Page 92 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

“And probably nothing more than Mabel or one of the girls wanting to gab.” Tossing her knitting aside, Miss Lilly popped up as quickly as Molly had, her raspy laughter trailing her as she hurried over to her favorite recliner. Plucking the phone up from her side table, she lowered her voice while she covered the receiver with her hand. “Breccan, pause the movie if you will, then you and Molly pop us some corn, and I’ll get rid of whoever this is in a jot and a jiffy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brec paused the movie and rose, tugging Molly along with him. “Come on, Princess, you heard her.”

“Muriel!” Miss Lilly’s voice was a cracked whisper as her smile wilted.

At the sound of Miss Lilly’s best friend’s name—and Alan Murray’s mother-in-law—Molly froze, heels digging in against Brec’s hold as she stared at Miss Lilly’s face, which had suddenly gone ashen.

“Oh, honey, I’m so very sorry …” Miss Lilly slowly dropped into her chair, perched stoop-shouldered on the edge. “Of course I have time to talk, my friend.” Glancing up, she waved Molly and Brec into the kitchen and turned away, her small frame hunching even more as she put her head in her hands.

“Muriel must be devastated,” Brec said quietly as he ushered Molly into the kitchen, prodding her onto a bar stool at the island. “Sit, lass, and I’ll pop the corn.”

Molly didn’t argue—she couldn’t. She just sat there, numb, her thoughts returning to her greatest fear.

All dead but one.

“Brec,” she whispered, gaze lost in a vacant stare, “Pastor Dave is the only one left. What if”—her throat ducked hard— “something h-happens to him too? Or maybe worse yet”—she finally looked up through eyes misty with fear “—what if he’s responsible?”

Studying her from the counter where he was pouring oil into a pot, he quietly laid the bottle down and walked over to where she sat paralyzed. A sob erupted from her throat when he stooped to encircle her in his strong arms, head bent against hers. “Molly, we don’t have any facts yet, darlin’,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “So, let’s wait till we hear from Sloan or Miss Lilly after her call before we heed what-ifs with needless worry, eh? Alan Murray’s death may have nothing to do with the Lake Loon Lads.”

“I know, but I worry about Pastor Dave—”

Brec pulled back to brace her arms with a tender smile. “We’re not supposed to worry, remember? You told me we’re supposed to trust God instead of any what-ifs, did you not?”

She blinked, mouth wobbling into a weak smile. “Well, yeah, I guess, but I didn’t think you listened.”

“You guess?” He tipped her chin up with his finger and a hint of a smile. “I listen to everything you say, Princess, and more importantly, I care about everything you say.”

Suddenly shy, she grated her teeth against her lower lip. “I don’t know why.”

His brows rose. “You don’t know why?” He gently skimmed a finger down the side of her face, the love in his eyes all but melting her to the floor. “Why, that’s an easy one, lass,” he said softly, “We Celts call it ‘mo anam cara.’”

She tipped her head, voice too breathless to suit. “And what does that mean?”

His smile was tender. “When a man and a woman form a deep bond of friendship, the ancient Celts believed their souls mingled to become ‘anam cara’—‘soul friend.’” His gaze flicked to her mouth and back, boring into hers with an intensity of caring she was coming to crave. “Or, as I hope in our case, Molly, ‘soul mate.’”

Her pulse began to thud slow and hard as their gazes locked, her breathing suddenly uneven, robbing her of the ability to even utter a response.

“In other words, Molly Stewart,” he whispered, skimming his hand along the curve of her face before taking a step in to tenderly trace her lip with his thumb, “You’re the pulse of my heart, lass, the only woman I want to marry, and the one I love with all of my heart ...”

“Then please call me, Muriel, whenever you know anything, all right?” Miss Lilly’s voice drifted into the silent kitchen right before they heard the click of the receiver from the other room.

Jerking away, Molly quickly distanced herself from Brec by sliding off of the stool, turning just as a white-faced Miss Lilly appeared in the doorway with a worry crimp in her brow. “What did she say, Miss Lilly—did they find out who shot him?”

Miss Lilly’s lips seemed to tremble while she gave a slow nod, eyes glazed as she looked up first at Brec and then at Molly, chest rising and falling while her fingers pinched white on the side of the door. “It was his wife.”