Only You (23 page)

His smile lit up the night like no fireworks ever could.

She swung around and leaned back against him.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “You have the most beautiful hair. I love it hanging loose like this around your shoulders.”

He trailed a gentle hand through it. She closed her eyes and sighed as more fireworks sailed into the sky over the lake.

“You know, I think I’ve loved you since you were a little girl. While you read those books at recess, I’d try and make sure the ball rolled near you at least once so I could get a look at the title of the books, and after school, I’d go down to the library and check them out.”

“Really?” Josie smiled up at him.

Cole grinned and nodded. “I especially liked your Mark Twain phase. And when you were older, the Shakespearian sonnets. I dreamed of reciting them to you, but I never got the chance.” He paused. “Things might have been different if . . .”

“If you hadn’t had to drop out of school?” Josie supplied.

“Who knows? I mean, you never even noticed me.”

“I noticed you,” Josie insisted. “How could I not have with the way you used to stand up for me when all the other boys teased me?”

A slow smile brought the brightness back to his eyes. “Remember the time the oldest Jones boy—Jack—flipped your dress up in back.” Cole laughed. “You were so embarrassed.”

Even now, her face grew warm at the memory. “I was mortified.”

“I blacked his eye out behind old man Wallace’s barn for that.”

Josie felt her jaw drop. “You didn’t.”

His smile returned, this time mischievous, as he looked down at her. “Those sure were some pretty pink panties, Josie Lee.”

“Cole Craig!” She felt her face redden even more.

A big red heart lit up the sky. The words inside it read, “
Cole loves Josie.
”

Josie gasped.

Cole whispered against her ear, “I love you, Josephine Lee Allen. Please say you’ll forgive me.”

“Oh, Cole.” She shifted and rested her hands against his chest. Tears stung her eyes when she said, “There’s nothing to forgive.” Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

He pulled her closer and kissed her for a long, breathless moment. When at last he released her, he said, “Thank goodness, because this next one would have been real embarrassing if you’d walked off and left me sittin’ here all alone.”

Josie frowned. Cole pointed up at the sky, and when she looked up, she saw another red heart. The words inside this one read,
“Marry me?”

She hadn’t noticed before, but every eye in Angel Ridge was focused on them. She didn’t care. She loved Cole Craig. She was proud of Cole Craig. And she wanted the world to know.

“Yes!” she said clearly enough for several people to hear. “Oh, yes,” she whispered for his ears alone. Word would spread through the town like a rushing wind sweeping across the shoreline. When she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, she could have sworn she heard Dixie Ferguson say, “Well, it’s about time.”

The sound of applause and cheers sounded all around them. Tears filled her eyes when he pulled a velvet box out of his pocket and opened it. Nestled against the velvet lining was an exquisite square diamond in an antique silver setting.

“This ring has been in my family for generations. I hope you’ll wear it.”

All Josie could do was nod as the tears spilled down her cheeks. Could a person die of such happiness? She didn’t deserve so many blessings.

Cole lifted the ring out of the box. “There’s a story behind this. An angel’s wings hold the diamond in place. It’s told there’s a magic in it that causes it to fit only if there’s true and abiding love between the giver and the recipient.”

He slid the ring on her finger and said, “A perfect fit.”

He reverently touched his lips to the ring where he’d placed it on her finger, and then he gave her a kiss that seemed to seal the promise of their life together.

“When will you marry me?” he asked when he at last lifted his head.

She chewed her lower lip. As happy as she was, she wanted to savor their relationship. Wanted to learn how to be a girlfriend before she became a wife. “Would you mind if we had a long courtship?”

Cole frowned. “Define
long
.”

She touched his hair. “Long enough for your hair to grow back.”

Cole ran his fingers through the shortened tresses. “I thought it made me look more respectable.”

She smoothed her hand down his neck and inside his collar, around to his chest. “I like you a little disreputable.”

“I like hearing you say that you like me . . .”

“How does a Christmas wedding sound?”

“Like a good way to start the New Year.”

His next kiss was the stuff dreams were made of. Miss Estelee was right. You couldn’t judge a book by its cover. The true love of the man who held her tightly in his arms was so much better than any love she’d ever read about in a book. It was a blessing for which she would be thankful the rest of her life.

Epilogue

And that’s the story of Josie and Cole. Don’t it just make you want to go right out and fall in love yourself? I can tell you, they’ve got this whole town helpin’ them plan their weddin’. Josie says she’s not much for them kind of things, and well, we’re all too happy to lend a hand.

And let me just say, she needs all the help she can get. That mother of hers means well, but she just about had a heart attack when we sat down to plan menus. Josie wants chicken salad sandwiches—picnic style in December—for the rehearsal dinner, and chicken and dumplins for the sit down reception dinner to serve two hundred fifty. I say, give the woman what she wants. It’s her wedding. But you know how folks can be.

Cole’s mother and aunt—better known around here as the sisters—what a pair! They couldn’t be happier, but with what they’re plannin’ . . . well, let’s just say that if I was Cole, I’d be real careful of that pole they expect him to ride out of the reception on! Lordy, these folks and their mountain ways. Looks dangerous to me, if you know what I mean, but to each his own. You wouldn’t want to do anything that might cause bad luck for the happy couple.

Seriously, folks, I hope you enjoyed gettin’ to know a few of my neighbors here in Angel Ridge. Some of us might put on airs every now and then, but at heart, we all care and watch out for one another. Well, most of us anyway. It’s like family. You’re not always gonna see eye to eye. You might make each other crazy from time to time—maybe even most of the time—but in the end, you’re still family. Towns, like families, are important. They’re at the heart of who we are. At the end of the day, I feel blessed to call Angel Ridge home.

I hope you’ll see fit to come visit us again, sometime. We sure enjoyed havin’ you.

The Story of Angel Ridge

Deborah Grace Staley is pleased to share this special original short story, available exclusively in the Bell Bridge Books’ edition of Only You

The Guardian

“He shall give His angels charge concerning you.”
Matthew 4:6

In the Wilderness, just over the mountains

East of North Carolina, 1785

“Go back . . . ”

Mary dropped the berry she’d intended for her basket. “Who’s there?”

She turned in a circle, but saw no one. Frowning, she returned to her task.

Her mother had sent her to pick enough blackberries for two pies. Her sigh was heavy as she plucked another berry. Her best friend, Lizzie Craig, had asked that snippety little Charlotte McKay to play hide and seek when she’d said she had to go outside the fort to gather berries.

Mary sighed again. This would take forever. She hated picking berries and working in the garden while her friends got to play. She also hated feeding the chickens, sweeping the porch, hanging the wash, and any number of the other endless chores she’d had to do since she and her family had moved to East Tennessee with her father and mother.

They’d lived in a grand home in Virginia, and there had been servants to do all the chores. Sometimes, in the early morning before she woke, Mary could swear she smelled Miss Ellie’s cinnamon bread warming by the hearth oven. But then she woke, splashed water on her face, dressed and walked to the well, feet dragging, to bring in a bucket of water to wash the morning dishes after her breakfast of oatmeal had been eaten. Mary wrinkled her nose. She hated oatmeal, too.

Here, she lived in a two-room cabin that had a loft and sat at the foot of a mountain. Mother said the sunrises and sunsets were beautiful. Mary couldn’t figure how that was any different from Virginia. The sun rose and set there, too. And in Virginia, all she had to do was play and go to school, of course. Here the chores never seemed to end, and there’d be more of those after her new baby sister arrived. Mother kept saying they’d take whatever God gave them, but God surely wanted her have a sister.

“Mary?”

She turned again, cross this time. “Who’s there?” Had that stupid old Jones boy followed her like the last time? He followed her around like a puppy.

As she looked across the clearing, the sun peeked from behind a cloud as a stranger stepped out of the tall pines and walked towards her. He was someone she’d never seen. Tall, with long golden hair that brushed his shoulders. The sun angled through the pines illuminating him in a shimmering, golden glow.

“Go home. Your papa’s calling you.”

Mary frowned. “No, he isn’t, and he’s too far away for me to hear him if he was to call me.”

The big man smiled and chuckled. “You’re a bright young girl, Mary, but I heard him calling you. Honest.”

“How do you know my name?

“I’ve known you since you came to live here on the Ridge.”

“But I don’t know you or your name.” Puzzled, Mary couldn’t remember seeing him at church services or at planting and harvest time.

“Sure you do. Think . . .”

He came closer, looking straight into her eyes as he moved. The nicest feeling came across her like the one she got when she lay in the middle of the clearing in the Tall Pines when she stared up at the sky. And suddenly, she knew his name even though she was quite certain she’d never met him.

“Gabriel.”

The man smiled again. “That’s right.”

Mary nodded. She’d known she was right.

“Let’s go back to the fort now.” Gabriel held out a hand towards her and turned as if to go.

“I can’t go back now. Mother needs berries for two pies,” she held up two fingers to emphasize her point. “She’ll skin my hide if I come home without enough.”

“Your basket’s full, little one.”

“No, it’s not—”

Mary looked down and found her basket filled to the top with plump blackberries.

“How in the world?” she exclaimed.

“How ’bout if I walk back with you?”

Gabriel took the heavy basket and again held out his hand for her to take it. Slipping her hand into his big, warm one felt just like holding her papa’s hand—like nothing and no one could keep her safer.

“How come I’ve never seen you before today, but I knew your name?”

The tall, golden man at her side smiled. “Because you’re a smart girl.”

Mary giggled. “I know that, silly, but that doesn’t answer my question. If I’m smart, and I am, that means I should know you—which I don’t—if I know your name.”

Gabriel chuckled. “A very smart girl, indeed.”

“And that basket was
not
full when you sneaked up on me. So, how’d it get full?”

Gabriel stopped and stooped down to look in her eyes again. “Remember your Bible lessons, little one? A basket full of berries is a blessing because your mother will make your favorite pie with them, right?”

“Well, it’s papa’s favorite pie, but even if it was my favorite, what’s that got to do with my Bible lessons?”

“From where do blessings come?”

Mary squinted into the sun as she thought, or was that Gabriel making her squint? “Blessings come from God. It’s just like the song we sing in church service.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise him all creatures here below. Praise him above ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.”

“Yes. And you sing more beautifully than the angels in heaven.”

Mary blushed at his praise.

“Go inside the fort now, Mary.”

“But we’re not—”

Mary blinked, then rubbed her eyes. They’d only walked a few steps, but the log fence surrounding the fort that her papa and their neighbors had built was right in front of her.

“How’d we get here so fast, Gabriel?” Mary turned in a wide circle. “Gabriel?”

“Who you bellerin’ at Mary Contrary?”

Icky Elliot McGee taunted her, calling her names. He made her so mad! The least he could do was come up with something no one else would think up, but no. He said the same stupid thing every time—Mary Contrary.

“Mind your own business, Elliot McGee.”

She picked up the basket of berries at her feet and, after one look at the now empty meadow, hefted the heavy burden and struggled to reach the gate. After only a couple of steps, she fell and dropped the basket. Berries scattered everywhere.

“Oh, no!”

“Mary, Mary. Clumsy, wumsy, Mary Contrary.”

Elliot grabbed his sides, pointing and laughing at her.

“You hush, Elliot!”

“Go, Mary. Leave the berries. Go to your mother. Quickly!”

Mary turned, frowning. “Gabriel?”

She’d expected to see her new friend behind her, but instead, her eyes widened at the sight of Indians racing towards the fort. Inside her head, she knew she should run, but her feet wouldn’t move. She’d never been so scared.

Elliot ran to the fort without bothering to help her. Her arms and legs began to shake so bad that she couldn’t get up. Tears streamed silently down her face. She wanted to cry out to her papa, her mother, or even to Gabriel, but she just couldn’t make the words form on her tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut. The prayer inside her head was, “Help me, God. Please protect me.”

I’ll protect you, Mary. I’ll always be close by to protect you.