I squeezed him, burying my face in his chest. Tears stung my eyes—tears of happiness and joy.
“Jameson, I’m in love with you, too,” I said. “I’m so in love with you, I’m not sure what to do with myself.”
“You are?”
I giggled softly and looked up at him. “Yes, I am. But why does it scare you?”
“I reckon I don’t know a lot about love,” he said. “I’m a bit worried I’ll mess it up somehow.”
I trailed my fingertips over his lips. Down his neck to his chest. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of your heart if you take care of mine.”
“Darlin’, I’ll take care of it like it’s my most prized possession.”
“Then it’s yours,” I said.
He tipped my chin up and kissed me. “I love you to the stars and back, Leah Mae.”
“I love you too, Jameson. To the stars and back.”
23
LEAH MAE
M y dad wasn’t on the porch when I got to his house. His health had been steadily improving and he was no longer on oxygen full-time. I’d come over the other day to find him walking around with no tubes—no little cart with a tank of oxygen—and nearly burst into tears. His lungs were still delicate and prone to infection, so we had to be careful. And he tired quickly. But he was getting stronger every day, and the doctor had said he could go back to work soon.
I let myself in and almost dropped the bag of groceries I was carrying. Stopping in my tracks, I clamped my mouth shut and stared. I couldn’t think to do anything else. There was my daddy, standing in the kitchen, kissing Betsy Stirling.
My eyes must have been wide as saucers. I was paralyzed, torn between clearing my throat to alert them to my presence, and trying to sneak out the door before they realized I was there.
Before I could decide what to do, they stopped—truth be told, it had been a very sweet kiss—and Betsy jumped, putting both her hands over her heart.
“Dear lord, you scared me,” Betsy said, her face flushing red.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
My dad grinned. It was a little boyish, reminding me of Jameson. “Sweetheart, it’s me who needs to apologize. Didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“Well…” I straightened and adjusted the grocery bag. “Can I ask if this is… a thing? Or did that just happen right then?”
They looked at each other and I already knew the answer.
“I suppose, I hope it’s a thing,” Dad said, his eyes on Betsy. “I haven’t been well enough to court you properly, but I certainly intend to.”
Betsy smiled. “I’d like that very much.”
“If that’s all right with you,” Dad said, turning to me.
“Oh Daddy,” I said. My heart wanted to burst. “Of course it is. This is just… it’s just lovely.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Betsy asked. “I was telling Clay we really ought to talk to you before we let things go any further.”
“Mind? No, this is…” I struggled for words, looking between the two of them while my eyes stung with happy tears. “This is so sweet. I’m so happy for both of you.”
I set the groceries down on the floor—who could worry about canned goods at a time like this?—and rushed forward to grab them both in a hug. It felt so good to see my dad smile, it was all I could do to keep from sobbing.
After I’d hugged them a few times and wiped away the tears that trailed down my cheeks, we all went out to the porch. Betsy brought out sweet tea, and instead of taking his rocking chair, my dad sat on the bench so he could sit next to her. I sat in the rocking chair, tipping it back and forth slowly as I sipped my tea.
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but how did this happen?” I asked.
Dad took Betsy’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Well, Betsy’s been spending a lot of time here, helping me out and whatnot. We often got to talking, especially when I was too sick to get out of bed.”
“We have a lot in common,” Betsy said. “And enjoy each other’s company quite a lot.”