“It’s not just the wedding date,” she said when at last she could form the words.

  She pulled the ring off her finger. It near broke her heart to do so, but keeping it when she was so uncertain of her feelings would be living a lie, and he deserved so much more. Moistening her lips, she squeezed the ring gently in her palm before handing it back to him.

  He stared down at the sparkler before looking up at her. “Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?”

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Brandon. All I know is that I can’t do this. Not now.” Maybe never.

  His face seemed to crumble, and she heard his intake of breath. The hurt in his eyes nearly killed her. “I know you loved your husband very much. Just as I loved Haley’s mother. It took me awhile to realize that loving you takes nothing away from the woman I once loved. What happened in the past is over.”

  She knotted her hands by her side. If it was truly over, then why did it feel like the past was still shaping her future? Still guiding her daily decisions? Still tormenting her with its unrelenting memories and unfulfilled dreams?

  “Josie, I don’t want you to forget Ralph or what you two shared. I would never ask that of you.”

  She drew in her breath. She was tempted—oh, so tempted—to put her doubts aside and melt into his arms. If only her mother’s words didn’t keep echoing in her head. “He can give you what Ralph never could.”

  It was hard—harder than anything she’d ever done—but she managed to keep her wits about her as much for his sake as for hers. “I . . . I can’t.”

  His eyes darkened. “What’s really going on, Josie?” he asked.

  She looked away, but only because she couldn’t bear to see the hurt on his face. Hearing the pain in his voice was difficult enough. “I told you. I’m just not ready. Please try to understand. I’m just telling you how I feel.”

  He rubbed his head. “Okay, then. When . . . when do you think you’ll be ready?”

  Here it was. The moment of truth. “When I know without a doubt that I can give you all the love and devotion you deserve.” With that she turned and fled.

  ***

  “Why can’t we ask Mrs. Johnson to go on a picnic with us?” Haley asked.

  Back turned, Brandon met his daughter’s gaze in the mirror over the dry sink. Ever since she’d been knee-high to a grasshopper, she’d been asking questions. Why is the sky blue? How come the moon doesn’t fall? Such questions were no easier to answer than the one she now posed, but at least they hadn’t come with a piercing arrow aimed straight at his heart.

  He swished his razor through the water in the porcelain basin. “I told you, Haley. Mrs. Johnson has other things to do.”

  “We can go on a picnic tomorrow instead of today,” Haley said.

  Brandon reached for a towel. “I’m sure she has something to do tomorrow too.”

  “You can ask her.”

  He turned and drew in his breath. Just when he thought he had a handle on fatherhood, something popped up that threw him. How did one you explain the vagaries of the human heart to a nine-year-old? How could he get her to forget the woman he himself could not forget?

  “Mrs. Johnson is . . . sad.”

  “Because her husband is in heaven?”

  He nodded. “Yes. When people are sad, they don’t want to do certain things. Like go on picnics.”

  The look on Haley’s face jolted him. Colleen used to have a similar look just before she told him something he didn’t want to know about himself.

  “You’re sad, and you’re going on a picnic,” Haley said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m sad?”

  “You forgot to shave that side of your face,” she said pointing.

  “What?” He lifted his hand to his cheek. The prickly rough surface against his palm made him laugh. “That doesn’t mean I’m sad,” he said. “It only means I’m forgetful.”

  “You’re always forgetful when you’re sad,” she said. “Remember when you promised to take me the fair? You forgot because it was Mama’s birthday and you were sad because she wasn’t here to celebrate.”

  He shook his head in wonder. That had been three years ago when she was only six.

  “I made up for it the following year,” he said. He didn’t need yet another reminder of his failings. “Today, I just have a lot on my mind.”

  He hadn’t been able to think of anything but Josie for days. He wasn’t sure how it had happened. How he had fallen so utterly and completely in love. All he knew was that somehow Josie had burrowed her way into his resistant heart and had now left a gaping hole.

  He wasn’t so much sad as angry. For far too long, the past had robbed him of the joy of living. Now the past was robbing him of the woman he loved.

  Chapter29

  Dejected following the failure of his business, Miles Hinton threw himself in front of a train. He has now decided to manufacture cowcatchers. —Two-Time Gazette

  It was overcast that Saturday in October when Josie walked the grounds of the Two-Time Old Folks’ Home. Lot eleven had caused her much pain in the past, but never had she dreaded anything as much as she dreaded today.

  The grand opening was meeting with great fanfare. It appeared that half the town had turned out to tour the facilities. The festivities had been preceded by a long, windy speech by the mayor, who spent more time congratulating himself than the founder of the home.

  Music was provided by the Washboard Quartet, which included T-bone on the washboard and Mr. Mooney on the cowbells.

  Josie had almost sent Hank in her stead, but as the publisher of the Gazette she could hardly skip the most important event of the year. People were sure to notice. More than that, it meant a lot to Haley to have her there.

  She and Brandon hadn’t talked for more than a month. Not since the night she returned his ring. Haley and her father had spent every spare minute getting the home ready for today, and Josie had purposely stayed away. Until she sorted out the knot of confused emotions inside, it wasn’t fair to keep seeing Brandon. It had hurt to stay away—hurt more than she could ever have thought possible—but it was the right thing to do.

  The editorial exchanges had been handled by Hank. Remarkable professionalism had been shown in keeping their private affairs out of the weekly opinion pieces. The editorial feud continued, but neither she or Brandon felt the need to address the personal rift between them in print. This led readers to believe that the previous mention of marriage had simply been a publicity stunt.

  Brandon had done a wonderful service for the town, and no one suspected that the home had anything to do with the fire. Nor could anyone know from looking at Josie how much it cost her to be there that today. Or that her friendly smiles sprang from a well of hidden tears.

  Mr. Pendergrass greeted visitors fully clothed in overalls and plaid shirt, thus earning everyone’s gratitude. Brandon was surrounded by well-wishers and didn’t seem to notice Josie’s presence.

  Haley was the official tour guide. The girl looked so pretty in her pleated blue dress and small-crowned, wide-brimmed hat. Upon spotting Josie, her face lit up and she immediately ran to greet her. “I missed you, Mrs. Johnson.”

  “Missed you too,” Josie said.

  Haley tugged on Josie’s hand. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” Haley motioned for the other guests to follow. One by one she led the group to the large parlor and through the dining room.

  “This is the kitchen,” she said as if the butcher-block counters, enormous ice box, and wood-burning cookstove didn’t speak for themselves.

  Later, while Meg and Amanda explored the facilities, Josie decided to have one last look at the property before taking her leave.

  Outside she bumped into Pepper. He doffed his hat and bowed his head. “Be careful of the oil,” he said, pointing to the ground.

  “Oil?” She looked at the shiny puddle oozing out of the ground, and something occurred to her. “Is that why you wanted this property?” she asked. “Because of the oil?”

  “As a matter of fact, it was,” he said with rueful shrug of his shoulders.

  She should have known Pepper was up to one of money-making schemes. What would he think if he knew she had once suspected him of arson and even murder? “Isn’t lamp oil produced in Pennsylvania?”

  He made a face. “Forget the lamp oil business. I’m thinking bigger. Now that the railroads are switching from coal, oil is fast becoming the new gold.”

  “I always thought the oil here would be too costly to extract.”

  “That’s true of hand-dug wells. But the more successful wells are drilled with steam engines.”

  She hated to think of the peaceful serenity of the area being disturbed by machines. “Does that mean you intend to drill here?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Most of the other lots have already sold. What’s left is unsuitable for drilling.”

  That was music to her ears. “I guess you’ll have to look elsewhere for your pot of gold.”

  “And I fully intended to.” He tipped his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Johnson.”

  After she and Pepper had parted, she followed the winding path around the side of the home. Logs were stacked up in a neat pile, and a horse-drawn tractor sat parked nearby. Soon, the area would house the stables and barn.

  Continuing, she saw something that surprised her. The old cottonwood still stood, surrounded by a circle of fallen trees. Even more surprising, a sign written in Brandon’s bold hand and tacked to the tree read, “Do not cut down this tree.”

  Josie gasped. Brandon must have seen the heart with the initials. Had he guessed at their significance? Was that why he’d saved that one tree? Somehow she knew that was the reason.

  The heart carved into the puckered bark was easy to find. She traced it with a finger, and something tugged at her insides. Looking at the engraving, she saw it for what it was: a grave marker of the past.

  The thought curled through her like slow-moving smoke. Her husband was gone and never coming back. Their marriage belonged to a very different time and place. The woman that Ralph had left behind no longer existed. She doubted if Ralph would even recognize her as she was today.

  Her gaze traveled up the length of the tree. Cottonwoods were the first to lose their leaves, but not usually this early. The drought had taken a toll. The tree that had once shaded two lovers now opened to a limitless sky.

  Turning away, she was surprised by the sudden awareness that locked her into the present. It was as if she was seeing the world for the first time. As if she had just awakened from a very long sleep. The house built for the elderly loomed in front of her. With its newly papered walls, polished glass windows, and shiny tile roof, it offered a new beginning for those who had previously seemed to have so little to live for.

  Beyond the house lay the river, winding its way to the sea with the swiftness and single-minded purpose of an arrow. Neither rocks nor fallen trees could stop the onward flow.

  A slight breeze whispered through the dry leaves at her feet, a startling contrast to the new life around her.

  Her vision blurred, but not with tears of regret or grief. This time the tears were for thanksgiving. Life really did go on. Brandon had taken her dream and turned it into reality. He had built something big and bright and beautiful. He had created a home that would give people like Mr. Pendergrass a safe place in which to spend their golden years.

  And that’s when it hit her: Mama was wrong. Her feelings for Brandon had nothing to do with what he could give her, but rather for the kind-hearted man that he was. She loved him for how he made her feel when she was with him. For who they were when they were together.

  Joy bubbled up inside her as she started toward the house. Most everyone had left by the time she reached the wraparound porch with its white wicker chairs. That’s when she got the shock of her life.

  The tall wooden door that had been opened when she passed through the first time was now closed, revealing a wood carving of a sailing ship with which she was all too familiar. She rubbed her eyes and blinked, but there was no mistake. The long-lost lid of the family hope chest was now embedded in the golden oak door.

  “A beautiful piece, wouldn’t you say?”

  Startled by Brandon’s voice, she turned to find him at the bottom of the porch steps, looking up at her. He stood tall and straight as the nearby windmill, his long sturdy legs slightly apart. Broad shoulders strained beneath the fabric of his shirt as he held his powerful arms by his side.

  He tossed a nod at the door. “Haley found that piece by the river. It was in bad shape but I was able to refinish it. We think it fell off a boat or something.”

  “It didn’t fall off a boat,” she whispered. “That ship was carved by my grandfather.”

  “Your grand—” Brandon’s forehead creased, and the lines between his eyes deepened. “Are you saying it’s yours?”

  She nodded. “It’s the lid of my family’s hope chest.”

  He grimaced. “Of course. I should have known. The day of the race.”

  “I looked for it but couldn’t find it.”

  “I’m sorry, Josie. I’ll see that you get it back.”

  She met his gaze and felt a jolt inside. Seeing Brandon through eyes no longer veiled with the past revealed things in him previously overlooked. He was nothing like Ralph, and for that she had once thought him lacking. A mistake. Now she knew that this maddening, wonderful, opinionated, thoughtful, arrogant, kind, and loving man was perfect for the woman she had now become.

  Tensing, she waited for the inevitable guilt she’d come to expect from such thoughts. Instead, she felt something shift and change inside, like a freshly transformed butterfly taking flight and suddenly able to soar to unprecedented heights. That’s when she knew without a doubt that the woman she once was belonged to Ralph and always would. The woman she had since become belonged to another. And that woman was ready—more than ready—to love Brandon with her whole heart and soul for who he was, not for the dreams he could make come true.

  She glanced back at the door. “That’s a carving of the ship that brought my grandparents to America.”

  “Don’t worry, Josie. I’ll return it to you. The piece is embedded in the wood, so I’ll have to replace the door. But it shouldn’t take but a couple of days.”

  Her gaze locked on to his. “You’d ruin your beautiful door just for me?” she whispered.

  The question seemed to puzzle him. “I would do anything for you. Don’t you know that by now?”

  “Even save a tree that should by all rights be cut down?”

  “Like I said. I’d do anything for you.”

  His steady gaze stripped her of all pretenses, and she fought to hold back the tears. By all accounts he should be angry for the way she’d led him on, though that was never her intention. Instead, the tenderness of his expression was like a healing balm soothing her deepest wounds.

  Fearing she was about to drown in the brown depths of his eyes, she shook her head. “I don’t want the lid back,” she said. “My grandfather carved the ship on the hope chest as a symbol of new beginnings. I want everyone who enters here to know it’s never too late to start a new life. That’s why the ship belongs on this house. On this door.” Mama and her sisters were bound to agree.

  His gaze bored into hers. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure. I also want you to cut down that tree. The land could be better used for something else.”

  “If you’re sure,” he said.

  “I’m sure.” She drew in her breath and exhaled. “Speaking of new beginnings, I’m also sure of something else.”

  He rested one foot on the bottom step. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I’m sure that you and I belong together. That is, if you still want me.”

  “Oh, God, Josie. Do you know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that? I never stopped hoping that you would—”

  He never got to finish what he was saying. That’s because she had cleared the porch and leaped into his arms with such force she’d almost knocked him over.

  He steadied her with his hands to her waist, a look of astonishment on his face. “Do . . . do you mean what you said? You’re not going to change your mind again.”

  “Not this time. I promise,” she said, her voice thick with wonder and awe. “I love you, Brandon Wade.” Why it had taken her so long to figure out her true feelings, she would never know. “I love you and want to spend the rest of my life proving how much!”

  His face lit up and his grin practically reached his ears. Crushing her to him, he gazed at her with a tenderness that took her breath away. “I love you, Josie Johnson. I do believe I’ve loved you from the moment I first set eyes on you. And I intend to keep loving you for the rest of our born days.”

  He kissed her firmly and ever so thoroughly on the lips. And with his sweet words ringing in her ears, she ever so thoroughly kissed him back.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  The door to the Gazette flew open and Brandon stepped inside, filling the office with the fresh smell of sunshine, leather, and Texas heat.

  He greeted Josie with a nod before tossing a sheet of paper upon her desk. “My dear, sweet wife, this will never do.”

  Hank glanced over his shoulder, then quickly resumed setting type. By now he was used to their weekly disputes over wordage and article content. Their editorial feuds knew no limits, and readers kept coming back for more.

  Josie raised an eyebrow. The text in question this week was not the editorial she’d written renouncing Brandon’s shortsighted opinion on raising dog licensing fees. Instead, it was the announcement she’d penned about their son’s birth. Since his newspaper didn’t usually print such milestones, he’d asked her to write it for him.