you love me and want to be with me? Or because you’re an honorable man who always keeps his promises, no matter what?”
How could he explain this to her without breaking her heart? “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again. I like being with you. Can’t that be enough for now?”
“It could be,” she said, her voice low. “But is that any way to start a marriage, to plan a life together?”
“There are worse ways to spend your life,” he replied.
“That’s not a very reassuring answer.” She stared down at her salad. “I think I’ll have Mr. Denham wrap this up for later. I’m not that hungry after all.”
She started to get up, but Marshall pulled her back down by the hand. “Stella, I’m saying this all wrong, but I’m not ready to give up on us just yet. We agreed on a few weeks.We’ve got less than three weeks until the wedding. And you still have to show me the cake and the color theme and . . . all of our shower gifts.”
Her expression had gone from forlorn and defeated to surprised and intrigued. “How do you know about all that?”
“Oh, you’re not the only one who’s been trying to fill in the blanks in my brain. My mother has been chattering almost nonstop about all of the above.”
“It’s still hard on her. She’s been so excited about this wedding.”
“Very hard.” He swallowed, ran a finger across Stella’s palm. “I hear her crying sometimes, but she never lets me see. She’s strong and good, and my dad—well, he just walks around in his own quiet way. But he’s always willing to listen when I get frustrated.”
“You have good parents, Marsh,” she said, her tone more relaxed now. “We both do.” She put her other hand in his. “But none of them expect us to go into something we’re not sure about.”
“You were sure.” He squeezed her hand. “I have that to go on and . . . I’m trusting in God. He brought me home, Stella. He brought me home to you. I don’t take that lightly.”
She let out a little sigh. “That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you. You always do the right thing.” She let go of his hands, got up, and gave him a soft smile. “Even if it’s for the wrong reasons.”
“Hey, this isn’t wrong,” he replied, trying to keep her from walking away. “Give me time and . . . show me all the things that go into a wedding.”
She nodded and gave him another wobbly smile. “The first thing is love.” Then she hurried to the counter and asked for a to-go box for her salad.
That night Stella opened the front door of Flower Bend and let Marshall inside.
“Welcome,” she said, still reeling from their lunch conversation. “This is where I grew up.” She motioned him into the open foyer with the sweeping, freestanding curved staircase. “You used to spend a lot of time here.”
Marshall let out a whistle. “Impressive. And old, from what my mom tells me.”
“It’s close to one hundred and forty years old,” she explained, trying to imagine her home through his eyes. “Flower Bend was built in the late 1800s, a few years after the Civil War was over.”
He pointed out a window toward the front yard. “And on the river, at that.”
“Yes, right across the road. You can see it from the second-floor porch. This place has seen storms and floods and a lot of good and bad times.”
Their eyes met over that statement. Marsh didn’t waver. Stella felt a current of understanding pass between them.
“Show me the rest,” he said. “And show me our shower gifts. I hear that’s a really big deal with women.”
She had to laugh at that. After their lunch, he’d followed her back into the bookstore and insisted on coming to visitFlower Bend tonight. And here she’d thought he wanted to end things with her. But no. Marshall was determined to see this through to the bitter end. And that end could be bitter and tragic for both of them if they weren’t careful.
She’d had to do some hard praying to allow this
How could he explain this to her without breaking her heart? “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again. I like being with you. Can’t that be enough for now?”
“It could be,” she said, her voice low. “But is that any way to start a marriage, to plan a life together?”
“There are worse ways to spend your life,” he replied.
“That’s not a very reassuring answer.” She stared down at her salad. “I think I’ll have Mr. Denham wrap this up for later. I’m not that hungry after all.”
She started to get up, but Marshall pulled her back down by the hand. “Stella, I’m saying this all wrong, but I’m not ready to give up on us just yet. We agreed on a few weeks.We’ve got less than three weeks until the wedding. And you still have to show me the cake and the color theme and . . . all of our shower gifts.”
Her expression had gone from forlorn and defeated to surprised and intrigued. “How do you know about all that?”
“Oh, you’re not the only one who’s been trying to fill in the blanks in my brain. My mother has been chattering almost nonstop about all of the above.”
“It’s still hard on her. She’s been so excited about this wedding.”
“Very hard.” He swallowed, ran a finger across Stella’s palm. “I hear her crying sometimes, but she never lets me see. She’s strong and good, and my dad—well, he just walks around in his own quiet way. But he’s always willing to listen when I get frustrated.”
“You have good parents, Marsh,” she said, her tone more relaxed now. “We both do.” She put her other hand in his. “But none of them expect us to go into something we’re not sure about.”
“You were sure.” He squeezed her hand. “I have that to go on and . . . I’m trusting in God. He brought me home, Stella. He brought me home to you. I don’t take that lightly.”
She let out a little sigh. “That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you. You always do the right thing.” She let go of his hands, got up, and gave him a soft smile. “Even if it’s for the wrong reasons.”
“Hey, this isn’t wrong,” he replied, trying to keep her from walking away. “Give me time and . . . show me all the things that go into a wedding.”
She nodded and gave him another wobbly smile. “The first thing is love.” Then she hurried to the counter and asked for a to-go box for her salad.
That night Stella opened the front door of Flower Bend and let Marshall inside.
“Welcome,” she said, still reeling from their lunch conversation. “This is where I grew up.” She motioned him into the open foyer with the sweeping, freestanding curved staircase. “You used to spend a lot of time here.”
Marshall let out a whistle. “Impressive. And old, from what my mom tells me.”
“It’s close to one hundred and forty years old,” she explained, trying to imagine her home through his eyes. “Flower Bend was built in the late 1800s, a few years after the Civil War was over.”
He pointed out a window toward the front yard. “And on the river, at that.”
“Yes, right across the road. You can see it from the second-floor porch. This place has seen storms and floods and a lot of good and bad times.”
Their eyes met over that statement. Marsh didn’t waver. Stella felt a current of understanding pass between them.
“Show me the rest,” he said. “And show me our shower gifts. I hear that’s a really big deal with women.”
She had to laugh at that. After their lunch, he’d followed her back into the bookstore and insisted on coming to visitFlower Bend tonight. And here she’d thought he wanted to end things with her. But no. Marshall was determined to see this through to the bitter end. And that end could be bitter and tragic for both of them if they weren’t careful.
She’d had to do some hard praying to allow this
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