Shatter the Night
Page 31
“And you? What do you deserve, Gemma?”
I bit my lip, surprised at the question and the fact that I didn’t have a ready answer.
After a long moment of silence, Edith nodded gently. “I’ll see myself out. Try to relax today.”
* * *
The next few hours passed in a blur. Grace went down for a nap while Clementine, who’d arrived just after Edith left, finished up with the flower arrangements. The Tate was taking care of catering, decorations, and drinks, but I wanted to line the aisle in their grand room with the small vases of white roses. While Clem worked on the flowers, I soaked in the tub, doing my nails, shaving my legs, and letting my hair set in the hard plastic curlers I’d found tucked behind a roll of toilet paper under my sink. I think they’d last been used in the late 1990s, but what the hell, they worked and were free.
After the tub, I quickly steamed my dress and then put it back in its plastic shroud. Grace woke and I got her a snack, a fresh diaper, and a traveling outfit. She’d wear an adorable white flower-girl dress I’d picked up, with tiny rosettes across the bodice, but there was no way I was putting her in it until about thirty seconds before the ceremony started.
Clementine and I caravanned down the canyon, she with the programs and flowers, me with my dress, my baby, and an overnight bag. Brody and I would stay the night at the Tate, while Clementine skipped the reception and instead brought Grace back to the house and stayed with her, and Seamus, overnight. An official honeymoon would have to wait; Brody was due to spend much of December in Tanzania, on-site for a client. He’d be back by Christmas, but it would be a long, lonely month.
At the hotel, we settled ourselves in the small suite attached to the great room. Clementine, with her pink-frosted hair and champagne-colored minidress, looked like a cupcake. I wouldn’t have traded a thing about her for all the money in the world.
Julia and Laura arrived. My grandmother was having a good day and the women played with Grace while I did my hair and makeup. The curlers had worked, and by the time I was finished, I had to admit I didn’t look half bad. My dark hair was pulled up and back into a tight and elegant chignon, a few loose curls framing my face. My eye makeup was smoky and dramatic, so I skipped the lipstick in favor of a light balm.
Finally, I stepped into the tiny bathroom and slipped into my dress. As I zipped it up, I stared into the full-length mirror, surprised at the sudden tears that threatened to fall. The gown was beautiful, all lace and pearls, with a high neck and long sleeves. I turned to the side, taking in the low scooped back that went down nearly to my tailbone.
I was a bride, no doubt about it.
The tears that I desperately tried to choke back, knowing they would smudge my makeup, came from the knowledge that my parents should have been here. They should have been the ones walking me down the aisle or playing with Grace, their granddaughter.
But they weren’t here, and marrying Brody was something that I’d have to do alone. It was my decision; there was no one to give me away or ask permission of.
I would stand on my own two feet as we exchanged vows, as I suddenly realized I’d done every day since my mother and father had died.
“You have it in you, kid. You always have,” I whispered to the mirror. Then I stepped out of the narrow changing room and spun around. “What do you think?”
Laura, Julia, Clementine, and even Grace clapped. Clem, perhaps most shocked of all to see me dolled up in a gown, yelped, “You look stunning! Beautiful!”
“Thank you.” I blushed, already eager to slip out of the heavy gown and into the lighter, silky dress I’d brought for the reception.
I checked my watch as the lodge’s wedding coordinator poked her head in the room.
“Everyone’s ready, Gemma. They’re all seated, with a glass of champagne per your request. A bit unusual, most people wait until cocktail hour, but we aim to please.” Her smile was tight; it was clear I had been a less-than-typical bride.
At least I hadn’t been a bridezilla.
“Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”
We gathered outside the great room. The doors were cracked open a few inches and as I peeked through them, tears once again welled in my eyes. Nearly a hundred people sat in wooden chairs on either side of an aisle lined with white roses. Friends, family members, Brody’s four sisters, work colleagues … The room was filled with people who loved and supported us. From where I stood, I couldn’t see Bull, or Finn, or even Chief Chavez, but I knew they were in there, somewhere.
It was as though I were about to step into one long, big embrace.
And on the far side of all of it, standing next to the officiant, a roaring fire behind him, was Brody. His wavy hair was combed back, his beard neatly shorn. He wore a black tuxedo with a red bow tie and a white rose in the lapel of his jacket.
Intense emotions had already flooded his face. This moment was as much his as it was mine, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. For all our ups and downs, all our doubts and struggles, all our fights and betrayals, we were family. We were in it for the long haul. I knew with every fiber of my being that when the end of my life came, no matter what else the future held, I would never regret the walk I was about to take.
Fighting for our love, for our family … it meant something.
It was something I could be proud of, for the rest of my days.
In that moment, I chose Brody.
Also by Emily Littlejohn
Inherit the Bones
A Season to Lie
Lost Lake
About the Author
Emily Littlejohn was born and raised in Southern California. A former librarian, she now spends her time writing, raising a family, and working in city government in the Denver metro area. Inherit the Bones was her acclaimed debut novel in the Gemma Monroe series, which also includes A Season to Lie and Lost Lake. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Also by Emily Littlejohn
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
SHATTER THE NIGHT. Copyright © 2019 by Emily Littlejohn. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover photographs: woman © Mark Owen/Arcangel; road © weare
adventurers/iStock/Getty Images; sky © Urs Siedentop & Co/Stocksy
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Littlejohn, Emily, author.
Title: Shatter the night : a Detective Gemma Monroe mystery / Emily Littlejohn.
Description: First Edition. | New York : Minotaur Books, [2019]
Identifiers: LCCN 2019019599 | ISBN 9781250178329 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250178336 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Women detectives—Colorado—Fiction. | Murder— Investigation—Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3612.I8823 S53 2019 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019019599
eISBN 9781250178336
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: December 2019