Chapter Nineteen
Daisy woke expecting her birthday to slip past much the same way the last three had.
She planned to spend the morning in her workshop filling orders for the Sheridan House.
Nathan would almost certainly pretend he'd forgotten what day it was while mysteriously producing her favorite breakfast. Clara might send a letter.
Julian would probably arrive with supplies and a speech about expansion that sounded suspiciously like a politician campaigning for office.
It was a perfectly ordinary plan, which explained why alarm bells started ringing the instant she stepped into the kitchen.
Nathan seemed unusually cheerful. His actions sounded lighter somehow. Daisy immediately grew suspicious.
"You've done something," she said.
Nathan laughed. "Good morning to you, too."
"You've definitely done something."
"I'm wounded by your lack of faith."
Daisy shook her head. "You should be. You've earned it."
A low chuckle came from the other side of the room.
Flint.
The simple sound was enough to scatter every other thought. She turned toward the stove, suddenly aware of him in a way she hadn't been five seconds earlier.
Nathan pushed back his chair. "I should warn you that whatever is happening, I had no part in it."
"That statement alone guarantees you had a part in it."
Flint laughed again, though there was a rough edge beneath it. "Daisy."
Her stomach performed a ridiculous little flip. "Yes?"
He hesitated long enough that she could almost hear him reconsidering whatever he planned to say. "Do you trust me?"
Across the table, Nathan inhaled coffee at precisely the wrong moment and started coughing.
"Should I be concerned that my brother is choking?"
Nathan waved a hand dismissively. "I'm fine."
She smiled. "Flint?"
"Hm?" he responded.
Nathan suddenly stood, and Daisy sensed him edging toward the door. She asked him, "Where are you going?"
"Into town."
Daisy folded her arms. "You frightened him off."
Flint sounded offended. "I did no such thing."
"He fled like a man escaping a wildfire."
His laughter filled the room, warm and genuine. The sound lingered long after it faded. Then she sensed him move closer.
He didn't touch her. Flint rarely touched her without reason. Yet she felt his presence immediately, felt the awareness that had lately seemed to settle between them whenever they stood too near one another.
When he spoke again, the teasing had disappeared. "Come with me."
Her pulse stumbled.
Any sensible woman would've demanded details. Where are we going? How long will we be gone? What exactly are you planning?
Instead, Daisy found herself smiling. "All right."
***
Eventually, Daisy was forced to accept that Flint had no intention of telling her where they were headed.
The farther they walked, the more the world around her changed.
The air felt cooler against her skin, carrying scents she didn't encounter near Nathan's house.
Wildflowers drifted past in delicate waves.
Sun-warmed grass mingled with rich earth.
Birds called from a distance, their songs echoing through what sounded like a larger stand of trees than any she knew of nearby.
Then another sound reached her.
Water.
A smile tugged at the edge of her mouth.
Beside her, his boots rustled through the grass.
"You're taking me somewhere with a creek."
He laughed softly. "Maybe."
"You know, most people answer direct questions."
The sound of water grew stronger as they continued. She could hear subtle differences in the current, places where it rushed over rocks and others where it flowed more gently. Whatever Flint had discovered, it wasn't merely a creek hidden behind a pasture.
Then he stopped.
The sudden stillness immediately drew her attention to him.
"All right," he said.
The confidence she'd heard all morning seemed to waver slightly. That alone made her pulse quicken.
"You can walk forward a few steps."
Her pulse stumbled. "A few?"
His laugh sounded warmer this time.
Daisy stepped forward.
The breeze brushed her face almost immediately. Cool water scented the air. Leaves whispered overhead. The creek sang nearby, close enough that she could distinguish individual currents weaving through stone. Then another fragrance drifted toward her, rich and sweet enough to steal her breath.
Wild roses.
The scent surrounded her.
Beneath it lingered clover, cottonwood, and damp earth warmed by the afternoon sun. Every breath revealed another layer. Every sound painted another piece of the landscape she couldn't see but could nevertheless feel taking shape around her.
The place seemed alive.
Astonishment escaped before she could stop it. "Oh. Flint, when did you find this?”
"Yesterday."
The satisfaction buried in his voice made her smile.
Carefully, she lowered herself onto the blanket he'd spread beneath the trees. Her hand brushed the woven fabric first. Then a basket.
Food.
Nearby, flowers released their fragrance into the breeze.
Understanding arrived gradually rather than all at once, each detail adding another layer until the truth became impossible to miss.
A picnic.
He had brought her to a hidden creek and planned a birthday picnic.
Joy rose so quickly she struggled to speak. "Oh, my goodness..."
The rest vanished.
Because none of this had been arranged for a sighted woman. Most men would've chosen a place because it looked beautiful. Flint had chosen it because she could experience it.
He'd thought about the sound of the water, the scent of the roses, the shade beneath the trees, the breeze drifting across the creek. He'd remembered the way she experienced the world and built the entire afternoon around that understanding.
The realization carried a tenderness that caught her off guard.
"I wanted you to enjoy your birthday."
His voice held the same straightforward honesty that always seemed to catch her off guard. He sounded almost puzzled by her reaction, as though he couldn't understand why such a simple gesture had affected her so deeply.
Daisy laughed softly, though emotion still thickened her throat. "You remembered."
A faint rustle came from beside her. "Of course I remembered."
Daisy pressed her fingertips against the blanket, suddenly afraid that if she spoke too quickly, she might cry.
No birthday gift she'd received in years could have touched her as deeply as those four simple words.
They shared the meal slowly, lingering over conversation between bites.
Flint had remembered every detail. The biscuits she always reached for first. The fruit she used to steal from picnic baskets before anyone else could claim it.
Even the honey candies Ruth occasionally made during special occasions.
Each discovery warmed her more than the last. She could hear the satisfaction he tried to hide whenever she recognized another favorite. She suspected he was far more pleased with himself than he wanted her to know.
"You've been planning this for some time, haven’t you?"
Flint sounded innocent enough to be immediately suspicious. "I merely planned a picnic."
"You planned my perfect picnic."
Daisy smiled and shook her head.
The conversation wandered naturally after that, touching old memories they hadn't shared in years.
Stories surfaced that once would've seemed insignificant but now felt precious.
Clara accidentally locking herself in the smokehouse.
Ruth threatening Wyatt with a wooden spoon after he'd tracked mud across her clean kitchen floor.
Samuel pretending not to laugh while Wyatt tried defending himself.
When Daisy mentioned that story, Flint groaned. "To be fair, Wyatt was twelve."
"He was old enough to know better."
"He'd argue that point."
"He argues every point."
Daisy smiled. "I miss them."
Flint grew quiet. "The Callahans?"
She nodded. "I missed Clara's letters showing up late because she'd stop and visit half the town first. I missed Ruth fussing over everyone. Samuel pretending he wasn't sentimental while keeping every ridiculous thing people gave him." A smile lingered on her lips. "I even missed Wyatt."
Daisy drew a slow breath and listened to the creek winding through the trees. "I missed someone else, too." Daisy turned away from him. "You."
She shook her head. "If I don't say this now, I never will.
" Her hands trembled slightly as she laced her fingers together.
"After the fever, I convinced myself I'd ruined your future.
" The confession hurt, but not the way it once had.
The pain had aged over the years, worn smooth by regret and distance.
"I couldn't see a life where you wouldn't spend every day taking care of me. I kept imagining all the things you'd lose because of me." She laughed softly, though no humor lived in the sound. "I never stopped loving you. That was the problem."
Flint didn't move.
Daisy could feel his attention fixed entirely on her.
"I loved you enough that I thought leaving was the kinder choice.
" The words sounded foolish now. Yet she'd believed them completely.
"I was terrified of becoming a responsibility you couldn't escape.
So I decided what was best for you and never gave you the chance to disagree. "
The breeze stirred the roses nearby. Water continued its endless journey across stone. Everything else seemed suspended.
When Flint finally reached for her hand, the familiar roughness of his palm sent a rush of emotion through her. "You should've let me decide."
A tear slipped down her cheek. "I know."
His fingers closed around hers. His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles, and neither of them seemed willing to pull away.
Years had passed since they'd stood on the same side of their heartbreak. Years spent carrying separate versions of the same wound. Sitting beside the creek, hand in hand beneath the cottonwoods, Daisy finally understood how much of their suffering had grown from fear neither had known how to name.
And despite everything they'd lost, despite every mistake and every painful year between them, she could still feel hope stirring back to life.
"I don’t know what to say."
His voice carried a rough vulnerability she'd never heard from him before, and hearing it nearly shattered what remained of her resolve.
She knew exactly why he sounded that way.
Flint had spent weeks fighting this. The truth neither of them wanted to examine had followed them through every conversation, every shared glance, every quiet evening spent under Nathan's roof.
Now there was nowhere left to hide from it.
Slowly, she lifted her free hand and reached toward him.
Her fingertips found the familiar line of his jaw first. A day's worth of stubble brushed against her skin. Warmth radiated beneath it. She felt the subtle shift in his breathing and knew he was trying to be still.
"I'm not afraid anymore."
The confession emerged quietly, but it carried more certainty than anything she'd said all afternoon.
For years, fear had governed every important choice she'd made. Fear of dependence. Fear of pity. Fear of watching Flint sacrifice pieces of his future because of her.
She was tired of fear.
His hand closed more firmly around hers.
Flint lifted a hand and brushed her hair back from her face. The touch lingered against her cheek, careful enough to reveal exactly how much this meant to him.
When he kissed her, Daisy felt years of longing collapse beneath the simple reality of being held by the man she'd never stopped loving.
Her fingers curled against his shirt, and the restraint he'd been clinging to finally gave way.
The kiss deepened.
All the words they'd swallowed through the years seemed to find expression at once. The hurt of losing each other. The relief of finding one another again. The love that had survived despite every mistake they'd made.
Daisy lost track of everything beyond him. The world narrowed until Flint became the only thing that mattered. She realized that happiness no longer felt like a memory belonging to someone else.
For the first time since the fever stole her sight, it felt close enough to reach.