Page 215 of Hidden Nature

“It means you weren’t part of the plan. It means I’m in love with you and haven’t known what to do about it. I’ve got a better idea now.”

Slowly, he lowered his hands. Heart skipping, he stepped to her, laid his hands on her shoulders. And he felt the world that had rocked and teetered steady again.

“Want to fill me in?”

“Nash.” With a tenderness that disarmed him, she cupped his face. “Take it. Just take it.”

She rose on her toes to meet his mouth with hers, then felt her feet leave the ground as he lifted her up, wrapped her close, held tight.

“Just that? As simple as that?”

“It won’t be, but it can be right now. I love who you are.” She held on. “That’s simple for right now. We’re both good at figuring things out. So when we need to, we will.”

“Adjusting plans along the way?”

“That sounds right to me. And I can tell you I haven’t loved before either. It’s downright scary.”

“Good. That’s good. Be scared. That way we’re starting on the same level.”

She smiled, kissed him again. And heard the two owls synchronize their calls.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Spotty sleep and dark dreams kept Clara on edge. She caught herself stress eating, even slipping out of bed in the middle of the night to devour Ring Dings or MoonPies.

She couldn’t seem to stop.

What difference did a few more pounds make if she left this life for the next? A martyr for the cause.

She told herself if called home, she’d go joyfully, but fear slithered inside her like snakes. Satan’s symbol doing the work to make her doubt and fear.

So what if she ate a pint of Cherry Garcia on her break? She needed the relief.

She couldn’t share her fear and doubts with Sam. His love for her, his need to protect her would overwhelm him. Then she would be responsible for turning him away from the mission, away from God’s will.

If she spent time on her knees weeping and praying to have the burden lifted from her, she was human, just a woman with flaws and weaknesses.

She’d seen it herself, countless times, that desperation to live another day, even another hour no matter the pain or debilitating illness.

Some made peace with death, even embraced it. But most, she knew, denied, struggled, and cursed their fate to the last breath.

She would not allow herself to be one of the most.

So she took a day, then another and another, drawing out the time,telling herself she only took that time to prepare for the mission, and for her own acceptance.

This life, another gift, deserved appreciation and respect. She took time to savor the call of a bird, the bloom of a wildflower, the feel of Sam’s hands on her body, the taste of ice cream on her tongue.

If called home—and it remainedif—would she still know the scent of a rose, the feel of a summer breeze? Would her beloved grandmother, her dear husband greet her, guide her through the gates and into glory?

None of the stories they’d collected fully answered those questions.

If the witch took her life, she would have those answers.

On a day Sam picked up an extra shift, she put on her good makeup, curled her hair, put on the blouse Sam had bought her in Aruba.

He said the ocean blue brought out her pretty eyes.

When she felt she looked her best, she set up the camera, and hit record.

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