by Nora Roberts
fine son.
"I didn't know the gun was in my hand. I didn't know I'd used it until I saw the red against his white tuxedo shirt. He looked at me, so surprised, just a little annoyed. I could almost imagine him saying, 'Damn, Helen, you've ruined my shirt.' But he didn't, of course. He didn't say anything. I went home and tried to convince myself it had never happened. Never happened at all. I've carried the gun around with me ever since. Everywhere."
"You could have thrown it away," Pilar said quietly.
"How could I? What if one of you were arrested? I'd need it then to prove I'd done it myself. I couldn't let him hurt my baby, or James. I thought it could be over. And now… I need to tell James and Linc first. I need to tell them before I talk to the police."
Cycles, Sophia thought. Sometimes, they needed to be stopped. "If you hadn't used that gun to save my life tonight, you wouldn't have to tell them anything."
"I love you," Helen said simply.
"I know it. And this is what happened here tonight. Just exactly what happened." She took Helen by the shoulders. "Pay attention to me. You came back, saw Jerry holding me at gunpoint. He'd brought both guns with him—he'd intended to plant them in my room to implicate me. We'd struggled, and the other gun, the one that killed my father, was on the floor near the doorway. You picked it up, and you shot him before he shot me."
"Sophia."
"That's what happened." She took Helen's hand, squeezed it. Took her mother's. "Isn't it, Mama?"
"Yes. That's exactly what happened. You saved my child. Do you think I wouldn't save yours?"
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. You want to make it up to me?" Pilar demanded. "Then you'll do this. I don't care about what happened one night almost thirty years ago, but I care about what happened tonight. I care about what you've been to me most of my life. I'm not going to let someone I love be destroyed. Over what? Over money, over pride, over image? If you love me, if you want to make up for that mistake so long ago, you'll do exactly what Sophie's asking you to do. Tony was her father. Who has more right to decide than she?"
"Jerry's dead," Sophia said. "He killed, threatened, destroyed, all because of one selfish act by my father. And it ends here. I'm going to go call the police. Someone should take a look at Rene." She leaned forward, brushed her lips over Helen's cheek. "Thank you. For the rest of my life."
Late, late into the night, Sophia sat in the kitchen sipping tea laced with brandy. She'd given her statement, had sat, her hand holding Helen's, as Helen had given hers.
Justice, she thought, didn't always come as you expected. Helen had said that once. And here it was. Unexpected justice. It hadn't hurt that Rene had been hysterical, had babbled to everyone, including Claremont and Maguire when they'd arrived, that Jerry was a madman, a murderer, and had forced her at gunpoint to come with him.
Some snakes slithered through, Sophia supposed. Because life was a messy business.
Now at last, the police were gone, the house was quiet. She looked up as her mother and grandmother came in. "Aunt Helen?"
"She's finally sleeping." Pilar went to the cupboard, got two more cups. "We've talked. She'll be all right. She's going to resign her judgeship. I suppose she needs to." Pilar set the cups on the table. "I've told Mama everything, Sophia. I felt she had a right to know."
"Nonna." Sophia reached for her hand. "Did I do the right thing?"
"You did the loving thing. That often matters more. It was brave of you, Sophia. Brave of both of you. It makes me proud." She sat down, sighed. "Helen took a life, and gave one back. That closes the circle. We won't speak of it again. Tomorrow my daughter's getting married, and we'll have joy in this house again. Soon, the harvest—the bounty. And another season ends. The next is yours," she said to Sophia. "Yours and Tyler's. Your life, your legacies. Eli and I are retiring the first of the year."
"Nonna."
"Torches are meant to be passed. Take what I give you."
The faint irritation in her grandmother's voice made her smile. "I will. Thank you, Nonna."
"Now, it's late. The bride needs her sleep, and so do I." She got to her feet, leaving her tea untouched. "Your young man went back to the winery. You don't need so much sleep."
True enough, Sophia thought as she raced across the grounds toward the winery. She had so much energy, so much life inside her, she didn't think she'd ever need to sleep again.
He'd set up lights, and the old building hulked under them. She could see the sparkle of broken glass from the windows, the smears from smoke, the chars from flame. But still, it stood.
It withstood.
Perhaps he sensed her. She liked to think so. He stepped out of the broken doorway as she ran up. And he caught her, held her close and tight and inches off the ground.
"There you are, Sophia. I figured you needed a little time with your mother, then I was coming to get you."
"I got you first. Hold on, okay? Just keep holding on."
"You can count on it." Even as he did, the ice skimmed through his belly again. He pressed his face to her hair. "God. God. When I think—"
"Don't think. Don't," she said and turned her mouth to his.
"I'm not going to be able to let you out of my sight for the next, oh, ten or fifteen years."
"Right now that suits me fine. You all alone here?"
"Yeah. David needed to get the kids home, and I sent Granddad back before he keeled over. He was exhausted. James was still pretty shaken, so Linc took him back to my place since your mom's with Helen."
"Good. Everything's as it should be." She rested her head on his shoulder, looked toward the winery. "It could have been worse."
He eased her back, touched his lips gently to the bruise on her cheek. "It could have been a hell of a lot worse."
"You should've seen the other guy."
He managed a strangled laugh as he held her tight again. "That's a little sick."
"Maybe, but it's the way I feel. He died with my mark on his face, and I'm glad of it. I'm glad I caused him some pain. And now I can put it away. All of it. Lock it away and everything starts now. Everything, Ty," she said. "We'll rebuild the winery, rebuild our lives. And make them ours. Giambelli-MacMillan is going to come back, bigger and better than ever. That's what I want."
"That's handy, because that's what I want, too. Let's go home, Sophie."
She tucked her hand in his and walked away from the damage and the scars. The first hints of dawn lightened the sky in the east. When the sun broke through, she thought, it was going to be a beautiful beginning.