Page 69 of The Wedding Gift

“It’s beautiful,” she gasped.

“That’s where we’ll have supper. Would you bring the quilt? I’ve kind of run out of hands.” He pointed toward the cab.

She reached over the side and picked up the patchwork quilt. This just might be the most interesting date she’d ever been on in her entire life. The river was peaceful, flowing along, just like it had been since the beginning of time. A pungent aroma filled the whole area, and the willow branches swayed in the warm evening breeze.

When they reached the huge tree, Dalton set the basket and sack down and parted the thick limbs. “Welcome to my secret place, Becca McKay.”

She carried the quilt inside the opening and spread it out on the sand. “It’s lovely, Dalton. Thank you for trusting me enough to bring me here.”

He picked up her hand and kissed the knuckles. “Thank you for trusting me, period. Have a seat and we’ll have our supper, and then we’ll go sail our vessels.”

“Are you serious?” She eased down on the quilt.

“Yep, I brought homemade sailboats and string so we can guide them down the river. Sometimes I fish right here, but tonight, I want us to float our little boats and think of that song about the river.” He sat down and opened the basket. “Another confession. I haven’t dated much. Last time I actually asked a woman out was probably for my senior prom in high school.”

“Really?” she asked.

“I want us to be open and honest with each other,” he told her.

“I’ve dated a lot, but I’ve never been picked up in a bar,” she told him.

“Then we’ve had two different lifestyles.” He handed her a cold bottle of root beer and then laid the rest of the food out between them on the quilt. “The sugar cookies from last night and the bananas are for dessert.”

Supper was a ham-and-cheese sandwich, a small bag of potato chips, and sweet pickles that they ate with their fingers right out of the jar. Every bite tasted better to Becca than if she had been eating filet mignon in a five-star restaurant.

“I can see why this would be your favorite place,” she said. “It’s so quiet that I really can hear the tree frogs.”

“Sometimes they argue with the owls and the other birds roosting in the trees for center spot,” he said.

At that moment Becca could feel peace surroundingher heart, much like the drooping branches of the weeping willow tree circled around her and Dalton.

“If this works out between us, we should come here once a week and leave all our troubles, arguments, and disagreements in the river,” she said.

Dalton leaned over the food between them, cupped her face in his hands, and brushed a sweet kiss across her lips. “That’s what I do when I float my little boat down the river. I put all my worries on it and give them to the current.”

“Then why the string to control the boat?” She touched her lips to see if they were as hot as they felt and was surprised to see that they were actually cool.

“Because sometimes I’m not quite ready to let go of my worries, but when I am, I drop the string,” he answered.

“What worries are you going to put on your boat today?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he replied.

“You first.” She nodded toward him.

“My first worry is that this will be our one and only real date.”

You kissed me on Sunday. According to Grammie, that makes it a real date, she thought.

“My second is that my wild past will always hang around to haunt us both.”

Not if we work at squashing it every time it rears its ugly head.

“My third is that I won’t have the courage to tell you how I feel about you, and make you believe me.”

I think I already know because I’m listening to my heart.

“Now, it’s your turn,” he said.