“Yes,” Maeve said, tears spilling down her cheeks. Gage grinned and pulled her into a hug and then held her face in his hands and softly kissed her, and Dutch smiled, his eyes twinkling, and reached out and rested his old gnarled hand on the wall next to him.
53
ONE MONTH LATER
THE DRIVE FROM SAVANNAH TO ATLANTA ALWAYS REMINDED MAEVE OF her college days and all the times she’d driven back and forth to Emory, especially that one long ride with her dad after she’d given her son up for adoption. That day, when he’d picked her up, it had taken everything she had not to cry. Now, as she looked out the window at the old familiar landmarks, her mind drifted back over everything that had happened in the month since Gage had proposed.
The entire Tennyson family had been thrilled with their news. They’d welcomed her with open arms—and hearts—especially Gage’s mom, who’d said it had made a very sad day a happy one, and was further proof that the joys and sorrows of life do walk hand in hand. She had also said she hoped they would consider having the wedding at the farm—after all, she’d added with a smile, barn weddings were all the rage right now, and it would give them a reason to paint and refurbish the big barn, a project that was long overdue.
After sharing their news, they’d stayed to see Jack Tennyson’s ashes interred beneath the boughs of the giant oak tree next to his son. The sun had been setting and the Tennessee sky had been on fire with every shade of pink and orange, washing the fields and barns in an ethereal golden light. Later, after a quick bite, they’d said good-bye, and as they’d driven past the field again, Maeve had looked up at the solitary oak tree standing in the dusky shadows, and suddenly caught her breath. She’d stopped her Jeep and Gage had pulled over behind her, and they’d both climbed out and watched as a line of cows walked slowly up the hill to stand solemnly under the tree’s long, gnarled branches. Gage had pulled her close, and they’d watched the scene in amazed silence. Afterward, they had followed each other home, stopping only once for a bathroom—and a tree for Gus—finally arriving at the cabin at one in the morning.
They’d walked in and Gage had clicked on the light over his table and noticed a new drawing on it, and the likeness of its subject was uncanny—it was him. In the bottom corner, the artist had signed her name: Harper Samuelson with a small heart next to it—her insignia.
“Wow!” Maeve had said, looking over his shoulder. “I think she’s gotten the hang of using that kneaded eraser you gave her . . . and I think she has a crush on you.”
“You think?” Gage had said, smiling. Then he’d turned and pulled her into his arms. “Too bad I’m taken,” he’d murmured.
“It’s good you’re taken,” Maeve had said, leaning into him. “Besides, she has Sam.”
“Sam?” Gage had said, frowning. “I thought they were just ‘friends’?”
“That’s what she says,” she’d said, laughing, “but I’ve seen the way she looks at him . . . with his wispy hair and ‘eyes that look like pieces of moorland sky.’ By the way, did I tell you Sam’s mom released the baby fox back into the wild?”
“No, you didn’t,” Gage had said. “But that’s great . . . so long as she didn’t release him around here . . .”
“She and Sam and Harper took him to Skidaway Island State Park, and they said as soon as they let him go, he caught a mouse!”
Gage had smiled, and then he’d moved the framed photo of Dutch on the shelf above his drawing table, revealing where he’d tucked the black jewelry box—between the back of the frame and the easel. “The jeweler taught me all about the four Cs,” he’d said with a slow smile, “and he helped me pick out a very sparkly one because, he said, that’s what girls like.” He’d opened the box, revealing a gorgeous diamond in a delicate setting.
“Oh, my! It’s beautiful,” Maeve had whispered, staring at it as he slid it onto her finger, and after admiring it on her hand, she’d pulled him toward the bedroom. “By the way,” she’d said, “you never told me you knew how to play the fiddle!”
And he’d smiled as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m a man of many hidden talents, remember?” he’d teased, as he’d backed her against the wall and softly kissed her.
“Indeed you are,” she’d murmured, and although it had been late, and she’d been up for almost twenty-four hours straight, and they both had to work the next day, that night between the sheets had been well worth the weariness she’d felt the next morning.
Maeve held out her hand now, admiring her ring again, and Gage glanced over. “Still like it?”
“Like it? I love it!” she gushed, and then she recalled how all the residents at Willow Pond had reacted when she’d showed them. Up and down the porch, everyone had wished her well. “Congratulations!” and “Blessings!” came from all the ladies—including Gladys, who added, “You caught yourself a hottie, missy!” The men had all given her hugs, too, and Aristides had said with a grin, “I tol’ you, you weren’t gonna be an old maid!” Then it had been Bud’s turn. “God always has a plan, Maeve. We may not see it when we’re in the middle of the raging river, but he does.”
Later that day, Ivy’s son had stopped by to pack up his mom’s things. He’d reported that she was doing much better and that he’d secured a bed for her in the new memory care facility in Savannah. Maeve had peeked into her room a little later when he was packing and told him all
