Page 26 of First Bride to Fall
Nell chuckled at this because Majestic held a pretty special one each year.
“Wait,” he said. “Do you hear that?”
She set down her water glass and listened.
She heard nothing but the lapping flames from the fire.
Grant glanced out the kitchen window. “The rain. It’s stopped.” Nell looked around the cabin and out its modest windows facing the gravel driveway, seeing the same thing. A heavy mist rose off the earth like steam, but the sun peeked through a hazy sky.
He stood and walked to the front door, throwing it open.
Birds chirped outside, and something tumbled like a rushing river.
“What’s that?”
He peered over his shoulder. “The waterfall.”
“Waterfall?” Nell’s heart took a happy leap because she’d never seen one before. “How cool. It sounds so close.”
“It is close. A half mile or so behind the cabin. Dumps into the stream where I do my fishing.”
He must have read her eyes, because he grinned. “Want to see it?”
Chapter Seven
Grant would do anything to capture the grin on Nell’s face. She looked just like a kid on Christmas morning. So excited about something as basic as a waterfall. It wasn’t a huge one, but it was pretty awesome.
“I’d love to see it,” she said from where she sat at the table. “Only.” She frowned, staring at her ankle.
Grant shut the front door. “I carried you before. I can do it again.”
“Yeah?” Her smile lit up like a sunrise, and making her happy felt good.
“Sure.” He shrugged and patted his back. “I’ll carry you piggyback.”
“Okay.” She scooted out of her chair, and he checked out her feet.
“Piggyback or not, though, you can’t go barefoot.”
She grimaced, probably imagining wrangling her achy ankle into that boot again.
His gaze darted toward the bedroom. “Tell you what,” he said. “You wear a boot on your left foot, and we’ll layer up the other one with a couple of my thick hiking socks. That should keep your feet warm.”
“Yeah, thanks. My piggies will be grateful.”
He laughed. “I haven’t thought of them as ‘piggies’ in a long time.”
“Our dad used to play that game with us, me and my sisters.”
“This little piggy went to market… This little piggy stayed home…?” he joked.
“Your dad too?”
His cheeks sagged. He wished he’d had a fun-loving dad. But his father had been far from it. He’d been more like argumentative and ornery, especially after drinking too much. Which he unfortunately did often. “Not my dad, no. My mom when I was really little. She’s gone now.”
She viewed him sadly, and he suspected she was remembering what the rest of Majestic knew. That, when Grant moved to town, it was the last stop in a string of relocations orchestrated by his father, who’d had trouble holding down a job. He’d died two years ago in May, and Grant still missed him, oddly. Even though he hadn’t been the greatest dad, Grant got that he’d loved him in his own way. He just hadn’t corralled enough strength to pull his life together.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” she said. “I heard.”
