Is Alex all right?”
“She’s doing great.” Another step.
My chest tightens at his third movement forward. I’m blindsided by the pain of his nearness. “I-I’m so sorry. I should go.” I make a move to squeeze by him.
But he takes my arm. He leans in and says in my ear in a low plea, “Meredith.”
I turn into him, half-heartedly pushing him away with the fingertips of one hand while grabbing his shirt and pulling him to me with the other.
He places his hands on my waist to steady me while I war with myself, but also so he can gently pull me closer to him.
I rest my forehead on his strong chest, and we stand in thick silence. With a final exhale, I raise my head.
His eyes fill with tenderness and concern. “Can we sit down for a minute? Would that be okay?”
My forehead hits his chest again, and I shake my head no. He slides his hands from my waist up my back and runs his fingers through my hair.
“You aren’t supposed to be here. I can’t see you. I can’t say goodbye to anything else today.” My body melts into his, and I place my hands on his chest.
He wraps his arms around my back, presses me closer to him, and kisses the top of my head.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” I say in a broken whisper.
I want to leave and never come back.
I want to sit and stay forever.
“I know.” He softens his voice. “But I found out you were going to be at the ranch.”
I pull back, searching his face for an answer. “Why? Why would you come?”
With one hand still holding me to him, he cups my face and uses his thumb to wipe a tear from my cheek. “I’m sorry, Meredith. I shouldn’t have surprised you.”
“Why are you here?”
“Well . . .” Eyes glittering, he looks around the room, then back to me, and shrugs. “I’m supposed to be here. You’re the one trespassing on my property.”
Blowing out a sigh, I nod. Sure. There is the breaking-the-law thing. I glance down at the dusty floor. “I have to go,” I say more to myself than to him.
“Before you do, would it be all right for me to show you something?” He swings his hand toward the door. “It won’t take long.”
Stupid handsome actor with a masked face. I can’t work out in my head how he knew I’d be here. I’ll figure it out after the long and expensive therapy session I’m about to schedule.
I bite my lower lip and nod. “But then I have to go.”
“Fair enough.” He offers me his hand.
One last time, I tell myself as I take hold. One last time I will hold his hand.
Harlan leads me across the small field in the direction of Prissy’s car. We stop at the fence I jumped earlier and gaze out over Twelve Bluebells Ranch.
Gripping the top rail, he takes a breath. “Prissy called me the other day.”
Confused, I shift my attention to him. Why wouldn’t she mention she talked to him?
Because she’s Prissy. She probably sells houses to the president and doesn’t tell anyone.
“She told me about this real estate deal.” His eyes remain focused on Twelve Bluebells. “Properties don’t typically interest me. But this particular one was different.”
A nervous energy fills me.
He scratches his chin. “It had a buyer, but the transaction got messy.”
My stomach roils. What is he saying?
“Needs a little work.” He turns to me. “But I think it would make a great home for people who need help.”
I wrap my arms around myself. What’s happening?
“Harlan?” I whisper, part scared and part frenzied with hope.
After retrieving something out of his jeans pocket, he takes my hand, opens it, and places a key in my palm. “It was always supposed to be yours, Meredith.” His eyes travel from my face to the ranch.
“Harlan.” I trace the edge of the key. “What have you done?”
“Well, I almost ruined everything. That’s what I’ve done.” His focus shifts back to me, and he grazes the back of his hand over my cheek. “I hope it’s not too late to make it right.”
“Stop.”
He pulls back an inch and studies my face.
“Please don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry.
I’m the one who ruined everything. I was so scared of what you wanted for our future that I beat you to it and broke it off.
I didn’t give you the space you needed.” My shaky voice breaks.
“And I should have. I should have given you space and time. I should have given us both space and time to figure it out together.”
He wraps his arms around me and lowers his head to rest his cheek against mine. From somewhere deep in his gut, he groans his acceptance of my apology. “Meredith, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life running Twelve Bluebells with you.”
Tears stream down my face. “But what about—”
He draws back to look at me. “This is what I want.” He shakes his head, his voice firm.
“You left the hospital, and I thought William was going to tan my hide. Even without his talk, everything became clear to me.” His beautiful eyes bore into mine.
“Let’s love Alex until she can’t stand it.
Let’s open this ranch to people who need a home.
Then we can love them until they can’t stand it.
I want to raise that”—he nods toward the house—“family with you. It doesn’t matter who we get to love along the way, I just want to do it with you.
” He presses his forehead to mine. “I want that legacy with you, Meredith.”
Before I can respond, he steps back and pulls something else out of his pocket.
Harlan Christopher Holcombe gets down on one knee, opens a small velvet box, holds my left hand, and smiles, his eyes gleaming. “Meredith, will you marry me?”
I clutch my chest with my free hand, trying to remember how to breathe. “Yes,” I whisper through a watery smile.
He slips the ring on my finger and brushes a kiss on the top of my hand.
Pulling him up to me, I throw myself at him.
His arms wrap around my waist, and he whispers soft, sweet words in my ear. When he draws back, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s slow, tender, and thorough, filled with promises of more to come.
Breaking the kiss, he guides my newly adorned left hand into view between us. “Twelve diamonds around the band for the tiny ones, and two baguettes flanking the main stone for Clayton and Chloe.” He rubs his thumb over my finger. “So they’ll each be a part of our family.”
I whimper. My throat closes up.
His love. His heart. His beauty. All shining through the sentiment of this ring.
I bury my face in his chest, and he runs one hand around my waist and the other up the center of my back to press me close. I slide my hands up his back, his heartbeat strong in my ear.
When I gaze up, I see beautiful, deep brown eyes. Eyes that I will blissfully get to swim in for the rest of my life.
He takes my face in his hands and places sweet kisses over every inch of my face.
During a pause in our celebration, I turn around in his arms. He locks one around my waist and one around my shoulders. We both look at the house. Something on the porch catches my eye, and I squint. “Are those my Texas cowgirl boots?”
“Yup.” Harlan rests his chin on my shoulder.
I rub my cheek against his. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me how you pulled this off.”
“Penelope and Prissy.”
“Traitors.”
His shoulders shake. “Are you complaining?”
“Never.”
“I talked to your family yesterday.” His gorgeous rumbling voice fills my ear. “Molly almost didn’t grant me permission to marry you.”
“My sister knows?” Craning my neck, I glare at him. “Of all the times not to be codependent and share inappropriate information. I’m going to kill her.”
Harlan loosens his hold so I can turn in his arms to face him. “She wants me to pass along a message to you.”
I brace myself. “What’s that?”
“She took you off Famous People Probation.”
Giggling, I say, “I don’t think that matters anymore.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.”
“If I’m not famous, then what am I?”
I lean up and whisper in his ear, “You’re just mine.”
He draws back and throws me a heated look before he captures my lips with his. When we stop kissing, he says at my temple, “She also thinks we should go camping for our honeymoon.”
“Liar.”
“I’ll table the camping thing for now,” he says. “But I insist on dancing at the reception.”
“Can surgeon general warnings be put on wedding invitations?”
I study his face, then shift my gaze to the precious ring and finally to Twelve Bluebells Ranch. Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my cheek on his chest.
My Hercules. My family. My love.
Even after this.