Snow Melts in Spring - By Deborah Vogts Page 0,95

from the recliner. Cane in hand, he shuffled to the buffet cabinet where he pulled out a drawer in search of something. Minutes later, he returned with a black velvet box.

“You might try giving this to Mattie the next time you propose.” He handed it to Gil and made his way back to his recliner, short of breath. “Your mama would have wanted you to have it. She would have liked Mattie.”

Gil opened the box to see a simple diamond solitaire set in white gold. “I can’t take this.” He closed the lid to give it back to his dad.

“Sure you can. Do it right this time and maybe she’ll accept.”

“Does that mean you’ll come to California with us?” Gil tried to keep the excitement from his voice, knowing the decision would not be easy.

His dad seemed to chew on the question. After a few minutes, he replied, “I always thought I’d live out my days in these hills.” His words came out soft and wistful like the leaves on a cottonwood when the spring winds blow. “One lesson I’ve learned is that life never turns out quite like you expect. I never expected Frank and your mama to die so early in their lives. It nearly ripped my heart apart — but time heals even the worst pain. I never expected you to run off to California to be a superstar football player . . . and I never expected you to come home — but you did.”

He rubbed his mouth with wide, thick fingers. “My pride wouldn’t let me go to any of your football games. Because of pride, we missed a lot of years — you and I.” He sat up in the chair and leaned on his cane. “If going to California will somehow make up for that, I’m willing to give it a try.”

Humbled by the man’s selflessness, Gil knelt down and offered him a hug. “You won’t regret this, Dad. I promise. You’ll have a better life than you’ve ever known in Kansas.”

“You don’t need to make me any promises. Just get that girl of yours to say yes, ’cause I refuse to die before I jostle a grandbaby on my knee.” He stretched in his recliner and stared up at the ceiling, twirling his thumbs.

Gil’s throat tightened. He could hardly believe his dad agreed to give up the ranch so easily. No argument — barely a hesitation. Now he had only to convince Mattie that a life with him in California was the right decision.

The next morning, Gil led his father to an empty pew at New Redeemer Church. Scanning the aisles for Mattie’s red hair, he spotted Clara and her three children toward the front, but he couldn’t distinguish the person next to them. Rather than agonize over Mattie’s presence, he put his mind on the hymns and words of Scripture, thankful to have his dad seated beside him. When the sermon concluded, a throng of people gathered around them, welcoming his dad to the service.

“John, I’m so glad you decided to join us.”

Gil turned at the familiar voice and saw Mattie shake his father’s hand. She looked up at Gil, her eyes like dew on grass.

“You never told me you’d convinced your dad to come to church.”

Gil noted how pretty she looked, the sway of her dress, her hair draped over her shoulders in a partial ponytail that complimented her face. “I didn’t know until this morning.”

He caught her hand and pulled her to the side. “Join us for lunch?”

Mattie stared out at the churchyard where the kids played. “I’ve made plans already.”

“Change them,” Gil’s father said, having apparently overhead their conversation.

Her brow furrowed, and Gil recognized her struggle.

“No, that’s alright.” He lowered his voice for her. “If you can’t do lunch, maybe we could take Dusty out for a ride in the pasture this afternoon. I need to speak to you about something important.”

He gazed into her eyes, hopeful.

Please say yes.

If she refused, what would he do? Beg? Walk away? Gil prayed he wouldn’t have to find out.

FORTY-NINE

MATTIE LOWERED HER GAZE, DETERMINED NOT TO GIVE IN TOO easily to Gil’s eager demand. “I don’t know. As I said, I have another commitment.”

She glanced up to see him no longer smiling, his chin firmly set.

“What about tonight, then? We could ride before dark.”

Mattie struggled for an answer. Oh, how she wanted things to be right between them . . . but how could she get over the fact that he’d been

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