His trowel scraped raspily over rock, and then he tapped something that made a slightly different sound, and she bent down to get a better look. It was a single red brick. Her breath caught in her chest, and she stared at Casey, the words still formulating in her mind.
Ember let out a low laugh and shook her head. “This is it. You’ve found it—the homestead. The brick! Who else would have done that? The house was by the river, they said—walking distance to fetch fresh water. And behind them were the open plains where the wolves roamed at night and the buffalo would wander past in massive herds... This is it!”
Casey rose to his feet, the trowel still in his hand, and she moved toward him, looking up into his eyes uncertainly.
“This is your proof,” he said quietly.
“And you showed it to me—” Ember shook her head slowly. “You showed it to me, knowing what it meant—for you.”
Casey’s dark gaze met hers, and he reached up, touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I told you that you could trust me.”
Ember put her arms around his neck. She’d meant to simply go up on her tiptoes to hug him, but with her injured ankle, tiptoes weren’t a possibility, so he came down to her, instead, and she found his face so close to hers, and she did the one thing she knew she shouldn’t—she closed her eyes and touched her lips to his.
Casey gathered her up in his arms and kissed her back, the lowing of the cattle surfing the warm prairie wind that circled around them. This was Harper land, and she could feel it in her heart. But Casey showing her... That had been a bigger gesture than she could even comprehend right now. Her heart soared with excitement, and when Casey released her, she felt heat rush to her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she said, hobbling back. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Hey.” Casey caught her hand in his, stopping her retreat. “It’s okay. That was honest.”
And it was. She met his eyes once more and found that warm gaze enveloping her.
“I have my proof,” she said. “This is it—the land where all those stories took place. It’s like my very own holy land.”
“It’s yours,” he said quietly.
“Pa and Mam must have chosen this place, and I can see why. They had no idea how many children they’d have, or how they’d make it each winter, but they managed.” She looked around once more at the swell of the field and the jagged peaks beyond. Despite today’s modern world, it was still so rugged, so vast. Even knowing this land was settled, she felt like a speck on the landscape.
“But what about you, Casey?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said, his eyes filled with sadness. “Fair is fair.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ember went with Casey to church Wednesday evening for the farewell service. They sat in the back of the little country chapel, the babies sleeping in their arms as they had the week before.
“Would you like me to take the baby for a bit?” an older woman asked Ember with a smile.
Ember hesitated, then looked down into the dozy face of the tiny boy. He opened his mouth in a yawn, and she smiled down at him.
“Actually, I’d rather hold him,” she said. “But thanks.”
The woman moved off and Ember allowed herself the brief luxury of leaning into Casey’s strong shoulder and enjoying Wyatt’s sleepy warmth in her arms. She’d come to care for these babies more than any of them knew. They’d sunk into her heart, no matter how hard she tried to protect herself, and when she went back to the city again she’d miss them deeply.
Ember looked up at the stained-glass windows, her gaze following the pictures backlit by early evening sunlight. The first pane showed the Virgin Mary sitting with her son on her lap, and she sparkled with bright colors and obvious joy. The next pane showed her bowed by the foot of the cross, her heart breaking in a way only a mother could understand. And the last pane showed Mary in her iconic blue robe standing before the empty tomb, and those bright, glittering colors of wonder and happiness were back.
Mary was the mother every Christian woman looked to...the mother who had endured the deepest of all heartbreak, all for the sake of her son. Ember tore her eyes from the stained-glass windows. Sometimes, motherhood meant enduring untold pain like Mary had. Mary might not have said goodbye to her boy in infancy, but she’d had to relinquish him eventually, and it would have torn her heart in two.
Casey’s little finger touched the side of Ember’s hand, pulling her attention back to him. The movement was gentle, purposeful. She looked over at him, her heart swelling with sadness. His face was clean-shaven for church, and he smelled of the musky aftershave he must have used. His shirt was crisp and open at the neck, revealing his tanned skin. He caught her eye, and he slipped his hand over hers, warming hers. She wished she could freeze time, and she could avoid all the changes that were coming.
She’d miss Casey and the babies, and she realized that she’d worry about them a little bit, too. Would Casey’s aunt understand Wyatt’s need for snuggles after his bottle, or Will’s curiosity and the way he liked to look around the room? When the infants cried for their mother, as Ember was convinced they still did, would Casey’s aunt know why those little hearts were breaking?
But these babies weren’t Ember’s business—not officially. Casey would raise them, and he’d find appropriate childcare for them. He would find a job somewhere, and another ranch would benefit from his expertise... And she’d begin the process of setting up her own therapy center here on her
