Undeniably Yours (34 page)

The fact was, that as bad as things could have gone in those final moments after they'd heard Jake driving toward the house—everything had gone right instead. As Meg kept telling him, she really was all right. Sitting beside him, alive,
breathing, her heart beating. Whole.
Thank you, God
, he prayed with everything in him.

He finally understood why God had placed that sense of danger inside of him. God had been preparing him for something only God had seen coming.

“After we finish up at the station,” Meg said, “I'm not really looking forward to returning to the guesthouse.”

“No?”

“To be honest, I'm a little freaked out. I'm not sure I'm going to want to be alone at any point in the next five years.”

“If you don't want to be alone, then I'll make sure you're not.”

When they reached the farm road, Bo shifted his truck into park. “You mind if I check something?”

“Not at all.”

He pulled a flashlight from behind the seats. They climbed down and stood at the junction. “This is where I drove up to that man I was telling you about.”

“Where was he?”

“Just here.” Bo pointed to the side of the road. “I'm curious why he never arrived at the house.”

“Are you suspicious of him for some reason?”

“No. I'd just like to thank him. Let's see which way he went.”

He shone the beam of light down where the man had been standing, and they both leaned over, looking closely. Bo saw no sign that the man had been there at all, much less a clue that would tell him which direction he'd taken.

The moon came out from behind a cloud, rolling brighter light over the landscape. Apart from the house they'd just come from, there were no other structures. Nothing but empty land for miles.

Bo and Meg stared at each other.

“God was in all of this tonight,” Meg whispered slowly. “Wasn't He? Starting with Sadie Jo. God's always used her like that in my life. She always calls right at the moment I need it.”

Bo nodded.

“And then you arrived at the parking garage just as we were leaving. If you'd been a minute later, you'd have missed us.”

“Yes.”

“And if you hadn't followed your hunch and gone after that Honda—which even the detective said was a long shot—Stephen would have gotten away with me.”

“I'm starting to think it wasn't a hunch.”

“No, it was God talking to you. And then, when you'd lost Stephen's car and couldn't find me . . . There was a man here to show you the way. Walking along this road at night, out in the middle of nowhere, far from any other houses. Jake saw him and spoke with him, too.”

“He did.”

“Bo?” Meg asked.

“Yes?”

“Do you believe in angels?”

C
losure.

Amber was no psychologist. The furthest thing from it. She didn't even know what the term
closure
meant for sure. But she thought it had to do with finishing something the right way.

She'd decided all on her own to give up her search for Stephen, and she hadn't regretted her choice. She'd been good with the way it had stood. But suddenly, because of how things had gone down between Stephen, Meg, and Bo last night, it looked like she was about to get herself some closure, after all. Just as a bonus prize.

“Miss Richardson?” the deputy asked.

“Yes.” She stood up from the waiting room chair at the county jail.

“Right this way.”

She followed. When Bo had brought Meg home last night, Meg had told Lynn everything. Then when Amber had woken up this morning, Lynn had, in turn, told her everything.

“Just here, miss.” The deputy showed her into a room that looked like the ones she'd seen in movies. Here, people talked
to prisoners on phones, looking at them through Plexiglas. She sat down and waited.

It didn't take long.

A guard walked Stephen, wearing prison orange, to the seat opposite her. He sat.

For a long and rushing moment, Amber just gaped at him. Stephen, one of the meanest people alive, sitting right across from her. He'd hurt her and he'd hurt Meg and who knew how many others. Maybe she ought to feel angry, like she had for so long. Or maybe she ought to feel afraid.

But she didn't. Instead, satisfaction doubled, then tripled in size within her. She'd been
craving
this chance—and boy, oh boy, was she ever about to give him a piece of her mind. She'd been raised in a poor family by a father with a temper. She didn't know much. But she
did
know how to tan a person's hide.

He regarded her coldly.

She picked up her phone.

He picked up his.

Then she inhaled deeply and let him have it.

Meg awoke to the warmth of her bed cocooning her and a mind that hummed with pleasant peace. Welcome feelings . . . and totally unlike what had greeted her the past few mornings, when she'd awoken sad and exhausted.

Gradually the events of the night before filtered back, reminding her of the reason for her happiness. She cracked her lids and saw him.

Bo, sitting exactly where he'd been sitting when she'd fallen asleep last night, on the chair they'd dragged in for him from the living room. He had a pillow stuck behind the small of his back.
His feet were stretched out and crossed at the ankles, resting on a footstool. His hands interlaced across his lean stomach. He was watching her, looking right at her, tenderness on his face.

Attraction curled deliciously through her midsection, then went racing and sizzling across every inch of her skin. He was gorgeous. Those even features, the pale gray eyes, the calm strength of him. The evidence seemed to suggest that she hadn't made it through the drama with Stephen, but had died and gone straight to heaven.

She smiled, remembering how Bo had stayed at her side last night while they'd given their statements at the station. How he'd made her tea while she'd showered and changed into sweats. How she'd felt guilty about him sleeping in an uncomfortable chair and so had tried to convince him that he didn't have to stay. His polite, very sweet insistence that he was staying. How she'd fallen asleep holding his hand, in a state of acute bliss.

He'd been here when she'd closed her eyes. Hours and hours had passed. The bright light edging the curtains told her she'd slept late. Yet he was still here, just as he'd promised.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning.”

“Do I look terrible?”

“You look beautiful.” Bo pushed into a more upright position, planting his boots on the floor. “How'd you sleep?”

“Very well, which is more than you can say, I'm afraid.”

“I slept better in this chair than I've slept the past few nights in my own bed. Having you nearby and safe and not hating me made a big difference.”

“I definitely don't hate you.”

“No?” He smiled, lazy and sexy.

“No. Quite the opposite.”

He knelt beside the bed. She rose onto her elbow and reached out with her free hand to hold the side of his face.

They gazed at each other, hot intensity crackling between them.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

“As long as I live, Meg, I will love you.”

And she believed him, the same way she'd believed him last night when he'd told her he'd stay. He was everything and far more than she'd ever dared to hope or dream she'd find.

He caught her hand and bowed his head to kiss it, the way a knight might have done in medieval times when swearing fealty to his lady.

“Bo.”

He lifted his face.

“I took a gamble the first day I met you. Remember? When you bullied me—”

“Bullied?”

She laughed. “
Somewhat
bullied me into letting you keep the horse farm open.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I'm about to make another gamble, but this time the odds are strongly in my favor and I feel very, very good about my chances.”

“What're you going to do, countess?”

“I'm going to place an all-in bet, Bo. On you.”

O
NE
YEAR
LATER

B
ased on your application,” Meg said to the lovely African-American woman sitting across the desk from her, “I know it's been difficult for you to afford rent, groceries, and clothes for your kids.”

The woman nodded. “I'm a single mother.”

“You had to leave your apartment and move into a shelter.”

“Yes, ma'am, I did.”

“Well.” Meg straightened the papers in front of her, then looked up and met the woman's gaze, her heart swelling with gladness. “It gives me great pleasure to tell you that your application has been accepted. I'd like to invite you and your sons to live here, at Whispering Creek, until you're ready to go back out on your own again.”

The woman started to cry, and Meg's own eyes filled with tears. It humbled her deeply that God had entrusted her with this particular calling that brought her so much joy. “While you're here, the Cole Foundation will cover the costs of your food and clothing. I understand that you also have some medical bills.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The woman knuckled the moisture away from
her eyes, sniffling. She spoke haltingly. “My youngest son needed surgery. It . . . it ended up costing so much.”

“The Cole Foundation is going to take care of those bills.”

The woman's eyes rounded in shock. “What?”

“We're going to take care of all your medical bills. Every one.” Meg could see the woman's tentative hope struggling to break through years of hardship and solitary struggle. She reached across the desk and clasped the woman's hand. They both gripped tightly.

“I read that you've been using the bus as transportation,” Meg said.

“Yes.”

“We're going to provide you with a car.”

Fresh tears ran down the woman's cheeks. Relief, Meg knew. They all experienced such staggering relief when the foundation came alongside them and lifted the weight of their burdens.

“I read,” Meg said, “that you'd like to take business courses to become an executive assistant.”

“Yes. I . . . I believe I could be good at that.”

“I believe it, too.” Meg squeezed her hand. “As you know, we offer child care here so that you can work to earn income and also take courses toward a degree.”

“Oh my. Oh my. Oh my. Thank the Lord!”

“Yes,” Meg agreed. “Thank the Lord. We're going to get you and your family back on your feet. All right?”

“Thank you, ma'am. Oh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. I know you're a believing lady, so you'll understand when I say that it's not me who's helping you. God's been good enough to let me take part in His work.”

A knock sounded on the office door, and Bo looked in.

They'd been married for more than ten months. And still,
every time she saw him after they'd been apart,
every time
, her heart hitched in her chest with emotion.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.

“Come on in. We were just finishing.” They all stood, and Meg introduced him as her husband, then explained that he ran the Thoroughbred horse farm on the property. “We have an entire barn full of horses that are just for the use of the families who stay here. You're welcome to ride anytime.”

“The boys would love it, but none of us know how.”

“Doesn't matter a bit,” Bo assured her. “We have instructors. We'll teach you.”

The woman turned to Meg, arms outstretched, face streaked with moisture. Meg hugged her and both women continued to cry.

Bo took tissues out of his pocket and smiled affectionately at Meg as he handed them over. She took two, laughing and tearful at the same time, and gave one to their newest resident.

Lynn and Sadie Jo filled the doorway.

“These ladies are here,” Meg said, “to show you where you'll be staying and answer all your questions.”

“I can't wait to meet your boys!” Sadie Jo took hold of the woman's hand and patted it continuously. “How soon can you get them here so I can dote all over them?”

“They're an ornery bunch, ma'am. I'm still working on teaching them to mind.”

“That won't stop me from adoring them,” Sadie Jo answered. “Not at all, so don't you worry.” The women left, Sadie Jo's chatter trailing behind.

Bo looked down at Meg. Eyes twinkling, he slowly lifted his hand. A key dangled from his index finger.

Meg gasped.

He grinned.

“The house?” she asked.

“They just finished it.”

“You didn't take a look inside without me, did you?”

“'Course not.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” She pulled him into the hallway. As they made their way outside, they passed two giggling eight-year-old girls who'd met when they'd both come to live at Whispering Creek and quickly become BFFs. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Porter.”

“Hello, girls.”

As they walked down the staircase, Meg could see Amber and Jayden in the backyard. Jayden kept trying to blow bubbles, and Amber kept taking the wand from him and demonstrating. From outside, Meg could hear the shriek of kids enjoying the pool.

When she'd come to Whispering Creek, both she and the house had been cold and empty. Not anymore. Now they both brimmed to overflowing with life.

Meg climbed into Bo's truck. As he drove them down the well-traveled new road to their building site, anticipation lifted within her. “I thought it was going to be another few days at least.”

“They finished early.”

“Since when does that happen with construction?”

“Never.”

But then, miracles small and large happened to Meg these days. The biggest and most astounding was that she could love Bo the way that she did—head over heels, madly—and that he could love her back every bit as much. He kept trying to convince her that he loved her more, but she kept arguing that such a thing wasn't possible and violated the laws of physics.

They pulled up to the place where they'd once watched a sunset together and talked about the imaginary house they'd build to live in together. It wasn't imaginary anymore.

They got out and stood side by side to take it in, their arms laced around each other.

From this picturesque spot on a hill that overlooked a sweeping view of Texas land, they'd built a home for themselves out of stone and wooden beams and windows. The shutters and door shone with paint the color of coffee heavily doused with cream. Two chimneys reached for the sky. And Meg could see that Mr. Son had put in time here today, overseeing a crew of landscapers that had planted shrubs and small trees to border the front of the house and flowers to pour over the sides of the pots on the porch.

“What do you think?” Bo studied her, a thread of anxiousness in his expression. He wanted her to be happy, she knew.

“I love it. It looks like something from the pages of a picture book. It's quaint and charming and perfect.”

“You'll be there. That's what makes it perfect for me.”

She turned to face him, wrapping her hands around his neck. “We'll both be there. It's ours. Yours and mine.”

His lids grew heavy as he looked at her.

“Our Texas fairy-tale house,” she whispered.

“Our happy ending.”

“Our happy beginning, you mean.”

He chuckled and kissed her while their house looked on, ready and waiting for them to fill it with devoted love, years, and dreams.

———

“And we know that in all things

God works for the good of those who love him,

who have been called according to his purpose.”

—Romans 8:28