by Jo Goodman
"It was an accident!" he said harshly. "We fought about Jay Mac's ultimatum. Nina didn't mind being Jay Mac's widow, but she didn't want to be the former wife. It was all I could do to keep her from going after your father right then. There was no reasoning with her. She went out on the balcony of her room and started ranting there. You can't imagine what it was like. Nina never raised her voice. She was suddenly screaming so loud the neighbors could have heard."
"So you pushed her."
"She fell."
"You helped her."
"She was going to ruin everything." He took his hands out of his pockets and leaned forward, bracing his arms on the back of the pew where Rennie sat. "All my planning. All the intricate work of setting up the Queen's Point project. That was no simpleton's scheme, Rennie. I waited years to find the right project and then had to scramble to make certain you didn't undo it with your maps and your insistence on another route."
"All of it would have been for nothing," she said gently. "You had to kill her."
"There was no other way."
"That's right."
He shut his eyes a moment; his shoulders sagged. A breath shuddered through him as he composed himself. "I miss her, Rennie," he said quietly. "I wish things had turned out differently."
"I know you do."
Hollis nodded. His smile was sad, almost regretful. "That makes it easier, then," he said, "to do what I have to do now."
Rennie twisted on the pew to face him better. "What do you—"
Her words were cut off as Hollis's large, powerful hands closed over her throat. Rennie kicked at the pew in front of her and clawed at the wrists that held her neck like a vise. Waves of black clouded her vision. This time she didn't think she was going to faint. She thought she was going to die.
The confessionals on either side of the priest's box swung open simultaneously. Judge Halsey stepped out of one, followed by the uniformed sergeant from the Jones Street Station. Jarret stepped out of the other. His right hand hovered above the handle of his Remington.
"Let her go, Banks," he said. His voice was without inflection and all the colder because of it.
Hollis's eyes darted from Jarret to the judge to the policeman. His fingers loosened on Rennie's throat, but he didn't release her. "Where... how..." He couldn't believe they had been there all the time. "I checked," he said. He twisted his head as he heard footsteps approaching from the back of the church. The priest who had come out of the confessional earlier was walking toward them.
"A small diversion," the priest called to him. "A necessary one as it turned out. You were very thorough in searching the church for extra ears." His pleasant demeanor faded as he saw Hollis's hands still clutching Rennie's neck. "You'd be wise to let my goddaughter go," he said. "Mr. Sullivan looks to be getting a bit anxious about her safety."
Hollis realized the man he was talking to was Bishop Colden. Feeling the trap closing in on him, he released Rennie's neck—and slid his hands under her arms and drew her out of her seat and against him like a shield. In that same instant he saw that Jarret had drawn his gun, but with Rennie's body as his protection, he was unafraid.
"I'm not going to hurt her," he said, "not as long as you let me leave. I have a carriage waiting outside. As soon as we're far enough away, I'll let her go."
"How far is far?" asked Jarret, holding his gun steady. His eyes darted over Rennie, making a quick assessment. She was holding her own, frightened, but not paralyzed by it. "Do you want to leave the city?" he asked. "The state? There isn't any place in this world that's far enough, Hollis. Give it up. Let Rennie go."
"He's right," Judge Halsey said. His gaunt features were stern, his voice compelling. "We've heard everything. Where do you think you can go now?"
Hollis didn't ease his grip. He quickly surveyed the quartet of men. Neither the judge nor the bishop was carrying a weapon. The sergeant only had a nightstick. Hollis's eyes stayed a moment longer on Jarret's gun. It was shaking ever so slightly, just like the hand that held it.
Rennie's attention was also caught by Jarret's gun hand. She saw him attempt to adjust his grip, then roll his shoulder as he tried to get the feeling to return. She realized Hollis had seen it, too, and understood what it meant. Still using her as a shield, he hauled her over the pew and began to back down the side aisle.
"Sorry about the arm, Sullivan," Hollis said. "That must have hurt like hell."
There was no change in Jarret's icy expression, but his shaking gun hand steadied instantly. He raised the Remington confidently and fired off a single shot. It caught Hollis in the shoulder and knocked him backward. His grip on Rennie loosened completely as he fell away.
Hollis was struggling to his knees when Jarret came to stand over him. Jarret put the Remington away and motioned to the sergeant to secure the prisoner. He slipped his hand around Rennie's waist and pulled her close. She was staring at Hollis. "Sorry about the arm," she told him. "It must hurt like hell."
Epilogue
Summer 1877
It was a clear night. The lake surface reflected moonshine. Fish leaped at the stars as though they were glittering breadcrumbs. Wrapped in a light shawl, Rennie sat on the grassy bank of the lake and let her feet dangle mere inches from the gently lapping water. A few hundred yards away, separated by a wood of tall pines, was the mining community of Queen's Point. Given the lateness of the hour only a few oil lamps still flickered their smoky yellow light.
Behind Rennie, farther up the mountain, lanterns and torches marked the mining tunnels. There was an occasional shout, a tersely barked order, the rattle of machinery as it approached the adit, but most of the sounds of activity in the mines was swallowed in the silver-lined bowels of the mountain.
It did not mean it was a quiet evening. Beyond Rennie's vision, on the down slope of the mountain, a rail gang was laying track along the curve that had been graded only that morning. Hammers slammed against the steel spikes and rails. Heavy timber thudded to the ground. There was a rhythm and music in the work in progress—at least to Rennie's ears. Leaning back on her elbows, her eyes closed, Rennie's index fingers wagged to the beat. Her head bobbed slightly in two-quarter time.
She did not hear Jarret's approach. He stopped just behind her, reluctant to invade her favorite sanctuary along the lake. He watched the faint movements of her head and hands. Her dangling feet tapping against the air. When he finally dropped beside her he was smiling. "Conducting?" he asked.
Rennie wasn't startled. These days she no longer needed to hear his steps to sense his presence. Her eyes remained closed. She smiled dreamily and didn't miss a beat. "Mm-hmm. The Queen's Point Symphony."
Jarret listened for a moment. He heard the same steady rhythms and thundering staccatos she did. Tonight she was conducting her own composition. In the morning he would take up the task again. All the men in the rail gang knew who was responsible for deciding what route would be taken, what grades the engines could negotiate, how the tunnels would be structured, and what materials would be used. The men respected Rennie's engineering skills, but as Jay Mac had predicted, they were not keen on taking their orders directly from her. Rennie had written the music; Jarret interpreted it.
It was a good arrangement. Rennie had never aspired to supervise a rail gang, and Jarret was a natural leader. In New York Jay Mac was still taking credit for their success as a team.
Liking the look of her in the moonlight, her skin pale and her lips and hair dark, Jarret leaned toward her and dropped a kiss on her mouth. He meant it to be quick, but Rennie had other ideas. She teased him with parted lips and a hint of peppermint. It took a measure of willpower to pull back.
Rennie gave Jarret a sideways look, her disappointment obvious. "Are you going to be working with the men all through the night?" she asked, suspicious. "They're going to mutiny, Jarret, and then where will I be?"
"I think mutiny can only be properly applied to sailors and their captains," he said dryly. "Anyway, they wanted to lay another q
uarter mile of track before they quit tonight. We're going to start blasting out the tunnel tomorrow."
"You're three days ahead of schedule."
"I thought you might like that."
She was thoughtful. "I'm not certain I do," she said finally. "I love it here. I'm not so very anxious to leave. Are you?"
"No." There was a lot to recommend Queen's Point, not the least of which was Rennie's own happiness. They had been welcomed by the community from the beginning. The laying of the rails was a much anticipated event, and Rennie's own role in the project was simply accepted. He had never seen her so confident as she was since coming to Queen's Point, and the one thing that had been hanging over her head these last weeks was about to be removed.
Jarret reached in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a piece of paper. He waved it in front of her nose.
"What's that?" asked Rennie.
"A telegram from Jay Mac. It just came over the wire. There was a decision this afternoon."
Rennie sat up, took the paper from Jarret, and unfolded it in her lap. She squinted in the darkness to read it.
"Let me help you," he said. "It says, 'Life at hard labor.' The judge finally passed sentence on Hollis, Rennie."
She simply stared at the paper for a long time, saying nothing. It had been six weeks since Rennie and Jarret had finished their testimony against Hollis Banks. The trial had lasted two weeks beyond that. It was sensationalized in newspapers all across the country. Jury deliberations went on for only a few hours before bringing in a guilty verdict. Now the sentencing was done. Rennie had felt as if nothing was settled—until now. "I wondered if it would ever happen." She looked at Jarret, her clear, dark eyes pained. "I'm glad it was this," she said softly. "I never wanted him to hang."
Jarret thought about all the innocent passengers who had died on No. 412. He took back the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. "You're more forgiving than I am."
She shook her head. "I don't believe that. You could have killed him at the church and you didn't."
"I was damn lucky not to have killed you at the church."
Rennie didn't believe that, either. "Your hand was rock steady. You were only shaking to lead Hollis into a misstep—and he took the bait. I was never in the least danger from you."
"You sound awfully certain that's the way it happened," he said, raising his eyebrows and giving her a sideways glance. "Your confidence in me is duly noted, if slightly misplaced."
He had managed to plant a small seed of doubt. She looked at him skeptically, frowning. In return, he grinned. Rennie shook her head, not knowing what to make of him. "You're never going to tell me the truth, are you?" she asked.
"Can't. I'm not certain I know it myself." He remembered his heart pounding, his hand trembling, the shoulder dropping at an odd angle, and for the life of him didn't know what was fear and what was fakery. At the moment Hollis Banks started to leave with Rennie, an absolute sense of calm had settled over him. He acted because it was never a choice not to. "I recall they were the longest seconds of my life," he said. "I just don't remember what happened in them."
Rennie laid her hand over his injured shoulder and rubbed his arm gently. "It was bothering you today, wasn't it? I was watching you."
"Were you?" He stretched out, laying his head in her lap. She continued to massage his shoulder, and her touch was as healing as anything a doctor had ever done for him. "That must be it, then."
"What must be it?"
"You'll think I'm crazy," he said, closing his eyes. A small smile came to his lips. "The hair on the back of my neck was standing up most of the afternoon. I thought Dancer Tubbs was around."
Rennie's fingers stilled for a moment, then resumed their gentle kneading. "Jarret, I was watching you this morning while you were handing out assignments... not this afternoon."
"It couldn't have been Dancer," he said. "He wouldn't risk showing himself in public during the day."
"He didn't risk it, did he? No one saw him."
Jarret laughed. "Rennie. We don't even know that he was here."
"The hair stood up on the back of your neck. That's good enough for me."
He played along. It was worth it to keep her busy on his shoulder. Occasionally her fingertips would graze his neck just above his collar. That was very good, too. "Perhaps you have some theory as to why he's skulking around Queen's Point."
"Maybe he thinks the railroad is a threat to his peace."
"I don't know. Queen's Point is a good distance from Dancer's bailiwick."
"Maybe he's just curious."
"Dancer Tubbs keeps his privacy simply because he's generally not curious."
"Or maybe," she said slowly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze, "he's come to take care of a bird with a broken wing."
Jarret's brows came together. "Bird with a...?" He sighed. "You mean me, I suppose."
"Mm."
"I hardly think that's likely."
"Why? Ever since we got here you've been making certain Dancer's had supplies. I know Jay Mac asked you to look after him, but you would have done it on your own. He's come around to repay you. That's the only way Dancer can accept the gifts." She tapped him on the nose. "And you know what else?"
"Hmm?"
"I think if Maggie really wants to learn about healing, she should spend time with Dancer Tubbs."
Jarret commented cautiously. "You, Mrs. Sullivan, have a most interesting imagination."
She bent her head. Her mouth hovered just above Jarret's. "You think so?"
He nodded. His lips brushed hers.
"Want to know what I'm imagining now?" she asked slyly.
"No," he whispered. His eyes opened and he looked into hers. He smiled. "I want to do what you're imagining now."
"You're certain?"
"Mm-hmm."
Rennie gave him a nudge and pushed him off her lap. In seconds she was standing up and wriggling out of her gown, stockings, and shoes. Once Jarret got over his shock and realized what she really wanted to do, he joined the race, pitching his dusty boots and jeans behind him, flinging his shirt and flannels into the boughs. He dove into the lake water a heartbeat after Rennie.
She came up laughing, shaking her head and spraying water in a circle around her head. He groped, found her legs, and pulled her under. She sputtered until his lips found hers. She blew bubbles against his mouth. They surfaced together this time, exhilarated and out of breath. Rennie's cotton shift clung to her like a second skin. Jarret's fingers slipped under the hem and initiated the molting process. He pitched the shift onto the bank which left Rennie as naked as he. Her body slipped smoothly against him; her breasts brushed his chest. He palmed her hips and caught her mouth with his. She wrapped her legs around him.
Cool water lapped around their heated bodies. Rennie's arms circled his shoulders. Her mouth pressed hard against his as he guided himself into her. He swallowed her gasp and held her still. She kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and buried her face in the curve of his neck. He whispered against her ear, "I love you, Rennie." His teeth caught her lobe and tugged gently. She shivered against him, not from the cold, but from the heat. He absorbed her shudder and said lowly, "The one thing you can't imagine is how much."
She had only the depth of her own emotion as a gauge, and if what he felt for her was only a fraction of what she returned, then she knew she was very well loved indeed. She told him so.
They made love in the silver lake water, ducking the moonshine and skirting the fish. Their laughter skittered across the surface like skipping stones, and they rose up to meet the pleasure in each other's arms.
Afterward they drifted apart, clinging by the merest touch of their fingers as they caught their breath. Rennie was the first to leave the canopy of stars for the darker canopy of pine boughs. By the time Jarret joined her she was dressed in her gown and shoes and carrying her stockings and dripping wet shift. She held out his jeans to him and went to retrieve his shirt from the branches
.
She made two leaps before she managed to pull it down. Something fell out of the breast pocket. Rennie knelt down and searched the dry bed of needles. Her fingers touched something cool and smooth. It fit neatly into the palm of her hand. She backed into the moonlight while Jarret was putting on his shirt and held up the oval object.
For a moment she thought she held a mirror. It was her reflection staring back at her... and yet it wasn't.
What she held was a picture frame. She looked up at Jarret and saw that he was watching her, waiting for her reaction.
"This is a photograph of me," she said softly, wonderingly. "It was on the mantel in my bedroom in New York. When did you..."
"Stole it, I'm afraid." He stood just behind her and looked down over her shoulder. "That photograph's been a companion of mine for quite a while. I took it before I left New York—the first time."
Startled, Rennie glanced up at him. "You carried this around all those months before I came to Echo Falls?"
"I never thought I was going to see you again." He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her back against him.
She twisted in his arms and tucked the picture frame back into his breast pocket. Her eyes were luminous. "I know you love me," she said softly, "but I've never known until now how very long it's been."
"Almost since the first," he said, touching his forehead to hers. "And that's nothing compared to forever."
Standing in the circle of his arms, one of her hands over the picture, the picture over his heart, Rennie decided forever might, just might, be long enough.
The End
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