Deep River Promise

by Jackie Ashenden

  He would be at his plane now, ready to take off into the sky. Flying away from Deep River.

  Flying away from her.

  She’d never particularly been one to indulge in tears, but she couldn’t stop one as it escaped and rolled down her cheek.

  No, it would be fine. Some sadness now, and then she’d be better. She’d recover and get over him. She had so much to do: the food co-op and nutrition classes, the oil stuff…

  No, you won’t. You won’t ever get over him.

  Someone hammered on her front door.

  She ignored it, picking up her wine and taking a sip.

  Connor must have answered, because she could hear voices drifting down the hall. Her son’s and a man’s deep tones. Rich and so achingly familiar.

  Astrid went very, very still as a sudden and very real fury went rushing through her.

  It was Damon, wasn’t it? He hadn’t left. He was here, at her house, talking to her son.

  The fury climbed higher. Why the hell was he back? After making such a big deal about leaving? God help him, if he broke Connor’s heart again, she would skin him alive, stuff him, and stand him beside the door of the Moose as a warning.

  Shoving back her chair, she stormed out of the kitchen and down the hall to find Connor standing in the entrance, grinning like a lunatic, and Damon Goddamn Fitzgerald standing beside him, also grinning like a lunatic.

  Both of them turned as she approached.

  The bright expression on her son’s face would have broken her heart if it hadn’t been broken already, while Damon’s eyes flared a brilliant electric blue, a familiar determination settling over his handsome features.

  “I…uh…gotta go,” Connor said, still grinning. “Go easy on him, Mom.” Then before she could say another word, he took off out the front door and ran down the steps.

  Damon closed the door very deliberately, not taking his eyes off her.

  Her broken heart seized in her chest, making the flood of fury climb even higher, bursting out of her before she could stop it.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “You said that you were leaving, that you were very sorry but you couldn’t—” She broke off abruptly as he stalked slowly toward her.

  “What are you doing?” Her heart began to race.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” He didn’t stop.

  “Damon…” She was breathing very fast, and the look in his eyes was very intent, very sure. “Damon.”

  But he didn’t stop. He came even closer, and she knew she should back away and run, protect herself somehow, because she’d said goodbye to him and she was barely holding it together as it was. She didn’t need him coming back for whatever reason.

  She opened her mouth to tell him to get out of her house and never come back, because seeing him again hurt; it just hurt so much. But before she could get the words out, he dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her.

  Astrid stared at him in shock.

  “I know you’re angry,” Damon said, his gaze holding hers. “And you have every right to be. You gave me your heart and I threw it away. And I’m sorry, Astrid. I’m so goddamn sorry that I hurt you, and Connor too.” His expression was intense. “You were right. You were right about everything. I was scared. I didn’t want to go back to the place where I was after Ella died. I didn’t want to feel anything so deeply again because it nearly killed me the first time, so I told myself the ability to feel was gone. And that a life with no ties or connections would suit me just fine.” Blue fire flamed in his eyes. “But then I met you and I started to feel again, and it scared the shit out of me. I told myself a lot of lies about what I was feeling. I did what my mom taught me to do: I ignored it and tried to carry on. But I was wrong, honey. I was so wrong.”

  Astrid’s throat had gone tight, her vision blurring. All she could do was stand there, staring at him as he knelt at her feet. Her beautiful man…

  “And you were right.” His voice had gotten thicker, rougher. “You were right about me. Love isn’t finite and I never lost the ability to feel. It’s still there. I was just afraid of it. And I’m tired of telling myself the same old lies. Tired of sucking it up and carrying on. Tired of pretending I don’t feel anything. Tired of having nothing in my life. I want something different. I want something meaningful. I want you.” He stared at her as if she were the center of the universe. “I want to stay here with you and Connor. I want to bring my mom here too. I want a life full of ties and connections and community and friends. And not because of Cal or any other kind of promise. I want it because I love you and my life is nothing without you in it.”

  The tear that had rolled down her cheek before was joined by another, and then another. Which was just silly, because she hated crying. And here she was, standing in her hallway, with the most beautiful man in the world kneeling at her feet, and she was crying because she was happy. How stupid was that?

  “Damon,” she said in a thick voice, blinking furiously. “Why are you kneeling?”

  The smile he gave her was so full of warmth and tenderness she couldn’t breathe. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. And gentlemen always kneel when they ask for a woman’s hand in marriage.”

  A hiccup of laughter escaped her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m not getting up until I get an answer.”

  It didn’t matter, the tears. Nothing mattered. Nothing but this man in front of her, who wasn’t leaving after all. Who was here and not for some promise or because he wanted to protect her or look out for her. He was here because he loved her.

  Damon Fitzgerald loved her.

  Astrid wiped her face. “You hurt me.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  “You broke my heart.”

  His blue gaze searched her face, full of tenderness and regret. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, someone’s going to have to stay and help me repair it.” That heart of hers was beating very fast and she knew that taking another step toward him would change things irrevocably. But things had already changed. She was in love with him, and nothing would alter that. And she was okay with it. She was more than okay with it.

  Astrid took a step and then another, until she was right up close to him. There was love in that blue gaze of his. Love and joy and hope. All the things she’d had small tastes of but never been able to hold on to.

  But she could now, couldn’t she? She could have them.

  They both could.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, looking into his eyes. “I’ll marry you, Damon.”

  For a second, he stared at her, as if he wanted to memorize this moment. Then he surged to his feet and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, honey,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m never leaving you. I’m never leaving you ever again.”

  Astrid put her arms around his neck and turned her face into the warmth of his T-shirt, inhaling the familiar, delicious scent of him. “And I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

  Then his fingers were in her hair, and he was pulling her head back, and he was kissing her, hot and desperate, the salt of her tears mingling with the rich, heady taste of him. And she wanted it to go on forever.

  But all too soon he was lifting his head, his eyes blazing blue. “One last thing before I take you into your bedroom and lock the door for the rest of the night. Would you mind if I brought my mother to Deep River?”

  Astrid leaned into his heat, loving the hard strength of him. “Oh God, of course not. Connor talked to her, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Damon’s smile lit up the entire world. “I called her just before I was going to get into my plane and we had an honest chat.” His fingers wound tighter in her hair. “I think I’ve been angry with her ever since Ella died, for leaving me without support. She tho
ught she was protecting me. That carrying on would help.”

  “And you told her it didn’t?”

  “I think she knew that anyway.” He leaned down and brushed her mouth with his. “I told her that I was in love with you and that I wanted to stay here. And she said that all she wanted was for me to be happy.”

  Astrid’s heart squeezed tight. She knew what that meant to him. “Oh, Damon, did she?”

  “Yes.” His eyes were so very blue. “She wants to come here and see the mountains.”

  Astrid smiled, her throat tight with emotion. “Then we’ll show her.”

  “We will.” Damon’s arms tightened around her. “But not yet. First, I need to show you something.”

  “Show me what?”

  “Show you that I’m really not much of a gentleman.”

  She laughed as he picked her up in his arms. “Just as well. I don’t much care for gentlemen.”

  * * *

  A month later…

  Connor leapt excitedly up the wooden stairs to the porch of Laura Fitzgerald’s new house, Laura herself trailing along behind him.

  She moved more slowly than she once had, Damon noted, and with more hesitation, but she still walked tall, her chin lifted. She still was a proud woman.

  It had taken them a month to move her from LA to Deep River, and it had been a bit of a mission.

  A few days after he’d made his decision to stay, he and Astrid had thrown an engagement party at the Moose that the whole town had attended. It had been raucous and fun, and Silas had been totally disgusted that Damon had beat him to it with an engagement.

  Damon didn’t care. He had his mother to move, which had involved a trip to LA to help her pack up her apartment. He tried to go alone, but Astrid and Connor had insisted on coming with him, the three of them helping Laura with her packing.

  His mother had been a little cool with Astrid and Connor initially, but it hadn’t taken either of them long to endear themselves, Astrid with her practicality and Connor with his sheer exuberance.

  Damon had determined that Laura living with him and Astrid and Connor wasn’t an option because not only would she not want to, but the house was too small anyway. However there was a small house next door to Astrid’s that was empty, and it had the same amazing view of the mountains that hers did. It was also very close, so Damon could keep an eye on Laura easily enough.

  Now Connor stood at the top of the porch stairs, turning to offer Laura his hand. She waved it away irritatedly. “I can manage on my own quite well enough, thank you very much.”

  Connor only grinned, not at all fazed by her temper—he himself was fairly irrepressible, as it turned out—moving over to where he’d placed the chair for Laura’s use and rearranging the pillows on it for the umpteenth time.

  He’d been very particular about what kind of pillows were needed and what kind of chair, since he’d been the one to promise her those things. A nice wooden rocking chair, with red pillows since red was her favorite color—or so Damon had told him.

  “Here you are, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Connor said, patting the pillows. “I hope it’s comfortable for you.”

  Laura sat down carefully in the chair. “Very nice,” she murmured. Then she turned a bright-blue gaze, almost the same color as Connor’s, on him. “You’re a good boy.”

  Connor grinned, taking that as his due, and stepped back as she settled herself.

  Damon came up the stairs, then stopped, Astrid beside him. “You don’t want to look around inside first, Mom?”

  “No. Why would I want to look around inside?” She nodded at the view. “When I have this to look at?”

  And what a view it was. The surrounding mountains, still capped with snow even though it was mid-summer, cradling the town and the river, the dark green of the forest a perfect contrast. And Deep River itself, the ramshackle collection of buildings that made up the town clustered at the river’s edge.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Astrid said, amused. “Come on. Let’s get her bags inside.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Laura sighed. “Bring out some whisky, would you, Damon?”

  He smiled, small threads of tension that he hadn’t realized were there unwinding inside him. When his mother wanted a whisky, it meant she was home.

  So he and Astrid went inside and put the bags down. Then Damon got the whisky while Astrid got some glasses, and they went outside again to where his mother sat on the porch, talking with Connor.

  It was the perfect time for porch sitting, with the long summer twilight lying over the town and the air mild—or at least as mild as it would ever get in Alaska.

  Astrid put the glasses on top of the wide wooden railing for Damon to pour them each a measure.

  “One for the boy too,” Laura said, frowning.

  “No,” Astrid and Damon both said at the same time.

  Connor scowled.

  Laura reached for her glass, then handed it Connor. “Just a sip, mind.”

  Oh, his mother—she was going to be a problem.

  But Damon didn’t care. How could he? When he had the three most important people in the world in his life?

  Laura leaned back in the chair, and for a second nobody moved or spoke as she stared out over the river and the mountains beyond.

  “You were right,” she said at last, glancing at Connor and then over to her son. “It sure is pretty here.”

  And the last shred of tightness in Damon’s heart disappeared.

  He gathered the woman he loved tight against him and stood with the boy he regarded as a son and the mother he adored, a family with roots that would soon grow deep, nurtured by love and compassion, joy and understanding. A tree that would grow tall and strong for years to come.

  And together they watched the sun go down over Deep River.

  Epilogue

  Morgan West cycled home from Deep River township, the early-summer-evening sun shining on her back and making her feel warm under her uniform.

  It had been a long day, but an excellent one and Morgan was full of a sense of well-being.

  Sandy had just reported at a town meeting that one of the smaller cruise ship companies had agreed to add Deep River as a day stop on their way to Juneau, much to everyone’s delight.

  Well, perhaps not quite everyone. There were still a few worries about tourists and strangers being around, but most people agreed that the Deep River tourism ventures were off to a great start.

  It made Morgan happy. Being home made her happy.

  That first day after she’d gotten back here—after the time she’d spent first on bereavement leave, and then on a police course for some distraction—and she’d put on her uniform…well, she’d felt like herself again. As if the normality that had been suspended after Cal’s death had reasserted itself.

  And that was good. That was what she wanted: to be home in the place she loved, doing the job she also loved, protecting the people she cared about, and hopefully with no more drama in her life.

  Morgan hummed to herself as she turned her bike into the driveway of the West house and coasted down the hill, letting the slight breeze generated by her speed cool her face.

  But it wasn’t until she’d pulled up in front of the wide wraparound porch that she noticed the man standing right beside her front door.

  The extremely tall man. And broad, like he routinely wrestled lions in his spare time. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and enough stubble to outline his very strong, hard jaw.

  Handsome too, in a kind of wild, uncivilized way.

  He had his hands in the pockets of a pair of very worn jeans and the expression on his face was that of a man who was set on getting his own way no matter what.

  She recognized him. She’d met him at Cal’s funeral, and Damon and Silas had spent the last couple of weeks looking for him without much luck.


  What was he doing here? Standing outside her front door?

  Morgan got off her bike, leaned it up against the side of the house, then folded her arms across her chest and gave him a very stern look. “Where on earth have you been, Zeke Montgomery? Don’t you know everyone’s been looking for you?”

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in Jackie Ashenden’s Alaska Homecoming series That Deep River Feeling

  Available July 2021 from Sourcebooks Casablanca

  Chapter 1

  Zeke Montgomery knew Morgan West was going to be trouble the minute he laid eyes on her.

  She stood at the foot of the steps to her own front door—the front door he’d been waiting outside of for the past couple of hours, not that he’d been counting or anything—with her arms folded, looking sternly at him like he was a little kid who’d just drawn on her walls with a crayon.

  She was very small and wore a not particularly flattering uniform of dark brown pants and khaki shirt, with a dark brown parka that nearly swallowed her thrown over the top. And her strawberry-blond hair, the color of which reminded him of apricots, was in a very severe ponytail down her back.

  She wore no makeup, her face freckled and wholesome, with those bright blue eyes, the ones he remembered from Cal’s funeral that had been red from weeping then but were much brighter now. They were also very, very direct.

  And she was still the prettiest thing he’d seen for months, if not years.

  All of which spelled trouble with a capital T.

  She said crossly, “Where on earth have you been, Zeke Montgomery? Don’t you know everyone’s been looking for you?”

  He had to admit, he was surprised. He didn’t think she’d remembered him from Cal’s funeral, but she obviously had. Which was good.

  It was going to make this whole situation a hell of a lot easier.