Tears sprang into her eyes, and her thumb gently rubbed the stubble along his jaw. “I didn’t know.”
“It was bad. I missed you. I loved you. I’d been rejected by you,” he said, scoffing a little in self-deprecation. It sounded so pathetic when it was laid out like that.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, starting to draw her hand away.
He reached for it, pressing it back against his cheek, then turned his neck slightly until his lips were pressed to her palm. Sighing against her skin, he said, “We jumped into it last time, hoping everything would work itself out. We need to do it right this time.”
She nodded in agreement.
“How about we get some sleep? We can talk more after this weekend, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his lips softly before flipping onto her side.
Preston bent his knees and pulled her against him, her back to his front, his nose in her hair, his lips pressed to the back of her neck, her barely-covered breasts spilling over his arm.
“I love you, Preston,” she whispered, on the verge of sleep. “I’ll never hurt you like that…not ever again.”
Tell her you love her. I love you, too. I love you, too. I love you…
Instead of answering her, he held her tighter…and prayed that he could find the strength to trust her with his whole heart once again.
***
One of Sarah Klassan’s favorite expressions had been, “Love is a verb.”
And even if Preston was unable or unwilling to return Elise’s “I love you” verbally, the next day, he managed to return it in countless, heart-clenching, hope-giving ways. Standing beside her, he helped her greet the many visitors who arrived in an endless stream on Friday, taking casseroles to the refrigerator and freezer, helping old Mr. Sanders to the men’s room, and jumpstarting Mrs. Schneider’s ancient Chevy truck when it wouldn’t turn over. He was everywhere at once—beside her, behind her, before her—in her head, in her heart, as organic as her own self, as necessary as air to breathe and she knew why L.A. had felt so terribly wrong: because after having Preston in her life, her life was empty with him out of it.
In the late-afternoon, when there was a lull in the number of visitors, Abby found them on the back porch swing together rocking slowly, Elise tucked into the nook of Preston’s arm. She encouraged them to get away for a bit and take a walk.
“Datt is napping, Liebling. Why don’t you and Preston take a walk? You’ve been sitting on this porch all afternoon. Get some fresh air. Show your husband the farm.”
Abby had a quiet calm, and the tender way she mothered her two small children and shared not-quite-covert, intimate gazes with her husband, Ethan, made Elise long for what her sister had. She seemed satisfied and settled, yet still vital, stepping into the shoes of matriarch with a gentleness that Elise and her sisters needed.
Taking Preston’s hand, she led them away from the tidy farmhouse toward the barn, bypassing it for a rolling green field just beyond where two dozen black and white cows stood grazing. Resting their forearms on a white split-rail fence, Preston and Elise gazed out over the meadow together.
“They’re Holsteins,” she said.
“Is that a baby?” he asked, pointing to a smaller one.
She nodded. “About three months old.”
“They’re so calm.”
“They’re happy here.”
“I can see why. It’s very beautiful. Fresh air, green grass, plenty to eat, safe place to sleep…what more could a cow want?”
Indeed. There was something paradisiacal about her parent’s farm now that she had escaped it. The colors were vibrant, the lifestyle simple, the food honest and delicious, the people plain but happy…so much less complicated than her own life had become.
You’re making your life so much more difficult than it needs to be, Liebling.
She had, hadn’t she? Instead of appreciating Preston when she had him, she’d taken him for granted and almost lost him. Same with her family. She felt the sharp blessing of second chances and breathed deeply, grateful for her husband beside her, grateful for the warm and loving welcome she’d received from her family, and even for this place she’d worked so desperately to escape.
“I want to come back up here more often. I want our children to—” she gasped, wincing. “Oh, I didn’t…I mean…Oh.”