A Shadow on the Ground (32 page)
His heart sank.
So that was it, then.
He turned and walked down the aisle. At the last pew, he held out his hand for Jeremy to take, and without a backward glance, the two of them pushed open the double church doors and walked into the bright September sun.
****
“Aren’t you even going to talk to him?” Sean reached across the cast on his knee. He scooped up a stray soccer ball and tossed it back to the group of squealing children running through the orchard.
“You’re the fourth person who’s asked me that question,” Morgan said.
“Well, if you’re going to speak now or forever hold your peace, then you’d better hurry. Most of the apples have been picked, and I don’t think he’s staying for dinner.”
“I don’t care what he does.”
“You don’t mean that.” Sean looked at her and sighed.
“If I talked to him, what would I say?”
“Well,
thank you
for starters.” He gestured to the women emptying bags of apples, the men hauling bushel baskets to the truck. “Look what he’s done for us. For
you
. He’s made all this happen. He’s worked like a dog today. I don’t think he’s stopped for a second. Or taken his eyes off you.”
“All right. I’ll admit, he’s worked hard. And he’s singlehandedly saved the first harvest. But is that supposed to make up for the fact he came here to steal the flag? That he lied to me about it? That he used me?”
“Oh, come on, Morgan. Stop whining about that damned flag. You knew what Denny was like when you married him. Are you surprised to find out he stole a Civil War flag from his father and bribed you with it to keep his ass out of jail?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “No, I didn’t think so.”
“But Gage came here to recover the flag under false pretenses. If he and I hadn’t reconnected, he would have taken it back to Atlanta and accepted the finder’s fee.”
“The money was for his child. For Jeremy. Gage was desperate to get him the help he needed to deal with his mother’s death. You would have done the same thing for me. For anyone you loved.”
“Maybe,” she said grudgingly.
“Gage is a good guy.” Sean laughed softly. “He’s a little hotheaded at times, and about as stubborn as you are. And he’s got some strange ideas about turning this orchard into a moneymaking machine.”
“Like what?”
“He wants to open it to the public—picnics in summer, hayrides and hot cider in the fall, pick-your-own-apple parties, funnel cakes, Saturday night line dancing in the barn. In addition to Chambourcin grapes, he thinks we should grow a pumpkin patch.”
“What is this? ‘If you build it, they will come?’”
“Oh, he’s full of ideas. Life with him wouldn’t be boring. And you know how you hate boring.” He laughed again. “Come to think of it, I told him the same thing about you. His passion for catching bad guys and thugs concerns me a bit, and you might have to work on curbing his appetite for adrenaline.” He grinned. “But I think you’re up to the task.”
Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes flicked around the orchard, searching for Gage. She’d spent the last three hours knowing exactly where he was at any given moment, and now she couldn’t locate him. Finally, she spotted him, and her heart wobbled in her chest.
Gage stood on the edge of the flatbed truck, gazing out at the orchard. His hands rested lightly on his waist, one hip slung to the side. Streaks of burnished sunlight, shining low in the sky, shimmered around his tanned arms like a halo. He bent to hoist a bushel of apples, then set it on the truck beside the others. He wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, quickly glanced her way, then resumed his stance and continued to gaze at the horizon.
What was he thinking about? Staring so intensely at a bunch of bare limbed trees? His new life? There was no question he was leaving. By the time she’d returned from Harlan’s sendoff at Deer Creek, he and Jeremy had already packed their things and loaded them into the Mustang. She and Gage had sidestepped each other all afternoon, avoiding eye contact, making sure they had no reason to speak, staying as far away from each other as possible. Even Jeremy had kept his distance, realizing, she guessed, that his life was going to carry on somewhere else.
The night before, she had mentally said her goodbyes to Gage, then spent a long, sleepless night trying to distance herself from him. But the next morning, he had crashed Harlan’s funeral and said all those wonderful things. She had listened to his low, sexy southern drawl melt each vowel, and she couldn’t stop needing him, or wondering why she was destined to repeat the worst part of her life over and over again.
As the day wore on, it grew worse.
The sweet power of his smile wrapped around her heart. Raw emotion burbled in her chest. Every time she filled another burlap bag, and caught him glancing her way, electricity surged through her. She could feel his heartbeat, his breath, the warmth of his skin against hers. The magnetic pull of him, stronger and more poignant than she thought she could bear, wouldn’t let up. It spiraled around her, spinning and churning until she wanted to scream at it to stop. To give her a few moments peace. Until the tender, empty place inside her heart closed up again.
“Morgan,” Sean said gently. “Gage has spent his life trying to do the right thing. For his wife. For his son. And now, for you. He’s never stopped loving you. I don’t think he ever will.”
The evening breeze blew against her cheek, cold and damp. She wiped her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. “Am I crying? Why am I crying?”
“Because you love him. And he’s leaving.”
“Is he?” she said in a small voice.
“I don’t care if you think your happiness is hiding out in Nashville or New York or Timbuktu. If you can’t open your eyes and see that it’s standing over there on that truck, then you are the densest woman in the world, and you don’t deserve him.” He pulled himself to his feet and used his cane to hop toward her. He put his arm around her. “Listen, twin of mine. Your heart may have been stomped on a few times, but I know how strong it is, and how big it is. And I don’t want you to live with the kind of regret that will eat away at your soul.”
She wasn’t sure when she pulled away from Sean and started running through the orchard. One second she was standing beside her brother, wiping tears off her face, and the next, she was flying through trees, dodging ladders and apple baskets, parting groups of astonished people like the Red Sea. She stopped at the back of the flatbed truck and stood, gulping in air, holding the sides of her flowered skirt bunched in her hands.
Gage slid a bushel basket to the back of the truck. When he turned around, he gave a little start at the sight of her, then quickly lowered his head and reached for another load.
“Can you help me up?” she said.
“I thought you weren’t speaking to me.”
She held out her hand. “Can I not speak to you up there?”
He turned back to her and, in one fluid motion, clasped her forearm and swung her onto the truck bed.
“Are you really leaving?” she asked.
He stopped, still holding on to her arm, and looked in her eyes. The last rays of sunlight cut across his angular face. “Why, yes, I am. I thought I might move to Nashville. Jeremy can find a guitar teacher there, and I can help revitalize and reinforce small businesses in these exciting but uncertain times.”
“I thought you liked small towns.”
“I thought you hated them.”
A crowd was beginning to gather.
He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “I’ve heard Nashville is the biggest small town in America. That sounds like a compromise to me.”
“What about children? You know I probably can’t get pregnant.”
“That won’t stop us from trying. In the meantime, we’ll adopt.”
“What about Jeremy’s therapy?”
“Bert’s paying for it. And I’m letting him. Besides, with you in our lives, I think Jeremy is gonna be just fine.”
“Am I in your life? I don’t want to be just a shadow on the ground.”
“Baby, you are my life.”
“Let’s wait till the harvest is over,” she said. “This is only the first wave of apples. And look at these kind folks surrounding the truck, staring at us like we’re the midnight show. We wouldn’t want to deprive them of hayrides and hot cider.”
“We could wait until the first snow. I’d love to spend winter in the mountains with you. Drinking apple brandy by the fire.”
“Seeing where this might go. Learning to like you calling me baby.”
Gage leaned over and nuzzled her neck. “Sleigh rides through the meadow. Ice skating on Lacey’s Pond.”
“Christmas,” Morgan murmured.
“New Year’s Eve.”
He held her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his. Thundering applause, loud hoots and whistles erupted around them.
“Forever,” Gage whispered.
“Forever is a long damn time,” she said, laughing.
“That’s okay.” He kissed her again. “It still won’t be long enough for me.”
A word about the author...
Rebecca lives with her husband in the beautiful, misty mountains of East Tennessee, where the people are charming, soulful, and just a little bit crazy. She's been everything from a tax collector to a stay-at-home mom to a house painter to a professional actress and director.
When she's not churning out sensual romantic mysteries with snappy dialogue and happy endings, she likes to travel, go to the Outer Banks for her ocean fix, watch old movies, hang out at the local pub, and make her day complete by correctly answering the Final Jeopardy! question.
Visit her at
www.rebeccaleesmith.com
.
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