“Hate you? I don’t hate you!” she cried in a broken voice. “I care for you! I always have. I’ve watched over you, every day. Every hour. Even during your life-- ”
Her words cut off and she pressed her lips together. Something that looked like fear flickered in her eyes then she quickly shifted her gaze away.
Confusion joined my rage. “What are you talking about? Care for me?” A bitter, humorless sound escaped me. “We both know that’s not true. And how could you have watched over me during my life when you weren’t even born until decades after I died?” When she remained silent, I shook her again. “Damn it, answer me!”
She returned her gaze to me. That infuriating look-right-through-me expression was back in place. “Unhand me, Lord Ryland.”
I fought back the urge to shake her until the answers I sought fell from her lips. After pulling in a shaky breath I released her then fisted my hands at my sides, refusing to even entertain the possibility that the galling heat I’d experienced when I touched her was anything other than rage.
I closed my eyes and an image of Miss Heely filled my mind. She’d been so happy only moments ago. Her death was impossible to comprehend. I had to do something. Even if I failed, I had to try. Had to. But what?
And suddenly I knew. Even as an unearthly calm came over me, a small inner voice, the one that realized the dire consequences of what I was thinking, screamed no! But the whisper coming from my soul drowned out the scream.
I squared my shoulders and looked into Director Foscari’s eyes. “I am invoking my Crisis Clause.”
Bewilderment clouded her gaze. “Why? There is no point. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Regardless, I am invoking it anyway.”
She grabbed my hand and shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. If you use your Crisis Clause to save a human life, you’ll give up-- ”
“All rights to Heaven. Forever. Yes, I know the rules.”
“But Heaven is what you’ve always wanted. Everything you’ve wanted! And you’ll be giving it up for nothing. It’s too late. She’s already dead.”
“You can’t stop me.” I jerked my hand from hers, stepped back, and raised my face to the heavens. “I, Tristan Barrington, fourth Earl of Ryland, born twenty-four September 1785, died twelve January 1820 do hereby invoke my Crisis Clause.”
I lowered my head and for a single heartbeat my gaze met Director Foscari’s.
And then I was gone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“It’s very nice of you to drive me to work,” Emma said. She sat in the passenger seat of Liam’s pickup, her left hand wrapped warmly in his, her right hand literally pinching her own thigh to make sure all this was real-- the beautiful man and the beautiful future that stretched out before them like a cross-country highway paved in gold.
“Anything to spend a few extra minutes with my fiancé,” Liam said. “In fact, instead of just dropping you off, I think I’ll stick around and do some reading. Flirt with the sexy librarian. Then take her to lunch.” He turned to smile at her then lifted their entwined hands to press a warm kiss against her fingers.
“That sounds great, but hey, eyes on the road, mister,” Emma admonished with a laugh when he touched his tongue to her palm. “We want to get there in one piece.”
“Fine, Miss Bossy Pants.” He heaved a dramatic sigh as he returned his full attention to his driving. “But it’s damn hard not to look at you.”
“Do you think you’ll still be saying sweet things like that when we’re ninety?”
“Every chance I get. Think you’ll still love me when my tattoo has drooped to my elbow, my hair is gone, and I keep patting you on the head thinking you’re the dog?”
She laughed. “I promise. By then my tattoo will be down around my knees.”
“No problem, sweetheart. I happen to love your knees.”
Emma heaved a blissful sigh. “I am seriously the luckiest woman on the planet.”
“I am seriously glad you think so. I’m feeling pretty damn lucky myself.”
Liam turned into the library’s parking lot then pulled into the spot near the back where she normally parked. After he shut the engine, he turned to her and smiled. And Emma’s insides turned to goo. God, he really was beautiful. And not just on the outside. Inside. Where it mattered. And he was hers. And she was his. And she was going to get to spend the rest of her life with him. Loving him. Being loved by him. Raising a family with him.
How incredibly wonderful was that?
Love and happiness swamped her, stealing her breath, overwhelming her. Tears flooded into her eyes.
Liam’s smile instantly vanished, replaced by a look of pure male panic. “Hey! Cut that out. Seriously. No crying allowed.”
His worry and concern only served to bring on another onslaught of tears that ran down her cheeks. Liam snatched a wad of napkins from the center console and frantically patted her wet cheeks. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re crying.”
“Happy tears.” She clasped his wrist to stop his tear wiping efforts. “I’m just so darn happy.”
Doubt was written all over his face. “You sure? Because you’re, you know, crying.”
A watery laugh escaped her. “Because I’m so happy. There’s just not enough room inside me for all the love and happiness I’m feeling so it’s leaking out through my eyeballs.”
He pressed a quick kiss against her lips then leaned back and shot her a mock frown. “Next time give me a head’s up so I know. Something like, ‘happy tears coming!’ Because those happy tears look exactly the same as unhappy ones to me. No more scaring me like that, okay?”
“Promise.” She leaned forward until their lips just touched, then whispered, “Te amo a universus sors,” against his mouth.
“God, our kids are going to do so great on their SAT’s,” he said, his laughing words ending on a groan when she playfully ran the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip. “What does that fancy Latin expression mean?”
She leaned back and smiled into his eyes. “It means ‘I love you a whole lot.’”
“That works out really well because it just so happens I love you a whole lot, too.” His eyes darkened and he reached for her. With a laugh she opened her door and quickly scooted out. “Oh, no you don’t. I know that look. It’s the sort of look that makes my panties fall off.”
He exited the pick-up and shot her an exaggerated leer over the hood. “Sounds good to me.”
She responded with her sternest look. “Time and place, big guy. Time and place.”
“Not helping,” he said, rounding the car. With a laughing squeal, Emma tried to evade him, but he caught her in two easy strides. Without pausing, he swung her up in his arms and continued walking toward the building. “You know how much Strict Librarian turns me on.”
“Can’t possibly be as much as Big Strong Fireman turns me on,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Looks like we’ll need to settle this with a contest. Strict Librarian versus Big Strong Fireman.”
“It’s a date. I can see I’m going to have a very difficult time getting any work done with you around today.”
“Most likely,” he agreed with an unrepentant grin. “That a problem?”
“Nope. I have an in with the librarian,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“What a coincidence. So do I.”
“You sure do.” Emma heaved a blissful sigh. “I can’t wait to see Barb’s face when I tell her we’re engaged.”
“Looking forward to that myself. She’s a really nice lady.”
“Indeed she is. That day you came to the library with those peonies to ask me out, she predicted that you and I were, without a doubt, fated to kiss-- and a whole lot more.”
“So she’s really nice and really smart,” Liam said with a grin. “Just like my beautiful future wife.
“Future wife,” Emma rep
eated. “Wow. My heart just skipped about twelve beats.” She kissed his cheek then wriggled. “As much as I love it when you lug me around as if I weigh nothing, you need to put me down now. I have to dig out the library keys from my purse, and besides, I wouldn’t want anyone who might happen by to think I’d broken my ankle or something.”
“Your wish is my command.” He set her on feet then gave her butt a friendly squeeze. They’d only taken a couple of steps when he patted his jeans’ pocket. “I left my cell phone in the truck. Be right back.”
“I’ll open up,” she said, continuing on. She unzipped her purse and pawed through the contents for her keys. “I really need to clean out this disaster,” she muttered, shoving aside her wallet, several lipsticks, a pack of tissues, a wad of receipts and an empty Almond Joy wrapper. No keys. With an impatient exclamation, she paused on the sidewalk and dug deeper.
“Smaller purse. I definitely need a smaller purse. Where are you, keys? Come out, come out wherever you are.” She was talking to herself and so focused on rifling through her bag, it took several seconds for her to realize that Liam was shouting her name. She looked up and turned toward him. Saw him racing toward her with a panicked expression, yelling, frantically pointing behind her, waving his arms.
“Emma! Look out! Run!”
She whipped around. Saw a silver SUV jump the curb only a few feet away from her.
Then she saw no more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Liam was walking across the parking lot toward Emma, his forgotten cell phone tucked in his pocket, when the hum of a car’s motor cut through the morning quiet. He flicked a glance toward the sound and frowned. A silver SUV was speeding down Main Street. As it drew closer he noted the young male driver looking down. Probably texting. Damn it, when would people realize how dangerous that was?
The thought had no sooner blinked through his mind than the driver appeared to lose control of the vehicle. As if in slow motion Liam saw the young man look up. The panic that crossed his face as he grabbed the wheel and turned it sharply. Too sharply. Overcompensating. The SUV headed toward the sidewalk.
The sidewalk where Emma stood, rummaging through her bag.
Liam took off at a dead run.
“Emma! Look out! Run!” he shouted, frantically waving his arms.
He watched her look up. Turn toward the SUV. Then freeze as she watched it jump the curb just a few feet from where she stood.
Too late. Damn it, too late. There was no way she could get out of the way.
“Emma!” Liam yelled, racing forward, his panicked gaze fixed on her.
The SUV struck her with a sickening thud. She rolled across the hood then hit the windshield with such force the glass shattered. Her body bounced away like a basketball off a back board then crashed to the pavement, the momentum of the impact rolling her over several times. The vehicle hit the thick trunk of a tree and came to a jarring halt.
“No!” The word ripped from Liam’s burning lungs in a primal scream. His legs turned to water, but he kept running and ripped his phone from his pocket to dial 911. “There’s been a car accident at the library on Main Street,” he shouted into the phone the instant the operator answered. “Injuries, possible fatalities. We need two ambulances, police and fire.”
He reached Emma’s side and tossed the phone aside as he dropped onto the ground next to her. And everything inside him halted. His heart. His blood. His breath. Bright crimson rivulets dripped from her nose and mouth, and the way her head was contorted… he’d been to enough accident scenes. He knew what it all meant. His instincts told him there was no way she could have survived such trauma. Told him she was dead before he touched her. But his reflexes as a first responder propelled him into action.
“Stay with me, Emma,” he said, barely able to push the urgent, hoarse words from his constricted throat as he ripped off his jacket and used it to stabilize her neck. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Don’t leave me.”
A press of his fingers against her neck over her carotid artery confirmed there was no pulse. He leaned down, looked at her chest for any signs of respiration, praying he’d see her chest rise, feel a breath against his cheek, hear a heartbeat, see some sign of life. But there was nothing. Only terrifying stillness and silence.
He immediately began chest compressions. “Don’t leave me, Emma” he shouted. “I love you. Stay with me. God, please stay with me...” He repeated the words over and over as he feverishly worked on her, refusing to give up, even though the same instincts that drove him to continue CPR told him that it was useless. No heartbeat. No respiration. Severe trauma… beyond anything the human body could survive. Still, he couldn’t give up. But his breaking heart knew.
Knew his sweet, beautiful Emma was gone.
~~~
Alessandra stood before the only Council member she could summon on such short notice. Julien Weller, the Council’s senior angel had listened to her state her case and now studied her over his steepled hands, forcing Alessandra to display an outward calm completely at odds with the frantic impatience clawing at her. Every fiber of her being vibrated with panic and fear.
“You’re saying Lord Ryland invoked his Crisis Clause in an effort to save his female human,” said Council-angel Weller. His deep voice reverberated through Alessandra and she bit back the urge to grab him by his robe’s lapels and scream, Hurry up!
“Yes,” she answered. “Lord Ryland experienced a genuine epiphany during his task and now believes in True Love. Which is why I wish to help him.”
“Again,” Council-angel Weller stressed, his ebony gaze boring into hers. “This would not be the first time you helped Lord Ryland.”
“True.”
“In fact, you saved his human life. More than once.”
“Correct.”
“Is he aware of that?”
“No, sir.” Indeed she inwardly cringed at the thought of Lord Ryland knowing how many times she’d saved his human life. Or the fact that she’d used all her Human Life Saves on him.
“Does he know that you are here now on his behalf?”
“No, sir.”
“It seems you’ve already gone above and beyond in your attempts to aid him, Director Foscari. Lord Ryland’s human died as the direct result of a timeline change he himself initiated. He then invoked his Crisis Clause in an attempt to save her, knowing full well that by doing so he forfeited all future rights to Heaven. Was he in any way coerced into making that decision?”
“No, but-- ”
“Then I fail to see why you requested this meeting.”
“Lord Ryland has waited two centuries to enter Heaven-- ”
“Due to his own errors, decisions, and poor judgment.”
“Yes. However, he’d finally allowed love into his heart. Had finally seen the error of his ways and earned his passage to Heaven.”
“And he gave it up.”
“Yes. In an act of complete and utter selflessness that I believe deserves to be recognized and rewarded. I don’t want the opportunity to earn his way into Heaven to be lost to him for all eternity.” She squared her shoulders. “I know the rules, sir. I’m asking you to make an exception.”
Precious seconds ticked away while Council-angel Weller continued to study her. Only centuries of practice allowed her to keep her emotions and thoughts hidden. And hidden they had to remain. The Council could never know how much this meant to her. How much Lord Ryland meant to her.
“If I grant your request, there will be consequences,” he finally said.
“I expected as much,” Alessandra said.
“For him, and for you. You’d have to forfeit a great deal.”
“I willingly accept whatever terms you put forth.”
He hiked a single brow. “Without even knowing what they are?”
“Yes. Time is of the essence, sir. In fact, I fear it may already be too late to successfully intervene.”
“Yes, there is a time limit in such matters,” he agreed, nodding sl
owly. “You realize that even if I do grant your request, there is no guarantee Lord Ryland will go to heaven-- only the chance of it. That final decision is not mine to make, and it would entirely depend on Lord Ryland’s actions.”
“A chance for him is all I’m asking for, sir.” Please, please grant it to me, her inner voice screamed inside her head. Stop staring at me and do as I ask! Now. Now! Before it’s too late.
But she greatly feared it was already too late.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Liam continued his desperate, useless CPR, knowing it was hopeless but unable to stop. He silently counted off the compressions as the wail of sirens sounded in the distance. He checked her pulse again. Nothing. He began another round of compressions.
“Come on, Emma,” he pleaded. “Breathe for me. Come on.” God, this could not be. This just could not be. She’d been laughing, smiling at him only moments ago. They had their entire lives ahead of them.
Except they didn’t. One single instant had snatched it all away.
“Breathe, Emma,” he shouted. “Damn it, breathe.” The word ripped from his throat, a feral, desperate cry of terror and despair.
Suddenly the air around them seemed to shimmer. Like the heat waves that rose from the pavement on a steaming hot day. Never pausing in his ministrations, Liam glanced up. Must be some sort of illusion. He shook his head to clear his vision, but instead of disappearing, the shimmers grew more pronounced. And in the next instant he heard a gasping breath.
His hands on Emma’s chest stilled and his gaze shot back to her. And he stared. At the utterly beautiful and utterly impossible sight of Emma blinking up at him. “Liam,” she whispered.
“Emma.” Her name rushed passed his lips, a fervent prayer of shock, disbelief and heart stopping relief. He pressed his fingers to her neck. Her pulse throbbed, steady and strong.
She turned her head slightly and winced. “Don’t move,” he said quickly. He heard the rescue vehicles approaching, but Liam couldn’t tear his gaze away the miracle of her clear-eyed gaze staring up at him.
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