by J. D. Robb
Though Grace tried to reject it, her heart knew. She felt it give a sudden hard bounce as her eyes filled with tears. “Did she say anything?”
He struggled to recall the words. “She said don’t worry, Josh. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“You said you’d never seen her before. How did she know your name?”
He shook his head. “I figured she was a groupie, hoping to get her fifteen minutes of fame by stowing aboard a celebrity’s plane.” His voice lowered. “I never dreamed . . .” His voice took on a more practical tone as he began to wrap his mind around the reality of it all. “Now we know why her remains were never found.”
“I don’t under . . .”
“She was already dead, Grace. Like Wyatt. And for some reason, they both made themselves known to us.”
Grace turned away and buried her face in her hands. “None of this makes any sense.”
He went to her and gathered her close. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking it, too. But we’re not crazy, Grace. And it’s not some sort of contagious mass hysteria. We’re sane, sensible people. But we both know what we saw and heard. Wyatt was here. We both saw him and listened to his tale.”
“But why? What possible reason could he have for . . . coming back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to explain about the legend of the lake.” Josh began to pace. He turned suddenly. “Didn’t Wyatt say his name meant ‘guide’? Was he guiding us toward something?”
Grace sighed. “I have to admit that hearing about the legend gave me insight into what my mother and father may have gone through. But what about Barnaby?” She glanced over at the dog, whose head came up at the very mention of his name. “How do you explain him?”
“I can’t. Maybe he’s been surviving alone in these woods and needed a home.”
Grace mulled that. “Wyatt said that Barnaby loved the forest and that he’d make a fine companion.”
“And he seemed pleased when we both took to the dog.” Josh knelt and Barnaby hurried over to lick his hand. In a softer tone he added, “He’s the very dog I wanted as a kid. Right down to his color. Maybe that has something to do with his being here.”
“All right. So we found some things we’ve both been searching for. You’ve got your dog, and I’ve got my mother, but that still doesn’t explain . . .”
He stood and framed her face with his hands. “You’re forgetting about the most important thing we both found.” He leaned close. “Love. I love you, Grace. You’re exactly what I’ve wanted in my life. The part that’s been missing all these years.”
At his words, she blinked back the tears that threatened. “I love you, too, Josh. I don’t know how it happened. I certainly never expected anything like this, but here it is.”
“Here it is.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “So what are we going to do about it?”
“We could hide out here for the rest of our lives.”
He nibbled her lower lip. “It’s tempting. We could shut out the world and create our own little paradise.”
Barnaby suddenly raced to the door and began barking.
Grace and Josh stepped apart. With his finger to his lips he shoved her behind him and picked up the fish knife before opening the door.
Barnaby rushed out and began racing along the dock, barking furiously.
When Josh stepped outside, Grace hurried to catch up. “Whatever is out here, you’re not facing it alone. We’re together now, remember?”
“I don’t want you hurt, Grace.”
“I’m not going back inside without you.” She took hold of his hand.
When they reached the end of the dock, they paused beside Barnaby. The dog had gone eerily silent and was staring at the lake.
And then they saw the light, dancing across the dark waters, heading directly toward them.
Grace’s hand tightened on Josh’s as the light began to shimmer and glow, before it assumed the figure of a woman. As she drew closer, they could see her gown, dazzling white, and her hair, a glorious cascade of red-gold curls.
“Oh, I have waited so long for you. So long.” Her musical voice was as clear as a bell. “I could not take my rest until I fulfilled my heart’s desire to see you happy.”
“Mother?” Grace said the word haltingly and wondered why it sounded so right. So perfect. It was the first time she’d ever said it aloud. She took a deep breath and said it again. “Mother.”
The woman smiled. “I have waited a lifetime to hear my daughter say that word. It is the sweetest sound ever created.”
“How long have you been . . . gone?” Grace couldn’t bring herself to speak of death.
“In the world it would be a year or more. It is a mere moment in this place, where time is of no consequence. My love for you burns brighter than the sun, Grace. Far too bright to be dimmed even by death.”
Grace was so moved by those words, she couldn’t find her voice. She stood, tears streaming down her cheeks, drinking in the vision that was her beloved mother.
Beside her, Josh draped an arm around Grace’s shoulder to offer his strength. “How does Wyatt Eagle fit into this?”
“Wyatt is my guide to the Great Beyond. It was he who taught me that great love can wield great power.”
“And so you went through all this elaborate scheme”—Grace’s hand swung to include Josh and the dog at their feet—“just to make me happy?”
“Your happiness has been my greatest concern. It was necessary for you to know how deeply you are loved, Grace. Without that knowledge, you would be incapable of fully giving love.”
“But why Josh? How did he happen to get caught up in this?”
The woman turned to Josh. “Your father was . . . dear to my heart.”
Grace turned to Josh, and knew, by the stunned look on his face, that his thoughts mirrored her own. His father had been a warrior who had given his life in battle.
“He was here once, wasn’t he? That’s his army blanket I found in the shed.”
The woman nodded. “He and I were here together once, in that long ago time. And then, all too soon, he was gone.”
“Why can’t I see him? Why isn’t he here, too?” Josh’s voice rose in anguish.
“As much as he wanted to show himself to you, he ceded his power to me. My need was greater, because my daughter never knew me. You know your father, Josh. So well, in fact, that you have striven to emulate him all the days of your life. And he remains with you forever.”
Her smile grew radiant. “He and I hoped, by bringing the two of you together in an idyllic setting, you would open yourselves to the love that is possible. Now that you have found it, the rest is up to you. But remember this. Love so easily found in paradise can be lost or squandered when the realities of the world intrude. Only the two of you can decide the final outcome.”
Before the last word was spoken, the woman’s image began to shimmer and fade.
“Wait. There’s so much more I need to know.” Grace reached out a hand, but like wisps of fog, the image dissipated and began drifting back across the dark waves until it was nothing more than a distant light.
As they continued to watch, the light flickered, then faded as it disappeared beneath the waves.
Before they could say a word they heard the sound of a plane coming in hard and fast.
The sky lightened, and they were startled to see the sun hanging low on the horizon. It was no longer nighttime, but late afternoon.
Grace was the first to speak. “That isn’t my supply plane.”
Josh stared in astonishment. “It’s one of ours. The one that’s been missing for days.”
The plane made a perfect landing on the water and rolled up to the dock. As soon as the door opened, Josh strode forward.
Marty was the first to step out, followed by the pilot, Brady Stewart, with the rest of the crew spilling out behind him.
“Where’ve you been?” Josh strode forward to meet them.
“Following
you, buddy boy.” Marty removed his sunglasses and pointed. “Didn’t you hear us applauding you? That was a hell of a fine landing.”
“Landing?” Josh stared beyond the plane to see his own, bobbing in the water, tethered neatly to a buoy just offshore.
For the space of a heartbeat he couldn’t find his voice. When at last he spoke, his tone was incredulous. “Are you saying I just came down?”
Marty glanced at his watch. “Not five minutes ago.”
Josh looked at his own wrist and realized that his watch was now working perfectly. It read four-ten.
Grace stifled a cry and turned away, running blindly, with Barnaby following.
Brady Stewart chuckled. “Your agent warned us you’d manage to find some gorgeous model even in the wilderness. How’d you smuggle her in here?”
“We’ll talk later.” While the rest of the crew milled about, setting up camera equipment, Josh made a dash toward the cabin. When he stepped inside he saw the dog lying by the fire.
Grace was pacing the room. She looked up as he entered, and he saw the tears before she flew into his arms. Her words were muffled against his chest. “I was afraid I’d only imagined you as well.”
“Yeah. I had the same fear.” He ran a hand over her hair, down her back, as though to reassure himself that she was indeed real.
“What happened to us, Josh? Was all of this a dream?”
He gave a quick shake of his head. “We’ll need some time to figure it all out. But this much I know. It was no dream. Barnaby is real. So are those letters and pictures of your mother.” He took her mouth in a hot, fierce kiss. “And so is this.”
She returned his kiss with one of her own. On a sigh she stepped back. “But what do we do about it?”
He shrugged. “You heard your mother. Now we deal with our feelings in the real world.”
“But how can our love possibly survive? Our careers take us all over the world.”
He nodded. “That’s right. I have a contract to fulfill. A journey to take through the wilderness. And you have a photo essay to file.” He grinned. “I’ll be curious to see how you describe the mysterious legend of the lake now.”
She was silent a moment, imagining the possibilities. Her breath came out in a long, deep sigh. “With all these responsibilities, where does that leave us?”
He could hear the director shouting orders, and the voices of the crew drawing closer, and knew that there was precious little time left.
“If you’re willing, why not meet back here when we both complete our assignments? We’ll plan our future.”
“Our future.” At a sudden thought she glanced at the dog drowsing by the fire. “And Barnaby?”
“You heard Wyatt. He’ll make a boon companion on my journey. And when you and I are married, he’ll make a boon companion on our journey together.”
“Our journey together.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Oh, Josh. I never thought I’d welcome those words. But it’s what I want.”
Josh could hear Marty shouting for him. He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “You’ll be here when Barnaby and I return? No matter what?”
“No matter what. Count on it.”
“I love you, Grace Marin. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Against his mouth she whispered, “And I love you, too, Josh Cramer. Forever and always. Please take care of yourself. I’ll worry about you until we’re together again.”
“Don’t worry. We have angels watching out for us, remember?”
After one final kiss he whistled up the dog, and the two of them walked out the door.
Grace stood staring at the closed door, her head spinning. There was so much she didn’t understand and probably never would. But this much she knew without question. Through a series of events far stranger than anything she’d ever imagined, whether by magic, or mysticism, or simply the power of love, she’d just been granted her fondest wish. Now it would be up to her to write her own happy ending.
It would be a challenge. The world would do its best to intrude on paradise. But Grace didn’t have a doubt in the world that she and Josh would be up to the task. After all, they had some pretty amazing ancestors showing them the way. Best of all, they had love. As her mother had made perfectly clear, true love could overcome any obstacle, even death.
Feeling as strong as any warrior woman, she picked up her camera. Time to complete her assignment. No more would she be just passing through this world. She intended to get down to the business of living her life to the fullest. With Josh’s love as the beacon, the journey ahead was bright with promise.
Mellow Lemon Yellow
MARYKAYMCCOMAS
This story is dedicated to the amazing ladies
of the Clud Club.
Better late than never, I always say.
And to my surgeons
Curtis G. Tribble, MD,
and
James J. “Jay” Gangemi, MD,
at the University of Virginia Medical Center
who wanted to be dastardly villains in one of
my books.
You’ll have to settle for being real-life heroes.
One
She didn’t see him enter the room or hear his steps as he walked up the aisle to the coffin. She simply glanced up and there he was, weeping silently as he gazed down at the pasty white face with the brightly rouged cheeks—her father in his final slumber.
She sat in the first row of padded folding chairs and tried to look away again, uncomfortable with public displays of raw emotion. But not staring at him proved to be impossible.
Charlotte had no flare for fashion of her own, and she didn’t like to judge . . . but the man was wearing sparkling, ruby-red sequined shoes—large ones—with squat heels and red bows across the toes just like . . . well, just like Dorothy’s in the Wizard of Oz. With white sport socks. They hugged his ankles and climbed halfway up his thick, well-shaped, hairy calves—which were bare from there to his knees. His muscled thighs looked laminated in a pair of silver-gray football pants that disappeared beneath a baggy black overcoat with white piping around the collar and the large kangaroo-like pouches that took the place of normal pockets.
How could she not stare?
But who was he? Surely, not a friend of her father’s and certainly no one she knew. Though after a quick second peek at his face he did look, somehow, almost vaguely familiar to her . . . sort of.
Aside from the clothes, he was a nice-looking man, clean shaven, his dark hair clipped short. He stood in partial profile to her, his head bent low, the strong angles of his face draped in sadness. He had the kind of square chin she always thought denoted a strong character—a hero’s chin, with a nice straight nose, and his full lips curved downward at the corners, making his sorrow seem as real to her as her own.
But who was he?
She hated situations like this. What if he spoke to her? She was better with numbers than names and there was never a right thing to say, on either end, when someone died. What had she been thinking?
The funeral director, Mr. Robins, was a client of her father’s—now officially her client, since she planned to continue the family bookkeeping and accounting business. He’d been kind and helpful over the last couple of days . . . though he’d still managed to take her to the cleaners with the funeral arrangements. It was her fault really. She knew better. He’d cut her a great deal on a two-hour viewing, even after she’d explained that her father had outlived all of his family but her, and all but a handful of friends. Ten minutes after signing the agreement and walking out the door, she realized that she’d let her grief overcompensate on a ritual she didn’t need and her father would never know about, that she should have stuck to her guns about the simple, respectful grave side service she had originally asked for.
But then, she wasn’t good at sticking to her guns, either.
The man reached up to wipe a stream of tears from his cheek with the loose sleeve of his jack
et, and sniffled, loudly. She turned to look behind her, hoping to catch Mr. Robin’s eye as she was beginning to suspect that Mr. Ruby Shoes may have wandered in off the streets by accident and didn’t quite understand where he was or what he was doing.
Three older gentlemen sat together, all accountants like her father, who played poker with him every other Saturday night, except during tax season. Sidney Clark and Sue Butterfield were old friends of hers from high school. The CPA who specialized in tax preparation, Kendall Watson, who they sometimes used for overflow, sat alone several rows ahead of Mrs. Kludinski and Joe and Martha White, and their young daughter, Ruth—neighbors from their building, who had apparently come together.
The rest of the chairs in the large elegant room were empty. There was no sign of the funeral director, and oddly enough, no one else seemed to have even noticed the strangely dressed man at the front of the room.
Several of them nodded and sent her sympathetic smiles. But none of them looked concerned when the man turned and started toward her.
This is it then, she thought, drawing a deep breath and squirming in her chair. She was truly on her own now—in every sense—and would have to handle him herself.
Should she ask him to leave? Maybe he’d just say he was sorry for her loss and go. No harm done, no fuss necessary. But if she didn’t look at him, maybe he’d just leave—even better.
His crimson shoes twinkled into her field of vision and stopped in front of her. She couldn’t pretend to not see them. Her gaze lifted in stages from the athletic socks to the V of a rainbow-colored Grateful Dead T-shirt beneath the baggy jacket, to his face.
Her breath caught in her hyper-extended throat and she emitted a nervous nasal-choking noise when she tried to breathe again.
The room seemed to teeter as she gazed up into stunning blue eyes, bright and keen with knowledge and know-how. She wanted to call them Infinite Sky Blue or Majestic Royal Blue or even Sexy Sapphire, give them some romantic name or label, but they defied all classification.