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“Even though I kept this secret from you?” she added. “At least until I was ready to trust you with it.”
Okay, that was a sneaky one-two punch.
“Alice.”
“Maybe Michael still has a secret or two that he’s kept from you,” she said. “We all have them. That doesn’t mean we should hold back our own love and trust until they’re ready to share them.”
“True, I suppose, but...”
“But that’s not the real question, is it?” she added, examining my tense expression. “Do youwishto love him? Are you willing to take a step towards the man you know in your soul to be good and honest and faithful, to have faith in his character? No matter his darker secrets. Or at least in spite of them.”
There was the real truth drilled down to its very core.
I could justify all the reasons why I shouldn’t allow myself to fall in love Mike Bryant—the fact that I was leaving in another month, that he held back a part of himself that was driving me emotionally bonkers, that I was afraid once again to have my offered heart smashed to smithereens when it wasn’t returned.
But I couldn’t deny the one huge truth—Ididwant to love this man. Very much. Even if I didn’t know all there was to know about him. Even it could only be temporary.
Holy guacamole, I was in love with Michael Bryant!
How did that happen in the blink of an eye?
Now the real question was—what was I going to do about it?
* * *
All morning Henry and I had conspired, and the opportune time came when Bryant finally returned from his business dealings later that afternoon. He drew up short in front of us standing at full attention in front of the cash counter.
“How was your day, darling?” I said sweetly, batting my eyelashes. “I’ve made a raspberry pie for us to take back to the cabin tonight. Your favorite, Alice says. Don’t worry, she helped me. It should be edible.”
“I do hope you made some profitable bargains with Mr. Hodges, Mike,” Henry said, giving him a toothy grin. “I’m sure that Ma will buy anything from you that he wouldn’t. I could ask her, if you’d like.”
He narrowed his eyes at both of us, obviously smelling a rat.
“Alright then, what’s up with you two? No, don’t give me that innocent look, either of you. You’d best be telling me and get it over with.”
Henry slumped and muttered to me, “Told you.”
“Told me what?” Bryant demanded. Mostly at me, since Henry wouldn’t look at him, the little chicken.
Well, I was prepared for this next sneak attack, too.
“Henry hoped that you would pose for one of his photography pictures,” I said.
“The hell I will not!”
“Which I told him,” I added (said the spider to the fly). “I said that you were extremely camera shy.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I was shy in any way.”
“Of course, not. Not like the Snoqualmie people would be.”
“Callista said the Indians are very superstitious about such things,” Henry chimed in, hearing his cue. “They might not be agreeable to having their portraits taken for fear of it stealing their soul.”
“Indeed, they would not,” Bryant said. “Black Crow would take that box of yours...Wait, why would it matter what they think?”
I was about to attempt the second phase of my battle strategy when Bryant beat me to the punch, his expression hooding over with full understanding.
“No,” he stated, brooking no argument. “Henry is not coming with us to the village tomorrow.”
