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“I have a confession to make,” Fancy said, swinging her gaze between her parents. She was feeling so euphoric, she thought she might burst.
Her parents gazed at her with a look of expectation on their faces.
“I went out with Case tonight,” she announced, bracing herself for the explosion. “On a date.”
“Oh, Hallelujah. God is good,” June cried out, doing a little jig right before their eyes. Fancy couldn’t help but laugh at her mother’s glee.
Fancy shook her finger at her mother. “Don’t get all excited. I’m confiding in you that we’re seeing each other again, but it’s a far cry from being back together or walking down the aisle. Don’t get any ideas.”
“But it’s such wonderful news. The two of you belong together,” June crowed, clapping her hands together in triumph.
“Mama, you have to keep calm. And please do not share this with any of your friends. It would be embarrassing if word got around and people started gossiping about it.”
June raised her fingers to her lips and twisted them in a locking motion. “Not a whisper.”
“She means it, June,” her father warned. “We’ll just sit back and watch God do his handiwork.”
June burrowed against her husband’s chest. “Amen to that.”
Fancy hadn’t thought this special night could get any sweeter. She was learning so much about love. It was complex and deeply layered. At times it defied all logic. It was unpredictable. Love wasn’t something you could define in a single sentence. It had peaks and valleys. It could work miracles. It brought both pain and joy. And it was the one thing in this world she could never get enough of. Love. Her heart felt full to the point of almost overflowing.
She didn’t know if this happiness would last, but for this moment in time, all was right in her world.
“Even when things get complicated, the good inside a person can’t be stamped out. It radiates like the sun.” Morgan Lucas
Chapter Eight
Fancy lifted her face up to the sun as she walked over the cobblestoned streets. Thankfully, she’d remembered to wear her ballet flats this morning. She loved strolling around the farmer’s market for fresh fruit and vegetables. It had expanded so much over the past few years so that one could find just about anything here—granola, pies, fresh corn, jams & jellies, jewelry pieces, home-made soaps and candles. Coming here was a
treat for all of her senses. And she loved supporting the vendors, some of whom had traveled quite a distance to be able to set up here in the heavily-congested downtown area. Due to the high volume of foot traffic, vendors did great business in the area.
She stopped to smell a fragment batch of potpourri. Fancy inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich scent of lavender and honeysuckle. She took out her wallet and purchased a few sachets. They would be perfect for when she moved in to her new place.
Suddenly, every nerve-ending in her body stood at attention. She completely froze. Marc Cabron was standing not five feet away from her. It felt as if someone had whacked her in the gut with a blunt object. She was trying hard to breathe.
Their gazes met. Fancy stood in place, watching as Marc slowly made his way over to her.
He tipped his head in her direction. “Hello, Fancy.”
She pressed her hand against her abdomen to settle her nerves. “Hi, Marc. I almost pretended I didn’t see you.”
“I know,” Marc said, quirking his mouth. “You looked as if you might take off running in the other direction. Not that I can blame you.” His expression was shuttered. He looked so serious, as if the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders.
It was a shame, Fancy thought. Marc had always been known for his jovial demeanor. He’d always been such an expressive person. And now he stood here looking as if he’d rather be having a root canal than speaking to her.
It was understandable. She felt the same way. The past stood between them like a live grenade. It was terribly sad, considering they had once been the best of friends. And above all else, Marc was a good person.
“How are you, Marc?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound normal. She had heard about his father’s cancer diagnosis a few months ago.
He held up his basket. “I’m good. Doing some errands for my Mom.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “I heard about your Dad’s illness. I wanted to call or drop you a line, but I—”
“I understand. Everything got so complicated between us. Muddled.” He raked his hand through his dark head of hair. “One minute you were my friend, and the next I was leaning on you and dreaming of things that I knew couldn’t possibly be.”
“I know,” Fancy said. “It was like a tornado came and threw us around, chewed us up, then spit us out.” She let out a hollow-sounding laugh. “I always valued your friendship, Marc. And I never blamed you for what happened between Case and I. You were grieving for Gretchen, which complicated things for you.”
He made a low sound in the back of his throat. “I made so many mistakes, all due to selfishness. At some point I fell for you, Fancy. I stopped caring about what was right. I knew you were engaged. I knew that you were crossing lines you may have been unaware of. It was wrong of me to allow Case to think you returned my feelings. That day when he came to confront me I wasn’t ready for it, so I didn’t correct him when he said certain things about your feelings for me. I’m so sorry if my keeping quiet made everything worse.”
