Even her movements were soft and contained...and yet he remembered her in his arms. Full of passion and energy, giving all of herself to him in the way only a woman in love can do. His throat felt hot and tight as he watched her rearrange snickerdoodles on a plate. Her hair was up in some kind of doodad. Its glossiness beckoned to him. He wanted to pull it down, let the waves flow wild in the breeze, let them weave through his fingers with abandon.
He wanted her in his arms.
His hands ached to hold her, to feel the love she offered. But was he enough? Could he make her happy?
Swallowing hard, he stepped behind her. He saw the moment she felt his presence. Her back stiffened. There was the slightest intake of air, almost indiscernible beneath the noise of the picnic.
Mary swiveled around, her hand against her heart.
Lou grinned at her, his lips curving in that familiar way, smile lines fanning out from his eyes, and her breath caught so hard she choked.
Coughing, she put her hand against her mouth. He was immediately near her, rubbing her back, asking if she was okay.
She nodded, face hot. It wasn’t fair how he made her feel, these emotions he’d brought alive in her.
“You’re back,” she managed to croak. Not the most attractive speaking she’d ever done. Her neck felt on fire.
“I’m back.” His mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “China wasn’t quite what I wanted.”
“Oh?” she breathed. Words were forsaking her and she did not appreciate their absence.
“It looks like you’ve been doing well without me.” His hand waved in the air. “You even talked James into attending a church picnic. Impressive.”
She swallowed, willing herself to breathe normally when every nerve ending tingled with unspoken anticipation. “That was Miss Alma’s doing.”
“Ah. Somehow I’m not surprised.” Lou’s eyes twinkled and he moved closer, edging into her space. “And you? Now that I’m not your employer, how have you been surviving?”
“My mother is with me. She sells her baskets.”
“No need to be defensive. I’m sorry about what happened with her, but if you can look past it, I can.” His finger came out to touch her cheek.
She shivered.
His gaze probed and she couldn’t look away from the intensity in the blueness of his eyes. “What I want to know is how you are doing,” he repeated in a low tone.
She wet her lips, unnerved and yet strangely alert to his attention. “I’m fine. Besides my selling herbs to him, Joseph at the general store likes me to bring in baked goods two or three times a week. The town ladies enjoy getting fresh, ready-made food. It is enough money for something I enjoy doing.”
“Sounds like you’re handling things just fine, then. Not needing me, I suppose?”
What did he mean by that? She studied him, her voice coming out stiffer than she expected. “I am content.”
“Well,” he said, his fingers rubbing through his hair and sending it in all sorts of directions, “wish I could say the same about myself.”
Her brows lifted.
“See, this here’s the thing. I’m not doing good at all. In fact, I’m miserable.” The smile left his face. “I had a girl once, a long time ago, who I loved. She was carefree and opinionated. She was a bright fire that burned out too quickly. And I thought I’d never survive when she took our baby with her.”
Mary’s heart pounded beneath her sternum, an unsteady beat that matched the pace of her breathing.
“I thought I’d never feel whole again. But when I was shot, things began to change. So before I left Oregon for China, I put in for a different job.” He shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. “And then I traveled to Hong Kong, lots on my mind. I thought I’d left God in the dust, but He’s been pursuing me. He’s in my thoughts all the time. I think of you and I see Him. So I popped open the Bible and pretty soon I started feeling this change. This remembrance.” His gaze turned very solemn. “I never told you this, but Sarah and I were churchgoing folk. I believed in Jesus and followed Him. When she died—”
“I’m sorry, Lou.” Mary couldn’t help it, the words slipped past her lips and broke his confession.
“But I don’t want you to be sorry.” His eyes crinkled. “I reached China, and the man who met me was an old agent friend. He’d lost so much, like me, but when he met me at the port, he had a wife and child with him. He’d moved on, and I realized so had I.”
Mary glanced around at the picnic. She saw people watching them surreptitiously. James had his arms around a very satisfied-looking Miss Alma. Gracie was giving her a thumbs-up.
Lou gripped her shoulders, forcing her attention to him. His hands were gentle, his fingers rotating in a comforting movement against her blouse. “I visited Sarah’s and Abby’s graves.”
She felt her eyes widen at his words.
“And I was okay. As I knelt there, I thought of how I’d loved them but then I thought about how I love Josie. And—” he trailed off, his eyes softening “—how I love you.”
She sucked in air, suddenly feeling fear spread through her. Biting her lower lip, she pulled from his grasp. “But your job—”
“Is nothing without a home to come home to. What I realized is that God is giving me what I’ve missed for so long. He’s been trying for a long time, but I was too dumb to realize it. You’re the home for my heart, Mary.” He crowded her again, backing her against the dessert table, but somehow she didn’t feel encroached upon. Rather, she felt enveloped, hugged...safe. “Whenever I come home from a trip, I look for you. It’s been like that for years, but I chalked it
