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    Honoring Her Heart

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      Kelly mulled that over for a minute. “You’re right. As much as I hate to see you go, we all have to retire sometime, and you’re certainly ending your career on a high note. I’ll have your paperwork started, as well as your last pay packet. It will take a couple of days.”

      Christopher blinked. “Sir, is there any way to speed up that process? You see, I’m supposed to be getting married . . .”

      Kelly looked at him in surprise. “Married? Well, that’s a nice turn of events. Yes, I’ll see what I can do. Dismissed.”

      Christopher left the office feeling both relieved and as though he’d lost a limb. Being a Mountie was all he’d known for a good portion of his life. He was excited about the new steps in his journey, but he knew he’d always miss what he was leaving behind.

      ***

      At Patty’s insistence, Mary took a nap, but she woke up a little while later when she heard ladies’ voices coming from downstairs. She groaned, pressing a hand to her head. They sounded like new boarders, and she really should go downstairs and welcome them. However, just turning her head from side to side on the pillow was more than she could bear.

      Patty stepped into the room to check on her. “Can I get you anything?”

      “No, but who’s downstairs? What’s going on?”

      Patty beamed. “Oh, nothing much—just the ladies of Creede coming together to help with your wedding. Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Jensen are hemming the skirts of your dress, and Mrs. Thurgood is looking over the plans for your wedding cake, and Mrs. Morgan has started the jam for the tarts. Everything is well in hand.”

      “Really? They’re doing all that for me?”

      “They are, and you’re not to give anything a second thought. Go back to sleep and get rid of that headache.”

      Mary felt a little guilty that everyone was going out of their way to help her, but that guilt didn’t last long as she drifted back to sleep, realizing that yes, it was exactly what she needed.

      ***

      The evening before the wedding, Mary sat in the rocking chair on the front porch, watching the sun set. Her eyes were much better and her head didn’t ache, but she did have an ache in her chest. Christopher hadn’t returned yet, and she’d received no word. It was just as she’d feared—he’d decided to stay in Canada, and all their preparations had been for nothing. She’d likely throw a party anyway just to get rid of all the food—she could tell everyone it was a celebration of friendship or something sentimental like that. Anything to pull attention from the fact that she was a bride without a groom.

      She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the chair. She’d be all right—she knew it. She’d come through worse and had certainly risen above it.

      But . . . her eyes flew open at the thought. What if he hadn’t left her—what if he was actually injured somewhere, unable to come home rather than unwilling? What if he was bleeding in a ditch, shot through the chest, calling her name?

      “Patty!”

      The screen door flew open, and Patty was at her side in a flash. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

      “What if . . . what if Christopher’s dead? What if he can’t come because he’s buried beneath a pile of leaves, left there by the criminals who killed him?”

      Patty lifted an eyebrow. “A pile of leaves?”

      “Or a ditch. He could be in a ditch.”

      “He’s not dead. I know that plainer than plain.”

      “But how do you know?”

      Patty nodded toward the street. “Because here he comes.”

      Mary turned her attention back to the road, and sure enough, there was Christopher, his familiar form still a distance away, but clearly recognizable. “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed, relaxing into her chair. “I was letting my imagination get the better of me.”

      “I noticed,” Patty said dryly. “I’ll go put the finishing touches on the cake and let the two of you enjoy your reunion.”

      Mary wanted to get up and run to Christopher, but she was still just a little weak, and she wanted to save her strength for her walk down the aisle. Instead, she stayed in her seat, watching as he grew nearer and nearer. When he reached the gate, he dropped his satchel in the grass and dashed the remaining distance, gathering her up into his arms and pressing his lips to her hair.

      “I’m so sorry,” he said, not letting go. “It took my commanding officer a long time to process my paperwork, and then there was some kind of trouble at the border, and then the tracks broke and we had to wait for them to get repaired. It seemed that everything that could go wrong did go wrong, but I’m here now.”

      “It’s a good thing,” Mary replied. “I told Patty that if you thought you could burst into the chapel tomorrow after making me wait all this time, you’d be sadly disappointed.”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t even dream of that. It would be far too melodramatic. You should turn me down for that alone.”

      “Which is precisely what I told her.” Mary leaned back and looked into his eyes. “Showing up the night before the wedding, though—that’s forgivable.”

      “That’s good because I really would be devastated if you told me otherwise.”

      “You would?”

      “I would.” He bent his head and kissed her long and slow and sweet, making her toes curl and her scalp tingle. “What do you say, Marigold? Will you marry me tomorrow?”

      “Yes. I absolutely think I will.”

      He kissed her again just to make sure she wasn’t going to change her mind.

      She wasn’t.

      Epilogue

      The ceremony had been absolutely lovely. Reverend Theodore had woken up with a sore throat, so Reverend Bing stepped in, and that suited Patty just fine because she’d never cared much for Reverend Theodore. Mary looked beautiful, Mr. Hoffman looked proud and handsome, and now as they walked through their guests at the party afterward, Patty looked on with tears in her eyes. She really couldn’t be any happier for them.

      Hyacinth Chapel walked up beside Patty and tucked her hand into the crook of her elbow. “You did such a wonderful job here,” she said. “They’re so perfect for each other.”

      “Oh, I didn’t do much,” Patty said modestly, hoping no one would notice her talking to thin air—Hyacinth, being an angel, had chosen not to be seen by the crowd.

      “You did the most important thing of all, and that was showing true friendship.” Mrs. Van Dyke stood on Patty’s other side, watching the party with interested eyes. “In many cases, that’s all that’s truly needed.”

      “I may have been a friend to her, but she was a friend to me just as equally,” Patty replied. “I often forgot who was watching over whom.”

      “That’s how the very best friendships are. You watch over each other without keeping a tally of who did what.” Mrs. Van Dyke turned and smiled at Patty. “What will you do now?”

      “I honestly don’t know. I’ve been on this assignment for so long, I’ve forgotten how to do anything else.” She looked at the bride across the lawn, feeling a tug in her heart. “I know it’s customary to move on once an assignment is finished, but do you think there’s any chance I could stay? The thought of leaving . . . I just don’t know if I could do it. And how would I ever explain it to her? I promised her once that I would never leave her. I shouldn’t have done it, but she was upset over something, and it was toward the beginning when she was still in such heavy mourning . . .”

      Hyacinth gave Patty’s arm a squeeze. “We understand. We really do.”

      “It’s almost impossible not to get attached, and there will always be those special people,” Mrs. Van Dyke agreed. “People we’ll never forget.”

      “I was her guardian angel, but she was an angel to me.” Patty pulled in a breath that turned into a sigh. “I suppose I should get ready to go. That’s how it works, after all.”

      “Not necessarily.”

      Patty looked up at the new voice and saw Mr. Waverly walking across the grass toward her, his white suit a contrast to all the dark suits around hi
    m. If anyone could see him besides her and the other angels, he’d most certainly stand out.

      “Patty, I’ve been sent to tell you that if you’d like to stay, you may do so,” he said. “Your service in this assignment has been exemplary, and you have earned the right to choose wherever you go next.”

      “I have? I can?” She looked at her friends, who were grinning in reply. “If that’s the case, if it’s really all right, I choose to stay here.”

      Mr. Waverly nodded. “Yes, it’s all right. This is now your home, Patty, for as long as you want. Should you ever change your mind . . .”

      Patty couldn’t imagine that ever happening, but it was nice to know it was an option. “Thank you, Mr. Waverly.”

      “Oh, I didn’t do anything. I just delivered the message.”

      “And you did a lovely job of it, too.”

      One by one, Patty’s friends told her goodbye, then headed off across the lawn. She turned back to the party, her heart filled with rejoicing. Now she truly couldn’t be happier.

      Mary walked up to her a few minutes later and gave her a hug. “You’ve worked so hard to give me the wedding of my dreams,” she said. “Thank you for being such an angel in my life.”

      Patty smirked, unable to keep a straight face. “It was my pleasure,” she replied.

      “Christopher and I were just talking—we’re going to take a trip up to Calgary in a couple of months and decide if we want to sell his house or keep it. Would you be willing to run the boarding house while we’re gone? We’ll get someone to stay with you, of course, so you’re not alone with a bunch of strangers.”

      “I’d be more than happy to take care of it. You two should plan and enjoy your trip.”

      “Thank you, Patty. From the bottom of my heart.”

      Mary gave her another hug, then went to cut the cake and serve it to their guests. Patty watched for a moment, soaking in the joy, then went to help. Life was truly a blessing.

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      About Amelia C. Adams

      Amelia traces her family tree right back to the settlement of the Old West—her great-great-grandmother even drove a wagon to her new home. Amelia is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels. She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born in modern times because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub. She’s an eater of tacos, a taker of naps, and a dreamer of dreams.

      You can reach Amelia at ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com.

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