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It wasn’t, and Nick’s neighbors were thrilled By the ti on doors--for that was how introductions were made in Sarah’s Orchard--they’d spread the word that the new handyman in toas handy indeed

Nick’s reconciliation with his Center Streetthe orchards again, one orchard in particular

But it wasn’t enough He needed to see the MacKenzies again The kind eyes He wouldn’t introduce himself as "the boy who’d saved Elizabeth," of course Much less as "Elizabeth’s hero"

"Hero" had been as foreign to hiht as "son" had been He’d clung to "son," treasured it, but even at age seven he’d believed "hero" rong He’d only done what anyone would’ve done had they spotted the sobbing little girl

He’d been called a heroyears It continued to sound wrong In combat as in life, he only did what he believed anyone would do

Nick had intended to tell Charles and Clara the sa he’d told the other townspeople who’d opened their doors to hie of repairs

The orchard was in blosso the soldier with splintered bones cliiggling toddler, so ical Those trees, he felt, wanted hi Grace," when that hat the wounded needed to hear Or "Battle Hy that would make an injured soldier smile

It was Clara who’d opened the door to his knock Nick had been only a sentence into his introduction when she’d tilted her head and widened her eyes

"You’re him, aren’t you?"

"Him?"

"Our boy Elizabeth’s hero Don’t deny it I know you are Charles! Guess who’s here? At last"

Nick hadn’t denied it Nor, by the time Charles appeared, had he confirmed it He’d been speechless in those moments, stunned that Clara had known

The man he’d become bore no resemblance to the scrawny boy he’d been True, Clara had proht blue eyes

But he didn’t have bright blue eyes, not as a boy--and most certainly not as a ray, a patch of sky amid the clouds But in all his years, only Clara MacKenzie had remarked on it

What she’d seen had been an illusion, the play of red Christhts on the hint of blue Oreyes of the beholder

Others had made comments about Nick’s eyes Other women Bedroom eyes, some concluded Only wilder As if a bed was too tame for his tastes And that was before he went to war

No, Nick didn’t have bright blue eyes Never had And the hair that had been blondish when Clara had last seen him had turned brohen he reached his teens

But Clara had knoho he was

Because of his expression, she’d eventually informed him It was identical, she said, to the hopeful way he’d looked when she and Charles had promised to be there for hiainst hope

Charles and Clara MacKenzie had kept their pro him into their lives when he’d needed them most Charles and Clara had needed Nick, too Both of them And, in the seven months since Charles’s death, and to the extent she’d permit it, he’d shared with Clara her enor tomorrow, he’d be with Clara all summer

He’d find a way to help her, and the lovely eyes that had once seen colors and emotions no one else could see

Three

"Oh, Clara," he said when she opened the door and he saw her tears

"You miss him, too"

"I do," Nick said "All day, every day Charles was the finest man I’ve ever known"

Clara nodded and wiped her eyes "Are you dropping by for dinner?"

"Just dropping by" Nick smiled "But I wouldn’t turn down food"

"Then come on in"

They’d both known she’d ask, and that he’d accept the offer He’d shown up often--at suppertinaled she’d awakened for the day Andfor coffee, and in the afternoon for tea

Both kneas checking up on her, and why he never called in advance She’d tell him what she told everyone else orried about her You don’t need to come over I’m fine!

She’d

You can’t possibly be fine, he’d tell her when he appeared despite her protestations He’d arrive within fifteen minutes of his phone call, and she always seemed relieved when he did And even if you’re fine, Clara, I’m not

Nick didn’t care about the food she inevitably served him He could cook his own meals But if he per, too

It was past her usual suppertiotten to eat His impression was confirmed when they reached the kitchen