“I sat down and put my fingertips to my temples, rubbing hard. “We have one fallen tree, one destroyed Rookery, one delusional butler and no good brandy. Is that what you are telling me?” “And the cook’s down with piles and more than half the staff are suffering from catarrh,” she added maliciously.I looked to Brisbane, who was smiling broadly. “God bless us, everyone,” he said, spreading his arms wide.”

“I missed him," she said finally.I put my hand over hers and sat down, pulling my chair closer. "I know," I said softly."You came back from Florida feeling really good, and then you find out he's such a rat bastard that he—""No," she said distractedly, interrupting me. "I missed him. All those Ensures, and nota one made contact. I have terrible aim." And then she sighed. "Even just one would have made itbetter. Somehow.”

“I have half a mustache. It was a gift from my father, who bought one with a Buy One Mustache, Get One Half Off deal. So he kept the full mustache, and gave me the half stache. It looks more like an eyebrow than a mustache.”

“For a long moment the butler sat in silence, his jaw hanging open. “I . . . my lord, I simply don't feel qualified to advise you about such matters.”“Don't tell me that,” Saint protested. “Tell me whether you can imagine me as a married man or not.”To his surprise, the butler set aside his brandy snifter and sat forward. “My lord, I do not wish to overstep my bounds, but I have noticed a change in your demeanor of late. The question of whether anyone can imagine you married or not, however, is one I believe must be answered by you. And the lady, of course.”Saint frowned. “Coward.”“There is that, as well.”

“Whoa,” I pinned my dress under my legs and nudged his chest with my elbow. “Put me down. This is kidnapping.”“No, it's not,” he stated with a smile, keeping his eyes on the path ahead, “It's is a rescue.”“Rescue?” I scoffed, but imagined a white horse waiting for us as we burst through the doors. “I don't need to be rescued.”He stopped walking and looked down at me; I shrank into his arms a little. “The fair maiden, who is locked in the darkest tower, guarded by the cruellest beast, never believes herself to be in danger, only suffering from sorrows untold and a heart untouched.”

“Dad was on the porch, pacing back and forth in that uneven stride he had on account of having a gimp leg. When he saw, he let out a yelp of delight and started hobbling down the steps towards us. Mom came running out of the house. She sank down on her knees, clasped her hands in front of her, and started praying up to the heavens, thanking the Lord for delivering her children from the flood.It was she who had saved us, she declared, by staying up all night praying. "You get down on your knees and thank your guardian angel," she said. "And thank me, too."Helen and Buster got down and started praying with Mom, but I just stood there looking at them. The way I saw it. I was the one who'd saved us all, not Mom and not some guardian angel. No one was up in that cottonwood tree except the three of us. Dad came alongside me and put his arms around my shoulders."There weren't no guardian angel, Dad," I said. I started explaining how I'd gotten us to the cottonwood tree in time, figuring out how to switch places when our arms got tired and keeping Buster and Helen awake through the long night by quizzing them.Dad squeezed my shoulder. "Well, darling," he said, "maybe the angel was you.”