CHARITY STARED OUT THE WINDOWS IN HER OFFICE. There was silence in the house this morning. It was Saturday. No workmen had come to pound or drill today, but still her head ached. As if those carpenters with their hammers had moved from the downstairs to inside her head.
Her mobile phone vibrated on her desk. She ignored it, as she’d done ever since arriving home. It was probably Buck. She’d seen his name on the caller ID several times. Finally, she’d stopped looking to see who called. She couldn’t bear even that.
I wish I’d never gone up there. I should have known better. I should have known it was a mistake.
She’d wanted to find love. She’d hoped for marriage. That had been a mistake too. Obviously.
The silence of the house mocked her.
She sank down to the floor and turned, leaning her back against the windowpane. The glass was warm from the sun, but Charity still felt cold. Nothing she’d tried had taken the chill from her bones, from the icy tentacles that had wrapped around her heart two days earlier. She wanted to cry. She wanted to wail. But no tears would come. She was empty. Empty of everything.
“Charity.”
Had she begun to hear voices now? That sounded like Terri.
“Charity, are you up there?”
She scrambled to her feet and was standing by the time her sister appeared at the top of the stairs.
The expression on Terri’s face seemed a combination of confusion and pity. “What are you doing here, sis?”
“I came home.”
“To what?” Her sister motioned with her hand, taking in the large room. “This? A place where you can hide?”
Charity shook her head. “Who told you I left Kings Meadow?”
“We came for the reunion. Remember? You were supposed to be at the potluck last night. I tried to call you, but you never answered your phone.”
“I’m sorry.” She turned toward the bank of windows again. “I didn’t want to talk to Buck. He . . . He’s called several times.”
Terri came to stand between her and the window, blocking her view. “He told me what he said to you.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know.”
“Buck isn’t stupid. He knows his own heart. He loves you.”
Charity shook her head again. “No. He doesn’t. He can’t.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I don’t deserve his love, Terri.”
Her sister took a step back. “Is that what this is about?” Anger entered her voice. “Are you trying to throw away happiness with both hands just because you made a bad choice when you were still a kid?”
“You don’t understand.” Charity’s voice rose to meet her sister’s, and suddenly she couldn’t keep her feelings inside anymore. “You can’t understand. Hate killed my baby. My hate. My hate.” She gasped for breath. “Why would God ever want me to be happy again after I did that?”
Terri released a soft gasp and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Charity,” she whispered. “Oh, sis. Is that what you truly believe?”
Charity hadn’t known she believed it until she’d said it. And now that she did, she began to weep. No sound came with the hot tears than ran down her cheeks. Just pain. Years and years and years of pain.
Her sister’s arms enveloped her. “You foolish, foolish girl. No wonder you can’t accept Buck’s love. You haven’t been able to accept God’s love either. That’s where we’ve got to start.” Terri stroked Charity’s hair. “It’s going to be all right, Pipsqueak. You’ll see. You’ll see.”
All Charity could do was cling to her sister and pray it was true.
BUCK HAD JUST HUNG UP THE PHONE AFTER LEAVING another message for Charity when the doorbell rang. He walked out of the kitchen, then froze in place when he saw who was on the other side of the screen door.
“Charity.”
“Hi, Buck.” Her eyes were puffy. Her voice sounded scratchy.
His heart ached in response.
“May I come in?”
“Sure.” He stepped forward and pushed open the screen. “Come in.”
“I . . . uh . . . I’m sorry I haven’t returned any of your calls.”
“It’s all right. You’re here now.” He studied her expression, the fragile look in her eye. “What made you come back to Kings Meadow?”
“Terri.”
He’d hoped he was the reason, but he was thankful, no matter the cause. He reached to take her lightly by the arm and draw her to the sofa. After she sat, he joined her but was prudent enough not to sit too close. She drew in a shuddery breath, and he could see that she was steeling herself to say words that were hard. Hard for her or for him?
“You said you . . . care for me,” she began.
He wanted to correct her, to remind her the word he’d used was love.
“But you only know what I’ve let you know about me. I’ve kept secrets from everybody for a long, long time. From friends. From family.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I tried to keep my secrets from God too. But I learned that doesn’t work.” A humorless smile tweaked the corners of her mouth.
He nodded to show he listened. Nothing more.
“I’m going to tell you my secrets, Buck, because you deserve to know them. But I don’t want you to say anything. I especially don’t want you to try to tell me none of it matters to you or makes a difference. Because it might. I want to tell you and then I’m going to go home. Not to Boise but next door. I want you to think about everything I’ve said and to figure out what you want. I’ll understand if it isn’t me. Really I will.”
“It can’t be as bad as all that.”
She offered a slight shrug.
“Okay. I’m listening.”
He did listen. And his heart didn’t just ache as she told him her story. It broke for her—and perhaps for them.
TRUE TO HIS WORD, BUCK DIDN’T SPEAK. WHEN Charity was done, she rose from the sofa, careful not to look at him—afraid she would weaken in her resolve—and left his house. The distance from his front door to the front door of her girlhood home had never seemed so far.
Terri and Rick looked up expectantly when Charity entered. She shook her head and kept moving. Across the living room, up the stairs, down the short hall, and into the bedroom. After closing the door behind her, she went to the bed and lay on it, staring at the ceiling. Time passed in a blur. Her mind was blank.
But there finally came a moment when she realized the absence of fear. It hadn’t gone into a corner, waiting to appear again. It was gone. Whatever happened in the future, the fear was gone.
A rap sounded at the door, then Terri poked her head into the room. “Ready for company?”
Charity nodded.
Terri entered and sat on the other bed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she answered softly. “At least, I will be.”
Just as softly, Terri said, “I can see that.”
They sat in silence for a long while. A comforting silence between sisters who loved each other. Terri was the one to break it.
“I’ve got something for you. Stay put.” She rose and left the room.
Charity waited, curious.
In a short while her sister returned, a plastic bag hanging over one arm, two large boxes clutched against her side with the other.
“What’s this?” Charity asked.
“For the dance tonight. You’ve been so busy writing, I was afraid you wouldn’t have anything to wear.”
She could have protested. She had a walk-in closet full of great clothes at home. But she hadn’t thought about the dance when she’d returned to Kings Meadow with Terri this afternoon. It had been the very last thought on her mind.
“Go on,” Terri urged. “Open them.”
Charity opened the lid of the first box. Inside was a pink straw hat with a sparkly band around the crown. She cocked a brow in her sister’s direction.
“Pink’s your favorite color,” Terri said, excitement in her eyes. “Now the other box.”
Charity obeyed, and a soft gasp escaped her lips when she saw what was inside—the prettiest pair of cowgirl boots she’d ever seen. They were pink with pale-brown accents. Dancing boots, if ever she’d seen any.
Terri pulled the box off her lap and pointed at the plastic bag.
The dress inside the bag was the same shade of pink as the hat and boots. It had spaghetti straps and an empire waist with a free, flowing skirt. Like the boots, it had been made for dancing.
“Let’s get ready,” Terri said. “The dance starts in an hour.”
Charity looked toward the clock on the nightstand. Had she been up here alone for that long? “Maybe I shouldn’t go. I don’t have any makeup on and—”
“You’re going, sis. This is the first night of a better life. You’ll see.”
Another protest rose in her throat, but she swallowed it back. She didn’t have to hide away. Not from the people of Kings Meadow. Not from anyone in her past or her future.
She wasn’t afraid anymore.
WHEN BUCK ENTERED THE HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM—sparkling and glimmering decorations everywhere—a live band was playing soft instrumental music from the stage on the far side of the room. His gaze swept over the crowd, looking for one particular person. He didn’t see her.
He’d kept his promise. He’d spent the hours since she walked out of his house making sure he knew exactly how he felt and what he wanted. And when it came right down to it, nothing she’d said had changed how he felt. He loved her. End of story.
All I have to do is make her believe it.
Several people greeted him as he moved deeper into the gym. Folks who hadn’t seen each other for years, even decades, talked to one another, many wearing animated expressions. Buck nodded, said quick hellos, but didn’t allow himself to be waylaid. He wanted—needed—to find Charity. He searched for her first along the east side of the gym before crossing the floor near the stage and starting down the west side. He was halfway back to the doors when Charity stepped into view, followed by her sister and brother-in-law.
She looked amazing. Bright. Fully alive. She should wear that color all the time if it did that for her.
He set off in her direction. She didn’t see him right away as she talked to Edna Franklin, a history teacher at Kings Meadow High. But then she glanced up and grew still, her gaze never wavering as he closed the last distance between them.
“Hey, Charity.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Terri and Rick move away. He sensed it was a kindness and not because they didn’t want to speak to him.
“Hey, Buck.”
He touched his hat brim as he looked at the teacher. “Evenin’, Mrs. Franklin.”
The older woman smiled. “Good evening, Buck.” After a quick glance back and forth between her two former students, she excused herself.
Buck hardly noticed the teacher’s departure. His attention was back on the vision in pink. “You came. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“No more hiding. I’m done with that.”
It wasn’t the pretty color she wore that had made the difference. He saw that now. Something was different on the inside of her.
The band started playing a Lady Antebellum song. A country waltz. A love song.
“Care to dance, Miss Anderson?”
She looked up at him for the longest while without answering. Would she refuse? Had he hoped for too much? But at last, she offered him her hand. He took it and led her to the dance floor.
THE MELODY COULD BARELY BE HEARD ABOVE THE beating of Charity’s heart as Buck placed his hand on the small of her back. Before he could clasp her right hand in his left, she whipped off her hat and let it dangle from her fingertips against his back. Then they began to turn and flow and slide.
For a long while, she rested her forehead near his collarbone. But then she looked up and found him watching her, and it seemed her heart stopped beating for several seconds. She stumbled, but he didn’t let her lose her balance.
It would be like that, always, if she let him love her. He wouldn’t let her lose her balance. That’s the kind of man he was. He would make certain they kept time to the same music.
So this is what it feels like.
To be loved.
To be cherished.
And to love and cherish in return.
She would have to make a few tweaks to the book that was nearly finished. The words she’d written hadn’t captured this emotion that welled inside of her. How could she have described how it felt when she’d never experienced it until now?
Buck smiled, and a slow burn began inside of her chest. He mouthed the words of the lyrics, and she tingled all the way down to her toes.
No, she definitely hadn’t known about this. About the way a crowd could fade entirely away, leaving only this man and the melody. About the desire to laugh and cry at the same time. About—
The music didn’t stop, but Buck did. He released her from his embrace. But it wasn’t long until his hands gently cupped the sides of her face. And there, in front of a gymnasium full of friends and strangers, Buck kissed her. A kiss that made her weak in the knees, completely breathless, and every other cliché she’d ever read or written.
When he ended the kiss, he didn’t draw away. He pressed his forehead against hers and said, “In case you’re wondering, Charity, I plan on kissing you a lot. For the rest of my life if you’ll let me. Because I can’t imagine living even a single minute without you.”
Perhaps she had been a little afraid when she’d come here tonight. Not of who she might see or of what she might remember. No, she’d been afraid of never hearing him say those words.
“I love you, Charity.”
And those words.
They were writing a brand-new story now, she and Buck, starting tonight. And like every good romance novel, the happily-ever-after ending was guaranteed.