Annie's Song

by Cate Dean

  “I can’t—that fabric must have cost you a fortune, and you never got paid for it.”

  “What about borrowing it?” Penn shrugged when they all looked at her. “Hey, I’m a girl, I know all the wedding stuff. Something borrowed—well, there you go.”

  “I don’t, I can’t—”

  Claire rubbed her back. “Just say yes, Annie.”

  “I—yes.” She looked at them. “Thank you.”

  “We should be going,” Claire said. She turned to Michelle. “I want to thank you as well. For everything. Annie will call to set up a time for fitting the dress.”

  Still looking shocked, Annie followed her to the back door of the shop. They walked through, and were halfway back to their hotel when Annie finally spoke.

  “Claire?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?” She stopped, concerned at the tone in her friend’s voice. “Annie, what is it?”

  “I’m getting married.”

  Claire smiled, and led her dazed friend back to the hotel.

  SEVENTEEN

  The morning of the wedding arrived, clear and cool, despite Annie’s dire predictions it would rain, since she decided on the outdoor wedding of her dreams.

  Now she waited in her room, fidgeting, for Claire to come and fetch her. Eric spent the night—somewhere else. He wouldn’t tell her, knowing she’d hunt him down and climb into bed with him, just to keep herself from thinking about today. About this.

  All the rash decisions that led here made her want to throw up. The dress, which she had to admit went pretty far outside even her oversized comfort zone. Doing this in a foreign country, which she thought was a good idea at the time. Having Simon marry them. That one had her sitting down.

  She started to rub her face, and halted. Her makeup for the wedding was already in place, courtesy of the local hair salon, touchups not an option. Instead, she rested both hands on her stomach. The contact calmed her immediately.

  “It’s our big day, sweetheart. Your daddy is going to meet me, in front of our friends, and we’ll be a family.” She took in a shaky breath, missing her parents, wishing they could have been here, met Eric, shared the joy that flooded her. “God, I’m so scared, Mom. I’m going to try to be a good mother. I had the best example in the world. Okay, and now I have to stop this before I start crying.”

  “You and me both.” Claire stood in the doorway, and Annie let out a whistle. “You like it?”

  “You look gorgeous, honey.” She twirled her finger. “Take a turn.”

  Claire obeyed, the skirt of her cobalt blue dress swirling around her. Walking into the room, she cradled Annie’s cheek. “I am not your mother, but I hope I can stand in her place, be here for you today.”

  “Oh, God.” Annie hugged her, tears threatening to spill over. She pulled back, looked into Claire’s eyes. “I couldn’t have done any of it the last three years, not without you. We are family. Part of me knew the first time I walked into your store and saw you, all fire and ice as you dealt with Mildred.”

  “Sweet heaven.” Claire let out a watery laugh. “I remember that day. I had no idea how to handle her.”

  “Could have fooled me. I wanted to be you.”

  Smiling, Claire took her hand. “Ready to do this?”

  “Is anyone ever? My stomach hurts.”

  “You will be fine. The moment you see Eric waiting for you, everything will fall in place. Come on.” She picked up the garment bag holding Annie’s dress. “Time for you to become a bride.”

  The walk to Penn and Michelle’s shop took forever, and not long enough. Annie stood in the small bathroom, alone, staring at her reflection. She didn’t look like a bride. Not a conventional one, anyway. The veil helped, a little—or would have, if it wasn’t gold.

  She let out a sigh. Eric would marry her, even if she didn’t look like a bride. She was his bride. “Enough,” she whispered. “Time to go get married.”

  Stepping out of the bathroom, she waited for Claire to notice her. When she did, the reaction was what Annie hoped for, what she was afraid she wouldn’t get.

  “Oh, Annie. It’s stunning.”

  “I look like—”

  “A Grecian goddess.” Claire adjusted the tissue thin veil. “Eric is going to be knocked out.” She handed Annie a bouquet of flowers. White roses, with three red roses in the middle. “No crying now, you’ll ruin your makeup.”

  “Who—I never ordered flowers. I didn’t think there would be time.”

  “Marcus. It’s his wedding gift to you.”

  “Big softie.” She blinked fast, forcing back her tears. “I’ll have to actually thank him.”

  Smiling, Claire took her hand. “Your bickering isn’t fooling anyone. I know how much you care about each other.”

  “Yeah—well, habits are hard to break.” She took in a breath, aware that Claire used that to distract her. “Let’s go get me married.”

  “My great pleasure.”

  Claire moved through the garden, disappearing from sight. Like they rehearsed, Annie counted to herself, waiting until she got to fifty before she started her own walk. Nerves shook her as she made her way through the explosion of flowers and lush plants. They died away as soon as she saw Eric.

  He stood at the arbor, in a white tux, looking nervous and handsome, with Zach standing beside him, even more nervous. God, she loved both of them. Claire reached the arbor, moved to the left. And she knew the second Eric saw her.

  His smile had her heart skipping. She wanted to be there, next to him, now, and always.

  The breeze caught her veil as she walked forward, billowing it out behind her. She almost stumbled when two people turned in their seats and waved. Theresa and Mindy Kay. With a shaky smile she nodded at them, and knew Claire had been busy while she’d been testy and hormonal. God, how did she get so lucky?

  Taking in a deep breath, she kept moving. Eric had waited long enough. He stepped forward, took her hand. Together they faced Simon, who surprised her by wearing a dark blue suit instead of his collar.

  “Good morning, everyone. It’s my pleasure to stand here today, to join these two people together as husband and wife. Please forgive me if some of my traditional moments slip in. As a priest, I tend to fall back on the traditional. Today I’ve been asked to simply wing it.”

  Laughter floated through the tiny crowd. Eric twined their fingers together, looked at her.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  He leaned in. “You look incredible.” His lips brushed her cheek

  “That comes at the end of the ceremony, handsome.”

  More laughter added to the joy already surrounding them.

  “You ready for this?”

  She brushed a hand over her stomach. “We are.”

  “My turn?” Simon smiled at them, hands folded. Now he looked like a priest. Sexy priest, but a priest. “Dear friends, and family. We are gathered here, in this gorgeous place, to celebrate the union of Anne Marie Sullivan and Eric Jason Malone. I’m assuming there’s no objection, so I’ll just skip over that part.”

  He held out his hand, took Annie’s in his, squeezing it gently. “Annie, I’ve watched you and this man you wish to take as husband, and I enjoyed your banter, your care, and the depth of your commitment to each other. I am honored to be a part of your union today.”

  She took a deep breath, trying not to cry.

  “Eric, your love for Annie is evident in every action. You don’t need to tell her, you show her, every day. Today you are taking the step to unite that love and create a family. Now, let’s get down to it. Do you have the rings?”

  Annie turned to Claire, who held the ring for Eric. Annie had been carrying it around since she chose it, peeking at it when she needed a boost, or just to remind her that yes, she was actually going to marry an amazing man. She didn’t expect Eric to have a ring, so she was shocked when he turned to Zach and held out his hand.

  “Annie.” Simon caught her attention, and from the
quiet laughter, she guessed he’d said her name more than once. “Ready to continue?”

  “Yes. Stop smiling, Simon.”

  “Sorry, it’s part of the package.” She shook her head. The man was incorrigible. She’d missed that. “Annie Sullivan, do you take Eric to be your husband, to love, cherish, and stand beside, until death do you part?”

  “I do.”

  “Place the ring on his finger.”

  After fumbling, she slid it into place, holding on to his hand. Eric touched her cheek.

  “I love it, blondie.”

  “Eric.” Simon laid one hand on his shoulder. “Do you have a ring?”

  “Yes.” Wide eyed, Annie stared at him. “I can surprise, too. I’m ready, Simon.”

  “Eric Malone, do you take Annie to be your wife, to love, cherish, and stand beside, until death do you part?”

  “I do.”

  “Place the ring on her finger.”

  Annie let out her breath, her hand shaking. And could only stare when he slid the beautiful sapphire and garnet flower on her finger.

  “It is my pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife. Now is the part of the program, Eric.”

  Annie was laughing when he kissed her, his lips gentle, his hands sliding up her back. Applause filled the air, and he deepened the kiss, smiling against her lips before he broke it off.

  “Hi, Mrs. Malone,” he whispered. Tears lodged her throat—and threatened to burst free when he wrapped one arm around her, his fingers brushing her stomach. “Hi, baby Malone.”

  She leaned into him, touched his cheek. “I love you.”

  His smile left her breathless. “Right back at you, blondie.”

  Simon cleared his throat, smiling when they stared up at him. “Time for the official introduction, if you’re ready.”

  Letting her go, Eric took her hand, winked at her. “Ready when you are.”

  “He’s never going to let us live this down.”

  Simon rubbed one hand over his mouth, but not before Annie heard the laugh he was trying to smother. Composed, he stepped forward and spread his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present Mr. and Mrs. Malone.”

  For such a small crowd, the response was deafening. Eric grabbed her hand, leading her between the handful of chairs. They didn’t get far.

  Michelle got to her first, wrapped her in a tight hug. “Outstanding,” she whispered. Leaning back, she let out a tearful laugh. “Just outstanding.”

  Penn stepped between them. “What she’s trying to say is congratulations. You look stunning.” She hugged Annie, pretty stunning herself in a deep blue velvet gown, almost medieval, the color setting off the turquoise streaks in her hair.

  A tentative hand touched Annie’s forearm. She turned, found Theresa standing next to her.

  “Congratulations, Annie. I’m so glad I could be here—I wasn’t sure . . .”

  Annie took the initiative and pulled the girl into her arms. “Thank you for being here. And you,” she caught Mindy Kay, and held on to them both for a long minute. Remembering all they’d been through in Huntsville. And here they were, celebrating her wedding. God, the world could be crazy. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Mindy Kay leaned back, red hair falling over her shoulders. “It’s about time you ball and chained that hunk of a man.” Eric let out a choked laugh. Mindy Kay smiled. “Hey, I may be married, but I’m not dead. I noticed.”

  Annie hugged them again, grateful for the laughter, the friendship, forged from the terror and pain of their time together. Glancing past them, she saw Claire and Simon next to each other, grinning like fools.

  “Get over here,” she said. “Both of you.” Grabbing Eric’s hand, she pulled. “You, too, handsome.”

  They stood together, holding hands, arms draped across shoulders, a group of strangers who fought, survived, and became a unit. Even Theresa. Annie winked at her when she risked a glance. A smile eased the nerves dancing around her.

  “All right.” Claire stepped back, blue eyes shining. “We have a reception to attend.”

  That reception turned into a party, a reunion, a wild celebration of life.

  Annie kept touching her stomach, wowed and humbled by the life growing inside her. She laughed with the others when Zach performed a one-legged dance with his crutches, grinned wickedly when Claire caught her bouquet, refusing to even glance at Marcus as she clutched it.

  Simon moved to her as she watched her friends dance. “Thank you for letting me in, Annie.” He looked—not sad, but thoughtful, like he was fighting to make a decision. “I know you and Eric will make it for the long haul.”

  “That’s the plan. How about you?” He glanced at her. “I see the wheels turning in your head. Letting Claire back in your life changes things, doesn’t it.”

  “I knew that before I made the decision to do so.” He let out a sigh, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Be happy, Annie. All of you.”

  She watched him move through the dancers, take Claire by the hand, talk to her. The smile on her face eased the tension in Annie’s shoulders.

  “That’s Zach, isn’t it.” Theresa moved to her. “The Zach. Simon told me,” she added, fingers twisting around each other, “and I can keep a secret.”

  “Never said you couldn’t. And stop waiting for me to punch you. I’m over it. Mostly.” She winked at Theresa, watched her relax. “Go have fun. Meet the real Zach. He’s much cooler than the one you tangled with. Thank you, by the way.” Theresa halted, eyes wide. “Your distraction, risking yourself like that. I never got to thank you.”

  “I—you’re welcome. I’d do it again. Anytime.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her as Zach blushed, obviously embarrassed by Theresa’s attention. She was pretty, and he had nil experience with pretty girls who weren’t family.

  Warm, familiar hands closed over her shoulders. Eric kissed her scarred ear, and she shivered, wanting more. Wanting him. “Ready to go?”

  “Oh, hell yes.”

  He laughed, and led her past the tables, stopping at the edge of the garden. “Time to start our new life, Mrs. Malone. Where are we going?”

  “Home,” she said. Unable to help herself, she looked at the ring shimmering on her finger. The sapphires danced blue fire across her hand, different from her last ring, somehow more controlled, but as familiar as her heartbeat. “I want to go home.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Home. With a sigh, Claire dropped their bags inside, called out to Zach. “Do you need any help?”

  “No.”

  Zach had been like this—withdrawn, quiet, clearly unhappy—since they left England. Now they were home, and she was going to find out the cause.

  Zach made his way up the short steps leading to the back door, avoiding her gaze as he swung past her on his crutches.

  “Tired?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Good.” Claire blocked the hallway. “Then we can talk.”

  She expected him to argue. Instead he just nodded, turned himself around, and headed toward the living room. Now Claire wasn’t sure she wanted to talk.

  Making a detour to the kitchen, she pulled out some chips, and poured water for both of them. Zach grabbed the chips as soon as she set them on the coffee table, ripping the bag open. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “I would like to know what has been bothering you.”

  His hand froze halfway to his mouth. Setting down the bag, he ate the chips in his hand, took a long drink of water. His classic delaying tactics. Claire waited him out.

  “Something happened, when I was trapped with the elemental.” Dread fisted in Claire’s stomach. “I kept it from attacking me. With this.” He touched the amethyst pendant. “And my tattoo started glowing. And I started to remember.”

  The dread clenched tighter. “Remember what, Zach?”

  “I was someone else.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, reached for his hand. It
was like a punch to the heart when he pulled away. “Zach, I will tell you what I can. But you have to understand, some of this may be difficult for you to accept, or even believe.”

  “I want to know.” He stared at his hands. “I need to know why I’m different.”

  “All right.” She took in a deep breath, bracing herself. “I just want you to know how much I love you, and that I chose you, Zach. I chose you.”

  He nodded, still not looking at her. And in a quiet voice, her heart slowly breaking, Claire told him.

  About how they met, when he was desperate to escape his chains as a guardian, as an angel. That she gave him her grace, so he could fall. That she helped him become human, because she understood how it felt to be trapped.

  Those clear blue eyes finally met hers, disbelief and incredible pain in their depths. “I was able to control the elemental, keep it away from me, because I’m an angel.”

  “You were, Zach.”

  “So were you.”

  She swallowed. “I was.”

  “Is that even my name?”

  “Yes.” She tried to touch him. He recoiled, nearly falling off the sofa to avoid her hand. The pain of his withdrawal twisted around her heart. “It is your given name. You already lost so much, I wanted you to at least have that. I am so sorry—”

  “For keeping me in the dark? Treating me like a child?”

  “I wanted you to have the chance at a normal life. Be a normal, human boy for as long as you could.”

  “The scars on my back, the ones you said were from the accident. That’s where my wings used to be.” Hurting for him, wanting to hold him and hurting more because she couldn’t, Claire nodded. He lowered his head, one hand picking at the latest hole in his jeans. “I helped bring you back.” His revelation startled her. Marcus had never said anything. “There was this heat, this—power, pouring through me. I couldn’t control it.” She twisted her hands together, to keep from reaching out, being rejected. “Can I do what I do—finding things, healing people, because of what I was?”