choices are the same to God, who does not measure time as we do.”
To Jess, Olivia whispered, “But what if you think you are on the right path? How do you know for sure?”
“My wife has asked me more than once how we can know if we are on the right path. The answer is very, very simple. Do you love life and what you are doing with it? Are you happy? Do you make others happy? Then you are doing exactly what God wills. If not, then what would it take to make you happy?”
Beatrice, Jess thought, before he could control his answer. Her sweetness, her love of life, her intensity. All those qualities that made the world new for him when he saw it through her eyes.
He loved Beatrice Brent.
There was no point in lying to himself. And then he marveled at his selfishness. She might be able to save him, but what could he offer her?
He watched her bend her head, resting her forehead on her folded hands, in a pose of prayerful intensity.
Jess could not take his eyes from her, could not hear anything but his heart’s insistence that he loved her, and his head shouting that he had nothing to offer her but a jaded heart.
He did not hear any of the rest of the short service. When it was over, he stood and, before anyone could capture his attention, left the chapel. It was amazingly stuffy and the smell of incense was making his eyes water.
“WE HAVE HAD the loveliest weather these past two weeks.” Cecilia made a face at her inane attempt at conversation. She and William should be beyond such commonplace topics.
William turned in his saddle. “Even the rain has come mostly at night. How convenient for us.”
They rode on, not side by side, but with Cecilia following. The groom was almost out of sight. The trail was narrow here and the horses walked languidly, all of them enjoying the shade. There was a reason one rode in the morning like this, especially in summer. It was warm, and would grow warmer still, judging by the angle of the sun and the merest scattering of clouds.
Cecilia could not even think an original thought. All her original thoughts settled on one thing. Kissing William. Again. And again.
They had reached the ford, which was now exposed without water running over it, the river at its summer low. There were one or two pools in the shade of the hawthorns with ferns along the edge. The trout would be there, she thought, waiting for cooler temperatures and stronger currents.
The river as a topic of discussion was marginally better than the weather. But when she raised her head to speak to William, he was watching her with such longing that “kissing William” was the only phrase that she could think of.
“Cecilia,” he began, and before he could say another word, she urged her horse across the ford and up the hill at a pace that would preclude conversation. Please, do not bring up marriage again. As much as she might want it, the thought terrified her. She was not ready to say yes, but the last thing she ever wanted was to hurt him.
He followed her, caught up, and paced himself beside her horse, both moving faster than was safe in an open field with which neither was familiar.
“You can run, but eventually I will catch you,” he shouted over the pounding hooves. “Cecilia, stop and talk to me before one of our horses finds a rabbit hole.”
He was right. She did not want to hurt him in any way, but avoiding him was just as bad.
Slowing, Cecilia turned back to the quiet river and one of those pools where they could be comfortable while she ruined his day, if not his life.
“This glade is flawless,” she announced, fascinated. She tried to concentrate on the way the sun filtered through the leaves, casting light but not heat. “I’ve passed this spot once or twice before and never stopped to study it. Do you think these stones and that boulder were moved here deliberately?”
“By some landscape architect bent on creating a haven even better than nature could?” William asked as they dismounted and let their horses drink.
“Yes, but he did his work too perfectly.” She twirled around, her head raised heavenward. “If the weather was always like this I think I could live here.”
“It would be the perfect setting for you. I should like someone to paint