Page 20 of For Love of Liberty

Finn blinked. “Pardon me?”

“Your garden, Finn,” she whispered, peeking over her shoulder as if to make sure Liberty wasn’t anywhere around. “Where I suspect your feelings for Liberty are sprouting faster than Jack’s beanstalk in the sky.”

Finn’s mouth plunked open in shock.

“And don’t you dare deny you have feelings for that young woman, Griffin McShane, because it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

“It is?” Finn slapped a hand to his nose, shocked that anyone could read him that easily when it came to Liberty. His mouth went flat. But then Milo had, so why should it be any surprise that the town’s notorious matchmaker had homed in on his secret, especially a woman who was more like blood?

“Yes, it is, young man, and frankly, I want to know what you plan to do about it?”

Cuffing the back of his neck, Finn kicked at a clump in the dirt, suddenly feeling more like fifteen than twenty-five. “Aw, Mrs. Poppy, Liberty and I just flat-out don’t get along. That woman is a flame to my fuse, so it’s never long before one of us gets burned.”

Raising a finger, Mrs. Poppy leaned in with a no-nonsense squint that always made him sweat. “Fire is a precious commodity, young man, and don’t you forget it. Handle it carefully, and it will keep you warm for the rest of your life.” She shot another glance behind her before peering up with a probing glare, wagging that chunky finger in his face like a gun. “I’ve had this sixth sense about you and Liberty O’Shea ever since she pushed you in the pond out back for calling her ugly. But you didn’t really think that, did you?”

Heat blasted Finn’s face as he stared at his boots. “No, ma’am, I guess I didn’t, but she was just so much fun to rile.” He looked up with a crooked grin. “A real spitfire, you know?”

Pastor Poppy chuckled. “Yes, son, I surely do, because that’s exactly how my Clara was before the Lord opened my eyes to the most exciting and wonderful woman I ever met.”

Hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his denim dungarees, Finn shrugged his shoulders with a melancholy smile. “I wish I could say that was the case with Liberty and me, but the woman outright despises me, sir.”

Pastor Poppy scratched his ear, head cocked as he studied Finn closely. “Have you prayed about it, son? Because I would have missed the greatest joy I’ve ever known if I hadn’t prayed for God’s wisdom and direction.” He paused, eyes in a squint. “And something tells me it’s the same for you. I’ve watched the two of you grow up over the years, and seems to me there’s always been this spark between you, just like Clara says.”

Finn shook his head, body tingling at the very thought. “Oh, there’s way more than a spark, sir,” he said with a chuckle, “but I just worry there’s too much friction for a truly meaningful relationship, you know?”

Pastor Poppy hooked an arm to his wife’s waist. “Been my experience, Finn, that friction is what sets two hearts afire, like me and my Clara, isn’t that right, darlin’?”

“Oh my stars, yes,” Mrs. Poppy said with a comical roll of eyes. “Goodness, the pastor and I butted heads so often, it’s a wonder neither of us got a concussion, although we did give each other plenty of headaches before we fell in love.”

Finn laughed and shook his head. “Yes, ma’am, Libby and I have certainly given each other our fair share, that’s for sure. But if I thought for one split hair of a second that Liberty and I could end up like you and Pastor Poppy, I would surely brave the flames of that woman’s wrath, I can tell you that.”

“Well, do me a favor then, son,” the pastor said with a slap of Finn’s shoulder. “Ask the Good Lord for His opinion, why don’t you, then just follow the peace. Better a headache than a heartache at missing out on what the Almighty has in store. After all, you can always take willow bark for that headache, my boy, but heartache stays with a body for a long, long time.” He took his wife’s arm. “Come along, my dear—we’ve got a barn to tidy up.” Ushering his wife in, the two of them teased and chatted as they lit lanterns to stave off the darkness from the onset of dusk.

Watching them, Finn couldn’t help but wonder if he and Liberty could possibly ever end up as happy as that. Squinting up at the rafters, he said that prayer Pastor Poppy suggested and instantly felt the tension in his body slowly leak out. Instead, it was replaced by a flicker of hope that burned as brightly as the Poppys’ lanterns all over the barn, casting a soft glow over Finn’s mood.

“Fire is a precious commodity, young man, and don’t you forget it. Handle it carefully, and it will keep you warm for the rest of your life.”

Finn grinned as he rolled up his sleeves, thinking there was nothing he’d rather do than “handle” that pretty stick of dynamite called Liberty O’Shea. His mouth tipped off-center. As long as she keeps me warm, that is. His thoughts sobered considerably.

Instead of blowing up in my face.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“You and Griffin make such a lovely pair …”

Liberty gulped for surely the hundredth time, palms plastered to the inside of the outhouse door. Leaning against it, she waited for the frantic clip of her heart to subside. “Lovely pair, indeed,” she muttered with an unwelcome rush of warmth, the very idea giving her chills.

And not the cold kind.

Because the truth was, Finn wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, and frankly, she’d felt exactly the same way.

Until that stupid kiss.

She wrinkled her nose, the sudden heat purling through her as unwelcome as the rank odor of the privy. Chewing on the edge of her lip, she wondered how long she could hide out before someone came looking for her.

Tap. Tap. Tap. “Dear, are you all right?” The concern in Mrs. Poppy’s voice almost unleashed a groan of guilt from the pit of Libby’s stomach.

“Yes, ma’am, just a touch of indigestion, but I’m better now,” she said, unlatching the bolt before she swung the door wide.