He opened and closed his clammy fists. Clammy fists…mountain lion… hummingbird? He took a step toward her. Thud. Thud. Thud. And stopped. Bring it down, Rann. Bring it down. Head low, he closed his eyes and expelled a long breath, a breath he'd been holding for years. She was in the room, he knew it with every beat of his tortured heart.
She lives. She lives.
He couldn't make himself walk away, had to see her up close, speak to her. Then he'd know for sure. Once he knew she was okay, truly alive, he'd never bother her again. He called on thirty-one years of reserve, dug deep and prayed he could keep it together. He had to know; only an act from God could make him leave this room.
"Miss Ames," he said, stopping two feet away from her with his head inclined to the side. "I've fallen in love with your pictures."
"Thank you. I'm always happy to hear people enjoy them."
Something about the voice, not the same but similar. She wore contacts. Deliberate, to change her eye color? Stunning up close, and so feminine, so fragile. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring. He didn't know how he felt about that. If there was any chance, any chance at all Season stood before him, he wanted her to be happy.
The height and weight were the same, minus five pounds. Nothing about her physical appearance confirmed what he suspected, but once he saw her move, speak, he knew in his heart it was her. God, what had they done to her? His mind ran through a thousand scenarios, all mortifying. He wanted to kill Martin all over again.
"I'd like to purchase the mountain lion and the hummingbird pictures." If he expected a reaction from her, his expectations missed the dock.
"Great, as soon as Vin gets back, I'll ask him to wrap them up for you."
"Vin?"
My…my assistant, he helps me at the shows." She looked over his shoulder. "Should be back any minute.
His eyes wandered to a picture behind the chair. It looked like a black dog but he couldn't be sure from this angle. "Can I have a look at that photo behind you?"
"Oh, that's not for sale."
"I just want to look at it."
"It's not for sale," she said a little too fast.
He couldn't help the huff.
"Is that a problem for you?"
Yep, same spark, same fire. "Well, I was just thinking…it looks like a black lab and I have a black lab. His name is Rook."
"I guess it is a lab," blue eyes narrowed. "But like I said, it's not for sale."
"What's his name?"
Her fingers shook when she adjusted the scarf. "Not Rook."
"Prove it."
"What!"
"Let me see the picture, please."
"Oh, this is stupid." She blew a lock of hair from her forehead. "Fine." Turning around, she bent down, grabbed the photo and handed it to him. "Curiosity appeased now?"
His heart plummeted. "Koor."
"I told you."
Their eyes locked and held. "Rook backwards. I'm sure it's just coincidence."
"Purely," she said, her cheeks flaming with color.
He dug his checkbook out from the pocket of his trousers. "I owe you two thousand, four hundred for the hummingbird and the mountain lion. I'll give you two thousand for Koor."
Her eyes flashed fire. "No, he's not―"
"Three thousand."
"What part of not for sale don't you understand?"
"Okay, four thousand for the black lab."
"What are you trying to prove?"
"A theory. My mother always said everything has a price. I told her she was wrong. She's passed on now, but I'd still like to prove I'm right."
Something crossed her eyes, so fleeting, he wondered if the lights had flickered in the room. No, sympathy and sorrow resided in those clear, luminous depths. "If I tell you her theory doesn't hold water, will you take your pictures and go?"
God, he wanted to take her in his arms, tell her nothing real or imagined would ever hurt her again. Not while he breathed. How could he walk away now that he found her again? "I'm sorry…so sorry." His voice cracked. "What did they do to you?"
Her bottom lip trembled. "Please…."
"Mommy! Mommy!" Rann turned at the sound of the voice. A little boy ran toward her, his arms out, remnants of chocolate smeared on his lips.
A panicked expression marked her face. "Mag! Vin!"
"I'm sorry, honey." A woman rushed forth, moving quick for one her age. "Once he saw you, he crawled out of that stroller so fast, I couldn't catch him." She reached for the little boy's hand. "Come on, Sprout, I saw puzzles in the other room."
"No!" He began to whine. "I want to stay with Mommy!"
Rann dropped to a knee in front of him. "Hey, looks like you had ice cream."
The boy smiled. "Mama Mag too."
His heart fractured when he looked into his eyes, the mirror image of his. "What's your name, little guy?"
He held up three fingers. "I got three."
"No way; you have three names?"
He nodded.
"Okay, what's the first one?"
"Thorn."
God, he wanted to hold him. "What's your second name?"
"Birch."
"Of course it is…Thorn Birch."
A tear fell from Madison's eye when he looked up at her. "You must leave."
Someone tugged the leg of his pants. "What's your name?"
He never took his eyes off her. "Rann, Rann…."
"He'll know it's the same if you tell him," she whispered. "He's just a little boy."
Another tug. "You got another name?"
Silence hung in the air between them before she closed her eyes. "Don't say it, I'm begging you."
God, she named him Brogan.
He rose and stood before her, so close he had only to move his hand to touch her. "Martin's dead. You're safe now."
She smothered her mouth with a hand, her shoulders hunched by sobs.
"Why you crying, Mommy?"
The woman named Mag had apparently left during the unfolding scene and had returned with a man in a brown and tan uniform. "Sir, do we have a problem here?"
He shook his head.
"Should I call the police, Miss?"
"No, no, he said he'd leave."
"I don't know what happened but she's obviously upset." A new voice asserted his presence. Rann glanced to his left and gave the elderly man with gray hair and black glasses a quick once-over.
The security guard clamped down on his elbow and escorted him toward the entrance of the room. "This way, sir."
"Let go of my arm, man." He flung his elbow free and shouted over the man's head. "Duna's safe! They can't hurt him!"
"Okay, that's enough. If you don't exit the building immediately, I'm calling 911."
"He never gave up! He's waiting for you to come home!"
In the hallway, the guard looked him in the eye. "You enter that room again, and you'll be in jail for the night."
Rann put both hands in the air. "Leaving, leaving, just need to find my friends."
The man walked away but turned at the end of the corridor. Arms folded across his chest, he watched him.
He didn't know how much time passed while he tried to still his erratic heartbeat, slow his breathing. Wrung out, unable to think straight, he pivoted, walked past the guard and literally stumbled into Bernadette and Matt when he turned the corner.
Matt clasped his shoulder. "Hey, man, you doing okay?"
"I'm sorry, I must have eaten something bad on the plane. We need to leave."
"No worries, buddy. You can stretch out in back and we'll be home in no time."
Rann fell into the back of the Jeep, crawled forward and curled up into a fetal position. Son? I have a son? He didn't know whether he should shout with joy or cry a million tears.
Chapter 28
Where the wagon goes a trail is left.
In the driveway at the ranch, Vin handed her an envelope. "Stella's all yours now. I put new tires on her, changed the oil and put the title in your name."
She hated goodbyes, even temporary ones. "What name did you put on the title?"
He took her hand. "Season Scrimshaw, of course. That's always been your name." He rubbed her palm with his thumb. "We always suspected Madison was an alias, and it never suited you."
Tears came unbidden. "I wouldn't have made it without you and Mag. I love you both with all my heart, nothing will ever change that."
"No tears now. Mag and I feel blessed that our paths crossed. God works in mysterious ways; you need to hold on to that."
"I'm―"
"Scared, I know. When the lions come, when it feels as if you can't breathe, call on that fire and courage that have always championed you. And remember we're here for you. Anything, anything at all doesn't go right, which I don't expect will happen, the ranch is still your home." He glanced into Stella's back seat. "Sprout's already nodded off. Let's hope he sleeps for the entire trip."
"Four hours doesn't sound so far away, I guess." She had to turn away, force herself to plunk her butt behind the wheel and drive off…without looking back. If she didn't do it right now, she'd never do it.
Grateful Sprout had slept the entire way, she pulled into the circle driveway at home, brought Stella to a halt and turned the engine off. Home, you're home, Season. From here, everything looked the same, except for a new building of some sort rising up from the ground in the empty lot. She looked around for Pearl but didn't see her. Had Duna traded her for that old economy Honda parked in the drive? No, Duna would never get rid of Pearl.
In the beginning of the summer season, she wasn't surprised to see a flock of geese fly by overhead heading for the lake or the lush, green landscape from spring showers. Birds chirped and chattered from the trees and nearby bushes. She spied the duckling pen and thought she saw of flurry of black and yellow down pecking at the ground.
How had Duna held on to the land? Had he refused to sell, no matter the offer, knowing her love for the place? So many questions remained and maybe she'd never have all the answers. It didn't matter now, she was home and if she walked inside that house, she'd see Duna, fall into the safety and shelter of his arms again. She hoped his wide-as-Texas heart held out.
With Vin's words echoing in her ears, 'Call on your fire and courage,' she exited Stella and eased Sprout from his car seat. The back door of the house groaned a familiar creak when she opened it. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Sprout had awakened and had pressed his adorable little face into her shoulder.
Duna stood at the kitchen sink, not the kitchen she remembered though, and turned when his sixth sense kicked in. He dropped the glass he'd been washing and his eyes filled with tears. Across the space separating them, a thousand crickets chirped.
"Oh, ghel, ghel." He walked toward her and her toward him.
Enveloped in his arms, she broke down. Soft sobs filled the room, hers, his or both, she didn't know.
"I knew you were alive." He crooked his neck back and stared into her eyes. "I knew it all along."
"I couldn't come home; didn't know what they'd do to you."
"I know…I know. It’s all over now. You're here and you're safe. Nothing else matters."
"Mommy, I'm hungry."
Duna's eyes wandered from hers to her son's. "Who's this little guy, now? Hey, little man, I'm Duna. Who are you?"
"Thorn. Do you got any peanut butter?"
"Yes, yes, I sure do. How 'bout I make you and Grandpa Duna a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
"Are you my grandpa too, like Papa Vin?"
Tears streamed down Duna's cheek. "Yes, yes I am."
Season looked around. "Everything has changed in here."
"I know, new hardwood floors, new cabinets. Wait till you see the rest of the place. I didn't know if I should alter it in any way until you came home, but I hope you like it." He put his arms out and Thorn jumped at the chance to accept. Duna had a way with children…or maybe it was the promised sandwich.
"There's a new building in the empty lot."
"Yep, a photo studio." He caught a tear in the corner of his eye with a finger. "Pearl's in the garage. No one's touched her since I drove her home from the rental place."
"But how…where did you get the―"
"Veshengo insisted so when you came home...."
A motion from the living room drew her attention.
"Hello, sweet girl."
Struck mute, she stared into Rann's eyes. How much time sped by, she didn't know. She heard a cupboard open, out of the corner of her eye, saw Duna grab the peanut butter and a new jar of jam. He snatched the bread from the counter, and pocketed a knife before heading to the back door with Thorn. "We're off to have a picnic and then I'm going to introduce my grandson to the new baby ducklings."
Thorn chattered in the background, his voice filled with excitement.
The eye contact remained as Rann walked toward her. His hands brushed her arms and she lost it. Then she was in his embrace, crying like a baby against his shoulder.
"It's all right, don't cry; please don't cry. You're home, Season, you're safe now." He cradled her face and she reveled in the feel of his touch again. "Martin can't hurt you anymore."
She whispered the words. "Are you sure?"
Closing his eyes, he whispered, "Yes. I-I killed him, Season."
"Oh, Rann, oh, God, no."
His eyes found hers again. "I'd gladly kill him over and over again for what he did to you."
"Your mother?"
"She didn't know what Martin did, but suspected. For that, she paid with her life."
"No, Rann!"
"Not by my hand, by Martin's." He searched her face with hope looming in the eyes he dreamed about, cherished, loved. "I did it for her, for you. Can you forgive a murderer, live with what I've done?"
"Yes, that wasn't you, Rann. I know what it's like when your heart is overcome with hate, your mind blinded by rage."
"Let me make everything right. I don't know how to live without you. And now," tears pooled in his eyes. "Thorn. I need that little boy; I love him so much, with all my heart. Say yes; please say you'll marry me. I want to be with you, love you every day for as long as we live."
Without hesitation, without a smidgen of reservation she brought her lips up to his. "Yes, Rann Brogan, your son and I will marry you."
"Peace." He inhaled deep. "I'm whole again and you've made me the happiest man alive."
"Prove it. Kiss me like you did on the beach that day."
"Anything beautiful girl, anything you ask."
A Note From the Author
Keta Diablo lives in the Midwest part of the United States on six acres of woodland. When she isn't writing or gardening she loves to commune with nature. She adores animals and has made it her mission in life to help feed hungry children in the USA. She donates her time and support to local food and animal shelters. Keta is a multi-published author in contemporary romance, erotic romance and gay fiction. You may find Keta:
On Twitter
Author Blog
More Books by Keta Diablo
Dreams Anthology
Bondage and Bliss
Chasing the Dead, Book 1, Bannister Brother Series
Cradle of Dreams, Book 1, Dream Series
Whisper of Dreams, Book 2, Dream Series
Scoundrel of Dreams, Book 3, Dream Series
Decadent Deceptions
Dust and Moonlight
Land of Falling Stars
Moon of the Sleeping Bear, Book 1, Moonlight Series
Dark Night of the Moon, Book 2, Moonlight Series
Sky Tinted Water, Book 1, Sky Series
Sky Dance, Book 2, Sky Series
Sojourn With a Stranger
Where the Rain Is Made
Most Likely to Turn up the Heat
Cheryl Harper
Copyright © 2015 by:
Cheryl Harper
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior
written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Praise and Awards
“I was impressed with the intensity of the feelings she created between the characters and that she could convey it seemingly so easily.”
~Harlequin Junkie on Can’t Help Falling in Love
“Cheryl Harper is very talented and keeps the reader on their toes with her wit and amusing story telling. Her characters are so real to the reader that you find yourself living through their disappointments and joys. The story was a joy to read and amusing from page one to the end.”
~Fresh Fiction on Can’t Help Falling in Love
“With relatable characters and Harper’s eye for detail, The Bluebird Bet is still a solid bet.”
~Romantic Times on The Bluebird Bet
Chapter 1
Sue Walker inched closer to the open doorway. The boss and her current flame, Ryan Myers, were awfully quiet. This could be a perfect time to shake things up.
Lindy Mason, principal of Lincoln High School, was the kind of woman who liked her ducks in a uniform row, all moving in lockstep precision. She was a great principal, good friend, and all around excellent human being.
Sue contributed to that by loosening the knots here and there.
In Lindy’s line of ducks, Sue was the straggler. She stayed in line, but she chose to moonwalk instead of march.
Jackpot. Ryan and Lindy were standing close together in a shaft of late afternoon sun. Any minute he would press his lips to hers.
Sue was half a second from issuing her best girlish hmm-hmm-hmm when a hard hand wrapped around her biceps and pulled her away from the door.
“I could arrest you for being a Peeping Sue.” Max Holt guided her back around the long counter and urged her to sit in her desk chair without a single pinch of pain.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 191