Show Me a Hero

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  It was so painful to see that she had to look away.

  But that only brought Chelsea back into her line of sight. She was speaking with a much shorter, plump woman who had two gawky teenagers with her. The fact that Chelsea hugged the other woman made Ali think she was more likely a friend from their shared past than a friend of Karen’s.

  “How long were the two of you married?”

  “Seven years. Six and a half too long.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Yet you worked with her on the books. And she’s here now.”

  “I told you,” he said, his expression darkening. “She thinks she can twist another book out of me.”

  “She sounded like she genuinely cared about Karen.”

  “She did. Maybe enough to want to be here today, but Chelsea’s nothing if not practical. Come to a memorial service. Try and bribe a man into her publishing clutches at the same time.”

  Chelsea was heading back their way and Ali had no desire to come up short—literally—next to her. “If you ask me, she looks like she’s got an interest in keeping her clutches on you in all sorts of ways.” Ali pulled off her glove to wipe her finger against his sharp, angular jaw. She showed him the red color that she came away with. “She’s certainly leaving her mark.” She rubbed the lipstick away on her glove and pulled it back on. “I should go. Vivian’s Valentine’s ball is tomorrow.”

  A whisper of a smile lit his face for just a moment. “Going to wear the bustle?”

  Her throat tightened. “Still debating that,” she responded in a credibly dry tone. Then she gave Chelsea what she thought was a polite nod and she walked away.

  * * *

  “That’s her.”

  Grant barely listened to Chelsea. He was too busy watching Ali walk away.

  “Her grandmother is Vivian Archer Templeton,” Chelsea went on.

  “So?”

  His ex-wife huffed a little. “So, she’s one of the wealthiest women in the country.”

  “Good for her.”

  “She asked if my company would consider donating to the library she’s trying to get built.”

  He looked down at the box. At Karen. He should feel more grief. Except that he’d been preparing himself for this moment for years. “You knew Karen as well as I did. Do you think she was capable of abandoning her baby?”

  Chelsea didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” She squeezed his arm. “I also think she was capable of immediately regretting it, but as usual didn’t have a clue about how to make it right. Karen was an adult, Grant. She was always responsible for her own decisions. Including forging your name on that contract.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “You knew? And never said squat?”

  “I didn’t know at first. And I stayed quiet for the same reason you did.”

  “Another CCT Rules book.”

  Her lips tightened. “To protect Karen. You know, I’m happy to ride the money train, but if you don’t want to write another, then don’t. Write something else. Or finish your teaching degree. Or pretend you actually want to live in your grandfather’s house. Whatever. I’d actually rather see you happy for once.” She nodded toward Ali, who’d nearly reached her departmental SUV. “Her grandmother told me how much she went through to get Karen back to you. Above and beyond, if you ask me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  So she told him.

  * * *

  “I didn’t think she could do it, but I was wrong.” Meredith stood next to Ali and Greer on the short end of the oval ice-skating rink, where at least two dozen skaters were circling the perimeter to the old-timey music playing from a loudspeaker. The sound quality was somewhat scratchy, which only seemed to add to the ambiance.

  “What I don’t get,” Greer added, “is why so many people were willing to get dolled up in clothes like these.” She plucked at her outfit, which was equally as fussy as Ali’s. “Look at Archer.” She gestured at their big brother, who was wearing a long coat—a frock coat, according to Vivian—narrow trousers and a top hat. He carefully escorted Vivian around the edge of the ice. “Even he got into the spirit.”

  “He just wanted to make Vivian happy,” Ali murmured. But Greer had a point. There were more skaters who were dressed in old-fashioned outfits than in jeans and jackets.

  “Well, I like to dress up now and then, but this is ridiculous. Maddie should be glad she’s feeling so crummy with morning sickness and had a good reason to be able to stay home.” Greer grabbed handfuls of her dress, making sure it was clear of her skates, and stomped off toward the warming hut, which was actually an extremely large heated party tent, where even more people were hanging out, drinking and eating and having a grand time if the decibel level of the conversation was anything to go by.

  “Does Greer seem particularly edgy to you?”

  “I think she’s as frustrated as we all are with Layla’s situation,” she murmured. “I’m going to get some hot chocolate. Can I bring you one?”

  Meredith beamed. She looked especially lovely with a dark purple coat that was similar to Ali’s and a furry white muff. “I’d love some, sweetie. Oh, I wish your dad was here. He would’ve seen that his mother isn’t as terrible as he still wants to believe.” She stepped onto the edge of the ice and waved her hand toward Archer as he and Vivian approached.

  Ali waited a moment, smiling at the sight of her mother and brother and grandmother all skating together. She wished she could feel the smile deeper than just the surface, though.

  She followed the path to the warming hut and walked inside. She was wearing the white figure skates that her grandmother had provided along with the clothing, and walking around in them was making her ankles hurt. Maybe she wouldn’t notice so much if she was skating, but since Grant was supposed to have been her date before everything had exploded around them, she didn’t really have the heart or the desire to get on the ice.

  She joined the people in line at the closest refreshment station. There were four such stations, all positioned in the corners of the tent like open bars at a wedding reception. And next to each one, there was a tall standing mirror, along with more piles of costumes and an old-fashioned photo booth, where people could get their pictures taken. She knew that had been Delia’s idea. Her cousin was flitting around from corner to corner, making certain that everyone was having a grand time.

  From what Ali could see, most were. She even spotted Hayley and Seth in the far corner, mugging for the camera. Her eldest sister didn’t have skates on her feet, Ali noted. Probably because she was a million months pregnant and Seth had an overprotective streak about two miles wide.

  As she waited in line, her thoughts drifted to Grant. And to his sister. It had been years since he’d spoken with Karen and that left a lot of time in which she could have married someone. Of course, it was a big if that she had been married in the first place. But if there’d been a husband, maybe even at the time of Layla’s birth—

  “I like the bustle.”

  Ali’s wandering thoughts screeched to a standstill.

  She slowly turned to see Grant behind her. “Hi.” The word sort of oozed out of her, more breath than voice. She looked past him, more than a little certain that Chelsea wouldn’t be too far away. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I don’t think we ever officially canceled our date.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek on that one. “I figured after what we said the other night, it was pretty official.” She rocked slightly on her ice skates. The floor inside the tent was made of thick, firm rubber that couldn’t be damaged by skate blades.

  “Well, regardless. Eva and Emi wanted to come. They saw the signs in the window at Josephine’s when we went there after the service yesterday.” He lifted his shoulder. He was in the minority when it came to dress. First off, he had boots on his feet rather than skates. He wore dark b
lue jeans, a tan sweater that looked as soft as cashmere—and probably was—and a black leather jacket.

  He looked delicious and handsome and entirely out of her reach.

  “Who are Eva and Emi?”

  “My goddaughters.” He gestured toward the thick, transparent tent panels on the sides of the tent that kept it from feeling too closed-in. “They’re out there skating somewhere with Claudia.”

  “That’s nice.” She had no clue exactly who he was talking about. “Goddaughters, though. That’s a little surprising.”

  “They’re Seymour’s kids.”

  She went still.

  “Even though they never met Karen, they came to pay their respects. Because it was what Seymour would’ve done. They’re staying with me out at the ranch.”

  Her chest felt tight. “That’s... I’m glad. Glad you’re not alone.”

  “Seymour was my best friend. Someday I’ll tell you all about him. But he wasn’t what you would call particularly smart with money.”

  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” she said faintly, “but okay.”

  “I’m going to give his family the ranch.”

  She inhaled. “Oh.”

  “They’ll never need to worry about a roof over their heads. And it’s long past time I did more than send them money at Christmas and birthdays. Once the ceremony’s over, when they give Claudia Sey’s Distinguished Service Cross, I’ll make the arrangements to move them. I’ll have to get the rest of the house fixed up for them, but—”

  She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips were cool. Firm. He was unquestionably surprised by her move.

  Just as abruptly, she backed away again. Her face felt hot. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said softly. He’d be putting Roger Carmody’s ghost to rest for sure.

  She realized the line in front of her had disappeared and quickly stepped forward to fill two cups with hot cocoa. “My mother’s waiting for me,” she said huskily when she tried to move away from the table only to find him standing in her way.

  “Did you mean it? What you said the other night?”

  She’d said a lot of things the other night. But there was no question what he meant. Lying was impossible. “Yes.”

  He lifted the cups out of her hand and set them on the table, then pulled her to the side. Toward the tall mirror. His eyes met hers in the reflection. “What do you see?”

  Heartbreak. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Grant.”

  “I want you to say that you see it.”

  “See what?”

  He lowered his head until his lips were near her ear. “The mark.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The mark,” he said again. “You’ve left it all over me.”

  She went still.

  “Chelsea isn’t here,” he said quietly. “Not in Braden. Not in my heart. And when she was, she was never as deep as you’ve gotten since you first pounded your fist on my front door. Your mark is all over me, Officer Ali. And I don’t want to rub it off, even if I could. I want to be the man that you think I am. I want to at least try.”

  Her eyes flooded.

  “I’m still a writer with no words, sweetheart. Still a guy who has nightmares more often than not. I’m so far from being the kind of man you deserve that you should walk away and keep going, but the thought of you actually doing that is the one thing I don’t think I can survive. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened. I know how hard you worked to bring Karen back to me. And I want an ordinary life with an extraordinary woman.” His husky voice dropped a notch. “So tell me. Can you see the mark now?”

  She exhaled shakily and lifted her fingers to graze his jaw where Chelsea’s lipstick had been. “I think I see it here.”

  He caught her fingers in his and kissed them. “It’s here.” He pressed her hand against his chest. His heart.

  Tears slid over her lashes. She stared into his aqua eyes. “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know,” he murmured, lowering his mouth toward hers. “But as long as we do it together, I know we’re on the right track. I know it’s fast, but my dad always said that just because something was fast didn’t mean it wasn’t real.” He slid his arms around her and pulled her close. “And nothing has ever felt more real than this. I love you, Ali. I never thought I’d say those words again, much less feel them, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove that I deserve you.”

  Her heart cracked wide. Right then and there. Just fell right open to him. “You don’t have to prove anything,” she said softly. “You just have to love me.”

  He slowly smiled. “I think I can manage that.”

  “Well, can you manage to move it off to the side so some of us who want to use the photo booth can?”

  Ali and Grant looked over to see Charlene from Magic Jax.

  “Better watch yourself,” she went on, giving Ali a broad wink. “Babies in the belly.” Hauling on the arm of her gangly tall husband, she dragged him toward the photo booth.

  Grant pressed his lips against Ali’s ear. “What was that about babies?”

  She smiled and tightened her arms around him. “I’ll tell you all about it later,” she promised. “For now...”

  His eyebrows went up as he waited for her to finish.

  She looked past him to the skating rink beyond the tent. “For now, I want to meet these goddaughters of yours. And then I want to get on the ice and skate with you. My grandmother assures me it’s magical.”

  He laughed softly, wrapping his hand with hers. “Well, then. Let’s go make some magic.”

  Epilogue

  The glow of the bonfire could be seen for half a mile.

  Grant sat huddled on the porch with his arm around Ali and watched it burn.

  “I’m glad you decided to donate the books to the local veteran organizations,” Ali commented. “I would’ve felt wasteful burning them all. I mean, Cal Reid seemed to deserve more.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s getting more. I’m also donating to your grandmother’s library fund.” He linked his fingers with hers. He still couldn’t believe he wasn’t burning the books. For that matter, he still couldn’t believe he had this particular woman at his side.

  Just went to prove that miracles could happen.

  Maybe enough miracles to get him writing again.

  “What do you know about Cal Reid, anyway?”

  “He’s named after your dad and your best friend. He always gets his man.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “Or woman.” She gave him a look. “Timmy loaned me his copies of the whole series. I had to swear an oath that I’d return them in perfect condition. They’re good, Grant. Really good. Particularly Final Rules, even though I know how you felt about writing it.” She looked out at the bonfire again. They were burning the wall he’d taken down upstairs to make two small bedrooms into a larger bedroom for Eva and Emi. They’d built the fire well away from the barn so that even if the sparks should fly, they wouldn’t do any damage.

  Until he’d decided to give the ranch to Claudia and her daughters, he wouldn’t have cared if the whole thing went up in flames.

  Now, he cared.

  He lifted the last item to toss on the fire. “Do you want to do the honors, or shall I?”

  She cautiously took the thick, catalog-style envelope and looked inside. She lifted out the junk mail and circulars inside and he felt her relax. “I thought I was going to find an unfinished manuscript in here or something.”

  “Just Karen’s mail that Chelsea had been collecting. She told me there was nothing important in it, so I don’t know why she didn’t get rid of it herself. But—” He shrugged. “More fuel for the bonfire.”

  Ali was still pouring stuff out on her lap, occasionally holding a piece of mail up to the light to
read. “Some of these things go back years!” She upended the envelope entirely and a last thin piece of mail floated out. She caught it in her hand. “I should have thought to get marshmallows,” she said. “A bonfire without marshmallows is kind of a sad thing.”

  “Next time.”

  “Why do you suppose Karen used the name Daisy Miranda instead of her own?” She tore open the envelope and looked inside.

  “She liked old Carmen Miranda movies. Daisy was the name of the cat she had when we were kids. Why she put the two together is anyone’s guess.”

  “You put Cal and Reid together. She put two things she loved together...” Her voice trailed off. “Grant. This is Karen.” She held up a small color photograph of his sister and a man wearing a cowboy hat.

  He glanced at the picture. “Yep.” He slid his hand beneath her sweater. “What do you say we take this inside?”

  “You don’t know who the man is with her?”

  He sighed faintly and looked more closely at the photograph. “Nope.”

  “You see what he’s doing?”

  “Kissing her hand.”

  “He’s kissing the ring on her hand.” She flipped the photograph over and went still.

  He looked.

  “So much for vows” had been scrawled on the back.

  She pawed through the pieces of mail strewn over the porch beside her. “Here!” She pounced on one and lifted it to the light. “This was postmarked last February. The return address is right here.” She stood and the mail scattered as she waved the envelope at him. “Your sister was married. Her husband—” she stopped waving to peer at the envelope again—“Ryder Wilson mailed this from right here! A year ago. You know what this means?”

  “The haystack just got a lot smaller.”

  She smiled brilliantly and kissed his lips. “The haystack doesn’t even exist. This Wilson guy is surely Layla’s father! Judge Stokes needs to see this. I know he’ll hold off ruling on Layla a little longer while we track down Wilson.”

  “You’re crediting my wild sister with pretty traditional behavior,” he cautioned. “Being married to the father of her child.”