Chapter 10  

He thought he might keel over from pure happiness.

Thinking of falling over in a heap made him think of the upholstered sofa in the parlor. He lifted Hannah clean off her feet and carried her in there. He lowered himself onto the sofa and pulled Hannah right along with him until he cradled her on his lap.

When they sat down, Hannah pulled back a little as if she was noticing where she was for the first time. He didn’t think that was a good idea, because if she had a chance to think clearly she might never want to kiss him again, so he slid one hand into her hair and tilted her head back a little further until she was nearly lying across his lap, and he rushed back into his dreams that were coming true.

He lifted his head and stared into her beautiful blue eyes. He saw himself reflected in her pupils and wondered what she could possibly be thinking about.

Then Hannah said, “My furniture! I just bought all that new furniture!”

Mark said, “I have furniture.”

Hannah pulled away just a bit. She looked at him with her eyes wide as if he’d spoken words of great wisdom. “You do, don’t you?”

He nodded.

Hannah said, “Let’s bring my furniture here.”

Mark almost laughed out loud to think Hannah wanted to bring her things over. That sounded like she intended to stay. He grinned at her, and she rested both of her hands on his face and kissed him with such aching sweetness that some of the words Mark wanted to say were jarred loose.

“You’re beautiful.”

She withdrew only slightly. “Oh, Marcus, thank you.”

“I love you, Hannah. I . . . I didn’t just decide because of the way we had to get married. I’ve admired you for a while—quite a while. A long, long, long while. But I . . . I didn’t . . .”

“It’s my fault, Marcus.”

“Call me Mark,” he reminded her. “Everybody does.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “Nothing’s your fault. You’re perfect.”

She smiled sadly. “It is my fault that there’s never been anything between us. I’ve spent so much time moping. I don’t know if it was Ma dying or Pa marrying Essie. Or maybe watching my little sisters get married before me.”

“Or Charlie,” he said quietly.

Hannah nodded. “I just haven’t been able to think about anything else. It’s been so selfish, the way I’ve been wrapped up in myself for so long.”

“You’ve been through a lot. You needed time.”

“Six years?” Hannah asked incredulously.

“Apparently.”

She smiled at him. “You’re sweet.”

Mark knew he was going to blush. He had a lot of things about himself that he didn’t like but none so much as the baneful red that washed over his cheeks when he was embarrassed. And having Hannah give him a compliment was too much. He dropped his chin down, wishing that she wouldn’t notice.

“You’re blushing because I said you’re sweet?” She lifted his chin and ran a finger over one cheek, then the other, taking her time, studying him.

He shrugged and prayed for the heat to leave his head before his hair caught fire.

“I like it, Marcus . . . Mark. I’m going to try and make you blush five times a day.”

And that set his blushing off again, and he laughed just a little bit, something he’d never been able to do about his blushing in his life.

She kissed his face as if she were savoring the red, and Mark began to think of his wretched fair skin as something private and special between the two of them and that helped him to talk again. He thought he ought to confess the worst news he had for her first. “I’m not good at talking, Hannah, especially to someone as pretty as you. I don’t mean to be difficult. Your life with me . . . well, I’ll try and get better. I know you don’t want a man who won’t tell you what’s in his heart.”

He waited for her to nod and say, Yes, I remember now what you’re really like, and then climb off his lap.

Instead she said, “You told me you loved me.” She caressed his burning face again as his cheeks reddened with his confession of what an awkward fool he could be.

He said fiercely, “I do love you.”

“Maybe a man can say what needs saying without it taking a lot of words.”

“I’ll try and say what’s important, Hannah. I’ll try to never go a day without letting you know I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

He saw tears well up in Hannah’s eyes and immediately began apologizing. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. If you—”

She wrapped her arms around his neck until he could hardly breathe, and he heard her first cry. It was a sob that tore out of her throat from so deep it shook her whole body.

“Hannah honey, what did I say? I’m sorry. I wouldn’t hurt you for the—”

She pulled away from him so suddenly that he thought she was getting out of his lap, and he thought he might cry, too, as he braced himself for her to walk away.

“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Mark Whitfield! Quit apologizing for it. Sometimes . . .” Her voice broke, but she steadied herself. “Sometimes a woman cries because she’s happy. Did you know that?”

Mark shook his head helplessly. He said weakly, “I don’t know anything about women. I’m not sure I know anything about anything.”

Hannah smiled at him, then suddenly she was laughing. She threw her arms around his neck again and laughed so lightheartedly that Mark couldn’t help but laugh himself.