Something in Casek’s face shifted. Just a bit, but enough that Oliver could glimpse the man beneath the stone mask he usually showed him. “Beth may be stirring up ghost stories for some reason—but she didn’t kill Johnnie. Even if she had something to do with what took him to the caves that night, she didn’t do it.”

Oliver knew that. Still, it was a surprise to hear Casek admit it. He nodded.

Casek folded his arms over his chest. “Why are you doing this? Apologizing, I mean? You never would have before.”

No, and that was something he’d been wrestling with ever since Libby pointed it out. He preached regularly about the need to forgive, to extend grace to one’s neighbor. How could he have been too blind to see where he’d failed at it for so long? He’d always just clung to the “as much as is possible, live in peace with all men” verse, telling himself it wasn’t possible, not with Casek.

But it was. Of course it was. “Because I’ve been wrong. And because it’s high time I admit it. High time we try . . . to be friends.”

Casek winced—actually winced—when he said it. “About twenty years too late for that, isn’t it?”

“I certainly hope not, if you intend to marry my cousin.”

His arms were still crossed, but his fingers flexed. A flash of insecurity that he covered by nodding toward the village, where Telford had finally appeared on the path to the quay. “I may intend it. Doesn’t mean she’ll agree.”

He’d always intended it. Oliver had known it; he’d just never liked it—and when Mabena had chosen Cador instead, he’d assumed Casek’s infatuation would dissipate. It hadn’t though, that was clear. He turned toward the boat. “She’ll agree. She said, apparently, that—” now he winced, at giving utterance to such words—“that you make her fly.”

A miracle happened then. Casek Wearne smiled. Honestly. At him. “Did she, now?”

“So I’m told.”

“Well then.” With a last glance at Telford, Casek fell into step beside him. “You’re going to have a time of it with that one. You know that, right? He’ll be as hard-pressed to accept you as you’ve been to accept me.”

Turnabout? Maybe. The Lord did have the most ironic ways of teaching His children lessons sometimes. “Even harder, I daresay. We’re at least all neighbors. Giving you my blessing won’t mean saying good-bye to my cousin.”

“Not that we need your blessing—but you do have a point.” Casek put on the scowl that he always reserved for tourists. “Blasted incomers. Your lady aside.”

Oliver took the exception as the olive branch it was. “I couldn’t agree more. Though speaking of which—Mrs. Gilligan?”