Mountain Charm Page 17

  “There’s nothing to repay,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. “I love your daughter, and I love you. Some guys aren’t lucky enough to have even one great mom. I have two.”

  Celia’s eyes glistened with tears.

  “I don’t know what the future holds with me and my dad,” Dylan said, “but in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter. I have my family. I have my mother, you, and Angelina. And hopefully, our family will grow.”

  “Oh, it will grow.”

  Excited to hear this amazing piece of news, Dylan scooted his seat a little closer. His voice was just a whisper. “Little girls with pretty blue eyes? Please say yes.”

  Celia grinned. “You are so impatient.”

  “Your daughter just told me the same thing,” he said with a smirk. “Come on. I know you know something.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “What do you think? I have a crystal ball or something?”

  “No way. You have spiritual dreams.”

  The two of them laughed, and Celia patted his hand.

  “I think you’re going to be very happy,” she said.

  Dylan smiled triumphantly. It was all the confirmation he needed.

  After dinner, Dylan and Celia took the dog for a walk around the pond, leaving Patti and Angelina in the living room, looking over some of her family’s photo albums.

  “This is fascinating,” Patti said, gliding her fingers along the picture in the album. “You have your grandmother’s eyes.”

  “All of the girls in our family have blue eyes,” Angelina explained. “It’s the one family trait that doesn’t seem to skip a generation.”

  As they flipped through the pages of the family album, Patti asked questions about everything from Abigail’s boozing husband to mountain cures for eczema. When Angelina explained that she didn’t really practice magic, Patti seemed disappointed.

  “But that’s such a gift. Why wouldn’t you?”

  “After my father’s death, I was so conflicted and bitter. I have the gift to heal, but I couldn’t heal him. So I . . . rebelled, I guess.”

  “And you can’t heal your mom, so it’s kind of like having this fantastic gift that renders you useless.”

  “Exactly,” Angelina whispered, gently closing the photo album.

  Patti smiled. “But you aren’t useless. You know that right? You are a lovely, twenty-one-year-old woman who owns a successful company. You are a dream daughter, and you have captured the heart of my son. In my eyes, that makes you pretty perfect.”

  Angelina felt her blush creep across her cheek. “I’m far from perfect.”

  “And you’re far from useless. You have other gifts. Reliable gifts. You have burdens and worries with which a young woman should never be faced. But despite everything, you have a kind heart and a strong spirit. You should be so proud of that.”

  “I don’t always feel strong.”

  “Oh, I understand that, too. I raised a little boy all by myself. There were many days I just wanted to throw the blanket over my head and weep. But I couldn’t. I had this adorable, brown-eyed toddler, and I was literally all he had in the whole world.”

  Angelina grinned, imagining Dylan as a little boy.

  “I’ve never seen him in love,” Patti said quietly. “It’s remarkable, really. He’s always been pretty quick-tempered and impatient, but with you he’s very, very different.”

  Angelina didn’t tell her he still had a problem with his temper and patience. Instead, she asked the one question that weighed heavily on her mind.

  “And you aren’t upset about the spell?”

  Patti laughed. “When he first told me about that, I can’t deny I was a little skeptical. But after meeting you and seeing the two of you together, I think it’s obvious that something brought you together. You even convinced him to speak to his father.”

  Angelina sighed. “I hope it’s a good thing.”

  “I think it could be. I would never tell Dylan this, but he reminds me very much of his father back when we were young. Charles was handsome, charming, and talented. He was also very determined to become a professional writer. Having a family wasn’t in his plans, but it happened, and we were happy for a while. He wasn’t a bad man, but he was neglectful, and my son deserved better. When I remember the nights my three-year-old cried himself to sleep because all he wanted was to see his dad . . .” Patti’s voice trailed off, and she shook her head. “Anyway, it was a long time ago, and Dylan was a dream kid. His grades weren’t the best, but that’s just because he was stubborn and didn’t care about anything but basketball and writing. He didn’t really rebel until he was in college and joined that punk rock band. Has he shown you his god-awful tattoo?”

  Angelina giggled, not daring to mention that she had one of her own. “Yes, I’ve seen it.”

  “I can tell by the expression on your face that you love it.”

  She grinned. “I do.”

  Patti sighed dramatically, and the two of them dissolved into laughter.

  Cash’s noisy bark echoed from the porch, and moments later, Dylan and Celia walked back into the living room. Angelina couldn’t help but notice how tired her mom appeared, and she jumped to her feet.

  “I’m fine,” her mom assured her.

  “We overdid it, I think.” Dylan closed the door behind him. He couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes as he watched Celia closely.

  “I’m just a little tired.” Celia smiled apologetically at their guest. “I’m stubborn. I try to do more than I should.”

  “I’d be the same way, so I completely understand,” Patti said. She stood up and grabbed her bag. “It’s getting late, anyway. I should head back to the hotel.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Patti promised to come back for breakfast in the morning before Angelina took her mom by the hand and led her down the hallway. Dylan watched them go, and he felt a tightening in his chest when he heard the soft click of Celia’s bedroom door.

  What if she’s really sick? What if Angelina needs me?

  “You should stay. I can find my way back to town.”

  Dylan turned to find his mother smiling softly in his direction.

  “No, it’ll be okay. She’ll . . . she’ll call if she needs me.”

  Patti walked toward her son and placed her hand against his cheek.

  “Your heart is here,” she said simply.

  He couldn’t deny it.

  “Definitely spellbound,” Patti murmured.

  He couldn’t deny that either, although it wasn’t entirely accurate.

  “Mom, it’s not just magic.”

  “I know, sweetheart. And that’s why you should stay. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  They shared a hug before Dylan led his mom to the porch. After saying goodnight, he watched until she was safely in her car before stepping back inside, locking the door behind him.

  After checking Cash’s bowl, he turned off all the lights before making his way toward Celia’s room. The door was open, and he peeked inside. Celia was resting peacefully in her bed, and Angelina was right by her side, watching her mom drift off to sleep. The expression on her face was soft and sad, but there were no tears.

  No tears is always a good sign.

  Sensing his eyes on her, Angelina turned her head toward the door. They smiled at one another before she stood up from her chair and quietly walked out into the hallway.

  “She’s okay?” Dylan asked.

  “Yeah, I think the busy day just caught up with her.”

  Dylan nodded.

  “I thought you were going back to the hotel with your mom?”

  “I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “I didn’t want you to leave.”

  She took him by the hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom. When they were both inside, Angelina quietly closed the door. She twisted the lock and turned around. Dylan stepped closer, gently pinning her against the door. Her breath quickened when he dipped his head, letting his lips brush agai
nst her throat.

  “Angelina, I never want to leave.”

  Her fingers twined in his hair. “Good. That saves me from having to beg you to stay.”

  He trailed his lips along her jaw and up along her ear, causing her to tremble.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Moaning softly, Angelina pulled his face close to hers. His eyes were desperate and needy, but it wasn’t just desire she saw reflecting in his brown eyes. He loved her. He had proven it time and time again, and it was time for her to do the same.

  Soon, she promised herself.

  They slowly undressed each other, and Angelina led him over to her bed. They fell onto the mattress, tangled in each other’s arms and kissing hungrily. Dylan hovered above her, and his smile was triumphant as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “I thought we weren’t having sex in your mother’s house?”

  Angelina grinned and tightened her legs around him.

  “Maybe just this once,” she whispered.

  Dr. Campbell’s office was as cold and sterile as ever. Angelina closed her eyes, praying this would be the last time she ever had to sit in this chair.

  Celia had finished her latest round of chemo, and the scans were now complete. Today, they would find out if the treatments had been successful. Despite Celia’s assurance that she was going to be just fine, Angelina couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

  Dylan clutched her left hand. Her mom was sitting to her right. As always, Celia was the calm one. Angelina wished she had the same faith in magic her mother possessed.

  After today, maybe she would.

  Maybe . . .

  The door clicked, and Angelina’s heart leapt into her throat as Dr. Campbell walked in, greeting them warmly before leaning on the edge of his desk.

  “Please have good news,” Angelina whispered.

  Dr. Campbell smiled softly at her.

  “I have wonderful news. Your mother’s scans are clear.”

  The scans are clear.

  Tears trickled down Angelina’s face as the doctor explained that he would like to schedule follow-up visits every three months. She tried to listen, but all she could focus on were those four little words.

  The scans are clear.

  No more treatments. No more surgery.

  She tilted her head toward her mom. Celia was smiling and listening carefully to the doctor’s instructions. Angelina then turned toward Dylan, and his eyes were on her. His relieved smile was stretched across his face.

  Angelina squeezed his hand, and in that moment—as she watched Dylan wipe away his own tears—she felt her entire life shift into its proper place. For so long, she had rebelled against her heritage. She’d fought against her natural gifts and had grown bitter and pessimistic about life and love.

  No more.

  Life was too short, too unpredictable, and too uncertain to deny herself any semblance of happiness.

  And that happiness was starting tonight.

  After a celebratory dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, Angelina led Dylan down to the pond.

  “When’s your birthday?” Angelina asked as they spread a blanket on the ground. Dylan had another one tucked beneath his arm, and he wrapped it around the two of them as they settled onto the grass. Angelina sat between his legs, and he enveloped her in his arms.

  “It’s in December. Why?”

  “I’m going to buy you a cookbook.”

  Dylan chuckled and kissed the side of her neck. “Tired of my cooking? Your mom loves my spaghetti.”

  She grinned. “I know.”

  They snuggled close and gazed across the water. After a while, Angelina pointed toward the grassy field just beyond the pond.

  “Did you know that’s mine?”

  “The land?”

  Angelina nodded. “It was a gift from my parents before dad passed away. He said I might want my own place someday.”

  “It would be a pretty spot for a house.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “And it’d be close to your mom.”

  Angelina grinned. He knew how important that would be to her.

  She twisted around in his arms.

  “Dylan, will you build me a house?”

  “I’ll build you anything you want.”

  “Will you cook something besides spaghetti in our pretty kitchen?”

  “I’ll take a gourmet cooking class if it will make you happy.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “I’ll . . .” he blinked rapidly. “Wait . . . what did you say?”

  Angelina gently traced his bottom lip with her finger.

  “Will you marry me?”

  He inhaled sharply.

  “Are you proposing to me?”

  Angelina nodded. “I was reminded today that life is too short. People say it all the time, but I don’t think they realize how true it is. Cancer is scary. Life is scary. I could die tomorrow. So if I can be happy today, why wouldn’t I choose to be? I’ve spent so much time worrying about everything. My dad. My mom. The shop. The spell. Mom once told me that I’ve fought so hard against what I’m destined to be that I’ve forgotten who I am, and she’s right.”

  Dylan stroked her cheek. “So, who are you?”

  Smiling, Angelina playfully pushed him back against the blanket. She crawled over him, and his hands settled against her hips as they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “I’m a mountain witch, and when I was thirteen years old, I cast a spell and wished for you.”

  Dylan grinned. “And now I’m here.”

  “And now you’re here.”

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  Angelina teased his mouth with hers. “I’m going to marry you—right here at this pond. And we’re going to build a house and have a beautiful, blue-eyed daughter.”

  “Just one?”

  “Mom’s only seen one so far.”

  Dylan smiled and rolled them over so that he could gaze down into her sweet eyes.

  “This wasn’t a very traditional proposal, Angelina.”

  “Nothing about us has been traditional.”

  “I know, but this should be the one thing we do like normal people. I should be on my knee. Or at least have a ring.”

  “Do you want me to take it back?”

  Dylan frowned. “You can’t just take back a proposal. You don’t ask someone to build you a house and be your husband and then just take it back.”

  “You forgot the gourmet cooking class.”

  Her giggle was silenced with his passionate kiss, and when he finally lifted his eyes to hers once again, they were both breathless.

  “Will you marry me, right here at this pond?” Dylan murmured.

  It wasn’t the fairy tale proposal she’d envisioned as a little girl.

  It was better.

  “Yes,” she replied softly.

  The next day, Dylan was sitting behind his desk at the office, finishing up his article on this weekend’s harvest festival in the Smokies. The other columnists couldn’t help but notice that he was in an unusually good mood, and it didn’t even cross his mind to keep the news a secret. He’d said I’m getting married more times than he could count, and he loved the way the three little words just rolled off his tongue.

  They’d rolled off his tongue many times since last night.

  Naturally, Celia was the first to know, and while she promised that she hadn’t predicted the exact timing, she’d had a “feeling” it would be her daughter doing the proposing. Dylan still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew it didn’t truly matter.

  All that mattered was Angelina had said yes.

  The first calls had been to his mom and Maddie. Both had been ecstatic, and Maddie’s high-pitched scream still resonated in his ears.

  There was only one person left to tell, and while Dylan wasn’t sure it was necessary, Angelina seemed to think otherwise.

  So far, Dylan’s interaction wit
h his father had been limited. He hadn’t even stepped inside the boss’s office since the day he’d accepted the job. Charles didn’t usually deal with the writers—he left that to the lead editors in each department—so there had been no risk of accidentally bumping into each other at the copy machine.

  I’ll just tell him I’m getting married and then walk out, Dylan told himself as he rode the elevator to the sixth floor. The doors opened, and he nodded to the receptionist who told him he could go right in. He knocked anyway, and he waited to hear his dad’s voice before heading inside.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” Charles said, folding the latest edition of the paper and placing it on his desk. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Dylan closed the door, and his dad offered him a seat.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this—or if you even care to know—but I’m getting married.”

  Charles’s face flashed with surprise.

  “Mom and Angelina both thought you should know, so I’m telling you. We haven’t set a date, but it will be as soon as possible.” Dylan took a deep breath. “I’m not here for fatherly advice, so don’t strain yourself by trying to come up with something. They just thought you should know your only son is getting married.”

  “And what about you? Don’t you think I should know?”

  “I don’t think you care one way or another.”

  Charles sighed. “You’d be wrong about that, and I wouldn’t insult you by offering any fatherly advice. I doubt there’s a thing I can teach you about being a good husband.”

  Dylan didn’t know what to say to that, and anything he did say would probably sound like an insult, so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

  “Congratulations, son.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I assume you’ll be living in Maple Ridge?”

  Dylan nodded. “We’re going to build a house close to her mom’s.”

  “I know some local contractors. I could give you some names.”