And yet . . .
He wouldn’t have traded these soul-cleansing weeks for anything. He’d checked off every one of the sights he and Mom used to talk about. He’d spent nights out under the stars and mornings watching the sunrise.
He’d reveled in the space and the solitude and the sense that he was doing exactly what he was supposed to do. Praying, listening for God’s whisper. Simply trusting.
He’d managed to be of use to his family, too. He’d overseen the sale of Logan’s LA apartment. He’d met with several of Colton’s potential big-name foundation sponsors. Turned out the schmoozing Colt hated, Beckett was more than a little good at.
As for his younger sister . . .
“Yes, I’m dying to see, Kit, but I seriously was looking for Rae.”
Kate’s grin was full of doubt, but she pointed to the stairs. “Up there.” Careful so as not to mess up her dress or veil, she gave him a quick embrace. “I really am glad you made it.”
“And I’m ridiculously happy for you, Kate.”
Raegan was already coming down the hallway when he made it up the stairs. “You made it. I knew you would.” She flung herself at him for a boisterous hug and then stepped backward, slipping off her shoes. “I don’t know why I’m wearing these yet. I can barely walk in them as is, and by the end of the day, I’m pretty sure my toes will be a mangled mess.”
Her shimmery dress was a deep red that matched her lipstick as well as the streak coloring her blond hair. Classic Raegan.
“A perk of being male. No ridiculous shoes.”
“I’d berate you for being late, but I’m going to guess Kate already got that out of the way.”
He shrugged. “She threatened my life, so yeah, I guess she’s got it covered.”
“So what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be over at Seth’s with the rest of the guys? Or, better yet, finding Kit? She’s been pretending for days she’s not anxious about you coming home.”
Anxious as in worried? Or . . . excited?
Please let it be excited.
“She’s got all your postcards taped to the inside of her kitchen cupboards. And though she’s been painfully obvious about not asking when you’re coming home, her ears perk every time someone mentions your name.”
Why hadn’t he gone there first? The gnawing desire to see her was about to cut off his air supply right here in the hallway.
Raegan. You’re here to talk to Raegan. Hurry up and give her the ticket and then get to the orchard and . . .
And if he was lucky, find Kit before the ceremony started.
“Listen, I just wanted to give you something real quick.” He pulled the envelope from his suit jacket.
“You know I’m not the bride, right? Cards and gifts go to Kate.”
“It’s not a card, and it’s not exactly a present, either.” He thrust the envelope toward her. “Just take it.”
Raegan accepted the envelope and slid her thumb under its flap. She took out the folded paper, eyes skimming its text. “A flight voucher?” Her forehead wrinkled even as understanding played over her face. “Beck, I can’t . . .”
“You can. The dates are flexible. Make an international call and tell Bear you’re coming. It’s simple as that.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t heard from him in months, Beck. He left almost six months ago. And we haven’t been a . . . a thing in more than a year. Now I’m supposed to just show up in Brazil?”
“Yes.”
“And do what? Say what?”
“Figure it out when you get there.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He placed both hands on her arms. “Rae, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended. I just don’t want my little sister hurting over a situation that could change—change for the better—if she was only brave enough to do something about it.”
“You think I’m a coward?”
“I think you’ve lived in Maple Valley nearly your entire life and the thought of leaving scares you. But I also think doing the thing that scares you might end up opening the door to a dream come true.”
He felt a quiver travel through her as the possibility dawned in her eyes. And then he glimpsed a shaky smile. Raegan rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for this, big brother. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with it, but I love you for it.” She stepped back, reached down to pick up her shoes. “Now go find Kit.”
“I’m serious, I think if I ever get married, I’ll take a cue from Logan Walker and elope. I’ve already been through all the planning once and it’s just way too much work.” Kit lifted her hundredth battery-operated candle and flipped the switch under its base. Real candles might’ve been a tad more romantic, but she couldn’t get past the fire hazard of it all. And anyway, Kate Walker couldn’t have cared less.
Not so, Megan. The self-appointed wedding planner had declared them tacky and refused to light a single one. Instead, she simply followed Kit around the decorated barn with a clipboard, rattling off the final tasks that needed to happen before the wedding began in a little over half an hour.
Who would’ve thought the snarky barista would turn out to be a wedding-loving romantic at heart?
They shuffled along the side of the barn, each windowsill crammed with fake candles of all sizes. Kit’s midnight blue dress with the ripple of silver running down one side rustled with each step.
“I just can’t believe she chose to get married in a barn.” Megan sniffed.
Said barn smelled of vanilla and lavender and had been ornamented to elegant perfection. A few guests already dotted the rows of white-slipcovered chairs. The barn was the exact same design as before—same windows and skylights and crisscrossing rafters. Same beautiful wood floors.
It was too bad Lucas had left before seeing the completed project. He didn’t seem to have a plan, but at least he’d begun to heal. Slowly but surely. Maybe someday he’d tell her the rest of his story—about his two years hiding away in Afghanistan, about prison and what had happened after.
But for now, she’d had to let him go, trust that God would hold on to Lucas in his wandering the same way he’d held on to her . . . even when she hadn’t realized it. And slowly, her hope, her trust, her faith—it was all growing roots.
“A barn,” Megan reiterated.
“There’s not a scrap of hay nor a four-legged creature in sight.”
Megan’s jet black hair whipped around her chin. “Not so. I saw that goat prancing around earlier.”
“Flynnie is properly penned as of twenty minutes ago, I promise.”
Megan only harrumphed and resumed her review of the last event details. “We already did a sound check but I’d like to test the mics once more right before the ceremony. Did you make sure the photographer has ample room for his tripod? I want to speak with the ushers before they start escorting family in.”
“Like I said, easy elopement.” Kit flicked on the last candle. “Or maybe I just won’t get married. I’ve got my orchard, after all. My trees. They’ll never demand endless lists of detail after detail. What do you say to that?”
“That I sincerely hope you’re not serious.”
Not Megan’s voice. Definitely not . . .
Kit thrust the candle toward the windowsill as she spun. The careless movement sent the entire display tottering and spilling, rolling to the floor.
Megan’s gasp was no match for her own.
Beckett.
The skylights overhead sent beams of light pouring through the rafters to dance in the agate eyes of her best friend. His tuxedo’s bow tie bent askew, as did the little flower pinned to his jacket. He’d shaved, for once, and even had his hair trimmed, though any attempt to smooth it down had been outdone by the wind.
And his smile. His dazzling, familiar, just-for-her smile.
“Hey.” Did her voice sound as reedy to him as it did her?
“Hey, yourself.”
She barely noticed Megan picki
ng up the candles, muttering about how she had to do everything herself. Kit stepped over a candle to move closer to Beckett. “Another homecoming for another Walker wedding?”
“Another homecoming for another Walker wedding. Only this time, I’m sorta hoping not to get arrested.”
“You’re consistent, though. Showing up at the last minute again.”
His lone dimple appeared. “Why does everyone keep saying that? The ceremony hasn’t started. The bride isn’t even here yet.”
“The bride isn’t here?” Megan budged to Kit’s side, her voice shrill.
But Kit couldn’t take her eyes off Beckett. She’d known she’d see him today. But the knowing had done nothing to prepare her for the thrill swirling through her now, nervous delight so intoxicating it rendered her wordless and useless and . . .
She couldn’t help it. She threw herself into arms that opened just in time. “Oh my goodness, I missed you. I mean, I thought I’d missed you years ago when I was in London, but that was nothing compared to this.” His vest and shirt muffled her voice, but she didn’t care. “There’s so much to tell you. Dad deeded the orchard over to me, can you believe it? I wanted to call you, but I knew you were trying to think and—”
Beckett silenced her with his hands on her cheeks. He leaned back as he cupped her face, smiling into her eyes. “When did you become the talker of the two of us?”
And then he kissed her, gently at first and then with a stored-up hunger that mirrored her own. Her arms rounded his neck as his circled her waist, his hands warm through the light fabric of her dress.
“Not getting married, my eye.”
Kit giggled against Beckett’s lips at Megan’s sarcastic words and then pulled back, but only far enough to take in Beckett’s smile closer up than before. There was something new in his gaze. Not just the daze of having kissed her breathless. Something tranquil and settled.
Megan’s heel tapped in time with the music playing over the speakers. “I suppose this means I’ll have to finish this list on my own.”
Beckett glanced around Kit’s shoulder. “I’m afraid that’s exactly what it means. I’ve got some business to discuss with Miss Danby.”
“Business. Right.”
Beckett reached for one of Kit’s hands, still locked behind his neck, and brought it down. “Come on.”
He tugged her toward the back of the barn and then outside the sliding doors. She gasped at the sight of glistening snow tumbling against a crystalline landscape, a blanket of white already covering the ground. “I’ve been in the barn for the past hour and a half. I had no idea it was going to start snowing this quickly. I mean, I knew it’d snow eventually. I could feel it in the air this morning—the cold front and the low pressure—but I thought it’d hold off until later and—” She broke off as Beckett stopped around the side of the barn, out of sight of the parking lot now bustling with cars. “What?”
“I just really like it when you talk weather.”
Goosebumps trailed up her arms, and before she had a chance to rub her palms over them, Beckett shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“So this business you need to discuss . . .”
“Right. Okay.” He reached into the pocket of the blazer around her, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to her.
“What is it?”
“See for yourself.”
She unfolded it, trying to ignore the wind ruining her hair and her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest. “A résumé?” She looked up at him. “Handwritten?”
“Yeah, but you have to admit it’s a step up from last time I asked you for a job. I’d kind of like to be paid this time, by the way, but there are things I’m willing to accept as compensation other than money.”
“Beck!” The cold couldn’t stop her flush.
“Also, I should mention I’m really only available part-time. I’m going to do some legal advising for Colton’s foundation.”
“Slow down for a sec. I don’t understand. The Army, your application—”
“I never sent it in, Kit. It just didn’t feel right.”
“But all that preparation . . . it checked off all the boxes. You said you wanted something with travel. Something with variety. Something exciting and meaningful.”
“I can get everything I need right here. As for travel, we’ll take vacations. Besides, there’s a checkbox I was forgetting all this time.” He stood close enough that she could feel his warmth embracing her. His voice was soft. “Something I’m crazy about. Something I’m absolutely, wildly passionate about. Something I love.”
She blinked rapidly—tears or maybe snowflakes wetting her eyelashes—and the wind, the cold, the crowd of people humming in the distance, it all simply dissolved from her awareness—like water molecules exposed to heat and evaporating into clouds. “Isn’t that three more boxes?”
“Are you going to give me a job or what?”
“You’re wildly passionate about the orchard?”
“Try the orchard owner.”
Her heart sung. “But your dream . . .”
He closed the last sliver of space between them, slipping his arms under the tuxedo jacket that hung past her waist. He kissed her forehead and then each cheek. “You’ve been my dream since I was eleven years old.”
There was nothing left to do except let herself burst into tears and bury her face in his neck while her heart lifted a thousand whispered prayers. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
He pressed his face against her hair. “I probably should’ve waited to even talk to you until after the wedding. ’Cause any minute one of my sisters is going to come around the corner and lecture me for making you cry and ruining your makeup and—”
“Found him, guys.”
Her crying turned to laughter as Raegan’s voice broke into their moment. More footsteps trampled in the snow behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know it was probably Logan and Seth and their wives and maybe even Case and Kate if Megan hadn’t found them yet and . . .
“Someone might as well go tell Megan it’s going to be a few minutes.” Logan’s voice. “Blame Beckett.”
Kit tipped her head to meet Beckett’s gaze. Beckett Walker—who was staying. “Burn your ships, right?”
His smile could melt every last sparkling snowflake. “Burn your ships.”
She smoothed his wayward hair from his forehead, whispering his name with enough wonder and joy to warm her forever . . . and kissed her best friend.
THE END
Acknowledgments
This is my third full-length Walker Family book. Throw in my prequel novella and, wow, I have spent a lot of time with this made-up family. They feel real. And in a weird but oh-so-cool way, they have changed me.
The fact that you, wonderful reader, have taken the time to get to know them, spent a few hours here and there in their world . . . it means more to me than I could possibly say. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
An extra special shout-out and a bazillion virtual hugs to early readers, reviewers, and influencers. You rock, that’s all there is to it!
I’m also incredibly grateful to:
Mom and Dad—You always top my list of acknowledgments! For as long as I can remember, you have supported and encouraged my story-love. For that, and for all the practical ways you support my writing journey, I will never stop being grateful.
My siblings—You get a shout-out in every Walker book because you have influenced these characters in both big and little ways. My life is richer because of you.
Grandma and Grandpa + many other extended family members—A lot of readers tell me they love how close-knit the Walker family is. I’m always happy to say they take after my own.
Charlene Patterson—I am so, so thankful for your editing expertise. This story is much stronger and more polished because of you.
Bev Baedke at the Community Orchard in Fort Dodge, Iowa—Thanks so much for answering all my apple orchard questions. I
can’t wait to visit the orchard this fall!
Laura Musyoka—Thank you for being my medical expert and coming up with a good health crisis for Case. Who would’ve thought back when we were painting our faces with watercolor and playing “save the princess” in the hay mow, one day you’d be an ER doctor saving real lives while helping me complicate fictional ones? :)
Susan May Warren and Alena Tauriainen—That weekend at Susie’s last November was just everything I needed . . . right when I needed it. Thanks for the brainstorming help, but even more, for your friendship and support.
Katie Ganshert, Courtney Walsh, Cara Putman, Hillary Manton Lodge—All four of you weighed in at different times with ideas and thoughts for this story. Through Facebook and Voxer and email and in person and, wow, you were just so crazy helpful. Thank you.
Lindsay Harrel—Thank you so much for reading a draft of this and for all your helpful feedback, as well as all the encouragement along the way. I’m immensely grateful for your friendship.
Terri Simmons—Thanks for being an awesome proofreader! I appreciate your help SO much. See you at the office!
My coworkers, aka friends, at Hope Ministries—You. Are. Awesome. (All together now: “Yes, we are!”) Rachel Hauck and Beth Vogt—thank you for uplifting and inspiring me so often. The Grove Girls—oh, how I
And to the One who is still teaching me how to hold on . . . thank you, forever and always.
p.s. New reader friends, let’s stay in touch! I’d love to connect with you on Facebook or Instagram. And I send out an always-fun, never-spammy e-newsletter every now and then. Sign up to receive it here.
p.p.s. Also, please know how much it means to me anytime you leave a review of one of my books! Reviews are incredibly helpful . . . and I’m incredibly grateful.