Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (45 page)

He was wearing blue camouflage fatigues with thick black boots. In his hand he held his blue cap, and he worried it between his hands, searching her eyes gravely as she approached.

When she stopped, he rushed down the steps and grabbed her hand, pulling her under the awning and into his arms.

“Are you AWOL?” she asked.

“No, baby,” he said, “I got permission to leave as soon as I got your text.”

Her eyes closed, and she let all her sadness, all her weariness, rush forth, making her body sag against him. He swooped her into his arms. “Where’s your key?”

She nestled into his neck, sighing with relief. “Extra one’s always over the door.”

Holding her with one arm, he reached up and felt for the key, then opened the door and stepped into her kitchen. He used his elbow to close the door, then stepped from the kitchen into her small sitting room and sat down on the couch, still holding her in his arms.

“How are you?”

“Better now,” she said.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You
are
here.”

“How’s your daddy?”

“Sad. But he knew it was comin’.” She lifted her head to look up at him. “I missed you.”

Cain dropped his lips to hers, dots of rainwater caught between them as he kissed her gently. “I missed you too.”

“Gran told me . . . about how you visited her.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “She did?”

“A letter.”

“She shouldn’t have said anythin’,” he said. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I’d never want you to think I was butterin’ up your gran just to get to you.”

“Cain,” she said, “when will you learn?”

“Learn what?”

“You skipped the most stones. You saved my doll. You knew I wasn’t breakable. You brought me back to life. You visited my Gran. Do you know what a good man you are? Because
I
do. I’ve always known. And I love you.”

“I’ll miss her,” said Cain. “Never had a grandmother of my own. Sort of got used to visitin’ her.”

“She liked you very much.”

He grinned. “I liked her too.”

She closed her eyes, burrowing her face into his neck. “I’m so tired. How do you feel about takin’ me upstairs and holdin’ me while I fall asleep?”

He pressed his lips to her hair, then stood up with her still in his arms and started for the stairs. “That’s why I’m here, sweet girl.”

“And come to Wright’s at three.”

“If you want me there. You could Tell Mr. Wright I’m a friend of the family. And I’ll, uh . . .” He cleared his throat as he started up the stairs. “I’ll go to the funeral on my own, so no one knows we’re together.”

She waited until he’d laid her gently on her bed, taken off his boots, and gotten under the covers with her, facing her.

“Cain,” she said softly, reaching for his cheek and caressing it tenderly, “will you sit beside me at my grandmother’s wake on Monday night, and will you escort me to her funeral on Tuesday? Will you come back here to McHuid’s and receive guests with me on Tuesday afternoon, and when they leave, will you come back here to my cottage and stay the night in my bed? And when people ask who you are to me, will you tell them that you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend, and will you hold my hand for the whole town to see?”

“Princess, are you—”

“Sure? Yes,” she said, pressing her lips to his before leaning away to look into his eyes. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ll love you on the day I die. That’s all that matters anymore. You and me.” Through her tears she managed to smile at him. “And the two people who loved us most will be smilin’ down, happy to finally see us together.”

He blinked his eyes and clenched his jaw, and Ginger knew that there was a lump in his throat so she didn’t force him to speak. Besides, the tenderness in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She pressed her chest to his and tucked her head under his chin, closing her eyes and sighing as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Jump to the one you love the most, darlin’.

Cain’s heart, which had been hers all along, beat out its eternal rhythm against Ginger’s heart, which was his until the last day of forever.

Eight months later

“. . . happy birthday to you!”

Ginger looked around the table, smiling at her mother, father, Klaus, and, finally, at Cain, who sat beside her, holding her hand under the table.

“Happy birthday, princess,” mouthed Cain, grinning at her.

It was the first time he could remember being invited to a birthday party at the McHuids’ manor, and originally he’d told Ginger to go alone and they’d celebrate later.

“Hmm,” she’d hummed, sitting up in bed and sighing before swinging her legs over the bed and padding naked into his bathroom.

Hmm.
“Hmm” meant that she had something on her mind.

“What, ‘hmm’?”

She peeked out of his bathroom, grinning. “
Hmm
, I guess I’ll have to move myself then.”

“Move what? What does
that
mean?”

“It means,
hmm
, I was plannin’ to move in here with you on my birthday. Heck, I’ve got most of the cottage packed up, but if you’re not interested in helpin’ me . . .”

She ducked back into the bathroom, and Cain sprang out of bed, crossing his bedroom in three strides. He stood buck naked in the bathroom doorway, staring at her sitting on the counter, legs crossed, trying not to smile.

“Are you movin’ in with me?” he demanded.

“Well, I stay here four nights a week anyway. I figure . . .”

He’d stayed rigidly still, arms splayed, hands clutching the doorframe, eyes trained on hers like lasers.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m movin’ in here with you . . . if I’m still invited.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, but as he released it in a whoosh, he stalked into the bathroom, placed his hands on her knees, and spread them gently so he could stand between them.

“Are you serious, or are you teasin’ me?”

He’d asked her at least once a week since January. Eight months. Thirty-two weeks. And she’d always said “Not yet” or “Someday” or “Soon.”

She straightened up, pressing her naked breasts to his chest and looking up into his eyes. “I’m serious. I’m ready. I want to move in with you.”

His lips dropped to hers at the same time his arms encircled her, lifting her and carrying her back to bed to show her how much it meant to him that she was ready to take this next step.

That had been a few weeks ago, and she was mostly moved in at this point. Today they would pick up the last of her things and turn the cottage keys back to her parents, and she’d move in with Cain for good.

Which made today one of the best days of his life for many reasons—some still to come.

“Make a wish, Ginger,” said her mother. “The candles are meltin’.”

“They already came true,” she said, smiling up at Cain, a million promises in her deep brown eyes.

“Make a wish anyway,” said Ranger, gesturing to the cake and grinning at his daughter.

She took a deep breath and blew them out, and her parents, Cain, and Klaus clapped merrily.

“
Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag
!” exclaimed Klaus, who’d given Ginger a horse that he’d carved from a bright white piece of balsa. It was a prancing Lipizzan, of course, and it sat proudly at Ginger’s place now, waiting for a bite of her cake.

“
Danke
, Klaus,” she said, smiling across the table at Cain’s father.

It had taken some convincing for Miz Magnolia to break down the high social barrier she’d built between the McHuids and the Wolframs, but Ranger’s full support of Ginger and Cain’s relationship had helped. And little by little, Ginger’s mother seemed to accept that the Wolframs, for better or worse, were a part of her life, and it would be best to accept them, on behalf of her husband and daughter, than fight them all.

For his part, Cain still wasn’t Miz Magnolia’s biggest fan, but she was gentler now than she’d ever been, sobered by the recent losses of Woodman and her mother-in-law, and he could even imagine a day when there was a true and lasting peace between them. Someday.

An hour later, after cake and Champagne, Ginger and Cain bid good-bye to their parents, and Cain promised to drop off his father’s truck tomorrow. The three parents waved from the front porch as they pulled away, headed down the driveway. But just before leaving McHuid’s, Cain turned left, trundling down the gravel road and parking in front of the barn.

He cut the engine and faced Ginger, who looked at him with surprise.

“It’s your birthday,” he said, gesturing to the barn with his chin. “Don’t you want to jump?”

She laughed. “I think I’m a little old for that, don’t you?”

“Don’t trust me to catch you, huh?” He got out of the car, his hands sweating as he neared the barn, where he waited for her to join him.

A moment later he heard her door open and her feet hit the ground. “You’re not serious, are you? I’m liable to break more than my arm.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, turning back, uncertain if the wave of emotion he felt was relief or disappointment.

“Aw, wait!” she said, grinning at him. “But if you don’t catch me, you’re in big trouble!” she yelled, sprinting into the barn and up the ladder to the loft.

His heart started racing and his mouth went dry.

Oh, fuck. This is happening
.

He reached into his back pocket for the small black velvet box that held a simple platinum ring capped with a 1.25-karat diamond. Princess-cut, of course.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped to one knee, his eyes fixed on the hayloft door, remembering all the times he’d caught her, remembering their first kiss, remembering Woodman and birthdays and happy times and Ginger’s smile. And then . . .

She was there.

“Are you ready? Now, don’t you drop— Cain!”

Her mouth opened, and she covered it with her hands, her eyes filling with tears.

“I got a question to ask you, princess,” he said, grinning up at her, holding up the open box.

“Oh my God!” she cried, the words muffled under her hands.

“You want to come back down here, or you want me to come up there?”

“I can’t move,” she said, blinking her eyes furiously.

“Then I’m comin’ up.” He snapped the box shut, jumped up, and ran into the barn. Up the ladder, into the loft, he didn’t stop until he was about a foot from her. “Different kind of jump this year,” he said, bending down on one knee and opening up the box again.

She took a step toward him, and he could see she was crying, tears streaming down her face, her hands still covering her mouth.

“Come here, princess.”

“Cain,” she whimpered.

“Come on, now,” he said, smiling up at her.

She took a step toward him, then another, sobbing once before dropping her hands. And she was smiling. Crying, yes. But smiling. And any worry left in his heart quickly lifted as he stared up into the eyes of the woman he’d loved since he was fifteen years old.

“Give me your hand,” he said, reaching out with his.

Her fingers trembled as she placed them in his.

“I love you,” he said. “You’re my childhood friend and my best friend and my girlfriend and my lover. And I’m thrilled that you’re movin’ in with me today, but it’s just not enough. Because I want to make love to you every day for the rest of my life. I want your name to be Virginia Laire McHuid Wolfram. I want my kids to have your blonde hair and my blue eyes. I want you to be my wife.” She raked her teeth over her bottom lip and reached up with her free hand to wipe her tears. “Will you marry me, princess?” Cain asked.

He’d seen Ginger McHuid smile a million times.

But this one was new. And it belonged to him.

“Cain!” she cried, her shoulders trembling with sobs, her smile blinding. “Oh my God, yes! Yes!”

He pulled the ring from its soft velvet bed and slipped it over her third finger, then he stood up, pulled her into his arms, and kissed his fiancée as they agreed to hold hands and jump together into forever.

***

Four years later

“Remember, it’s Momma’s birthday today,” said Cain, ruffling the blond hair of his two and a half-year-old son, Josiah.

“Momma,” he answered, his moss-green eyes the spitting image of the uncle he’d been named for. “She get baba for Keyee-anne.”

“That’s right, little man, because Miz Kelleyanne here sure does get mad if she wakes up without a bottle, doesn’t she?”

Josiah and Kelleyanne.

The two people who had been the guiding lights on the path that led Cain to Ginger and Ginger to Cain. Two strong spirits who would always, God willing, be with them.

He looked down at the sleeping baby girl in his arms—at the jet-black fuzz that covered her two-month-old head—and felt his heart swell, as it always did, with so much joy, he didn’t know how his chest contained it all.

“Uh-huh,” said Josiah, staring at his baby sister with a sour expression. “
Mad
Keyee-anne.”

Cain chuckled. “You remember the song we’re gonna sing to Momma, right?”

“The happy birfday song.”

“That’s right.”

“We all sing. Oma and Opa. Grampa Jim. Gramp and Gramma,” said Josiah. “And Auntie.”

Oma and Opa were Cain’s parents, Grampa Jim was his mother’s husband. Gramp and Gramma were Ranger and Magnolia, and Auntie was Cain’s Aunt Sophie.

Despite being invited, Aunt Sophie had refused to attend Cain and Ginger’s wedding, but when little Josiah was born a year and a half later, for reasons unknown to all but Sophie, she’d accompanied her sister, Sarah, to the hospital to meet her grandnephew. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was that she couldn’t resist the chance to see her twin sister’s grandson.

Likely, she’d never expected for baby Josiah, named for her son, with his blond hair and green eyes, to snare her heart on sight. With tears of gratitude flooding her eyes, she thanked Cain and Ginger for honoring Woodman’s memory, and from that day she’d worked to mend her relationships with the McHuids and with Cain. Through her love for little Josiah, and now for Kelleyanne too, she’d found a way to be part of her family again, and Cain was grateful for it.

“That’s right,” said Cain. “We’re
all
gonna sing to Momma.”

“I wuv her, Dada.”

“Me too,” said Cain, smiling at his son with soft eyes, full of love. “She sure is easy to love, little man.”

The bathroom door opened.

“Lord, we’re gonna be late!” said Ginger, bursting into the sitting room of the tack room, holding out a pumped bottle of breast milk for Cain. She reached into her shirt to reclasp her bra, then smoothed her blouse, grinning at Cain. “Do I look all right?”

Cain nodded, blown away, as he always was, by his wife’s natural beauty. “You look stunnin’.”

“Byooteeful Momma.”

Ginger smiled at their son and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head just as someone knocked at the door to the tack room, where they always stayed as a family whenever they visited McHuid Farm overnight. Klaus, at Ranger’s insistence, had moved up to Kelleyanne McHuid’s old cottage a couple of years ago, and joined Ranger and Magnolia regularly for dinner at the manor house.

“I guess it makes sense,” Magnolia had said, finally welcoming Klaus into their social lives and inner sanctum, “since we’re family now.”

Ginger opened the door to find Magnolia, Sarah, and Sophie standing outside, three mother hens champing at the bit to spoil their grandbabies.

“Happy birthday, Ginger,” said her mother, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before marching inside and beelining for Cain. “You give me that child, Cain. I’ll take her up to the main house so you and Ginger have a moment to breathe before the festivities begin.”

Carefully Cain handed over his daughter and gave her bottle to his mother. “Make sure she gets this when she wakes up, okay, Mom?”

Sarah smiled and nodded as her sister, Sophie, called, “Josiah Woodman Wolfram, you come on over here to your Auntie Sophie now.”

Josiah looked up at his mother for a second, waiting for her to nod before racing to his Oma and Auntie and taking their hands.

“We sing to Momma!”

“That’s right!” said his oma. “How about you and me and Auntie practice as we walk up to the manor house?”

“Happy birf-day to youuuu . . .”

The sound of three happy voices singing faded away as Cain’s mother, aunt, and son left the barn hand in hand, singing the “birfday” song.

Cain closed the door and locked it, then turned to his wife with a wolfish gleam in his eyes, and Ginger grinned back at him, her sweet lips tilting up in a smile.

“How long do you think we have?” he asked, stalking her a step at a time.

“Cain . . .”

Her voice held a warning, but her feet were already backing up toward the bedroom, her brown eyes sparkling.

“I mean, at least a few minutes, right?” he asked, following her lead. “And it
is
your birthday, princess. Anythin’ special I can do for you?”