“Hope says she remembered who she was, where she knew her from. She remembers her from one of the times she visited Ciaran at college. She said to tell you that she’s Willa Fletcher. Hope had a hard time placing her because it had been so long and she was much thinner and older, obviously, than almost twenty years ago.”
My heart started pounding hard. “Willa Fletcher? Ida Smart is Willa Fletcher.”
“What does that mean?” asked Kevan.
I told him the story Ciaran had told me. “He never heard from her again.” Gripping the back of a chair, I swallowed, feeling the few sips of coffee wanting to come up. “Does Hope think Willa is the one behind all this?”
Kevan nodded. “That’s exactly what she thinks. She said she remembers how psycho the girl was and that Ciaran didn’t really see it until after they’d broken up. She called the authorities, and they’re going to bring her in for questioning.”
“Could it be? All these years?”
“It’s a motive.”
“Yes, it is,” I agreed.
Kevan’s phone rang for the second time. As he listened, his expression changed from worry to relief. “Ciaran’s awake. And Bliss, he’s asking for you.”
* * *
Ciaran’s eyes were closed when I entered the room, but as I approached the bed they fluttered open. Both legs were in casts and traction. One arm was covered with a cast from shoulder to fingertips, the other covered just over the forearm. He smiled when he saw me, but his brow furrowed when I started to cry. “Blissful, no crying.” His voice sounded weak and blurry, probably from the pain medication. I stood by the bed, careful not to jostle him, and touched my fingertips to his lips.
“Ciaran.” I continued to cry.
“Do I look that bad?”
“Yes. Are you in pain?” I asked.
“No, they have me on super drugs.” He smiled up at me again. His eyes were glazed and made him appear young and confused. “Did you ski down the mountain all by yourself?”
“No, they had to carry me out of there. I’m never going skiing ever again.” I tried a smile but the tears kept coming.
“Now, I said no crying. They’ve managed to put me back together. I’m going to be fine.”
“I was scared, Ciaran. You were so still, and I thought you were lost to me forever.”
“I’m tougher than the rest. Now lean down and give me a little kiss.”
I did, just brushing my mouth against his chapped lips. He didn’t smell like himself, but I didn’t care.
“I guess I wasn’t crazy after all. Someone really is trying to kill me.”
“Ciaran, I have to tell you something. We think we may have a lead on the case.”
“A lead?”
I told him of Hope’s discovery. “The authorities are questioning Ida, or Willa, right now.”
He stared at me, obviously stunned. “Could she have done this, all these years? As vengeance.”
“As Kevan said, it’s a motive. It’s the motive of a deeply disturbed person, but it could be. And Ciaran, if they get her to confess or have enough evidence, she’ll be locked up forever. You’ll be free.”
His eyes shone with tears. I pushed back his thick hair from his forehead. “Bliss, I have to tell you something too.” He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the ceiling before coming back to me. “I’m in love with you. I love you.”
“What?”
“You’re the last item on my bucket list. I want you. I don’t want to spend one more day without you. Yesterday, on the slopes, I was certain of it. When I saw you standing up there, scared out of your mind but willing to try this thing for me, I knew you loved me, no matter what we both said about just having fun. I knew I loved you, too, without a doubt, and that if you would have me, however long I have on this earth, I want to spend every day with you by my side. I was going to tell you when you reached me on the side of that mountain and ask if you’d take the risk to love someone like me, who might not be around for long. I wanted to ask you if you were willing to take that chance.”
“Ciaran, I love you, too. I would be willing. Of course I would. Anyway, it’s no different than anyone else. None of us knows how long we’ll have. Loving someone is risking that they could leave you at any moment. One of us will go first and leave the other. That’s just the way it is.”
“What if it really was Willa all along and she confesses? If it is, I could be free.”
“Yes,” I said, fighting tears.
“I could live my life like someone who is going to live a long time. I’ll decorate the house. And get you to marry me.”
I laughed. “Well, let’s not get crazy. First we have to get you healthy, and then we can tackle the house.”
“And we’ll have babies. Lots of babies,” he said.
“They have you on some serious drugs.”
* * *
He fell asleep shortly thereafter. When I stepped into the hallway, Kevan and Blythe were standing by the door to his room. They grinned at me as Blythe held out her arms. I fell into her embrace, my legs still shaking from the heightened emotion of the last hour.
“Babies?” asked Blythe. “Dare I hope?”
“Please tell me you didn’t hear all that?”
“Your sister was listening at the door,” said Kevan. “It wasn’t me.”
Blythe shushed him and poked him in the ribs. “The door was open a few inches. It wasn’t my fault.”
Kevan smiled at me. “I didn’t think a woman could tame him. Guess it took a Heywood sister.”
“We really were just supposed to be having fun,” I said. “I had no intention of taming him.”
“Well, fun is supposed to come as natural fallout when you love someone. And taming comes with the territory when a man loves a woman. We’re tamed whether we want to be or not,” said Kevan.
“You’re hardly tamed,” said Blythe.
Kevan’s phone buzzed from one of his pockets. While he answered it, Blythe hugged me again. “You sure about this?” she asked. “A real commitment takes a lot of work.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to worry. I’m sure.”
“I’m so happy for you, Sister Sue. Truly,” said Blythe.
Kevan had grown still. “All right. Thanks for letting us know. Yes, I’ll pass it along.” He nodded into the phone. “Maybe tomorrow. He’s pretty fragile today. Yeah, okay, thanks.”
Still holding his cell phone in his hand, he looked over at us. “That was Hope. She received a call from the Idaho police. They went out to question Ida Smart, Willa, that is, but she was dead. She hung herself. But there was evidence all over her small apartment that she’d been tracking Ciaran for years. They’re still sorting through everything, but it’s likely they’ll be able to piece together the whole story.”
“All these years, tracking him, making him paranoid and fearful. What kind of person devotes themselves to that?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” said Kevan. “But he’s out of danger, Bliss. That’s all that matters now.”
“And can live a normal life,” said Blythe, reaching for my hand.
“I need to call Ardan and Teagan. They’re waiting to hear if they should get on planes. Thank God they don’t have to.”
“Why did she kill herself, though?” I asked Blythe after he left. “Why now?”
The answer to that question was answered after many weeks of the police piecing together evidence from over twenty years. Willa Fletcher had devoted her life to hunting Ciaran, planning near-death experiences and using her brother as the hit man, according to the detailed notes in several of her journals. Further details emerged after they brought the brother in for questioning, including that she had planned for the incident on the mountain to be the last one. Neither she nor the brother thought he would live through the fall. Obviously, they didn’
t realize he’s tougher than the rest. In the final note she left in her journal, she said she wanted the evidence easily accessible to the police so that Ciaran’s family might suffer, knowing that he’d been hunted and finally killed because he was a bad person who deserved the ultimate punishment—to live knowing that someone wanted you dead and that it was only a matter of time until they succeeded. Her final act, after succeeding in doling out the final punishment, was to end her own life.
Chapter 31
THE NEXT AFTERNOON I was sitting near Ciaran’s bed, watching him sleep, when Hope appeared in the doorway of the hospital room dressed in jeans and a sweater and holding an enormous Gucci handbag. She dropped the bag at her feet and crossed her arms over her chest when she spotted me.
“You’re still here?” she asked.
“Pardon me?”
“I assumed you would’ve been kicked to the curb by now. How drugged up do they have him?”
Biting the inside of my lip to keep from lashing out, I remained silent. I looked back to Ciaran. He remained asleep, his face peaceful.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some time alone with him.” She crossed over to his bed and perched on the side, taking his hand. “I want to be here when he wakes.”
“Hope, I’m the one he wants to see when he wakes.” I said in a hushed tone, not wanting to wake Ciaran. “He’s really not up for visitors.”
She stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not a visitor. I’m his best friend.”
“You know what?” I said. “Let’s get this out in the open. I understand you have feelings for him. But he and I love one another and plan to make this work.” Even to myself it sounded ridiculous. Why was I arguing with this waif like we were in high school?
“I feel sorry for you,” she said. “I truly do. Ciaran’s not the type to settle down. With you or anyone, but especially not you.”
It took some effort not to let my mouth drop open in shock at her words. Instead, I gathered my own purse—Coach, not Gucci—and walked out the door, knowing if I stayed there I would say and do things I regretted. I was ten feet down the hallway when I felt her come up behind me. She yanked at my left arm, pulling me around to face her. She was surprisingly strong for someone so thin.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she said. “Ciaran’s mine. He always has been.”
“Maybe you should ask him yourself,” I said. “He’ll set you straight on that. He’s never been yours.”
She opened her mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it before jerking away and stomping down the hallway toward Ciaran’s room. Just as suddenly, she turned back toward me, marching back to where I stood. “You will not have him. I can get any man I want.” Her lips trembled, like she might cry.
I softened then. This was a vulnerable woman who loved a man who did not love her in return. It was a horrible way to feel. I had felt it just yesterday. Until I found out he did love me. I needed to remember that and be kind. What would Blythe do, I wondered?
“I know you two go way back,” I said, using the gentlest voice I could muster. “But I’m in his life now. You’ll have to choose whether or not you can deal with that, because I’m not going anywhere.”
She stood there for a long moment with her arms crossed over her middle like her stomach hurt. Finally, she spoke. “If you hurt him, you’ll have to answer to me.”
“I won’t.”
“See that you don’t.” With that, she reached into her bag and pulled out sunglasses. She put them on, slipped the loops of her bag over her slender shoulder and headed down the hall. I watched as she disappeared through the double doors of the hospital wing. I sighed with relief before heading back to sit by Ciaran’s bed. I watched him sleep. After about an hour, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me. “You’re here,” he said. “I dreamt you’d be here when I woke, and here you are.” He smiled a dreamy smile, his eyes puffy from sleep.
I took his hand. “I’ll always be here when you wake.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
“If this moment lasted forever, it would not be long enough. Do you remember the last time I said that to you?”
“Yes. The first time I ever sat in a hot tub in the snow.”
“Is it too selfish to ask for a lifetime of those moments?” he asked.
“Maybe, but let’s do it anyway.” I leaned over and kissed both of his cheeks. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”
Epilogue
CIARAN WAS IN the hospital for a month. When his bones were healed enough to have his casts taken off, we went home to Peregrine. Many months of intense physical therapy followed. While Blythe planned her wedding, I helped Ciaran get better, tackling it with the same dedication I had devoted to all the jobs of my life, only this one was fueled by love, not ambition. He was insistent that he be well enough to dance at Blythe and Ciaran’s September wedding, pushing himself hard to regain mobility. By the end of August, he was almost back to his old self, with just a slight limp in his left leg that no one but I could see. During his recuperation, Kevan spent many afternoons and evenings with him. I was not privy to the conversations between the brothers, but Ciaran assured me that things were talked about and resolved in the way men do, without much laboring over the details. There were sports to talk about, after all.
Henry and Mrs. Pennington spent the months between Christmas and September travelling together. They arrived just last night to Moonstone’s and planned to stay several weeks. I was still hoping they’d adopt me but couldn’t get a commitment from them. Moonstone, looking more beautiful than ever, had made quite a bit of progress on getting out of the friend zone, if her car leaving Sam’s cottage at six a.m. yesterday morning was any indication.
During those months away from the hectic and stressful work I’d done all my life, in the Idaho air that allowed me to think and breathe, I decided what I wanted to do next. When Ciaran was well enough, we leased a condominium in Seattle and split our time between there and Peregrine, so that I could be close to my sister in addition to starting a new venture. With Ciaran’s help, we set up a non-profit organization that provided makeovers and new clothes for men and women in shelters and on the streets who were interested in finding employment and housing. We also offered resume and interview skills. It was in its infancy still, but with my business skills, I knew I could make it work. I had plans to spread it across the country, but for now we were focused on Seattle. To date, we’d given ten women makeovers, most of them from a battered women’s shelter. Six of them had secured employment and apartments. The others were on their way. Ciaran had used his contacts to begin the fundraising process and we’d already raised enough money to continue for a year. I was ablaze with passion for my new work, so much so, I had to fight my daily battle against choosing work over relationships. Ciaran insisted I continue to play, even while trying to save the world (his words) and did pretty well keeping me on track. It wasn’t as hard knowing I had him to come home to. The ambition that had once plagued me seemed to have been loved away. I no longer cared about proving anything to anyone by how much money or esteem I had. That chip on my shoulder was gone, along with the boy-named-Sue syndrome. Letting go felt better than all that anger and drive, and it opened up enough space to let love inside.
On the day of Blythe’s wedding, I woke in Ciaran’s bed alone to the smell of fresh coffee. I could hear him downstairs rummaging about in the kitchen. After a minute or two, wearing only a pair of boxers, he came into the bedroom carrying a tray with a kitchen towel covering it. “Good, you’re awake,” he said. “We have a lot to do today, so I thought we better eat a good breakfast.”
He set the tray on my lap and pulled the towel away. There, set into the middle of a peanut butter sandwich, was a diamond engagement ring—a round cut surrounded in tiny diamonds. It was breathtaking. No makeov
er required.
He went down on one knee beside the bed. “Bliss Heywood, will you marry me?”
I couldn’t speak as he slipped the ring on my finger, leaving a trail of peanut butter. “I wanted to ask you on the day your sister is marrying my brother. It just seems right. All these months you’ve been by my side in sickness makes it abundantly clear what kind of wife you would make. Will you let me give you some years of health now? I promise to make you a peanut butter sandwich whenever you want and to always have strawberry preserves on hand. As a matter of fact, wait—before you give me your answer, I have a few other promises to make you.”
He rose and went out into the hallway, returning with a gold box tied in a purple bow. “Open it.” Grinning, he sat back on the bed.
I untied the bow and lifted the lid. Inside were jars and jars of strawberry preserves, enough to last at least a year if not more, even given how much I liked them.
“Made in Oregon, like you,” he said. “All the sweetest fruit and girls come from there. I promise never to run out. Also, I’ll binge watch Netflix shows anytime you want. I’ll always have salted-caramel ice cream in the refrigerator. You can spend whatever you want at Nordstrom. I’ll try really hard to be neater.” He gestured toward the now-spotless dresser. “It’s surprisingly nice to have everything tidy. And I’ll support this new venture of yours however I can. I’m so proud of you for what you’re doing. Anyway, my point is, you don’t have to lose yourself just because we’re married.”
“All right, you’ve made a good argument. I’ll marry you, Ciaran Lanigan.” I held up my left hand. “But first you have to lick the peanut butter off my finger.” And so, when I said yes to his proposal, we were laughing. Sex with a playboy gets you more than ice cream and tears, after all. Sometimes you get peanut butter and laughter and a new career. If you’re really lucky, the playboy turns into the husband and the party moves into the library.
ALSO BY TESS THOMPSON
Blue Midnight (Romantic Suspense) Searching for her road not taken, Blythe uncovers the unexpected in the foothills of Blue Mountain. With a second chance on the horizon, she must face the complexities of trust and vulnerability that come after betrayal and believe in her destiny.
Blue Moon (Blue Mountain Book 2) Page 27