Fifteen Chapters Of Love

The river had carried a silver flash beneath the willow roots, and Mara Ellison was already ankle-deep in mud before the church bell struck four.

Behind her, the wedding hall blazed with late-afternoon light. White ribbons snapped from the porch railings. Voices spilled through the open doors, bright and frantic, while the river muttered against its banks as if it knew something the town did not.

Mara tightened her grip on the hem of her dress and crouched beside the exposed roots. The mud sucked at her boots. A cold thread of water slipped over her wrist.

“There you are,” she whispered.

The flash vanished.

She pushed two fingers into the silt and found only pebbles, a rusted bottle cap, and the smooth, hard curve of a button. Somewhere behind her, a woman cried out.

“Still nothing?”

Mara glanced toward the hall. Three bridesmaids stood on the river path, their lavender dresses gathered above the wet grass. One of them waved both hands.

“Mrs. Vale says the ring is gone!”

“I heard her,” Mara called.

“Then come back!”

Mara looked once more at the roots. She had seen the glint. She was certain of it. The ring could not have traveled far; the river was low, and the bank curved inward beneath the willow like a cupped hand.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You said that five minutes ago!”

Mara ignored the accusation and lowered herself farther. The willow’s roots scratched her shoulder. The river pressed cold against her calves as she reached beneath the tangle. Her fingers closed around something small and metallic.

Not the ring. A bent brass clasp.

She pulled it free and examined it. Mud streaked the ridges. A piece of blue thread clung to one end.

From the path came the hurried slap of shoes.

“Mara.”

She knew that voice. Jonah Rourke.

She turned too quickly and struck her elbow against a root. Pain sparked down her arm. Jonah stood above the bank, one hand braced on the trunk, his dark hair wind-tossed and his wedding-hall jacket unbuttoned. He had the kind of stillness that made everyone else seem careless. Even now, with the ceremony less than an hour away, he looked as if he had stepped out of some quieter world.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No.”

His gaze moved from her muddy boots to the brass clasp in her hand. “What did you find?”

“A clue, perhaps.”

“Clues are not what my brother needs.”

“Then perhaps your brother should keep better track of his ring.”

The words came sharper than she intended. Jonah’s expression changed, though only slightly.

“He didn’t lose it.”

Mara climbed up onto the bank. “That is an interesting distinction.”

“He took it off while washing his hands in the hall. He set it beside the basin. When he reached for it, it was gone.”

“And everyone came running to the river?”

“His sister saw someone leaving through the side doors.”

Mara wiped her muddy hand against her skirt. “Someone?”

“A woman in a brown coat.”

“I’m wearing a brown coat.”

Jonah looked at her coat hanging from a willow branch. “So I noticed.”

The wind tugged the ribbons on the hall. One snapped loose and skittered across the grass.

Mara picked up the brass clasp. “This was caught beneath the roots. Blue thread, brass fastening. Someone may have come down here from the path.”

“Or someone may have thrown the ring into the river.”

“Your confidence is reassuring.”

“I’m not asking you to search.”

“You came all the way down here to tell me that?”

“I came because everyone else is shouting, and you’re the only person who thought to look where the water would carry it.”

His voice softened on the last words. It unsettled her more than his suspicion would have.

Mara turned toward the river. “If it’s here, I can find it.”

Jonah stepped closer. “Why?”

“Because your family is tearing up the riverbank over a piece of metal, and because the bride is crying in the coatroom, and because I would like one wedding in Willowbend to reach the vows without someone accusing the kitchen staff of theft.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It’s the one you’re getting.”

He studied her for a moment. Then he took off his jacket and held it out.

Mara stared at it. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Put it on before you freeze.”

“I’m not cold.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m angry.”

“Those can happen together.”

The jacket was warm from his shoulders. Mara hesitated, then accepted it. The wool smelled faintly of cedar and soap. She slipped it around herself, refusing to notice how easily it settled there.

Jonah crouched at the edge of the bank. “Where did you see the flash?”

“Under the roots.”

“Then show me.”

“I work faster alone.”

“So does a thief.”

Mara’s head snapped toward him.

He seemed to regret the words immediately. “That came out wrong.”

“It came out clearly.”

“I meant that whoever took the ring may have been alone.”

“You should practice saying what you mean.”

“I’m trying.”

The river moved between them, brown and restless. Behind the trees, another shout rose from the wedding hall.

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