The next morning, John was unpacking boxes in the downstairs “carriage area” of his new home when Hope appeared. The distressed look on her face had him rising and crossing to her in several long strides. “What’s wrong? Is it Verna?”
The older woman had appeared to be in good health at breakfast, but Hope’s expression told him something was wrong.
“No. Not Verna.” Hope shook her head but her assurance didn’t tamp down his unease. Her voice quavered and two lines of worry sat between her brows. “Something else.”
He took her hand, wanting to soothe her. To his surprise, she didn’t pull away. Whatever was troubling her had to be major.
“Tell me,” John demanded.
She glanced around the dusty work area as if searching for a place to sit.
“We’ll go upstairs.” He tugged her to the staircase. “It’ll be more comfortable and private.”
Hope’s protest seemed to die in her throat. He had the feeling it wasn’t the comfort part but the promise of privacy that convinced her.
As the stairs leading to his new apartment were narrow, John followed her up the steps. A mistake, he thought. The light, sultry scent of Hope’s perfume wafted behind her. Worse yet, he had the perfect view of her backside. Her jeans hugged her curves and accentuated her long legs.
John felt eighteen again. Though Hope remained the only woman who could make his heart beat faster simply by walking into a room, his feelings for her weren’t just physical.
She was intelligent. She was strong-willed and that was just the beginning. He loved every part of her. When he’d left Harmony, he’d hoped the hole in his heart would fill. It hadn’t.
He never stopped thinking of her as his wife.
Looking back, John couldn’t believe a night that had started out so positive had gone so bad. He’d never forget the look in Hope’s eyes when he’d been forced to admit he didn’t have the extra money Buddy, the “minister,” had demanded.
All of his extra cash had been spent on the special engraving inside Hope’s wedding band. A ring that had been on her finger less than five minutes before she’d tugged it off and told Buddy she’d changed her mind.
The gesture had crushed him. But that was the past. He was home and determined to capture her heart.
Hope grabbed the knob and pushed open the door. He followed her inside.
She moved to the middle of the living room and turned in a circle. “I still think this is the loveliest room. Verna gave me carte blanche in decorating it. I hope you don’t find it too girly.”
Verna hadn’t mentioned Hope’s role in the renovation. Though when the older woman had shown him the space, she’d waxed poetic about everything from the overstuffed sofa upholstered in a sunny garden pattern and plaid slipper chairs in a coordinating fabric to the crown molding topping a whimsical wallpaper pattern of vines and branches. She’d pointed out how the leaves on the Tiffany accent lamp continued the theme.
According to Verna, the rag rugs scattered on the hardwood floors coupled with several ancestral wall portraits added a homey touch and saved the room from being too perfectly coordinated.
“Lovely isn’t a word I normally like to use.” John grinned. “But it’s a nice space. I like it.”
The style of the furniture had a warm, comfortable feel. Wooden shutters had been pulled back, allowing the outside light to fill the room with a golden glow.
The scent of cinnamon hovering in the air from a basket of Verna’s scented pinecones brought calm to the atmosphere. Though the frown remained, he saw Hope’s shoulders were no longer stiff.
“May I get you something to drink?” he asked politely. “A glass of water?”
She shook her head. “I’d like to sit down.”
He gestured to the sofa. Instead of taking a seat in a nearby chair, he sat beside her.
“It’s good to see you again, Hope. It’s been too long.”
Her laugh held a nervous edge. “You were just here in May for Verna’s birthday.”
“We didn’t have much of a chance to talk.” This wasn’t surprising considering they’d both worked to keep a distance between them since he’d left Harmony.
Not this time.
“There’s something we need to discuss.” Her voice cracked when he took her hand.
Using his thumb, John rubbed slow circles in her palm. He had a good idea what she wanted to discuss. She wanted him to know that she’d moved on, that she and Chet—
“We’re still married.”
His thumb stilled. The words may have been softly spoken, but he’d heard them clearly. That didn’t mean he understood. “Did Buddy send in the paperwork after all?”
“No. He kept his word.” Hope pulled her hand from his and placed it in her lap. “I confirmed this morning with the county recorder’s office that even if the license and certificate aren’t sent in, the marriage is still legal.”
John collapsed back against the sofa. Hope was his wife? Indescribable joy rushed through him. He’d prayed for a second chance. For the opportunity to show her he could be the husband she deserved. Now, through a bureaucratic loophole and God’s providence, he’d received that chance.