“Ugly?” Sullivan interrupts before I can register the deep crack that forms in my heart. I’d wondered when this day would come. “No, it isn’t. That’s what happens when an angel gives you a kiss.” He answers so confidently that I almost believe it myself. How on earth did he come up with such a sweet idea like that?
Emmaline’s dark eyebrows furrow with a healthy dose of suspicion. “Then why do angel kisses look so ugly if angels are supposed to be pretty?”
“Because you have to be an angel to see how pretty it is. And since Momma had to scold you twice today, I’m thinking you’re gonna have to wait a few more years before you can see it, too.”
“Hey!” Emmaline’s fierce scowl as she crosses her arms has a smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s mean.”
“I’m just saying,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t think angels sing about Charlotte LaRue all the time.”
As the children egg each other on, I hold tightly to the wildflowers and struggle against the surge of happiness that makes me want to cry.
Warren’s arm eases around me, and he kisses my temple. “All good?”
“Yes, just happy.” I settle into his side.
I never thought my life would be like this. Like a dream come true. From an unwanted child begrudgingly raised by missionaries, to being abused by their son and sold time and time again, and to now be here in this moment.
But I’m not alone like I was before.
I have Warren, the man who held a hand out to me and refused to let me wallow in self-despair.
Emmaline, the heart of my heart.
Sullivan, the ever-watchful protector of his sister.
Patches, the scraggly dog who loves to join in on the children’s shenanigans.
A ripple travels across my abdomen as if this baby knows my thoughts and feels left out. A soft smile plays at my lips.
I didn’t forget about you, my darling.
I already love you so very much, and I can’t wait for you to meet the rest of your family.
This is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.
I’ll never be alone again.
Warren
“Pa?”
Pausing from chopping wood, I lean the axe against a stump and wipe my brow with my shirt. It’s become a bit of a game between me and Mara. I pretend I don’t know that she likes watching me do this with my shirt off, and she pretends she doesn’t know that I know. But every time I do it, she more than likely will be peeking through the window. Just like she did when I brought her home.
Seven years of marriage might dull the flames of passion in another couple, but with us, it’s only grown. If I want to show off for my wife because she likes to watch me, I’m damn well gonna do it. “What is it, son?”
Sullivan gazes back at the house, then studies me intently. It’s clear something’s bothering him, but I wait patiently for him to gather his words. He’s been a quiet boy ever since we brought him home. He was young, too, but still old enough to know the scars he carried from his own hurts. If Emmaline remembered anything from that day with Blackwood, it doesn’t show now. She went to sleep that night a somber little baby, but the next morning, she woke up with a fit of giggles as Patches licked her hair.
I take a swig of water and remember when Mara announced in the middle of her rescue that the boy with the sad, mistrusting face was our new son. That was fine by me. I’d always wanted a boy, and with Emmaline and Patches, our family was complete.
But later she told me how she knew him, and now I understand why Mara could never forget his eyes, even in her dreams. I was taken aback the first time I saw him, and not just because of where he was. It was those eyes…one brown and the other blue, both filled with hidden emotion and knowledge beyond his years.
He’s a happy boy of eleven now—tall for his age and strong as an ox, too—but soulful. Some scars heal, but they don’t leave you the same as you were before. Some mornings I’ll find him sleeping all curled up on a pile of blankets on the floor instead of his bed.
Sometimes Emmaline’s there with him, too, and seeing them together reminds me of the cabin. He was just a little fellow, and even though it likely took all his strength to hold her, he was bound and determined to keep her safe from anyone he considered a threat. Even from me. Ever since then, there’s been a special connection between them, so it doesn’t surprise me all that much that they’re both keen on the other’s emotions.
Sullivan shoves his hands into his pockets. “Did you adopt Emmaline like you did me?”
I choke on the water. How the hell did he guess that? “She’s my daughter, just like you’re my son,” I answer honestly. But I should have known it wouldn’t satisfy him.
