Harvest of Love: Insta-Spark Collection

“I prefer this one,” she murmured, handing me another framed picture. “It was taken a few years ago, but what a difference. And I’m not talking about how the kids have grown.”

She was right. Noah was in the center of this photo, his niece and nephews in front of him. He wore jeans and a tight shirt, his physique more like what I saw now. His hair was longer, his smile bright. He looked happy and peaceful. Filled with joy and surrounded by love. I had to swallow the lump in my throat. “He looks like Noah.”

She nodded, a sad look crossing her face. “We almost lost him. But he found his way home and back to us. Back to the life he loved.” She smiled as she wiped away the dust on the top edge of the frame. “He simply forgot how to live for a while.”

She linked her arm with mine. “I have sandwiches. Then we can take the desserts to the restaurant and have tea. If Noah lets you out of his sight for that long.”

I laughed. He’d dropped by the house twice while we were baking and pouted when his mom informed him we were having lunch together then shooed him back to work.

She smiled at me. “I’m glad he met you, Dani. He can help you remember how to live too.” She pulled me along. “Let’s eat on the deck. I love the sunshine there.”

I followed, wondering what she meant, and why the words gave me comfort.

Later that night, Noah’s dad, Henry, sat back, running a hand over his stomach. “That was the best apple dumpling I’ve ever tasted. And your peach upside-down cake? That crisp? Heaven on a plate, Dani.”

He had tried everything, coming back for seconds on the crisp.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked it? I’m ready to exchange Callie for you.”

Everyone at the table laughed as Callie pouted.

“It’s true,” he insisted. “Noah can still cook, but now I finally have a baker in the family? Yeah…I love you, Callie my girl, but you need to pack your bags.”

I smiled at his words and Callie’s over-the-top screech of indignation. My heart beat a little faster when he included me as part of the family—as if it were a given. It made me realize I wanted it to be true.

His parents grinned at each other, their adoration evident. His mother had soft brown hair scattered with gray. She kept it short, and it curled around her face, highlighting her gentle brown eyes. His dad’s hair was gray but still thick, and his eyes the same green color as his son. They were both tall people, and his dad was in great shape, his shoulders still broad and strong. His laughter reminded me of Noah, but he had his mom’s smile. Both were affectionate with each other and their children and grandchildren alike. It was lovely to see.

Noah’s family kidded and joked with one another the whole evening, his parents joining in often. His niece and nephews joined us for dinner but got bored and sat at another table once they’d dished up massive helpings of the dessert. They were all smart, funny kids, but far more interested in their own world than that of their parents, uncle, or grandparents. Noah told me they would head over to their grandparents’ soon to watch a movie.

The love they all had for one another was evident, but it didn’t stop the constant teasing and stories from happening. I loved every second of it.

I also loved sitting beside Noah, his arm draped across the back of my chair, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my shoulder. Not at all shy at showing his affection, he would lean over, dropping gentle kisses to my cheek, head, and shoulder, smiling when I would lean into his caress. Both he and his father were effusive in their praise for my desserts, making me blush.

I had enjoyed my time with his mother. She was as warm and open as Noah. I had been nervous about meeting Henry—as he insisted I call him—but it didn’t take me long to see where Noah got his charm from. Henry and Kris adored their children and grandkids, and it was easy to see the feelings were returned tenfold. They all made me welcome, and I felt more relaxed than I had been since last week.

“Is there any dessert left?” Henry asked.

“There are some dumplings in the kitchen,” I assured him.

“Henry, you’ll give yourself a stomachache.”

“For later, woman. A man needs to prepare for the future.”

Kris rolled her eyes. “Your future contains apple dumplings?”

He winked at me, looking mischievous. “It does now.”

Noah scowled at him. “I never agreed to sending you home with dumplings, Dad. Those are the property of the restaurant. Therefore, I call dibs.”

“I own the land on which the restaurant is located. Therefore, I call mine,” Henry shot back.