“No one came,” she sobbed.
He stroked her hair, rocking her. “I’m here. Don’t worry. I’m here.”
His voice seemed to calm her, if not his words, and soon her sobbing drained away. She clung to him, though, and he was grateful for that much. She didn’t seem to blame him as he blamed himself.
“Better call the police,” he told Jesse as he dabbed a rivulet of blood from a nasty gash in her forehead.
“And Brionney. She’ll have my head if we don’t.”
When Jesse left the room, Mickelle spoke. “It was him—Colton.”
“You saw him?” Somehow Damon didn’t think Scofield had the guts for something like this.
“I didn’t see him, but it was Colton. It had to be him. He was searching for something in particular.” Her voice broke. “He took my ring.” Her left hand pushed up out of the blanket, looking white and incredibly frail. Along the ring finger were darkening bruises and raw scrapes. “I tried not to let him have it, but . . .” The words were drowned by another sob.
“The ring isn’t important. You are. It’s insured. We can always buy another one.”
She rested quietly against him for a long time. Then, “Why did you come? How did you know?”
Damon cleared the lump in his throat and explained about Brionney’s concern after finding the little black book, as well as that fact that he’d talked with his attorney about Colton.
“What did he say?”
Damon wished he didn’t have to answer, but Mickelle had a right to know. “So far the guy has pulled off several dozen insurance thefts, his target mainly being young widows. First he tracks a likely target down, joins their church or civic group, finds out everything he can about them and then goes in for the goods.”
Mickelle said nothing. She only closed her eyes. A tear dripped from the corner, and Damon wiped it away with his fingertip.
“Apparently, he has some friends in different investment groups who help him. Somehow he gets the women to sign over their funds, and boom, he’s gone. They never track him down.”
She sighed. Tears again leaked out of her eyes, but they were silent tears, the kind that hurt the most.
Damon rocked her. “I’m sorry, Mickelle. I really am.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I love you so much.” His whisper fell into her hair.
“I love you, too.”
His heart ached at the sight of her battered face, but he became really upset when she added softly, “He said he’d be back.”
“You won’t be here.”
Again she said nothing, but let her head rest on his chest.
The police arrived, and Brionney and Mickelle’s sons were on their heels. Bryan and Jeremy rushed past the officers to their mother.
Mickelle recovered enough to put her arms around them and assure them she was all right. “It looks worse than it is,” she insisted.
“Your mom’s strong,” Damon agreed, trying to support her statement for their benefit. “I arrived just as she head-punched the guy. In another minute she would have had the best of him.”
“Way to go, Mom!” Jeremy cheered.
Mickelle smiled faintly, but there was an emptiness in her eyes. “No one was coming,” she stated in a small voice. Damon tightened his hold, wishing he could do something more to comfort her.
Brionney took the boys to the kitchen while the police began to ask questions, but she returned shortly to hold Mickelle’s hand. Finally Damon said, “Look, are you through with your questions? I think she may need to go to a doctor.”
Mickelle started to protest, but Brionney interrupted. “No buts about it. You might need stitches or something.”
“Come on, I’ll take you,” Damon said.
“I’m going too,” Bryan insisted, almost sullenly, from the doorway.
Damon stared at him. “I think that would be a good idea. Your mother needs us all right now.”
Bryan’s face appeared slightly repentant, but Damon didn’t feel any satisfaction.
If only he hadn’t left Mickelle.
As though reading his thoughts, she put a hand to his face. He felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude that she was safe, and that he wouldn’t have to watch her wither away as he had Charlotte. He bent his head and whispered. “Oh, Kelle, I couldn’t live without you.”
She put her finger over his lips, saying nothing, but her eyes communicated volumes. And Damon understood what they were saying, for as terrifying as losing her might be, it would be infinitely worse not to have loved her at all.
* * *
Mickelle answered what seemed like a million questions from the police and her family. And from Damon. Poor Damon, who blamed himself for what had happened. She knew it wasn’t his fault. She had been too trusting, too busy running away from her fears to recognize the signs Colton had given her.
At the hospital she received stitches on her forehead, but after cleaning her wounds, there was little more they could do. Damon insisted she stay overnight for observation, and then for good measure, he stayed by her side most of the night. Brionney and Jesse took the boys to their house, but not before Mickelle hugged them and assured them for the millionth time that she was all right.
In the silence of the dark hospital room, she found it difficult to sleep. Several times she would close her eyes, only to find that she couldn’t breathe, as though the attacker were once again on top of her, squeezing the air from her throat.
All alone!
She cried silently, not wanting Damon to hear, not wanting to hurt him further. Tears trickled down her face and into the pillow. Though Damon was in the room, she still felt as alone as when she had faced the intruder.
I was there.
It wasn’t a voice exactly, but a thought, appearing in her head. And in that seemingly brief expression, she felt a multitude of feelings, a lifetime of conversation between spirits. Pure knowledge, pure love, and compassion, flowing from one heart to another—from one soul to another. Immediately, her inner wounds were eased, her understanding complete. She hadn’t been alone. The Lord had been her silent companion during this experience as He had been throughout her life, giving her strength and determination when she’d needed it most.
“Damon,” she whispered.
Instantly, he was out of the armchair and next to the bed. “I’m here. Do you need something?”
“No. I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t alone. I thought I was, but I wasn’t. He was there, helping me. And He will always be.”
Damon’s lips gently caressed a spot under her left eye that was untouched from the attack. Then he laid his cheek even more gently against hers. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now I love you even more than that.”
“You were right,” she whispered. “I am stronger than I thought.”
“Does that mean you’ll still marry me?”
She put a hand on his cheek. “Yes, I will.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You are not going back to that house!” Damon announced when Mickelle was released from the hospital early the next morning.
“Well, I can’t stay here,” she told him with a smile that looked as though it hurt her bruised face.
Damon tucked her carefully into the Mercedes. “I’m taking you home.”
“To the palace?” Mickelle asked. “I mean, your place?” She colored so adorably that Damon had to laugh.
“Is that what you call it? Yes I mean my house, where else? You’ll be safe there. We have an alarm, and—” He stopped, unwilling to confess that he had already contacted a security man to keep an eye on her and the house.
“I can’t live there. I hate to remind you, but we’re not married yet.”
“Bekka lived with us. We’ve got several wings. It’s not like we’ll be in the same room.”
“Rebekka was your nanny. I’m your fiancée. There’s a big difference, and if my li
ps didn’t hurt so much, I’d show you that right now.”
His eyes ran over her swollen lips. “Guess I’ll have to take a rain check.”
She laughed. “Keep sounding so disappointed. It’s good for my ego.”
“Seriously though, you can stay at my place with the kids, and I’ll stay at yours.”
“No!”
He blinked at her with exaggerated surprise.
“He could come back,” she explained.
“We can’t live in fear.”
“I’m not, Mr. Come-to-my-house-and-live. Who’s the one afraid? What I am is being careful. If it’s not safe for me to live there, then you certainly can’t.”
“Then we agree it’s not safe.”
“Oooh . . .” Mickelle shook her head in mock frustration. “Somehow I think you planned this conversation.”
“Sort of,” Damon admitted, taking her hands.
“So I’ll stay with Brionney and Jesse.”
“No, I’ll stay with them. One person will be less of an intrusion for them, and believe me, I’d feel a lot safer with you at my, um, palace.” He grinned at her. “I’m actually going to beef up security.” That much he would tell her. “It was long overdue, and this just gave me the opportunity. Besides, you might as well get used to the house. After all, it’s going to be yours.”
Her eyes dropped demurely to her hands, still tucked firmly in his own. Her lashes left delicate shadows on her cheeks. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing . . . I . . . I am a little nervous about . . . I mean, it’s a different life-style.”
He hugged her then, as well as he could in the car, finding it difficult to remind himself that she was still in a lot of pain. “There’re going to be a lot of adjustments, but we can do it.”
“Bryan,” she said with a sigh.
“Yep, Bry.”
Mickelle’s tongue wet her lip thoughtfully. “Maybe it would be a good thing for the boys to stay at your place. Like a trial run.”
“Maybe things will go so smoothly that you’ll agree to marry me sooner.” He put on his best beseeching face.
She giggled. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“There are worse things. You could hate me ’cause I’m so good-looking.”
“Oh, Damon,” she moaned. “Belle’s right, that saying has got to go!”
Smiling, he started the car and they drove in comfortable silence to her house. On the porch, she hesitated, eyes resting on her rose bushes next to the steps. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
She gave him a half-smile. “Not really. It’s just my bush . . . lost all its blossoms . . .” She shrugged and led the way into the house.
Gratefully, Damon saw that the shattered glass on her bedroom floor was gone, and the room had been straightened. The window had been temporarily blocked by cardboard and tape. He knew Jesse and Brionney were responsible.
Mickelle’s eyes fixed on the broken window. With a sympathetic grimace, Damon said, “When I called your parents from the hospital, your dad told me he was going to take the afternoon off and fix the window. He insisted.”
She sighed, and began haphazardly throwing clothes into a suitcase she removed from under the bed. “Good old Dad—always there when you need him.”
“He’s also going to take a stab at the door in Bryan’s room. I’m not sure when. He’s going to talk to Bryan about helping him. Hope you don’t mind me telling him about the door.”
Her answering smile was tight. “I don’t mind. I just wish it wasn’t necessary.”
Damon nodded sympathetically. Mickelle had grown steadily paler since their arrival, though he was unsure if that was because of her injuries or the memories of the attack. Either way, she needed time away from this place. “You about ready?”
“We can come back with the boys to get whatever else we’ll need,” she said, shutting her suitcase.
“I can stop by when I pick them up from school.” Damon hefted her suitcase and started down the hall. “You know, moving to Alpine will require more driving on your part. Do you want to find a nanny to help?”
“Heavens no!” Her blue eyes opened wide, and a flush of color returned to her face. “And here I was trying to think of a good way to fire your cook!”
Damon laughed. “Not for a few days at least, Kelle. You need your rest.”
“You keep up with all of this,” she said, motioning in the air, “and maybe I will marry you sooner!”
“Good! Now hold that door, would you? So I can get this suitcase out.”
“I really should go see the boys before they leave for school,” Mickelle told him, once they arrived at his car. “Could we stop by Brionney’s?”
Damon didn’t like the exhaustion on Mickelle’s face, or the way she moved so gingerly. “Sure, whatever you want, but we need to get back to Belle soon. She’s called me three times on the cell phone already this morning. Tanner says she keeps watching for us through the window.”
Bryan and Jeremy were happy to see Mickelle. They met her in Brionney’s entryway, along with Brionney and her three daughters. From Jesse’s absence Damon assumed he was already at work. A good thing, since Damon had no plans to go in today, not even for a scheduled meeting at one. Jesse could handle it.
After their initial greeting, Brionney and her girls returned to the kitchen for breakfast. Bryan and Jeremy remained in the entryway. “Gosh, Mom,” exclaimed Jeremy, “you look kinda bad, you know. All bruised. Do you think I could take you for show and tell? I mean, if you’re feeling okay.”
“She can’t go to show and tell, dummy,” Bryan growled, rolling his eyes. “Sometimes you’re the biggest baby.”
“Am not! Janine Gibson brought in her brother who’s a black belt, and he had a big bruise right across his face. The kids loved it. But Mom’s is even cooler.”
“It hurts, stupid!” Bryan shouted. “It’s not something to be proud of.”
“Bryan!” Mickelle put a hand on his shoulder. “Just because your brother doesn’t understand doesn’t mean he’s stupid. Please don’t use those words.”
Damon was glad to see that Mickelle was up to the task of disciplining her son. He would do it himself, but felt Bryan would resent him even further.
“Now, before I leave,” Mickelle continued, “I want you both to know that we are going to stay at Damon’s house until we catch this guy.”
“At Damon’s?” Bryan shot him a dark stare. “Why can’t we stay here?”
“They really don’t have room. The three of us can’t squeeze into one guest room, and I’m reluctant to ask Aunt Brionney to put up with you boys sleeping in their family room for so long. Besides . . .” Mickelle paused, reaching for Damon’s hand. “We have other news for you.”
The increasingly angry expression on Bryan’s face stopped further explanation. Damon wished he had not been so quick to tell Belle and Tanner of their pending marriage. Maybe it would have been better to work up to informing Bryan.
Mickelle glanced at him, as though thinking the same thing. She grimaced and then sighed. “Look, boys, come on and sit down.” She led the way into Brionney’s spacious sitting room.
“Do you want me to leave?” Damon asked her. “I could go join them for breakfast.” He pointed in the direction of the kitchen where he could hear Brionney and her children at the table.
Mickelle smiled at him. “I think maybe you’d better stay.” A heavy weariness passed over her face.
He nodded and helped her sit in a padded chair with Queen Anne legs. With his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, he stood behind the chair, hoping to be a silent, comforting presence.
Mickelle waited until the boys were seated on the love seat across from her. “Now, you know that Damon and I have been close these past weeks and we’ve done some serious talking. We love each other.” Her eyes begged them to understand. “Very much. We want to get married—eventually—and we thought that since we’ll be living at his place anyway, that we co
uld get a head start on moving in.”
“Yay!” squealed Jeremy, jumping up from the love seat and launching himself at Damon. After a heartfelt hug, the boy broke away to do a victory dance on the handwoven carpet covering the wood floor. “Oh, yeah, uh-huh! Oh, yeah, uh-huh! Cool!”
Bryan sat back on the couch and folded his arms tightly to his chest. “I guess I have no say in this.”
“Well, you can’t change my love for Damon,” Mickelle said gently, “but just because I love him, it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. You and Jeremy will always come first with both Damon and me.”
Bryan glared at her. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true.” Mickelle leaned forward, but Bryan seemed to collapse inside himself, as though trying to escape her.
“Well, I’m glad!” Jeremy declared. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” He smiled at Damon. “Do you have a room for me? I mean one for my very own.”
“I have about a dozen rooms for you to choose from,” Damon told him. “First your mom needs to take a look at them and decide which ones would be best. I happen to know that she likes to check on you at night, and we can’t have her wandering all night in the dark, you know.”
Jeremy laughed as though that were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “I can’t be too far away from the kitchen,” he joked, “or by the time I get to bed after dinner, it’ll be time to wake up! This is great!” Exuberantly, he hugged Damon again. “And we can play basketball with you any old time we want.”
Damon felt his heart turn tender from the acceptance in this sweet child. If only Bryan could be so supportive. “I won’t be staying at the house, though, until after the wedding. It’s not appropriate. But I’ll be around a lot.”
“I don’t think you should marry anyone,” Bryan growled at Mickelle. “Dad’s barely dead.”
Damon heard Mickelle’s sudden intake of breath. He waited to see if she would turn to him, silently asking for help, but she simply stared at her oldest son. “We’ve talked about how little you knew what was between your father and me,” she said slowly. “There’s a lot I won’t tell you until you’re older, but I will say that I know your father wishes me and Damon well. I know that.”
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