A Match Made in Montana

The moment she reached the pulpit, she started to brush the dirt and leaves off of it. She could see herself, so clear was the memory, standing behind the pulpit pretending to preach to an enthralled congregation.

Her fingers found what they were searching for: her initials, carved into the top of the pulpit. “Can it be moved?”

On the other side of the pulpit, he looked up at the tin roof and the beams holding it in place. He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Yes. It can.”

“You’re serious.”

“It can be done,” Logan said definitively.

Her mind started to whirl with ideas. “If we moved it closer to the ranch, we could actually restore it!”

“Absolutely.” He would love to have a hand in restoring the chapel.

Face-to-face, with only the pulpit between them, they stood smiling at each other as if they had just uncovered a buried treasure. Josephine, exactly at that moment, noticed Logan’s eyes. Yes, she had seen his eyes before. But, she hadn’t really noticed how incredibly beautiful they were—such a dark, rich brown that they reminded her of expensive black satin.

“What?” He asked her, in a half curious, half amused manner.

His single-word question snapped her out of it—she had been unintentionally staring into his eyes. Once she realized that she had been mindlessly ogling him, she started to laugh.

“Sorry—I was just thinking about something from when I was a kid.”

“What’s that?”

“When I was...oh, I don’t know...seven or eight...” Josephine walked out from behind the pulpit and joined Logan where he was standing.

“I used to stand in this exact spot and pretend that I was getting married. Jordan and I took turns officiating the wedding and being the bride...” Josephine laughed softly and looked over at him. “You standing here just reminded me of that. I haven’t thought of that in years. And, of course, that was before I discovered Gloria Steinem when I was thirteen and swore off marriage entirely.”

“But, Gloria Steinem did eventually get married,” Logan said thoughtfully.