Free A Promise for Ellie by Lauraine Snelling Page A

shots. One of you big strong men want to give me a hand here?”
    “Leave it to the prince,” Toby, standing off to the side, muttered just loud enough for Ellie to hear as Andrew stepped forward.
    She snapped her head around and gave him a glare, icy enough to freeze a flowing river.
    He raised one dark eyebrow.
    Ellie could hear Pastor Solberg’s voice as if he were standing right behind her. “If you ignore his teasing, he’ll quit, because it’s no fun to tease someone who doesn’t respond.” Ellie pasted a smile on her face, sweeter than caramel candy, and cocked an eyebrow back at him before following the others inside the church.
    “Miss, would you like to be first?”
    “Me?” Ellie pointed to herself.
    “Yes. Just sit right here.” The photographer pulled the chair closer to a drape he had hanging on the wall.
    Ellie sat down and allowed him to arrange her skirts, place her hand in her lap, and cock her head just so. While nerves made her want to squirm, she held still. Feeling the heat of Andrew’s gaze, she resolutely watched the photographer, ignoring the heat blossoming up her neck and onto her face. Andrew Bjorklund, don’t look at me like that .
    “Now, miss, look right here, and let’s have a bit of a smile. Think about your nice young man. Keep your back straight . . . there you go.” The photographer swapped out plates. “Hold it again, please. Look over here . . . that’s excellent. Good. Now breathe.” He ducked out from under the drape and smiled at her. “If all my subjects were as easy as you, this business would be a delight.”
    “Thank you.” Ellie stood and moved off to the side as another of the girls took her place on the stool.
    “I want one of those pictures.” Andrew stopped beside her.
    “Why? You’ll see me every day.”
    “Because someday when we are old and gray, we will look back and see how lovely you were back when we were young.”
    “What about you? I want one of you for me.”
    He shrugged. “If you want.”
    “And in the fall we will have a picture of us after we get married. My dress will be similar to the one I have on, only in different material and white.”
    “I want us married in one month, not three or four.” The frown carved a line between his eyebrows.
    “I know you do. So do I. But this will turn out for the best, I’m sure. You wait and see.” When Andrew didn’t answer her, she peered up to his face. She wished he’d not brought up the subject when it did nothing but make him unhappy. “Smile,” she whispered, “so you look happy in the picture.”
    When his turn finally came and he stood posed for the picture, it was all she could do to not dance around singing, “That’s my Andrew, and I’m going to marry up with him.” The phrase that Andrew had used the first time all those years ago had stuck. Marry up. Oh, Andrew, I cannot begin to tell you how much I love you . A thought caught her. Had Andrew ever really asked her to marry him?
    They gazed at each other across the space until the photographer ordered Andrew to look at him. Sensations coursed up and down her body—not shivers but tiny bursts of heat like slender flames licking the underside of a log. The urge to touch him poured through to her fingertips, setting them to tingling. She looked away and then back, catching his eyes watching her. The tip of her tongue sneaked out to water lips gone dry.
    When he finished, he walked back to her, never taking his gaze from her face. He reached for her hand and led her out the open doorway.
    “Would you like to go for a walk?”
    Wherever you would like to go . Instead, she shook her head. “I’d really like more ice cream.”
    “If there’s any left.”
    “Oh, they’re still cranking there under the trees.” They made their way over to the ice cream table, stopping to talk with friends and neighbors on the way.
    “Chocolate sauce or caramel?” Dr. Elizabeth asked. Seated at the table, her bulging form was slightly