Soul Reckoning

by Nancy E. Polin

  She just didn’t know how he felt about her, not exactly. It was obvious he cared, but she couldn’t know to what extent. Luke was a complicated person, damaged from life and loss, and she couldn’t even come close to predicting his reaction.

  Shit. She couldn’t even come to terms with it herself.

  “Here. You hold these on your lap. It would be a shame to forget them.” The volunteer handed her the vase filled with irises, lavender, and roses, a large teddy bear and a basket with fruit. The first had been sent by Ruth and David. Rowan managed a small smile. She owed them her life. The bear was a sweet acknowledgement from her staff at The Goose and the fruit had come from an astonished Margie. Rowan awkwardly juggled to keep them all from sliding to the floor.

  The old woman pushed her through the corridors, down to the ground floor, and out through the front entrance, chatting the whole time. Rowan caught pieces of current events, seven grandchildren, three Chihuahuas, one twenty-year-old cat, and a parrot that swore in Portuguese.

  Luke leaned against Andy’s sedan, hands folded across his broad chest. A gentle breeze ruffled his short, dark hair. Sunglasses blocked his midnight-blue eyes. He grinned when the volunteer wheeled her forward, and Rowan’s stomach clenched.

  Taking her gifts, he wedged them all into the backseat, before leaning over to help her into the car. He hesitated when she gasped in discomfort.

  “I’m fine, Luke.” She smiled up at him, hoping it didn’t look too phony.

  Nodding, he jogged around the car to slide into the driver’s side, pulling away when they were clear. He guided the car through downtown traffic, glancing over at her every so often. His nervous energy was unusual and it ramped up her own.

  “You must be starving. I thought we’d stop for muffulettas. Unless you have a craving for something different.”

  At her quick anxious look, he frowned. “Are you angry with me for some reason? I’m trying to think what I might have done, at least recently, but I’m drawing a blank.”

  “No, I’m not angry. Sharing a muffuletta with you would be great.”

  “Okay then.” He shot another wary glance at her and she sighed. She’d have to come clean and let the pieces fall as they may.

  Parking was always a challenge in the French Quarter, but he managed to locate a spot across the street from the restaurant. Waiting until a horse and carriage plodded by, he parallel parked with little effort before reaching for the door handle. The gentle pressure of her hand on his arm stopped him and he turned to study her. His expression slid into the careful blankness she hated.

  Rowan pulled in a breath and let it out slowly to calm the thrashing of her heart. When it didn’t work, she tried again. “Um, there’s something you should know … and to be honest, I’m not sure how to go about it.”

  “Are you going to tell me to take a hike?”

  Startled, she shook her head. “No, no.” A nervous and humorless chuckle shook her. “But you might.”

  “I’m going to tell me to take a hike?”

  “Please stop. You’re not helping.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Everything trembled inside and out. Even her skin seemed to shake. “Okay, I’ll just say it. Like pulling off a Band-Aid, right? That would be best.”

  “Okay.” He smiled in memory.

  “Luke, I don’t know how it happened. Wait, well, I do know, but it shouldn’t have happened.” She looked up at him and the words tumbled out in a rapid-fire torrent. “I’m pregnant.”

  They stared at one another, her stinging, brimming eyes meeting his calm blue ones. A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed it down.

  After several long moments, he tilted his head, his big hand reaching for and enfolding her much smaller one. “Do you love me, Rowan?”

  Unsure how to read his response, she debated before deciding to lay it all out with a tiny truthful nod. “Yes.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Because I love you wildly. More than I ever thought I could. I honestly didn’t think I could ever feel this way again. I thought I had the one shot and that was it. But I now know that’s not true. I have a second chance and I don’t plan on blowing it.”

  She stared at him, her mind not quite grasping his reaction and words. She’d set herself up for annoyance, irritation, maybe even fury, but he watched her with such a tender glow that her heart shimmered in her chest. Rowan opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it. “I thought you’d be upset.”

  “You thought wrong.” Luke gazed at her with warmth and amusement before it faded ever so slightly. “That moment I thought I lost you was one of the worst in my life. I’m so damned thankful I didn’t. As far as I’m concerned, this pregnancy is a beautiful bonus.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  Luke raised and dropped a shoulder. “I suspected when you ate more than I did the other night. To be honest, the prospect freaked me out a bit. But then I saw what he did…” His eyes flashed for a moment before he brought his dark fury under control. “That freak show drew ceremonial symbols on your face, but also on your stomach.”

  All the moisture in her mouth evaporated. “The baby would have been a bonus soul for him. A pure energy. How the hell could he have known? I didn’t even know.”

  “Some kind of spirit hotline, maybe? Ruth might know, but it doesn’t really matter now, does it? What matters is we move on. Leave that bastard behind us. Let him feed the worms.” Luke smiled. “We should go eat, but there was something else I wanted to bring up.”

  His smile ebbed a little in discomfort. “And I know that was a weird little bit of juxtaposition there. Sorry.”

  Her brain reeled free and out of control. Her announcement hadn’t fazed him. It was the complete antithesis to what she’d expected. With effort, she focused back on his face, the clear brow, his straight nose, the strong jaw coated with two days of stubble, the dimples when he smiled, and those amazing eyes. He was beautiful. She doubted he even knew it. “What did you want to bring up?”

  “It’s a little something to piss off your mother.”

  She frowned, confused. “Well, that doesn’t take much.”

  With an audible sigh, he reached into his pocket. “I was going to wait until we were chowing down on a sandwich bigger than your head, but now actually seems better. If it’s not the right time, I’m sure I’ll be able to read it all over you.”

  He pulled out a small felt-covered jewelry box and flipped it open.

  Rowan didn’t breathe, could only stare stupidly. “Is that…?”

  “Yeah, it is. I’d like you to marry me, give the kid a name, and all that. Not that a modern woman really needs it, but … well…” He stopped, frowned, and started again. “Look, I love you. I want you to share your life with me. If you would.”

  She let her gaze meet his and drop to the solitaire diamond, before roaming up to meet his again. When her heart thrummed and her words stuck, Rowan cleared her throat. Tears pressed from under her lids and one got away before she could stop it. She could barely believe this was happening, but her words were pristine and true. “I love you, Luke, and would love to marry you. Even if it does piss off my mom.”

  Her surly bartender beamed, threaded the ring onto her finger, and pulled her into a kiss that steamed the windows and prompted most passersby to smirk or grin.

  Epilogue

  The private courtyard was alive with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Friends and staff milled around, nibbling snacks, drinking, and laughing. Luke wove his way through the small crowd, stopping to smile, nod, and accept and exchange pleasantries. He figured the fake grin plastered on his face didn’t fool anyone, but they knew him well and were polite enough to let it pass.

  Henry sat on a side bench, his cane hanging on the armrest next to him. Margie sat beside him and they both smiled up at Andy as he rambled at them. It had taken a while for the old man to come back, and while he’d never be one-hundred percent, he was cl
ose enough to enjoy his family, pilgrimages to The Goose, and painting. He looked past his son and nodded to Luke, who returned the gesture.

  Seeking escape and the important things, he pushed open the back slider to step into the cool dining room. The condo wasn’t huge, but it fit their personalities with the charm of old brick, crown molding, two transoms, original wooden floors, and a high sweeping ceiling. As a fixer upper, they’d even managed to snag it at a deal, considering the cost of real estate in the French Quarter. He’d spent six months sanding, staining, painting, and swapping out fixtures. As a bonus, it stood three short blocks from the tavern.

  Luke strode down the short hallway, photos old and new. From just ahead, he caught the low, sultry voice of his wife humming “Blackbird.”

  He stopped at the first bedroom on the left and leaned against the doorjamb to rest his gaze on the woman and child. Nightmares had plagued him for months after Rowan’s near miss. Although they’d lessened, he still sometimes worried his second chance would disappear. He feared he would wake up back in that storage room at The Galloping Goose. Then he’d open his eyes to find her sleeping soundly beside him, red hair spread over her pillowcase and across his shoulder. He wouldn’t change it for anything.

  “You’re being creepy.” Her voice reached to him, soft and teasing. As always, a loving glow centered in his chest, bringing peace and contentment.

  He twisted his mouth into a smirk. “Hey.”

  Rowan looked up and tilted her head, a smile warming her face. “Sorry for deserting you. He was hungry.”

  “Well, a man’s gotta eat when a man’s gotta eat.” Luke stepped inside the little room with walls covered in marauding jungle animals and dropped to a crouch beside the glider. He reached out to run a gentle hand over the baby’s silken dark hair, still amazed by the boy’s existence. At seven months, Jamie favored him in coloring and dimples but held fast to his mother’s unusual pewter-gray eyes. The child made a contented sound deep in his throat as he nursed, one tiny hand resting against Rowan’s soft flesh.

  “Vous êtes un jeune homme miracle,” he murmured, eyes affixed to his son.

  Rowan touched Luke’s face, trailing fingers across his jawline. “Vous l'êtes aussi.”

  “Working on your French?”

  “Seems appropriate to assimilate with the locals. At least I’ll know when they’re talking smack about me.” Her mouth twisted to the side in sarcasm, but the beautiful radiance of her face and eyes had his heart stammering.

  “Damn, now I won’t be able make fun of you.” He chuckled but leaned in to kiss her. Her lips softened beneath his for a moment before he pulled back to gaze at her and the child in her arms.

  “You’re staring again.” Rowan narrowed her eyes, but humor sparkled within.

  “Mmm hmm.” He wrapped one finger in her hair, kissed her again even as the baby cooed. “You’re my other miracle.”

  The End

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