by Hope Navarre
And then his body. Left to the elements. The fathomless depths of the canyon. The food chain. Long after the Lady Beth steamed her way back to port, and the helicopters returned to land, Kyle’s body remained anchored beneath the sea’s depths until she had finished with him, leaving his bones to scatter on the sea bed. Cassie used to have nightmares about Kyle being like this. Knowing this was how he died had spawned the demon that dared her to love again.
Cassie reached the fence and fell to her knees. Curling her fingers into the chain links, her gaze searching the sea, she whispered, “Kyle, I can’t do this anymore.”
She pressed her forehead into the fence, tears falling freely. “I need to be able to love again. You have to let me go!”
The sob escaping her throat racked her body. She’d known something wasn’t right. All these years. Then, something had happened to her when she’d experienced her anaphylactic shock. The freedom her spirit had felt as her body had been shutting down had been peaceful, seemed natural. She couldn’t figure out why the voices she had heard outside her body had sounded distressed and urgent. If what she had experienced was her body settling down for death, then dying was okay. She’d been completely prepared—and aware that she still existed. Had she not been rescued and instead died, she would have been all right. Those around her would have been the ones to suffer because they had lost her.
They would be left to live with the grief and the guilt of believing they had caused Cassie pain—been unable to rescue her, just as she and the others had suffered over losing Kyle.
Her eyes shot open. Oh, Lord. That was what Kyle tried to tell her on the beach. He was all right. He existed somewhere she could not go, but God help her, he was alive in some wondrous form. He had spoken to her. His visit had to be true.
The sun splashed its waning light on the ocean ebbing and flowing with tides and wind, casting purples, pinks and blues against the distant clouds. Ignoring the pain in her fingers from her grip on the fence, she whispered, “Thank you, Kyle!”
She sat back on her heels, wiped her eyes. Now, she had to accept her emotions before she could go back and face Peter.
“Cassie.”
She turned. Peter stood next to the Fisherman’s Memorial, a hand on the granite pedestal, the fisherman casting his blind eyes past the rope as if watching Peter. Behind him, the sun was setting, casting him in silhouette. One arm hung at his side, hand fisted.
She rose to her feet, holding on to the fence for support. There was no ignoring the fury in his eyes. In three strides, he was by her side, concern creasing his brow. His lips compressed into a thin line.
“Cassie! Are you okay?”
“Peter...”
“I can’t believe you disappeared and didn’t tell anyone. Don’t ever walk out on me like that, Cassie. I won’t take this behavior any longer. Your fears are bullshit. I know you love me. No way in hell could you make love to me the way you do if you didn’t. I know the difference no matter what you say. If you can’t trust yourself, then for God’s sake, trust me.”
“Wait...Peter.”
He grabbed her hand. “No. Listen to me.” He pulled her to the memorial, to the patch of dirt against the cement.
“What are you doing?”
He ignored her. Instead, he dropped to his knees. She watched, shocked, as he dug into the ground with his hands. She recognized the velvet pouch he pulled from the dirt.
“Peter, what did you do?”
Wiping the dirt from his hands on his jeans, he pulled the ring from the pouch. He held it between them like the symbol of hope, love and forever it was.
“You know what, Cassie? In one insane moment I gave up on us. I caved to a dead man, thinking I could never win your love. But I made a mistake. I’m not taking no for an answer. Not when I know you like I do. I’ve seen the love in your eyes. I feel your need for me when we make love. I’ve heard the joy in your laughter. You love me—I know it. Please. Stop running from me. I want you to be mine.”
Cassie tore her gaze from Peter to the ring. She couldn’t believe that Peter had buried his grandmother’s ring here. With Kyle. When moments ago, Kyle had set her free and given her back to Peter.
The weight of guilt and longing over losing Kyle melted from her heart and was rapidly replaced with a flush of yearning for the love Peter offered. His body was tense with the unbridled passion he held for her. His eyes begged her to say yes. As if he would crumble if she said one word to turn him away. Yet, uncaring if she denied him, he was taking one more chance to make her his, fierce in his declaration of love for her.
She’d never seen anything more beautiful. Without a doubt, she understood that if she gave herself to Peter, no matter what onslaught beset them, he would never leave her side. His love was the only sanctuary she required. She would flourish with Peter Chapman in her world. Only a fool would turn him away.
Releasing a breath, he whispered, “Cassie, I’m not going anywhere. Please marry me.”
She cupped both hands beneath his hand that held the ring. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. You don’t have to rant, my love. I’ve been a scared and foolish woman.” She gestured to the sea. “That woman is gone. Kyle is gone. There’s only you.”
She let him slip the ring on her finger. She kissed the ring, his hand, and then reached up and brushed his mouth with her lips. “If you will forgive my complete stupidity, I will happily marry you.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Cassie. I promise you. You will never regret it.”
She laughed. “Silly man. Regret is for those who don’t take the risk. From today forward, I will risk heaven and earth to keep our love alive. I am yours and will be until the end.”
EPILOGUE
THE FOLLOWING SUMMER, he and Cassie walked among the crowd at their wedding reception on Montauk Lake. His wife’s hair had grown to almost shoulder-length, and her curls had returned, now highlighted and glistening beneath the hot afternoon sun. The sides of her hair had been swept up with sprigs of baby’s breath and hairpins. Peter brushed a tendril from her cheek.
She smiled at him. Her eyes had lost their dark circles, and now shone bright with happiness that he hoped she’d feel for the rest of her life. Unable to resist that sky-blue gaze, he stole a kiss from her softly glossed lips. She tasted like the strawberries she had dropped into her champagne—and love. Her gown, a beautiful beaded halter in creamy white, had him constantly keeping Cassie within arm’s reach. He couldn’t stop touching her.
Now that she was his wife, he doubted he ever would.
The DJ began playing one of Cassie’s favorite tunes. He knew what was coming next. She tugged on his hand. “You must be warm, love. Take off that fabulous tuxedo jacket. Let’s dance.”
Oh, yeah. He loved the feel of her hands sliding inside his jacket to skim it off his shoulders. Despite the fast tempo to the song, Peter wrapped her in his arms and led her in a slow dance.
She laughed. “What are you doing?”
He nuzzled her neck. “Looking for an excuse to press you against me in public.”
A hum rose in her throat. “Oh, I like that. Very much.”
“Hey, hey! We’ll have none of that! Who do you think you are, the Fonz?”
Gil and Rudy were dancing nearby, grinning. They moved closer. “You two are throwing a fabulous party.”
Cassie said, “It wouldn’t be a party without you two.”
Gil gave her a thumbs-up. “Family forever.”
Peter had sent word to his father and Uncle Michael that he was getting married. As expected, both sent well wishes. Neither showed. He hadn’t bothered to tell his mother. Since there was no way she could attend, the news would have only upset her. Between Gil and Rudy, Cassie’s family and all their friends, they had plenty of family to celebrate their joy.
“When do you leave for Santiago to pick up the kids?” Gil asked.
“In the morning.”
“I can’t believe that in less than three weeks we’ll be uncles.”
“A boy and a girl, no less,” Rudy added. “Instant family.”
Peter laughed. “Oh, no. We’re just scratching the surface. Once we get our parent legs beneath us, we’re going for more.” He kissed Cassie soundly on the lips. “Their mother wants lots of kids, and we’re not stopping until she’s satisfied.”
A young girl approached with a gift wrapped in a baby motif and huge pink and blue bows. “Where do you want this present, Uncle Peter?”
She was Cassie’s niece, but had begun calling Peter, Gil and Rudy “uncle” months ago. He pointed to the table near the pool. “Under that umbrella with the rest of the gifts, honey.”
“What a great idea to ask for baby items as wedding gifts,” Rudy said.
Peter grinned. “It was Cassie’s idea to combine a wedding with a baby shower. Saves time and money all the way around. We don’t need wedding gifts, but the twins sure will need clothes and whatever else babies require.”
Cassie wound her arms around his neck. “I hope little Gilbert has your eyes,” she whispered.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “And I know little Beth will be mischievous like you.”
Bobby and Beth had been dancing on the far side of the dance floor. They worked their way over to the four of them, and Bobby pulled an envelope from his back pocket. Grinning like a thief in a diamond mine, he handed Peter the envelope.
“What’s this?”
Cassie looked on, just as confused as Peter. “What are you two up to?”
Bobby kissed Beth on the cheek. “Open it. Beth can’t wait another minute to give this to you.”
Peter pulled out a deed to a property from the envelope. “I don’t understand.”
“If you don’t mind living close to family, this is the deed to one of the acres behind the house. It’s yours to build a home, if you’d like it.”
“We want to be close for our grandchildren, especially when you two have crazy work shifts,” Beth said.
Cassie clapped her hands together, then collected herself and gave Peter a look as if to say, “Only if you want to, honey.”
Her willingness to say no should he not be interested shot right to his heart. They’d done it. Cassie and Peter had found that common ground where they’d live for each other, on each other’s terms.
Peter grabbed Bobby into a bear hug. “This is the most fantastic gift a father could ever want for his kids, or his wife.” He pulled Cassie and Beth into the hug. “We will start planning as soon as we get back with the twins.” He kissed Beth on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Gil and Rudy slapped him on the back and hugged him. “This works perfectly! Now we can take your downstairs apartment and have easier access to the gazebo in the back.”
Peter’s chest swelled with a contentment he’d never known. He could tell by the look in his brother’s eyes that he felt the same way. Montauk had become their home and would last them a lifetime.
He pulled Cassie to him and swung her in a circle. “I love you, Cassie girl!”
She kissed him hard on the mouth. “I love you, too, Peter Chapman.”
He sighed with satisfaction. “Who knew when I was running to Montauk to save my life, The End would be the best thing ever to happen to me?”
Cassie whispered in his ear, “And who knew that loving you would bring me a whole world of new beginnings?” She held him tight. “Don’t ever leave me, Peter.”
He laughed. “How could I, love? Anywhere I go, you will be right beside me.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from EVERYWHERE SHE GOES by Janice Kay Johnson.
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PROLOGUE
NOAH CHANDLER GLOWERED at the file that lay open on his desk. Failure was unacceptable. He still couldn’t figure out how and why the bunch of fossilized, mule-headed, self-serving jackasses that constituted his city council had shot down his candidate for the job of police chief and chosen someone so ill-qualified—compelling him to make the offer.
By God, he was going to choke on it.
Noah had been trying to tamp down his anger since the vote after last night’s meeting. When he had won the election in November and had taken over the mayor’s office, he had known he would have to deal with a council composed primarily of good ol’ boys incapable of objective, forward thinking. So far he’d succeeded in manipulating them into voting his way whatever their original inclination. What he couldn’t figure out was why the rebellion had come now, and over something so critical.
Corruption ran deep in the Angel Butte Police Department, and this town needed someone fully competent to root it out, not a yeehaw cowboy who knew Southern California gangs and hookers but had next to no administrative experience and probably thought small towns were good only as a place to get off the interstate and fill up the gas tank. Had the city council members been thinking at all? Or were they interested only in thwarting him?
A third option had presented itself, and Noah liked it least of all. What if a couple of those fine citizens serving on the council, influential with their peers, had real personal motivations for ensuring the investigation into drug trafficking and illegal payoffs floundered?
Fuming, he picked up his phone and dialed.
Three rings and a brusque male voice answered, “Raynor.”
Noah unclenched his jaw. “Lieutenant Raynor.” His voice came out as a growl. “This is Mayor Noah Chandler in Angel Butte, Oregon. I’m calling to offer you the position of police chief. You were the final choice of our city council.”
There was a moment of silence that lent him hope. The weather had been bitterly cold when Alec Raynor, a homicide lieutenant with the Los Angeles Police Department, had flown into Angel Butte for the interview. A blizzard had shut down the airport, delaying his departure for a day. Maybe in the past week he’d rethought the whole idea of accepting the job here. For all the line of bull he’d fed them during the interview, his motives for wanting the job were still a mystery to Noah.
“What about you?” Raynor asked unexpectedly. “Was I your choice?”
Noah swiveled in his desk chair to stare out the window at a partial view of Angel Butte, one of the small cinder cones that dotted this volcanic country in central Oregon. A nineteenth-century marble statue of an angel, imported all the way from Italy, crowned the crater rim. Back some years ago, before Noah’s arrival in town, the angel had been given a granite pedestal to hoist her higher, maybe so she could keep a better eye on errant townsfolk.
“No,” he said, blunt as always. “I was in favor of a candidate who had significant administrative experience. The job here doesn’t have much in common with what you do down there in L.A. We don’t have a lot of homicide cases to close. Our problems have to do with recruitment, staffing, training, scheduling, budget and morale.” Keeping our probably too-low-paid cops honest, he thought but didn’t say. “Politicking to bring in the money. Do you know how to do
any of that, Lieutenant?”
“On a smaller scale, yes.” There was a pause. “Did you have experience in city government when you won the election, Mayor?”
Noah rubbed the heel of his hand over his breastbone to settle the burning coal beneath it. “I’m a businessman. Running a city isn’t all that different from running a business.”
Raynor didn’t have to say, In other words, no.
“This may not be what you want to hear, Mayor, but I accept your offer.” The steel in Alec Raynor’s voice sounded like a challenge to Noah. “As I indicated, I need to give notice here. Is your acting police chief willing to stay on for another month?”
That was the next call Noah had to make: the one to Colin McAllister, to let him know he wasn’t being offered the permanent position. The news would not go over well. McAllister had every reason to think he had it in the bag.
“We’ll work it out one way or another,” Noah said. “Let us know your arrival date when you can.”
“I will.” Irony threaded the deep, crisp voice. “I’ll look forward to working with you, Chandler.”
Noah didn’t have to manufacture any upbeat remarks; dead air told him the call was over. He grimaced. He’d liked Raynor better during this phone call than he had during the interviews. Noah preferred direct give-and-take, and that’s what he’d gotten.
And, damn, he owed it to McAllister to tell him the decision in person, not over the phone. With a grunt, he pushed back his chair and rose. He’d walk. The route from the historic courthouse that now housed his office to the new public safety building would take him right past Chandler’s Brew Pub. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by, surprise his employees. Since going into politics, he had been forced to trust them more than made him comfortable. He might even have lunch there, he decided. Today was downright balmy for the beginning of March, which was still the dead of winter in central Oregon. He might as well enjoy the deceptively springlike weather. He wouldn’t even have to wear a coat.