Page 63 of One Last Promise

She looked over at him, and he couldn’t speak. Because,oh, he didn’t want to let her down. Because shecouldtrust him. More, she could trust God, if she let herself.

His prayer back in the ice cave stirred inside him.Please. Keep her safe. Bring her help if she needs it.

Softly, “You can trust me, Tillie.”

She looked over at him, her eyes wide, so much on her face he didn’t know what to do with it.

“And as for God, you can trust him too.” Maybe too much, but he couldn’t stop himself.

She gave him a tight smile, then looked down at her daughter. Hazel had turned, snuggled into Tillie, Tillie’s arms around the little girl. Such a pretty girl, with dark hair and pretty green eyes.

Green eyes.

Tillie had brown eyes.

And Rigger had been as Aryan as the Hitler Youth. Blondhair, blue eyes.

Wait—

Blued-eyed and brown-eyed parents couldn’t have green-eyed children. Or at least, his biology class in high school had suggested that it was rare. So, he could be wrong, but with the thought, his chest simply released, and he took a full breath.

Of courseRigger wasn’t the father. Because Tillie would never be with a man like Rigger. She was . . . honest. And sweet and kind and . . . frankly, he didn’t want to think of her withanyone.

Anyone but him. And that thought just sort of lodged there, refusing to budge. In fact, it had been tooling around his head for a long time. He just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.

But here she was, suddenly in his life, needing him and . . .

Still, who—He nearly opened his mouth to ask when her words hit him:“Now I trust you. Or I’m trying to.”Okay, so he wouldn’t ask. And it didn’t matter. She was here now, with him.

“And I promise, I will keep you safe.” He kept his voice low, his arm still around her, but her gaze shifted, and she looked up at him, nodded.

Hazel had closed her eyes, and he glanced down at her and back to Tillie.

She still looked at him, her gaze in his, those beautiful brown eyes barely visible in the fading sunlight. But even in her bedraggled, sodden state, her hair plastered to her head, blood on her scalp—he had checked, and she had whacked it good—she still possessed a breathtaking beauty, born from grit and perseverance and even, even if she didn’t believe in it, hope.

Because people who hoped kept fighting. Kept staying the course. Kept reaching out with their whole hearts.

That was called faith.

And maybe he was here to help her see it.

“Tillie. You don’t have to trust God. Yet. But I think he’s trying to get your attention too. To show you that, even when life seems to pull out from under you,you’re not alone.”

He lifted his hand, touched her face. Ran his thumb down her cheek.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess,” she said quietly.

“Itisyour fault, so . . .” He lifted a shoulder.

Her eyes widened.

“Aw, Til, I was just kidd?—”

She kissed him. Just leaned up and pressed her lips to his, soft and yet sudden and sure.

And okay, it startled him, and sure, he’d been single for nearly forever, but he didn’t need any help figuring out how to respond. Sheesh, he’d been quietly dreaming—no,hoping—for this moment for the better part of a year. So he kissed her back, moving his hand behind her neck to return her touch. Softly, perfectly.

Even while his heart nearly exploded.

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