by C. J. Bahr
Sure, completely believable, but more likely they’d think her crazy and commit her somewhere.
Surprisingly, she didn’t care. That was her problem. Nothing held her interest anymore. Not even her close-knit family. She felt like she was in prison, just marking time until her sentence was up. Yup, that was her, dead woman walking.
Her phone rang, jolting her out of her morbid musings. “Hello, this is Ms. Saville.”
“Hey, Laurel. It’s Craig. I’ve got a donor cooling his heels in the lobby.”
“Isn’t there someone else available?” She asked in desperation, not wanting to leave the safety of her basement cave.
“Ah, that’s the thing. He specifically asked for you.”
Of course he did. If she wanted to keep her job, she’d better go meet him. Work was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. “Fine, I’ll be right up.”
She tucked the ring back inside her blouse, grabbed her suit jacket, and left her office. The long walk through the narrow corridor led to the elevator. She pressed the button for the lobby, and mulled over what the new donation might be as the doors closed and she was whisked several floors upward.
With a ding, she reached the lobby and went looking for the mysterious donor. Please God, don’t let it be, Meriwether. The old letch was always trying to hit on her. Granted, he was worth millions, but she couldn’t get over the ick factor.
She crossed the floor, stopping by Sue, the T-Rex skeleton and scanned the area. Laurel froze as the hairs on the back of her neck rose, and her stomach turned somersaults. Not knowing why, she slowly turned around.
Her gasp echoed hollowly. She’d finally lost her mind. He was here. Simon. He lounged with his elbow on the security’s countertop. His silver gaze fixed solely on her.
He was an intense, vivid, hallucination. His long black hair was now cropped short and tight, with a bit of unruly length on top, just enough to leave a tantalizing lock on his forehead. The shorter hair made him look larger, more vibrant. And if she wasn’t mistaken he was now dressed in a dark blue Armani suit with a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned and no tie. This illusion of Simon was impossibly more handsome than her memories.
She started trembling from head to foot while her vision tunneled as her blood rushed from her face. Blindly reaching out, her hand locked onto the rail protecting Sue, the T-Rex. Knuckles white, she willed herself not to faint and not to blink. This had to be a delusion. Her brain had finally broken to match her heart.
Simon was dead. He’d earned his peace and was in Heaven. He wasn’t in Chicago. She shook her head in denial.
Laurel watched as her imagination had him grin, then walk toward her. Her free hand rose and covered her mouth. As he approached, her heart raced. He paused and gave her an oh-so-familiar frown. She must look like she saw a ghost.
“Simon?” She whispered.
He opened his arms wide in reply.
Not hesitating, she ran and flung herself into his waiting arms. Clinging to him, tears burned her cheeks when his strong arms wrapped around her. She didn’t care if this was a psychotic break, she wanted it to last forever.
“Anigeal. At last.” Simon leaned in, inhaling her scent, then pressed a kiss to her cheek.
She wanted more. Turning her face, she captured his mouth. The months of grief, of separation, of longing poured from her to him. She devoured him, relishing his taste, his heat, her Simon.
He pulled away and chuckled. “Miss me, lass?”
She hauled off to slap him, but he captured her wrist and placed a quick kiss on her pulse.
So many questions raced through her mind, but she didn’t care. None of them mattered. He was standing right here, in her arms—all was right.
His silver gray gaze locked on her and he smiled. “I’ve missed you, anigeal.”
“Am I dreaming?” Her hand pressed against his chest raised so she could stroke her fingers down his face.
“Nay, lass, you’re not,” he captured her hand and squeezed lightly, then held it.
“How…what…” She stammered, still trying hard to believe.
“After we were parted, I found myself… I’ve never been a religious man. As a lad, religion was something I had to do. In war, it was hard to believe in a God that could allow such carnage, and later, well, I was a wee bit angry about drowning over two hundred times.” A slight smile curled up his mouth. “But now, it’s hard to dispute.”
“You saw Heaven? You were there?”
Simon brushed a strand of hair off her face. “Aye, well, there weren’t any pearly gates or choirs of angels. Just my da, a quiet green wood, and a stream.”
Shocked, Laurel tried to step away from Simon so she could see his face better, but his arms tightened and he pulled her closer, tucking her head beneath his chin. She heard his heartbeat thumping wildly under her ear.
“I don’t know how long I stood there staring, unmoving, but eventually my da strode over and embraced me,” his voice broke and he hesitated before continuing. “We had a chat…he…told me I was forgiven, that he was proud of me.”
“Oh, Simon,” she squeezed him tighter, and felt the onslaught of fresh tears. She knew how much that meant to Simon, to have received his father’s approval after all that had been done and said between them.
“He was given a message to deliver to me. I was to be given a choice.” She felt him press a kiss on top her head. “When I learned you lived,” his arms tightened around her, giving her a squeeze. “I told Da, Heaven could wait.”
Her heart clenched, what had Simon given up? “What about your family?” Her question came out a whisper, but she knew he heard her.
“They’re in Heaven, aye? Well protected in paradise and not going anywhere anytime soon. However, more important, you weren’t there,” he swept his thumb across her palm. “If it helps ease any guilt, my da seemed pleased with my choice. He’s quite taken with you. As am I.”
Her breath caught. She pulled out of his arms and stared at Simon, who was smiling brilliantly, his light-colored eyes sparkling. He chose her? He turned away from Heaven and his family, all for her?
Before her eyes, she watched Simon drop to bended knee. He gathered her hands and clasped them with his. “There wasn’t really a choice. My heart and soul belong ever to you. Laurel, mo anigeal, will you take me? I’m yours.”
Her heart stopped then joy flooded through her. He was hers and there was no question she belonged to him.
“Yes, absolutely yes.”
He stood and quickly captured her mouth in a soul-consuming kiss. She flushed with heat and clutched at his shoulders as her legs went weak. Simon was hers, forever.
She wasn’t sure how long she clung to him and kissed him, but the sound of applause filled the air bringing her back to reality. Dear God, she was in the lobby of the museum!
Laurel broke the kiss and felt her face burn. Simon just chuckled. Passersby congratulated them as she led him to a bench away from the middle of the lobby.
She took a deep breath. “There’re so many things to ask, so many things I want to know.”
“Hush, lass. We’ve all the time in the world.” He picked up her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Think of the stories we can tell our children.”
Children? Somehow the idea made her smile. Marriage to Simon would make her joy at him being alive even more wonderful.
“There are a few things we do need to speak of, so you know everything before we commit ourselves. Once married I’m never letting you go,” his gaze was fierce and serious. “Of course, even unwed, you’re not escaping me.”
Her heart flipped-flopped. If he thought she’d let him do otherwise, he was sorely mistaken.
“First, I know you have your work, which I support,” he reassured her. “However, several times a year, we have to return to Scotland. The Orb is still in the MacKay’s protection, and will continue with our sons. It’s a duty I won’t shirk this time, and neither will our offspring.”
&nbs
p; “Okay. But our daughters will be guardians, too. This is the twenty-first century after all.”
Simon laughed and gave her a quick kiss. “Spoken as the true warrior you are. If they are anything like you, it will be well guarded, indeed.”
“Um, Simon,” she squeezed their linked hands. “How old were you when you died?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Wow, I’m marrying a younger man!” She smiled up at him.
“Or much older, if you count the two hundred odd years of my limbo.” Suddenly the teasing glint left Simon’s eyes. He hesitated, looking worried for the first time. “I’ve bought Cleitmuir Manor. It’s mine again. I thought we might live there, but…if you can’t, I understand…I know—”
“Really? I’d love to live there.” She gave him a quick hug. Living in Scotland at Cleitmuir would somehow make her feel closer to Beth. Besides, it was Simon’s home and where he was, she’d be at his side. “Home to me, will be wherever you are.”
“Ah, anigeal, how did I ever get so lucky?”
She chuckled. “Not sure, but you’re stuck with me anyway. Hey, how’d you manage to buy Cleitmuir? It had to be expensive. And these clothes?” She fingered the well-made suit. “You hit the jackpot or something?”
“I told you my curse was never about the gold, which was true, however,” he said as he pulled her onto his lap. He caressed her face with gentle fingers then his hand swept behind and cupped her head. “I never said there wasn’t any Jacobite gold.”
Simon swept in and captured her mouth, trapping her gasp.
A word about the author...
First published in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s “Sword & Sorceress” anthology, CJ was bitten by the writer’s bug and hasn’t stopped since. When her pen isn’t scribing, you can find her busily cutting and tracking music for film and television. With close to twenty years of music editing experience, her credits range from “Northern Exposure” and “The Muppets Christmas Carol,” to “The Kill Point” and “The Middle.” She currently resides in sunny southern California with her two cats, great friends, and her horse, Junior.
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