Chapter 15 #3
"I've spent a long time believing there wasn't much difference between what Sharon saw that day...and what God must see every time He looked at me."
The admission hung between them.
"I knew all the verses. Knew them well enough to offer them to somebody else when they needed them." A rueful smile touched his mouth. "I just never could seem to believe they applied to me."
Mercy's gaze never wavered. "Yet they always did."
He searched her face, looking for even the smallest trace of doubt.
He didn't find any.
Instead, he found the same quiet certainty she'd carried from the beginning. The certainty that had refused to let him hide behind his guilt. The certainty that had seen a man worth befriending long before he'd been willing to see one himself.
Something inside him, held taut for so many years he no longer remembered what ease felt like, finally began to loosen.
He drew another slow breath. "I don't know when it happened." A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Somewhere between driving you around the countryside...and carrying trunks...and eating Sunday dinner with you and your mother..."
He shook his head. "I stopped coming here because you needed another pair of hands."
His gaze met hers. "I came because you were here."
Mercy's breath caught.
"I found myself measuring my mornings by whether I'd see you." He gave a quiet, self-conscious chuckle. "That's a mighty foolish thing for a man my age to admit."
"I don't think it's foolish at all." Her smile was soft, her eyes damp.
"No?"
She shook her head. "No, Wilson." A smile softened her features. "I think it's rather wonderful."
He looked at her for a long moment.
"I reckon what I'm trying to say..." He paused, searching for words that had never come easily. "…is that somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you."
Her breath caught. The look that blossomed across her face was the answer he'd scarcely dared hope for.
Wilson held her gaze.
For so long he'd imagined what this moment might be like if he ever found the courage to speak the truth aloud.
He'd never imagined her looking back at him like this.
As though she'd been waiting for him all along.
His thumb brushed lightly across the back of her hand.
"I don't have much experience at courting."
The corner of her mouth lifted. "Shouldn't let that keep you from trying."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
His smile lingered. "No, I don't suppose it should."
He looked at her for a long moment, still marveling that she was looking back at him this way.
"There is one thing I'd like to do."
Her brows lifted.
"Something I've wanted to do for quite some time." His smile deepened. "Kiss the woman who walked into my livery one morning…and quietly changed everything.”
Color climbed in face but she didn’t look away.
"Unfortunately, that will have to wait.”
Was that a flash of disappointment he saw?
He glanced toward the growing crowd at the other end of the schoolhouse before returning his gaze to hers. "I'd rather our first kiss belonged only to us."
Her smile softened.
"I believe I'd like that too."
A quiet contentment warmed his chest. "Then the first time we find ourselves with a bit of privacy..." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "If you'll permit it."
Her fingers tightened around his.
"I think I'd like that very much."
The last traces of daylight had faded from the western sky when someone near the bandstand called that the fireworks would begin in just a few minutes.
Families drifted toward the open commons, children tugging eagerly at their parents' hands while others searched for a clear view of the night sky.
Wilson glanced toward Mercy. "Would you care to watch them somewhere a little quieter?"
Her smile answered before her words did. "I'd like that."
He led her away from the thickest part of the crowd, skirting the schoolhouse until they reached the gentle rise beyond the annex. The sounds of laughter and conversation softened with each step until they became little more than a pleasant murmur carried on the evening breeze.
"I hadn't realized so many people would stay this late," Mercy said as they looked back toward the square.
"I don't suppose Hawthorn's ever had much interest in hurrying home from a celebration like this."
She laughed softly. "No, I suppose it hasn't."
They fell into an easy silence.
Wilson smiled to himself. He’d always been content with silence. Until Mercy, he'd never realized it could be shared.
A sharp whistle pierced the evening and the first rocket streaked upward. It burst high overhead, scattering brilliant gold across the darkness before fading into a shower of sparkling embers.
Mercy's quiet gasp drew his gaze from the sky.
She stood watching the display with quiet delight, her face lifted toward the heavens.
He smiled.
Another rocket climbed, this one blossoming into deep crimson and white.
The burst of light cast a gentle glow across her face. A loose curl had escaped its pins, stirring lightly against her cheek whenever the breeze found it.
Lucky curl.
Without giving himself time to think, he reached for her hand. His fingers brushed hers. For the briefest instant he hesitated. Then he gently closed his hand around hers.
Mercy turned toward him. She didn't speak. Instead, her fingers slipped naturally between his and gave the slightest squeeze.
Something inside him settled.
He hadn't realized how right something so simple could feel.
They stood that way while another burst of color spread overhead, then another, neither paying nearly as much attention to the fireworks as they had at first.
Wilson found himself smiling.
For years he'd measured life one obligation at a time. Finish today's work. Rise and do tomorrow's. Beyond that, he'd asked nothing of the future. Yet somewhere along the way, tomorrow had quietly returned.
And now, every tomorrow he imagined included Mercy.
Another burst blossomed overhead, bathing the hillside in shimmering blue. Mercy shifted a little closer, as though without thinking, and Wilson welcomed the nearness.
Her fingers remained intertwined with his, warm and perfectly at ease within his grasp. She smiled. "I suppose the real work begins after everyone else thinks it's over."
"It usually does."
"We'll be returning loaned pieces for weeks."
"We will." She was entirely too distracting here under the stars. He was having to work to keep up with the conversation.
"And finding room for everything that's meant to stay."
He gave her hand a squeeze. "We'll manage—we make too good a team not to."
She glanced up at him. "You sound very certain."
Wilson looked back toward the annex, its dark outline just visible against the night sky. "I am."
She followed his gaze. "I imagine we'll discover there are still stories waiting to be found."
"I'm counting on it." Wilson smiled to himself. He couldn't wait to discover where their own story would lead.
Another rocket screamed skyward before exploding into a cascade of crimson, white, and blue.
Mercy sighed softly. "I think that's the prettiest one yet."
"I believe you're right." But he wasn’t looking at the fireworks.
The finale began almost immediately.