Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher 3)

“She looks so happy,” I say to Ethan.

“So does he,” he says with a grin. He kisses the tip of my nose.

Ethan quit his job with the Jacobsons a month ago when he found a job in his field. Ethan got his college degree in engineering, but he had never been able to work in his chosen field. But after the flood, random job offers had started to come in, many from places where he had applied before and been declined. The right job at the right place working for the right people had opened up.

The Jacobsons had been overjoyed for him, and they had let him go without a fuss. We had bought a small house closer to the hospital, and Ethan had bought the little lake cabin we had lived in and we use it every weekend. I’d gotten a pretty nice settlement in my divorce, so I’d been able to help with both house purchases. Sandra had forced Charles to meet all my demands and, as soon as the checks had been signed, sent, and cashed, she’d left him, and she’d never gone back.

Gran uses her cabin even more than she used to, now that she has a great-grandson, Mitchell, whom she adores.

“You ready to marry me yet?” I ask close to his ear. I stare at his profile, waiting for his response.

Ethan goes completely still. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious.”

He brushes my hair back behind my ear as he gazes into my eyes. “You just made me the happiest man in the world.”

“I thought I did that last night,” I say, furrowing my brow in mock confusion.

“Well, then too,” he says with a grin. He hugs me tightly to him.

Gran walks over close to us as she hel

ps Mitchell fill his plate. “You two look like you are so in love,” she says.

“We are,” I reply. I brush a lock of hair back from his forehead. I’ve never doubted that I love Ethan, or that he loves me back. If someone had told me that love could feel like this, I would never have believed them.

Suddenly, a ruckus erupts from the edge of the picnic area where we’ve set up the party. “Look at that!” I say, catching Ethan’s attention.

We knew from the tracking device that Wilbur flew back one day last week, but we hadn’t seen him.

“Is that Wilbur?” Mitchell asks, and he’s already grinning.

But it’s Ethan who’s amazed. Because Wilbur walks right over to him, hops on top of Ethan’s foot and sits down, the same way I’ve seen him do a million times, and hangs out there a moment. Ethan bends down and tickles his neck, as the duck rubs his head around on Ethan’s knee. Then he hops down. He quacks loudly, almost trumpeting, and over the rise comes another duck. She’s colored like him, and I’m pretty sure they’re a pair.

But what’s amazing is that right after her toddle eleven little ducklings. They walk in a straight line over to Wilbur and they start to peck around in the grass. “Wilbur’s a dad,” Ethan says quietly, sheer wonder in his tone.

“You remember how you once told me that you break the things you touch,” I say.

“I do remember. I did tell you that.”

“Well, I reckon that’s the only lie you’ve ever told me.”

He leans close and runs the tip of his nose down the side of mine. “I thought it was true at the time,” he admits.

“You were wrong.”

Gran laughs and points her finger at us. “Get used to it, Ethan. After you marry her, you’ll never get to be right about anything ever again.”

Ethan laughs. “Well, at least I’ll be able to say I did one thing right.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“Let’s plan a wedding,” I say.

“Hey, Abby?” Mitchell says.

“Yes?” I call back.

“I wish you’d go ahead and marry my dad so you can be my mom for real,” he tells me. His voice is soft and filled with longing.