by Amelia Autin
“‘In sickness and in health,’ Shane. Those traditional wedding vows we both take seriously.” She swallowed hard. “If I told you I had cancer,” she whispered, “and I only had six months to live, would you walk away?”
Appalled she could even ask the question, his anger flared and he shot back, “Of course not.”
“Then why are you asking me to walk away?”
“I’m—” Not was what he’d intended to say, but then he realized she was right. He’d never considered it from her perspective. Protecting his woman was what a man did—his father had taught him that by deed as well as word. Protection was his right, not just his duty. It hadn’t occurred to him a woman could feel the same way about her man. That she had the right to protect him should the worst occur.
The only thing in his mind had been shielding Carly from the possibility that the seizures could cause mental damage, and subsequently drive him to take his own life...or become a drain on hers. His pride wouldn’t allow him to face the possibility of becoming dependent on her, dragging her down.
But just as he would still love and cherish Carly if something catastrophic happened to her, she would still love and cherish him if their situations were reversed. Whether she wanted to take that risk with him or not was her choice to make. Trying to take that choice away from her was an insult.
“I love you, Shane,” she said quietly. “I know I told you I wanted emotional distance. You knew that wasn’t really true or even possible because we were already beyond that point. But you pretended, because you wanted to give me everything I asked for. You wanted to make me happy.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I want the same thing. I want to make you happy, want to give you everything you need, whether you ask for it or not.
“That’s what love is, Shane. I can’t ask you not to die. I can’t ask you not to get sick. Those things happen, whether we want them to or not. But I can ask you to let me be there for you, ‘for better, for worse...in sickness and in health.’ Just as I can ask you to be there for me.”
She moved closer, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. “Whatever the doctor told you, we’ll face it together,” she assured him quietly. “Whatever the eventual outcome, we’ll have each other, and that’s all that matters.”
“You don’t know,” he began.
She raised her face to his. “So tell me.”
He laid it all out for her. The probabilities and the possibilities—including the worst-case scenarios. “So you see,” he explained, “this new medication might not work, either. There are other meds they can prescribe, but every one has serious side effects to worry about. And there are no guarantees any of the meds will work—small percentage odds on something like that, but...it’s still a risk.”
“You’re looking ahead and seeing only the worst that could happen, when the odds are it won’t.”
“But what if it does?” He’d done nothing but agonize over this possibility since the moment he’d seen his doctor, and that pain was reflected in his voice. “You’d be stuck with a husband who might not even remember you.” And the worst thing he could imagine—“Who might not even remember loving you.”
“‘Don’t borrow trouble, because you can never pay it back.’ My mom used to say that to me,” Carly said with a tiny smile of remembrance. “I was in my teens before I understood what she meant.”
“My mom uses that phrase, too. She’s really big on aphorisms.”
“She sounds like a woman after my own heart. I’d love to meet her.”
Carly wasn’t hinting—she rarely did that, Shane knew. She usually came right out and said what she meant—so he knew she was just expressing her true feelings. But he suddenly realized he’d been wanting to introduce Carly to his mother for weeks, and not just for the symbolism involved, although that was a big part of it. The biggest reason, though, was that he thought the two women would hit it off because they were so much alike—although Carly was a career woman and his mom had been a stay-at-home wife and mother. But they both shone like a beacon in the areas that truly mattered—courage, strength, determination. And love. When they loved, they loved wholeheartedly. They would risk everything for that.
But knowing all that still didn’t make it any easier for him. He’d been a protector for too long to change now, and try though he might, he couldn’t get the words out to ask Carly to marry him. Even though he wanted it fervently.
But Carly seemed to understand the gulf he couldn’t cross. “I love you, Shane. You’re worth the risk,” she said softly, her true-blue eyes holding his eyes captive...the way she held his heart captive. “Will you marry me?”
A wave of emotions swept through him, topmost being gratitude and humility. Gratitude that Carly had asked the question he couldn’t, and humility that he didn’t deserve her. Then another emotion surged to the fore—determination. Determination that he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to make Carly happy on the off chance that someday he’d break her heart through no intent of his own.
“Yes,” he whispered, forcing the word past the obstruction in his throat. He cleared his throat and repeated, firmly this time, “Yes. God, yes.”
“Good,” she replied with a decisive nod. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to hurt you to make you agree.”
He laughed again, because the idea of Carly physically overpowering him tickled his funny bone. She wasn’t a little bit of a thing, but she was no match for him, either, and they both knew it. But there was a touch of relief thrown in with the humor, because he knew without a doubt Carly wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. That her determination was as strong as his own. That she would do whatever she had to in order to convince him they belonged together, even if it meant fighting dirty.
“I love you, Carly.” The words seemed to say themselves. “I can’t promise forever—you know I can’t. But if you’ll take a chance on me, I’ll do my damnedest to make sure you never regret it.”
Those tears he’d seen in her eyes earlier returned, but she blinked rapidly to hold them firmly in check. “There’s only one promise I want from you,” she said now. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with forever.”
“What?”
“If we ever have children, I want your promise there’ll be no corporal punishment.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment because the thought of children with Carly touched something deep inside him. Something that had been locked away since his unborn son had died with his mother fifteen years ago. When Shane’s eyes opened again, they were damp. “You have my word.”
She let out the breath she was holding, and smiled at him. “No matter what happens, I’ll never regret loving you,” she said with rock-solid assurance. And he knew she meant it. Some women might not be able to make that promise and keep it, but not his Carly. She would love him through the good times and the bad, just as he would love her. And she would accept whatever happened with the same dauntless courage with which she faced the world.
A promise like that deserved a kiss, which he gave her. But one kiss turned into two, which turned into a whole slew of kisses that couldn’t begin to express the overflowing love in Shane’s heart. There were no words, either, to encompass something this overwhelming, but he tried. “Carly, I...You know...God knows...Oh hell.”
She nipped at his bottom lip. “Oorah, Marine,” she murmured. “Don’t tell me, show me.”
And he did. Tying his own record.
Epilogue
Almost nine years later
On an unusually frigid January day on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC, Carly Edwards Jones held the Bible for her husband to rest his left hand on as he raised his right one in the air. Then, in firm, ringing tones, he repeated the words recited by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. “
I do solemnly swear...” You should be focusing on the meaning of the oath Shane is taking, Carly told herself sternly, but all she could think of in this moment was that she was witnessing history in the making. Never before in the modern era had the US—or any country in the world for that matter—voted to have a man take the helm when he was publicly known to have epilepsy. Epilepsy completely controlled by medication, but the stigma still resided in the minds of many.
Shane’s election had been a minor miracle because he’d run as the independent he was. Two things had contributed mightily to this unexpected achievement: the country was sick to death of partisan politics and had turned to Shane’s candidacy with a sense of relief; and the mainstream media had trumpeted Shane’s qualifications for the job—including his stellar career in the Marine Corps, his reputation as an incorruptible senator as well as his acts of personal bravery—rather than focus on the illness caused by one of those acts.
Carly knew her reputation as a highly regarded reporter was partially responsible for the mainstream media’s favorable treatment of Shane—and was fiercely glad. The country needed a man like him, and whatever worked, worked.
She’d been forced to take a leave of absence from her job—something she and Shane had discussed at length before he threw his hat in the ring for the US presidency two years ago. But she didn’t regret her decision. Just as she would never regret her decision to marry Shane.
“...So help me God.” The immense roar from the crowd that followed the final words of Shane’s oath snapped Carly back to the here and now. Her eyes met her husband’s, and she knew from the intensity in his expression he was caught up in the solemnity of the moment. But she also knew—because she knew him—that he was thinking of her, as well. That in his supreme moment he was thanking God for her love and support over the years. That he acknowledged he couldn’t have accomplished this without her.
* * *
Despite the hundreds of cameras aimed at Shane, he smiled at Carly. The private smile that started in his eyes and eventually spread over his entire face. And she smiled back. “Oorah, Marine,” she mouthed at him, and Shane’s smile deepened, knowing that television networks everywhere would scramble to find lip readers who could tell the world what she’d said. He didn’t care. Because even if they knew what she’d said, they wouldn’t know why. And they wouldn’t know what it really meant.
You can do this.
How many times over the past not-quite nine years had Carly said that to him? How many times had despair tugged him one way, while her belief in him had tugged him the other? Then there were the other occasions, too, happier ones. He’d been petrified with Carly in the delivery room because he couldn’t bear to see her in pain. He’d also been worried because she was in her late thirties when they had their first child.
But she’d gasped those same words at him, and somehow he’d found the courage to participate in the miracle of birth. To receive their babies into his hands. First their son, Shane, Jr. Then, two years later, their daughter, Charis, named after Carly’s mother. Both children were in attendance here today, even though they were still too young to understand why.
Shane wanted to mouth back, “I love you,” for everything he owed Carly. For everything she’d given him, especially her steadfast belief in him. For understanding the man he was...and the man he could be. But he knew that would never do. Not in this arena. Instead, he nodded slightly to acknowledge the message she’d sent, and mouthed one word back to her. “Oorah.”
Which, in their private parlance, meant I can do this...so long as I have you.
Then he clasped Carly’s hand in his, and they turned to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd. Together.
* * * * *
Don’t miss the next thrilling installment in the
MAN ON A MISSION miniseries!
And don’t forget the previous titles in the miniseries:
A FATHER’S DESPERATE RESCUE
LIAM’S WITNESS PROTECTION
ALEC’S ROYAL ASSIGNMENT
KING’S RANSOM
McKINNON’S ROYAL MISSION
CODY WALKER’S WOMAN
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Covert Alliance
by Linda O. Johnston
Chapter 1
“Yes, I’ll be glad to bring you—” Kelly Ladd froze in the middle of her response to her customer’s question. She had just glanced toward the restaurant’s front door.
Stan Grodon stood in the crowd that was just entering.
Stan Grodon, the murderous SOB. The reason she had returned to Blue Haven, California—as well as the reason she’d previously been forced to flee for her life. And now—
“Miss? Miss? I’d really like sausage instead of bacon in my three-cheese omelet. Is that okay?”
Kelly’s attention returned quickly to the glare of the middle-aged lady in a too-tight Blue Haven Bulldogs T-shirt who sat with a couple of other similarly clad women at the round table nearest her. She stood between two of them, leaning slightly forward, a pad of paper and a pen in her hand to jot down their orders.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said soothingly, glad her voice wasn’t cracking. “Of course you can have sausage instead of bacon. Are the types of cheese okay?”
Kelly forced herself to concentrate on taking the orders of all the women at the table, not watching the entrance of the city council members and others with them. Or at least not doing so overtly. She stood sideways so she wouldn’t be too obvious.
But she did manage to observe them as they waited to be seated. Especially the man who had gotten away—so far—with killing his wife. Who had attempted to kill Kelly.
And who was now endangering his own son.
When Kelly headed to the next customer at the table, she allowed herself to turn just a little, to grab a quick look at the group. She had known that a few Blue Haven City Council members and some staff were expected here for a 9:00 a.m. breakfast. They’d sent someone ahead to make sure tables would be ready for them.
Which had also given Kelly time to prepare herself mentally—as much as she could—assuming Stan might be among them. And maybe the oth
er man she anticipated, his aide, Paul Tirths.
Paul was not here, but Stan was. Kelly had played out this moment hundreds of times in her mind. Thousands. Yet she knew reality was unlikely to unfold exactly as she’d imagined.
She just hoped it soon allowed her, at last, to achieve her goals. And stay alive.
She forced herself to smile and act as if she was paying complete attention to what the next customer said. In fact, she was paying some attention. She had to. She was a waitress here, which included taking orders, serving and more. That was the cover she had created for herself. A perfect cover, since she had been fully aware of how popular this family-style café was with the local city council.
Plus, she now knew how to be the ultimate server, thanks to her new identity—although she’d unfortunately had to walk out on the job she had been given to start her new life.
And in doing so, she had undoubtedly incurred a lot of wrath that she would ultimately have to face.
But not yet. Now it was almost time. Time to see if her new looks, that new identity, her new persona, had all been changed sufficiently to make sure Stan couldn’t recognize that she was actually Shereen Alsop, sister to Andi Grodon, the woman who’d been his wife.
The woman he had murdered just over a year ago. Whose body was never found.
“Thanks,” Kelly finally said, smiling brightly at her customers. “I’ll be back with your food soon.”
She barely noticed their startled looks. Had they finished telling her what they wanted? No matter. She couldn’t just stay there. Not now.
Along with the rest of his crowd, Stan now moved toward her as they followed the hostess. He was dressed nattily in an expensive-looking suit and was smiling, damn him, as he chatted with his fellow council members and others like he had nothing in the world on his conscience.
Kelly ached to confront him. Smash that smile right off his ugly, falsely charming face.