One Wish by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-07-11T09:52:49+00:00

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Chapter 10

Charity stood at the foot of Jonah's bed, the morning after her proposal to Luke Shardlow, twisting her mother's pearl ring round and round upon her finger while her thoughts raced. Jonah sat almost upright, with pillows fluffed behind him, and though he still could neither speak nor walk, his dark eyes were ablaze with conviction. Whatever his outer limitations, inwardly he seemed to grow more robust with every passing moment, and to Charity he seemed anything but helpless.

Aaron had brought him a small slate and a stick of chalk, and although the process was painfully slow, Jonah was able to manage a rudimentary sort of communication. He and the boy had worked out a system—an X for no, a check mark for yes; they were in the process of creating a language all their own.

Now, seeing Jonah's fingers curled awkwardly around the stub of chalk, Charity braced herself for an argument that promised to be no less arduous for the fact that one side of it would be nonverbal.

"I'm going to be married," Charity announced bluntly, with the same grim look she might have employed in pulling off an old bandage or removing a splinter from a grizzly's paw.

Jonah's eyes glittered. He made a check mark on the slate.

Charity swallowed and held up one hand, palm out. "Listen to me, Papa," she said respectfully. "I've complied with your wishes, unreasonable though they are, but it's only fair to tell you that I have chosen someone other than Raoul."

Jonah's gaze narrowed; he did not need to speak, for she felt his question like the impact of a stiff and sudden wind. Who?

She wet her lips and her anxiety heightened so that she grew dizzy with the altitude. "I've asked Luke Shardlow to marry me," she blurted out. "He has accepted." However ungraciously, she thought,

Jonah's reaction was far worse than she had expected: color surged into his neck, pulsing crimson and then purple. His strong jaw grew rigid, his eyes flashed, and Charity watched in horror and chagrin as the slate board slipped to the floor. Fearing that he would suffer another spell of apoplexy, she rushed to his side and grasped both his hands in hers. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Don't do this to me, you old tyrant," she pleaded, furious and desperately afraid. "I love you so much, and I'm doing the best I can to please you—"

His grip surprised and reassured her, for it was vital, powerful. He made a garbled, murmuring sound in his throat, and when Charity let her head fall to his shoulder, sobbing softly, his right hand found its way to her shoulder and rested gently there.

She collected herself, sniffling, and looked deep into his eyes.

He raised one brow and, as before, his question was clear.

She considered. "Yes," she confessed, in a wet whisper. "Yes, I love him."

It seemed to Charity that Jonah smiled, though of course his mouth didn't move. He made a slight movement with the chalk, and she hastened to retrieve the fallen slate.

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