“You look happy, London,” Dillon says.
“I am Dillon.” She stares after them and sighs. “I don't know how this happened so quickly, but I'm so thankful.”
“That's how the Lord works sometimes,” Dillon loops and arm through hers, and they walk slowly towards the house.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Dillon,” she whispers and drops her head to her shoulder.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’m sorry about your father, London.”
“Matthew told you,” she sniffs back tears.
“Yes, don’t be mad,” Dillon pleads.
“How could I be mad? I know I lost him years ago, Dillon, but the hole inside my heart is raw.”
“Time will heal it, London. If anyone can understand loss, it’s our Heavenly Father. He will fill your heart, perhaps he’s already started,” Dillon suggests.
London glances at her in surprise, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
After she settles Elliot and Dillon into their rooms to rest and change before dinner, London makes her way to her bedroom.
Mary is waiting with a steaming tub of hot water. “Your dress is pressed and waiting,” she says.
“Thank you, Mary.” She yawns, “I’d like to soak for a while. Please go rest.”
“If you’re sure,” Mary turns to leave.
“I am, thank you.” London waits until she's alone to pile her hair on top of her head. Stripping out of her clothes, she sinks into the hot tub and groans. Staring at the wound on her hand, it strikes her that it's no longer hurting her. It's an ugly reminder of how close she came to death.
“The true wounds are the ones you can’t see,” she whispers.
“Share them, and the burden lessens,” Declan says softly. London glances at the doorway and watches as he walks over and squats down beside her. It amazes her that she isn't shy in front of him.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, Declan,” she replies.
“Let me wash your back,” he takes the rag from her as she leans forward and soaps it up as he speaks. “I've lost my father and my mother, London, and until you, I faced a future of loneliness, thinking I would have no family.” London drops her head in shame.
“I’m sorry, Declan,” she whispers.
He rubs her back with the rag, soaping her up and grabbing a cup to rinse her clean. “It never occurred to me how hard my father had to fight to stay with me, loving and raising me, until you,” Declan explains.
She gasps, and her head whips to him.
“I’ve only known you a few months, what must that be like, London, to lose your best friend, your partner in life, your lover, and decide to fight. Not all of us are strong enough. I don’t know that I would be,” he says softly. “Watching Tessa hold a gun on you made me realize that perhaps I’m not as strong as I should be.”
London leans over and grips his hand, “I could have screamed for you to help me. Declan, I made my choice, to protect the man I love and trust the Lord to protect me.”
“That's what I'm saying, London. Your father made his choice, and I don't think it was about loving you less, but more about trying to survive.”
“Thank you for saying that, but if we had a daughter with eyes like mine and your smile, you would fight for her! I’ve no doubt.”
“Thank you, your faith in me is admirable, but can you honestly say that you don’t understand your father a little bit more now,” he gently kisses her, and she drops her forehead to his.
“I can. I was reading my Bible this morning, and I came across Psalms 34:18. It reads, 'The Lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.' I feel that now more than ever. I've lost my father, but he gifted me with you. I will choose to thank him for what I have and pray that he gives my father peace. I just wish I could have told him that I forgive him and that I never stopped loving him.”
“He knows, London.” She shivers, and he grins. “Now move over or get out. Either way, I want to hold my wife.”
London giggles and stands up slowly, letting the water rain off her body. His mouth drops open, and he stares in admiration. “Have I told you, husband, how thankful I am for you?”
Declan stands and holds a towel for her. He wraps it around her and pulls her close, “No, I believe you’ve neglected that duty,” he quips.
“How can I make it up to you,” she asks and rubs her wet body on him.
“I’m sure I can think of something,” he grins.
Chapter 36
Thanksgiving is a wonderful time of laughter, friends, and family. The trip to the beach had to be postponed due to snow, but no one seemed to mind. They all needed to rest, recuperate, and heal together.
“Declan, I was hoping to catch you alone for a moment,” Dillon says. Declan is in his library working on the books. He likes London’s friends. They are protective of her and welcoming to him. They’ve earned his trust and loyalty in return.
“Come in, please. What can I do for you?” he asks.
Dillon is too excited to sit. “I don't have much time,” she jumps up and hurries back to the door to look down the hall. She is the exact opposite in build from London. Petite and brunette, lovely and smart, but sometimes she seems like a barely contained ball of energy. He grins as he watches her.
“Should I be worried?”
“No, of course not.” She hurries to sit across from his desk and sighs dramatically. “It's about Christmas. London has never, well not never, perhaps
