I say nothing, because I couldn’t speak if I tried.
“To me, you feel like summertime. You feel like warm weather and sunny skies. You feel like the occasional storm, but they always pass, and they keep things interesting. You feel like my future. You are my past. You’re my world. I want to marry you.” He clutches my hand tightly. “So if you can forgive me for asking the wrong way, will you marry me? We can stage a fake wedding two weeks from now, if you want, just to beat Cole out of the bushes. And then a real one a little later.”
I lay my face on his shoulder.
He lifts his shoulder to nudge my cheek. “You’re leaving me hanging here.” He chuckles.
“I’m thinking,” I whisper.
“Take as long as you need,” he replies. Then he leans over and reaches into his pocket. “I’m not trying to sway you or anything, but Alex threw this into the lake yesterday.”
He hands me the folded note and then he gets to his feet. He walks a few paces away and stands still, staring toward the other end of the dock. I open the note and read.
Dear God,
Please tell Daddy thanks for sending Jake to us.
Love,
Alex
My eyes well up with tears. “You didn’t want to sway me, huh?” I call over my shoulder.
“Nope,” he replies.
I hold up the note. “So this wasn’t an attempt to play on my emotions at all?” I say, but a grin tugs at my lips.
“Nope. Hell, I didn’t write it. I just fished it out of the lake.”
“Well, if my kids say yes,” I tell him, “then I say yes.”
“I have to ask the kids for permission?”
I nod. “Yes. Except for Hank. He likes you too much already.”
“Oh, well, good,” he says. He comes and pulls me to my feet. Standing at the end of the dock are all four of my kids. They’re waiting for us. My parents are here too. “They can all tell you their answers.”
Jake puts his arm around me. “What do you say, kids?” he yells.
All three of them jump into the air, and Dad waves Hank’s little hand at us. “Yes!” they scream.
Trixie runs to Jake and he scoops her up in his arms. She cups her hand around his ear and whispers something to him.
Jake turns to me. “She said Sally wants to be the flower dog.”
I look around. “Where is Sally?” The dog is usually right next to Trixie.
“I thought he was with you,” Dad says.
Panic floods my heart. I grab for Jake’s arm. “Jake—”
“I know,” he replies. He sets Trixie down. “Go inside and set the alarm. I’ll find Sally.”
I rush the kids toward the house, but I stop when I get to the porch. Mr. Jacobson is lying in the open doorway. He’s not moving. “Jake!” I yell.
Just inside the door, we find Sally. He’s lying in a pool of his own blood.
45