Chapter 22
Mark knew the proposal would stir up half the town. He had expected tears, laughter, congratulations, questions about wedding dates that the newly engaged couple could not possibly answer yet, and Sadie announcing to anyone within range that Jacob had done a very good job.
What he had not expected was for Pastor Abernathy to look at him and Natalie with that gentle, knowing expression that usually came right before a man was asked to examine his conscience.
Rachel stood beneath the cedar arbor with the ring on her finger and Sadie tucked against her side, both of them glowing in the white lights wrapped around the greenery.
Jacob kept one arm around Rachel as people came forward to congratulate them, and every time Rachel looked at him, she started smiling all over again.
Mark hadn’t approached yet, mostly because it seemed to him that joy like that deserved respect.
Natalie stood beside Mark near the edge of the path, holding his handkerchief in one hand and dabbing carefully beneath one eye.
She had managed to stop crying, mostly, but her face still carried the soft ache he had noticed the moment Jacob had dropped to one knee.
She was happy for Rachel, that much was plain, but something in the proposal had touched one of the tender places Natalie kept tucked behind ribbon and warm smiles.
Mark wanted to ask what she needed. He also wanted to take her hand and not for the purposes of their fake dating arrangement.
Before he could say anything, Pastor Abernathy stepped toward them from the arbor, his Bible tucked beneath one arm and his wool coat buttoned crookedly. “Beautiful moment, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Natalie said, her voice warm but a little thin. She folded the handkerchief once then again. “Rachel looks so happy.”
“She does.” Pastor Abernathy smiled toward the newly engaged couple then looked back at Natalie and Mark. “God has a tender way of bringing families together, sometimes after a great deal of hurt.”
Natalie nodded but did not speak.
Mark noticed the pastor’s attention settle on the space between them. Not prying. Not gossipy. Just observant in the way Pastor Abernathy always was, as if he heard the words people spoke and the ones they were trying not to.
“I hope you won’t mind my asking something,” Pastor Abernathy said quietly. “Not here as town business and certainly not as gossip. Only as someone who cares about both of you.”
“Of course,” Mark said slowly even though he already sensed danger.
Pastor Abernathy stepped a little farther away from the main group, drawing them with him toward a cedar tree near the path.
It was as private as it could be with so many people nearby.
Most people were still gathered around Jacob and Rachel, and Betty Parker had started pouring coffee from a thermos near the trucks.
Aunt Eleanor stood several yards away speaking with his mother, close enough to see them but not close enough, Mark hoped, to hear.
The pastor’s expression remained kind. “There’s been a good deal of talk about the two of you.”
Natalie’s fingers tightened around the folded handkerchief. “There always is talk in Shooting Star Canyon.”
“That is unfortunately true.” Pastor Abernathy’s mouth curved faintly, but his expression remained serious. “Most of it comes from affection, even when it lacks wisdom. I’ve watched people celebrate Jacob and Rachel tonight, and I’ve also heard several comments about you two being next.”
Natalie’s cheeks flushed.
Mark looked toward the crowd, his jaw tightening. Mrs. Barlow stood near Rachel, hands pressed to her chest, which meant she had no doubt contributed at least half of those comments.
“I know public attention can place pressure on a relationship,” Pastor Abernathy continued. “So I wanted to ask whether the two of you are all right, truly all right. Are you dating in earnest, or have people gotten ahead of the truth?”
Natalie’s face changed. The practiced brightness disappeared so quickly that Mark saw the fear beneath it before she could hide it. She looked at him, not pleading exactly, but searching, as if she did not know whether she wanted him to lie or rescue her from the lie.
Mark thought of his father in the pasture telling him to start by telling the truth. Not necessarily to the whole town. Tell yourself the truth, and when the time is right, tell her too.
This was not the right time.
He knew that the moment after he opened his mouth. “People got ahead of the truth,” Mark admitted.
Natalie looked down.
Pastor Abernathy’s expression did not sharpen with judgment. If anything, it softened. “I see.”
“It started with a misunderstanding,” Mark added. Now that the first sentence was out, stopping felt worse than continuing. “A few people saw us together and assumed. We should have corrected them sooner.”
“We let them assume,” Natalie said, her voice quiet enough that Mark almost wished she had not spoken. “It made things easier.”
The pastor nodded slowly. “Easier because people stopped asking questions?”
Natalie’s mouth trembled once before she steadied it. “Yes.”
Mark wanted to step closer, but she was holding herself so carefully that he feared any movement from him would break something.
“I understand the temptation,” Pastor Abernathy said. “Loneliness and pressure can both make a false shelter look merciful. That doesn’t make either of you bad people. It makes you human, but human hearts do not thrive long inside something that cannot bear the weight of truth.”
Natalie flinched.
Mark felt it like the words had struck him too.
“I don’t mean to shame you,” Pastor Abernathy said at once, looking at Natalie with concern. “Truly, I don’t. I’m sorry if it sounded that way.”
“No.” Natalie smiled then, and Mark hated that smile because he recognized it now. It was the Winter Wishes smile. Beautiful but not quite genuine. A door closing politely in someone’s face. “You’re right. We shouldn’t have let it go on.”
Aunt Eleanor’s voice went quiet behind them.
Mark’s stomach dropped.
He turned his head just enough to see Natalie’s aunt standing beside his mother, a coffee cup forgotten in her hand.
She had heard. Maybe not all of it but enough.
His mother’s face was gentle and stricken, and beside them, Betty Parker had gone still too, her sharp eyes moving from Natalie to Mark with protective concern.
Natalie saw them a second later. The color drained from her face.
“Natalie,” Mark said softly.
She took one step back from him. “I told her we weren’t pretending.”
Aunt Eleanor’s face tightened with pain, not anger.
Mark felt the ground shift beneath him. He had not known Natalie had lied to her aunt, but he should have guessed. He should have realized how many little traps this arrangement had built for her while he had been busy discovering that his own heart had started telling the truth.
Pastor Abernathy looked genuinely apologetic. “Natalie, I should have asked somewhere more private, or perhaps I shouldn’t have asked at all.”
“No, please don’t apologize.” Natalie lifted the handkerchief slightly, hesitated, and held it out for Mark. “You asked a fair question. I’m the one who answered unfairly before.”
The pastor bowed his head and stepped away.
Mark stared at the outstretched handkerchief but did not move to accept it. “Keep it.”
“I don’t need it.” She set it on the nearest fence rail, careful and precise. “I should congratulate Rachel before I go.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
Her eyes met his then, bright with humiliation she was trying desperately to turn into composure. “I think I do.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
Natalie’s smile wavered. “What part? The fake relationship? The public correction? Or the fact that I apparently needed a pastor to ask whether my life was honest?”
His chest tightened. “I never wanted to embarrass you.”
“I know.” She looked toward Aunt Eleanor then away just as quickly. “That might be the worst part. No one was trying to hurt me, and I still feel foolish.”
“You’re not foolish.”
“Mark, please.” Her voice broke softly on his name, and that small fracture hurt worse than if she had caused a scene. “Don’t make me stand here and be comforted in front of everyone.”
He hung his head.
She drew in a breath, squared her shoulders, and became the woman who owned Winter Wishes again.
Not the woman who had cried over Jacob’s proposal.
Not the woman who had told him she did not feel like a project with him.
Not the woman he had fallen in love with on a dance floor when she had taken the lead.
This woman stepped behind glass, and Mark had no idea how to reach her from the other side.
Natalie crossed to Rachel and Jacob. Even wounded, she would not let her own pain steal from someone else’s joy.
Mark watched her hug Rachel, admire the ring, and bend to say something to Sadie that made the little girl smile.
No one who did not know her well would see the difference, but Mark saw it.
Aunt Eleanor moved toward Natalie’s side as she straightened, but Natalie only touched her aunt’s arm and shook her head. Her aunt stopped, hurt flashing across her face.
Natalie walked away alone.
Mark started after her.
His mother caught his sleeve before he made it three steps. She did not hold him tightly, but the touch was enough to make him pause. “Give her a minute.”
“I didn’t speak up in time. I should’ve told her the truth before now, and I didn’t. Now she thinks I chose honesty over her heart.”
His mother’s eyes were gentle even though she couldn’t possibly understand his rambling. “The truth is important,” his mother said softly. “So is making sure it doesn’t land like a stone.”
Mark looked toward the parking area, where Natalie’s red dress disappeared between two trucks. “I should have protected her.”
“The truth is important. Speaking from the heart is also important.” His mother released his sleeve. “All you can do is be careful with what you do next.”
Pastor Abernathy stepped forward once more, regret written plainly across his face. “Mark, I am sorry. I misjudged the setting.”
Mark shook his head. “You asked the question we should have answered days ago.”
“That may be true.” The pastor looked toward the parking area. “But tenderness matters too.”
Mark nodded glumly. He knew that now, but it was too late to stop Natalie from driving away with her aunt’s hurt behind her, the town’s assumptions cracking open around her, and Mark’s own confession still locked inside him where it did her no good at all.
Across the overlook, Jacob held Rachel beneath the arbor, both of them surrounded by celebration and certainty.
Mark stood outside that circle, watching the woman he loved leave because the lie that had brought them together had finally done what lies always did.
It had asked for payment.