Deborah Camp (45 page)

“Oh, Grandy,” she said, moaning at her own blindness. “You don’t understand.”

“And
you
don’t understand,” he said, dropping her hands and turning away. “This is the first home I’ve ever had, Zanna. I was raised by a meek mother and a cruel father. I ran away from their house because it was a place of beatings and misery. I convinced myself it was the country life I hated, but all the while it was my parents whom I despised.” He ran a hand through his hair, struggling with his raw feelings. “You made me love living off the land again, Zanna. You made me love you. I’ve been sticking around because it’s what I want.” He sent her a sideways glance, suddenly shy. “
You’re
what I want.”

Her knees gave way and Zanna sat down on the packing
crate the door had come in. Glorious relief flooded her like sunshine, warming her heart and chasing away cold shadows, dark places.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” she said, laughing at herself. “I’ve been walking on eggshells for weeks because I was afraid you’d leave if I said the wrong thing. I dreaded the time when this house would be completed because I knew you’d leave as soon as the last nail was driven in.” She shook her head, laughing again. “I didn’t dare hope you might love me enough to want to stay.”

He ran a hand through his hair in a distracted motion, then signaled for her to stay put while he went outside. He returned with a black, leather-bound Bible.

“Oh, Sooz …” He dropped before her on bended knee. “Remember when I went into town for the first load of lumber?”

“Yes.”

“I got this then.” He put the Bible in her lap and opened it to a place where primroses had been flattened between the pages. “For you, darlin’.”

Her eyes filled with tears, making his face blur before her. Unable to speak, she leaned forward and kissed his warm mouth. He kissed her back, then pulled away from her tempting lips. Dipping two fingers into his shirt pocket, he smiled and pulled out a plain gold band.

“Give me your left hand, sweet Sooz,” he said, reaching for it and slipping the ring on her third finger. “Be mine, Zanna. Please be my wife; body and soul, heart and spirit, on earth and in heaven.”

Choked with feeling, she nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tears of joy tickled her cheeks and she released a joyous laugh.

“Say something,” Grandy urged. “Don’t just giggle at my proposal.”

“I’m sorry.” She leaned back in the circle of his arms and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I love you, Grandville. You are my first and only loving husband. My savior.
My light when all is dark. I didn’t want you to leave me, but I felt I had to give you your freedom if you wanted it.”

“Your love freed me, Zanna.” He smoothed his hands over her hair and his gaze took in her features, one by one. “I have no desire to roam. If I were a betting man—which I’m not anymore—I’d bet that our life together will be bountiful and beautiful.”

“That’s a sure bet if ever I heard one,” she said, her hands resting against his chest where his heart tapped out a song just for her. “We’ll open the house on Thanksgiving for all our friends and neighbors so that everyone will know that Primrose is
our
home.”

“I love you, Sooz,” he said, pulling her into his lap for another long kiss that left her breathless and sultry-eyed.

“Will you love me forever, Grandville?” she murmured.

His mouth claimed hers again, sealing promises that his heart meant to keep.

The Bible slipped from her lap, spilling primroses across the floor.