by R. T. Wolfe
Grace came running in at that time, screaming tirades in Spanish.
Rose was half mad, shrieking with anger. She struck him again, but he wouldn't fall. As he staggered, she caught sight of her mother. The blood, her tears. Her mother's hands clutched her head as she wept. The pause gave Miguel his chance. He connected his fist with her temple. She fell face-first and hit her head on the back of the nearby kitchen chair with nearly as much force as the blow from Miguel. Stars danced in her vision, and she hung onto the kitchen table, trying to sort out the sounds: her mother crying, Grace screaming, Miguel cussing, and Andy...
He'd heard the screams of Grace from the drive, and the sound of insane barking from the dog in back. But the sight of Rose bleeding sent him over a staggering edge he'd never crossed. He didn't slow down when he hit the front door and felt the vibration when it struck the wall after he shoved it out of his way. It took three running strides through their living room to reach the kitchen. He growled much like the dog as he flew through the air and took Miguel from the side. They toppled the kitchen table with Andy, fist and fury, landing on top. Taking Miguel's greasy hair, he used his other hand to punch his jaw hard enough to hear a crack. Miguel bucked beneath him. Andy hit him again, knocking out a tooth and bloodying his lip.
As he pulled back to wind up another punch, he heard a rip from the back of the house—the screen door. Miguel took the opportunity and twisted, spinning sloppily, and staggered to his feet. Running past the screaming Grace, he stopped abruptly at the front door and turned, squinting deeply.
Andy checked on Rose and saw her look to her mother, to Miguel, then back again. Andy knew what she was contemplating. Torn between the same two ideas, he watched as he saw Rose's expression change to astonishment. She stared at her biological father as she lifted her hand to cover her mouth.
Miguel stood at the door and smiled through blood and a missing tooth. "Mi hija," he said. Then, he turned and ran from Charcoal as the dog took off after him.
* * *
Rose sat in one of the rough, padded chairs of the ER waiting room. Andy paced in front of her as images of her mother flashed through her mind. Hurt, bleeding, exposed. She tucked her legs up on the seat and placed her hands over the ice pack on her swollen temple and her ears as if that would make the sound of her mother's whimpers stop running through her mind.
Andy paused and sat next to her. "She amazing, don't you think? Refusing pain meds?"
She nodded. "Dave will stay with her and make sure the nurses don't make a mistake. She keeps saying, 'He knows.'"
"They said concussion."
She closed her eyes at the feel of his warm hand on her cheek. "Yes." Rose nodded. "Slight. She's sleeping now."
Grace and Wes walked to the two of them. Grace wrapped her arms around Rose's neck. "We'll stop back in the morning."
She hugged her back. "Yes, hopefully it will just be for overnight observation. We're leaving soon, too."
Rose pulled Grace back and took a deep breath as she grabbed her shoulders. Looking deep into her dark brown eyes, she asked what she didn't want to know. "What does it mean? What did he say?"
Grace nodded in understanding. She placed a hand on the side of Rose's face and said plainly, "It means, 'my daughter.'"
* * *
The sun began its descent in the overcast sky as Andy pulled out of the hospital parking lot with Rose next to him. She was staring out the window of his SUV. He reached to twine her limp fingers with his. It was a small gesture of support, for someone so lost in her thoughts. "She's not alone this time, Rose."
"Hmm?" She shook her head a few times quickly.
"Your mother. She's not facing it alone this time or ever again."
"True." She nodded. "Yes, that's true."
"She'll be okay for the night. I imagine she's still working the nurses and Dave to let her out of overnight observation—"
"I want him dead."
"Rose." He had to work to make his voice sound sincere, especially since he felt the same.
"I want him dead and I want to do it with my own hands," she continued flatly.
He didn't respond. Instead, he gave her some time and space and decided to remain as a presence for her. He would serve as a getaway. A distraction.
"Where are we going?" She looked around, then turned her body to face him.
"I want to check and see how far the excavators and cement crews got on Duncan's house while we were gone. It's peaceful there." He brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek and watched her eyes drop closed. "Come with me."
She took his hand and pressed his palm to her warm cheek. "I never could say no to those three words from you."
As they bumped along the gravel road, he noted the tell-tale construction signs of deep ruts from heavy trucks, slabs of spilled concrete scattered on the drive and large hunks of mud left from the wheels of the earth movers. At the end of the half-mile road, they simply stopped in the center.
"What a muddy mess," she commented as they climbed out of the SUV together.
He walked around and pulled out his tape measure, checking dimensions. "What do you think?" he asked.
"I think I bet it's just what it's supposed to be for now."
"You think right. He wants three stories. The top floor will be small. Slanted ceilings. For his painting. Skylights. He has some good ideas."
He stepped to her and took her hands. "Tell me."
She took a deep breath. "I like it. He'll love it."
As he shook his head in two short movements, he said, "Mmm mmm, there's something you're keeping inside." He tapped the middle of her chest.
She covered her face with her hands. "It's the eyes," she said and pressed her fingertips over her own. "I've seen pictures of them, but..." She set her forehead on his chest. "I have his eyes. I looked into the eyes of that bastard and I saw me."
He laced his fingers through the short pieces of hair on the back of her head. Then, slid them down and took her hand. "Come, I want to show you something."
They climbed back into the SUV and drove farther into the woods until they came to a clearing. He'd measured it as ten acres in diameter. The smell was a mixture of running water, earth, wildflowers, and endless trees.
"The creek is far enough away to keep us safe from flood damage. It would take well water since we're a ways from the city lines, but I could rig up a nice purifier. The view this way is the best, I think." He motioned to the east with the sun at his back. "That would make the kitchen face north, which would be nice so that you, I mean we, could look out the window while doing dishes without the sun blinding us, plus that way my office can be over here." He gestured largely. "Yours over... here with windows to keep an eye on the aviary and dog run. Hell, I can put in a damned chicken coop if you want."
He turned to her just as a tear spilled on her round cheek.
"I should have brought our plans. I didn't think to bring them. Damn it. I'm going to marry a woman who carries a Swiss damned Army knife around like some carry lipstick and I'm the builder with no damned plans." Closing the distance between them, he lifted her hand. He kissed the ring on her chilled third finger, then pulled her into him. "This is part of Duncan's lot. I haven't signed anything with him yet. We can pick another spot closer to home if you—"
"It's perfect." She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest.
Carefully, he lifted her chin to him, then brushed his lips over her swollen temple. "When I look in your eyes, what I see is someone who brings out the best in everything she touches. I see the best of me."
* * *
Near a small tent, he and Rose lay on a thick blanket looking at the millions of stars erupting in the country twilight.
"When did you get camping gear?"
"While you were questioned at the scene... after." He snuggled her next to him and even though they shared a pillow, she laid her head on his arm. "And I don't know if I call a tent, blanket and a pillow actual gear.
Brie came to see what the sirens were for and gave me the idea. She's one of the smartest people I know."
"And we'll be able to get home—"
"Before your mother is awake and released. I made sure of it. We have our cell phones. It's a twenty minute drive, tops."
She rolled completely on top of him and surprised him with a long deep kiss. Like a meeting of mouths and minds. "Take me away."
She didn't need to ask for him to know what she wanted, but the sound of it rolling off her tongue was enough to make him determined to do just that.
He drew out the kiss, tilting his head slowly, softly sinking into her as his hands ran up her waist, brushing his thumbs along the sides of her along the way. Running his hands up her shirt, he thoughtfully worked at a mixture of arousal and soothing.
Rotating, he tucked her beneath him just enough to be able to rest on his side and still have his hands on her, all over her, moving gently, carefully. They caressed and stroked as the last of the birds announced their evening departure and the bullfrogs their nighttime territory.
He watched as her eyes rolled back and felt her body slowly unwind.
Each kiss along her throat, her neck was smoother than the last. Her skin was warm and little tremors erupted every so often as he let his hands move over her. He cupped her and found his favorite spot with his lips just under her ear.
Along her collarbone, down to the hollow at the base of her neck, he let his warm lips glide like velvet.
Rose was dizzy in love and felt like an isolated cloud of need. She could get through anything with Andy. He was hers, now from then on. A growing strength and need raced through her. Yet, he continued like a rock, steady and painfully slow. Each button released was followed by warm lips on her skin. Down, down to her waist.
When he spread her shirt open, his awe flattered and aroused her. He paused and dropped his head to her chest. The warm air from the evening blew over her skin, cooling her sheen of sweat. He created, stirred, eased. She lifted just enough, offering. He took her blouse the rest of the way off.
Holding her possessively, he circled. "You're beautiful." He kissed the swell that lifted just over the satin. "You're mine."
She took her turn lifting his shirt off, lightly nipping his shoulder as he held her against him. His hands ran up her back and released the clasp. Pulling the straps from her shoulders, he slipped it off between the bare skin of their bodies. She melted into the feel of her pressed against his chest. The floating feel of flesh on flesh.
They each took their time exploring under the moon and the stars. Andy pulled her legs around him as he sat in front of her. He lifted one over his shoulder, as he preferred to do, then turned his lips and pressed them against the inside of her knee. He held onto her, possessively grabbing with both hands as he traveled from her knee to her thigh. She was there for him and he took her carefully. Watching her completely let go, he let her ride the first easy hill slowly.
He wasn't sure how long they took turns taking each other where no one else ever could, moving together in careful love. When they united, he was just as slow, as long and as careful. Rose expelled a heavy breath as he covered her everywhere, all over and inside her. Hanging onto his back, he could feel the crescent marks she was leaving in his flesh. The intensity of her next peak was followed by tiny tears that dripped down her temples before they went over together.
Spent, they collapsed and lay completely still, twined together inside and out on the blanket in the clearing. They nearly fell asleep before Rose tapped him. "My legs. Can't move my legs." He rolled next to her, then pulled the blanket over them.
"Rose."
"Hmm?"
"We're sleeping in our master bedroom."
Chapter 29
The air was warm but not as hot as it should be for a late July morning in upstate New York. A swift breeze wafted the scents of Sycamores and Tulip Poplars across the field where Rose stood with the recovered, mature bald eagle. Her temple was completely healed and her mother's had faded to a jaundice yellow. Miguel was leaving a sloppy trail. Rose felt better.
She tried sneaking around the back of the main building at the research and action center but she knew Gracie could sense her and the male.
Although the male ran into some complications and took longer to heal from the lead poisoning than she'd expected, he was fully recovered and ready to be free once again. She drove him out to the spot she'd chosen in a crate on the back of one of the center's four-wheelers. A wild bald eagle would never perch on a human's arm. She rubbed the puncture wound on her hip serving as a reminder of how hard it was to teach even an adolescent eagle to do just that. Five hundred pounds of pressure went through flesh and muscle like butter.
Gracie was learning the hard lesson that if you bite the hand that feeds you, you don't get fed. Eagles weren't pets, and Rose knew getting Gracie to simply tolerate her would take time and work. The sound of her call was heartbreaking. How did animals sense these things? Silently, she said her apologies to Gracie as she parked the four-wheeler.
Dr. Gray and she had discussed the great publicity the center could earn from televising the release of the male. They also agreed that sometimes things were meant to be done in peace. So, instead she waited for Grace to show up with the digital recorder. The recording would be posted on their social network page and website. And, maybe Rose would give a copy to Jenna Woith over at WCEL.
The reporter had been instrumental in getting updates and drawings of Miguel Ramirez onto the local stations, all with her mother out of his sight. Rose wondered how long her mother would be able to follow Dave around before her job was in jeopardy.
Pride swelled in her heart as she thought about how her mother had held up. She'd made it through the hospital stay and stitches without sedatives.
She spotted Andy and Grace as they pulled around in separate four-wheelers and realized that she had her own crutch—her own sturdy, sexy, thoughtful crutch. Glancing down at the ring on her finger, she sighed at the exaggerated turns her life had made recently. The flashes of her own eyes looking back at her from her biological father's weren't as frequent now, although nearly as potent. The shape, the size, the color—there was no doubt that she carried his blood in her veins, and wished she was as certain of her declaration negating the importance of whose sperm created her as she once had.
Wes rode in the seat behind Grace, carrying the recorder and tripod. The grass was still wet with dew as they parked and stepped out to greet her.
Andy held two steaming cups in his hands. Smart guy.
"Good morning." He kissed her softly and long enough to send a chill to her toes but not long enough to cause Grace and Wes to suggest they get a room.
"That's the second time you've said that today." She smiled slyly and pivoted the crate to the open field. Lines of thick trees were almost a hundred feet away but still gave the feeling of an enclosed spot. Narrow trails could be seen, ejecting periodically around the perimeter and into the woods, and looked like oversized mouse holes.
"Almost ready." Grace spanned the view. "Got it. We're ready."
Wes held his camera prepared for action shots.
Andy stood on the balls of his feet with unashamed excitement.
Rose opened the door to the crate and stepped back. The bird walked around on the inside, scraping talons on the plastic as he moved.
She stepped forward, opened the door farther. She murmured, "Come on, boy, you're free."
Picking up a stick, she gently encouraged him to the opening. He grabbed it, jerking it from her hands, then crushed it into splinters. Still, it worked. The eagle walked to the edge of the crate and out onto the trailer of the four-wheeler. Squatting down, the amazing creature braced for takeoff, then spread his enormous wings and lifted to the sky. It only took a few flaps of his wings to gain enough altitude to then use the wind beneath as a glide. Like riding a bike. The vast wing span dwarfed any other species at the center. He soared in a circle before perchi
ng on one of the trees just outside the perimeter.
"Are you getting this? Can you still see him?" she asked.
Grace smiled without moving her hands or her gaze. "Oh, yeah."
Wes shuttered shot after shot before they all cheered when he took off over the trees.
* * *
Andy decided there was time enough to check on Duncan's house before his meeting with Dave at the station. As he drove through ruts and potholes, he made a mental note to order a few more truckloads of road gravel.
When he reached the top of the hill, the first thing he noticed was the excellent job the framers did with the plywood walls. No fiberboard for this house. The next was the new bike—shiny black, very expensive and very fast. It sat far enough away from the crew vehicles that Andy cocked his head. Duncan was in town? The last thing he noticed was Rose laughing with him around the side of the house.
"Are you here to check on the place or make moves on my girl?" He and Duncan embraced and smacked each other on their backs with two slaps.
Duncan jerked his head in response. "Both if you're not careful. Rose gave me the tour, as well as her approval since we'll be neighbors."
Andy looked around. "How'd you get here?"
Rose and Duncan turned in unison and gestured to the motorcycle.
"Nice." Andy walked over to it. "Wait a minute; you took my girl out here on that? Well, damn you." He shook his head with jealousy.
"I've decided to crash your scheduled party with the detective and the ice princess." Duncan walked into his future foyer. "What are these two-bys here?"
"Front closet frame." Andy rolled up his sleeves and walked in with him. "Ice princess?"
Andy spoke a mile a minute about the house, what they'd finished and what was next. Duncan added few words as he explained.