The Way Home (18 page)

“Is there somewhere we can sit?”

“Sit?” he repeated, still trying to decipher her last statement.

“You know—that thing you do with chairs.” Maybe if she tried to lighten the atmosphere a bit he'd loosen up, she thought in desperation.

“Oh…sure. I've only been in here a few days, but
I do have a kitchen set.” He pushed the door open, and nodded her inside.

Amy had only a fleeting impression of golden log walls, hardwood floors and vast windows as Cal led her to the back of the cabin. “Would you like some tea?” His tone was polite, but still cautious.

“Yes. If you don't mind.”

Cal turned away to fill the kettle, willing his erratic pulse to stabilize. He needed a moment to compose himself, plan his course of action now that the woman he loved was actually in his home. Because he didn't want to lose her again.
Couldn't
lose her again.

Amy stared at Cal's broad back as he made her tea, and once more her courage threatened to desert her. What right did she have to barge in here after three months and expect to be greeted with open arms when she hadn't even returned any of his countless calls? What right did she have to think he still felt the same way about her? And what if he
didn't?
Her stomach plummeted to her toes, and she suddenly felt dizzy. She probably should have taken time to eat breakfast, she realized. Especially since she'd skipped lunch yesterday and barely picked at her dinner. But she'd been so anxious to get here. Now she was paying the price. She closed her eyes and willed the world to stop tilting.

“Amy?”

At the sound of Cal's concerned voice, her eyelids flickered open. He was bending down toward her, only inches away, and she wanted to reach out and touch his dear face, smooth away the twin furrows of
worry in his brow. But she forced her hands to remain motionless on the table.

“Are you all right? What's the matter?”

“I'm fine.” Her voice seemed to come from a distance and sounded faint even to her ears.

“You're not fine. You're pale as a ghost. Are you sick?”

“No.” With a triumph of will over body, she forced the world to right itself. But she couldn't do anything about the tremors that ran through her hands.

He hesitated a moment, then sat down across from her, his own hands tightly gripping his mug. He was clearly waiting for her to speak, so she took a deep breath and plunged in.

“Gram told me where to find you. I parked down on the road and walked up because I needed time to gather my courage.”

He eyed her warily. “For what?”

She reached into her purse, withdrew a long white envelope with his name on it and laid it on the table. “For this.” She took a deep breath a pushed it toward him. “Go ahead and open it.”

He gazed at her for a moment, then reached for the envelope and withdrew the contents. The cover letter was addressed formally, and seemed to be a standard job application. He frowned and flipped to the second page. The word
position
was in bold letters, followed by the word
wife.
The next line read, “Top ten reasons why candidate would excel at this job.”

Cal scanned the list, a tender smile quirking his lips as he perused it.

The words blurred in front of his eyes when he reached the end of the list, and he blinked a few times before he looked at her. He wanted to accept what she offered at face value, forget about her dreams, but he couldn't. He'd made that mistake once, and he wasn't going to do it again.

“What about your career?”

“I'm resigning from the station in Atlanta.”

He shook his head. “I can't ask you to do that. I was wrong to suggest it in the first place.”

She reached over and laid her hand on his, her gaze intense and compelling, her voice firm. “I'm resigning, Cal. No matter what happens between us today, I'm moving on. I spent the past couple of days with Tony Jackson in Knoxville, and he's offered me a job. I believe in what he's doing, and he's willing to let me work on the kinds of stories I like best. It's an ideal arrangement.”

Cal couldn't doubt the sincerity in her eyes, knew
he shouldn't press his luck, but he had to be sure. “And what about your dreams of a network feature spot?”

Amy shrugged. “It's funny. I worked toward that goal for a lot of years. Pretty much to the exclusion of all else. In fact, at some point the quest became more important than the goal. And then you came along, and suddenly I began to question a lot of things. It wasn't easy to admit that maybe my priorities were out of whack, that somewhere along the way I'd gotten so caught up in the glamour and prestige and power and money part of the business that I'd lost sight of what really counts—doing good work that can help others. I'm not saying you can't do that in a network spot, but I can do it a lot more easily with far fewer personal and ethical sacrifices at Tony's station. And the icing on the cake is that it gives me you, too. Assuming, that is, that you—that you still want me,” she finished, her voice faltering.

He studied her in silence for a moment. Then, instead of responding, he rose and retrieved a small envelope from the counter. It was stamped and addressed to her, she noted, as he placed it in front of her. “I was going to mail this today. Open it.”

She hesitated, then did as he asked. With her heart pounding, she quickly scanned the single sheet of paper.

As Amy finished the note, her throat grew tight. Cal did still love her! So much that he was willing to compromise his own dream to accommodate hers. He could have given her no greater gift, or demonstrated his love in no more credible or touching way.

“That offer is still open, Amy,” he said quietly.

She looked at him, the love shining in her eyes. “And I'll treasure it always. But this is where I want to stay.”

Suddenly he took her hand in a warm clasp, then stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come with me,” he said huskily.

They retraced their steps through the house to the porch, which was now bathed in golden morning light. He could feel her trembling as he reached over to frame her delicate face with his powerful hands, his thumbs gently brushing her cheeks. He was none too steady himself as he gazed into her beautiful, deep green eyes, misty now, but filled with unmistakable love and tenderness. As his heart overflowed with joy, he suddenly knew that this would always stand apart in his memory as one of the shining, defining moments of his life. A moment he would look back on, in the twilight of their lives, as representative of the dawn of a new day for both of them.

For several seconds they simply gazed at each other, savoring the wonder of their love, filled with hope and joy and the promise of a bright tomorrow. When Cal finally spoke, the catch in his voice tugged at Amy's heart and sent a rush of tenderness through her.

“Three months ago, I planned to bring you to this
meadow and propose on the spot where I wanted to build my home—our home,” he said. “I can't promise you that our life here will always be easy, Amy. It certainly won't be glitzy or glamorous. But I can promise you that while our home won't be filled with silver and gold, it
will
be filled with something far more precious—love and friendship and laughter. And I promise you this, too. From this day forward, I will always share with you the secrets of my heart and my dreams. And I'll do everything I can do to help make yours come true. Because I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?”

Amy's eyes filled with tears, and when she spoke her voice was choked with emotion. “Oh, Cal! You've already made my greatest dream come true. You've given me your love. And you've also helped me find a new life grounded in faith, with a clear sense of what truly matters. For that gift alone, I'll be forever grateful.”

His heart soared with joy and his lips curved into a smile as he reached over to gently wipe away a wayward tear that had slipped down her cheek. “Is that a yes?”

A tremulous smile, filled with wonder and anticipation and unbridled joy, lit her face. “That is most definitely a yes,” she confirmed.

And as he pulled her into his arms to seal their engagement in the most traditional of ways, Amy said a silent prayer of thanks. For this wonderful man. For this wonderful place. And for a future that she now knew, with absolute certainty, was going to be even more wonderful than the one she had planned.

Dear Reader,

As I write this letter, summer is drawing to a close. Soon I'll put away my gardening tools while the world takes time to rest and renew itself beneath a blanket of snow. I will miss my garden and my woodland retreat, but always I am comforted by the hope and promise of spring.

The hours I spend in my garden are among my most joyous—and most contemplative. And I have learned much—about flowers and about life. Sometimes plants need space so they can grow and fully develop. Sometimes they become weak or vulnerable and do best when close together so that they can prop each other up. Water must be dispensed in just the right proportion—too much, they drown; not enough, they shrivel and die.

Like a garden, love is a balancing act. We must learn when to get close—and when to back off. We must learn how much affection is enough—and how much is smothering. And while we sometimes make mistakes, true love, like a flower, is tenacious. It struggles to survive, even under difficult conditions. Because real love never ends.

In this book, Cal and Amy learn the balancing act of love. They also learn that love sometimes involves difficult choices. But as they ultimately discover, those choices aren't really compromises when willingly made. In fact, love often spurs a healthy realignment of priorities and offers new hope for a better tomorrow, even in times of trouble.

Through all your winter days, may the promise of spring remain in your heart.