'Til Death Us Do Part

by Annie Oortman

  “Argh!”

  “Sorry.” If he could endure the pain for her, he would. But he couldn’t. All he could do was try to keep her safe until they could find help. Ripping the belt off his pants, he placed it around the makeshift battle dressing, tightening the leather enough to stop the bleeding but not so much to cut off circulation. She’d need that leg to climb more mountains.

  “Vicky… Bri… mijn minnares… I’m sorry for all of this. I need you to know that however this turns out, I never stopped loving you… ever.”

  “Christiaan…” She peered up at him with those gorgeous gray eyes. “I never stopped… loving you either… I’m so… sorry I ever doubted… you or us or—”

  He brushed her lips with a soft kiss. She moaned and opened her mouth. His tongue accepted the invitation. A rush of heat shot through his core. Overhead, the red hawk squawked. Christiaan pulled away.

  “Come on... Let’s go.” Vicky gestured for him to stand and help her up. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her against him and squeezed through the bushes. They’d just cleared the greenery when bark from a tree near their heads splintered.

  “Great. He… he found the… the damn gun.” Vicky pushed Christiaan to the left. “Hurry. Maybe… maybe… maybe we can… lose him… him… in the grove… up… here.” A second shot. The splinter shower forced them to the right.

  “Potverdomme! Now what?”

  Vicky pointed off trail. “I… I… I know a shortcut. We… we just… just have to be careful—” She stopped talking long enough to catch her breath. Misgivings swarmed his mind. Her injury and the effort to keep moving were taking a toll. “When we hit snow… lots of hidden dangers.” She stumbled and grunted. “Look for… look for sagging… sagging snow bridges or… or… lots of ripples in the snow… must watch… must watch for cre… crevasses. Hopefully… if we can get far enough… ahead of him, we can cut… cut down toward Bunny Flat. There’s… there’s always somebody on that trail… He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t risk shooting… shooting… shooting us in front of other people… would… would he?”

  “At this point, my guess is as good as yours.” Christiaan looked over his shoulder. Baz was a kilometer or two back. Out in the open like this, they’d need to start zigzagging to make it harder for Baz to land a shot.

  Christiaan’s focus returned to the front. Snow lay ahead. It would impede their progress somewhat, but the white stuff would delay Baz’s, too.

  For what seemed like forever, they sloshed through rising snow levels, the red hawk circling overhead. But the dropping temperature, lack of proper weather gear, and Vicky’s steady decline worked against them. Christiaan tried to focus on the positive.

  I found her, and I’m not going to lose her again.

  “How soon to the shortcut?”

  “Not… not far, but gotta… gotta watch for—” A shot ricocheting off a boulder inches from their heads cut her answer off.

  Potverdomme! Christiaan dashed to the left.

  “—for that crevasse.”

  Too late. Christiaan pulled up short of the opening, but Vicky’s injured leg couldn’t control her forward momentum. Time slowed to a snail’s pace as he watched her tumble out of his arms and disappear over the edge.

  “No! Vicky!” He stared at where she’d disappeared. Dropping to his stomach, he low-crawled to the cavity. “Vicky! Vicky!” Please be okay. Potverdomme! Please be okay.

  His heart sank as deep as the crevasse in front of him. The chasm must be at least a full rugby-field deep.

  Wait! There! Was that something sprawled on a ledge? About twenty meters down? “Vicky? Can you hear me?” It moved. She moved? “Vicky? Vicky? Are you okay?”

  “Aww… did you lose something, Baron van Laere?” Baz’s voice cooed from behind. “No problem, bro. You got along just fine the first time she died. You can do it again.” He laughed that stupid… grating… maniacal laugh. “Of course, this time, you’ll only be a widower for a few short minutes.”

  “Crime of passion” was a defense Christiaan had never understood. But today, the meaning was crystal clear. This crazy maniac… this raving lunatic… this evil son of a bitch ruined my company… betrayed our friendship…

  And killed my wife.

  Once. Possibly twice.

  “The good news?” Baz sneered. “Maybe you’ll find each other again in heaven.”

  Without another thought, Christiaan sprang to his feet with a growl. Like a man possessed, he tackled Baz and heaved him five meters back into the snow. The gun flew. Pinning him to the ground, Christiaan vised his hands around Baz’s neck. Overhead, the hawk continued her piercing squawk.

  “Potverdomme, you lousy piece of shit!” He squeezed tighter. “You had everything. More than you could have ever achieved on your own. Because of me! Me! And this is how you repay me? By taking the only thing that ever really mattered to me?”

  “Gave… me? Gave… me?” Baz struggled to release Christiaan’s grip. “You… gave… me… nothing… but… grief.”

  “I loved you like a brother!”

  “I… didn’t… want… a… brother... I… wanted… to… be… you.”

  Emotions swarmed Christiaan like angry bees. He’d known from the first time Baz had shoved him into one of the estate canals during their early childhood. And each time he’d endured punishment for something his “friend” had blamed on him. And each time he’d taken a test or written a paper in school to help his “brother” stay on track. And every time he’d bailed Baz out of jail or debt. The truth of everything Christiaan had forced himself to ignore for more than forty years boiled to the surface. He’d always known Baz resented him for his title and his status. But hate him enough to kill not only Bri but half the United States? Potverdomme!

  “Watje,” Baz said.

  Pussy? My hands are around his neck, squeezing the life from his body, and he’s calling me pussy?

  “Go… ahead... try… Baron… van… loser… you… don’t… have… the… guts… to… do… it.”

  “The hell I don’t.” Christiaan closed his eyes and focused all his strength—mentally and physically—into his hands. The sound of Baz’s short, gurgling breath filled Christiaan with laughter. A maniacal one. This feels so good...

  “Christiaan… don’t.”

  Both men froze at the sound of Vicky’s voice.

  “He’s not… not… not… worth it.”

  Christiaan and Baz turned to the spot where she’d disappeared a few minutes earlier. There she stood. Alive, but not well. Her chest heaved, and she appeared ready to pass out.

  Potverdomme!

  “What… the… fuck?” Baz gasped.

  “How’d you…?” The euphoria of her resurrection loosened Christiaan’s grip.

  She smiled and held up her ice axe. “Never leave… leave home… without it.”

  He laughed again, only this time it sounded and felt like a kid on Christmas day.

  Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him then her face turned as white as the snow beneath them.

  Suddenly, something slammed his head to one side, and he tumbled off of Baz. The shadow of another blow ready to strike appeared above, and Christiaan rolled away before it could connect. With a foot, he knocked the rock from Baz’s hand then scrambled to stand. Baz nailed a cheap shot to the kidney area, and Christiaan fought the urge to roll up in a ball from the intense pain.

  Must find gun. Must. Find. Gun.

  Collecting his strength, he staggered back onto his feet, prepared to beat the lunatic to the pistol.

  Too late. The weapon was once again in Baz’s hands, pointed directly at Vicky’s temple.

  “Looking for this?” Baz jeered.

  Violent emotion churned inside. It took everything Christiaan had not to rush the idiot. But said idiot was gripping Vicky, so any attempt at ending his life would end hers, too.

  “Vicky… Bri… I’m so sorry…” The sheer weight of his guilt at causing her so much pain rested like a mo
untain on his soul. “For everything.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, too. For everything.”

  He shuddered. How could it end this way? All their hopes and dreams dying on top of a cold mountain. Her face blurred as his gaze clouded with tears.

  “Baz?” Vicky said. “I’m so sorry, too.”

  “For what?”

  “This.” A quick elbow to the chest, and Baz tumbling backward into the crevasse.

  Christiaan rushed to her side and caught her just as her bad leg gave out. “You okay?”

  She looked at him with those gorgeous silver eyes. “I am now.”

  The cold refreshing mountain air made Vicky feel alive.

  But lonely. So… very… lonely.

  Pushing hard, she headed back down Mt. Shasta, the cold wind chilling her lungs with every inhale. Had it only been three months since she’d rescued Christiaan not far from here? Only thirteen weeks since she’d learned her husband had never stopped loving Bri? Only ninety-two days since they’d said goodbye and returned to their respective lives?

  Yes, it had been.

  Crisp air stung her nostrils. She loved this mountain. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. This is where Vicky Golden belonged.

  Because Brianna was dead.

  She and Christiaan had faced that reality shortly after Baz’s death. A quick call to Lou had his CIA buddies on the mountain within the hour. They took charge of the situation, rounding up Duff’s men here and erasing all evidence of him and his plot to wipe out this part of North America. No one would ever know how close the world came to losing half a continent because of a revenge-fueled Irishman and a resentment-filled Dutchman.

  Rubbing the spot where Baz’s bullet had passed through her thigh, Vicky once again gave thanks for Christiaan’s quick thinking. The shot had nicked her femoral artery right above the knee. According to the CIA doctor, the belt-leather tourniquet had saved her from bleeding out. Emergency surgery had repaired the damage, and today was her first day-long hike on the mountain. Next month, she hoped to be back leading Climbing for Singles trips and the occasional rescue mission.

  Vicky managed a twisted smile. Back to life as usual.

  Christiaan, too, was back to life as usual. After her surgery, he’d returned home to bury Baz, unravel the mess his friend had created, and sort out exactly where life was headed.

  Overhead, the now-familiar squawk of the red hawk made Vicky smile. The bird now seemed to follow her every time and everywhere she was on or near Mt. Shasta. Seeing the creature always brought Christiaan to mind. Vicky sighed, watching the beautiful creature ride the wind then disappear over the ridge.

  Although she and Christiaan had learned a lot about each other and themselves over that fateful week, they soon realized the renewed connection they’d forged wouldn’t fix everything. Too much time and even more pain couldn’t change the fact that he’d failed her as a husband or that she’d betrayed him and their love. The wounds were too deep to heal.

  Eventually, they decided to remain friends and see what happens. But daily phone calls had turned into weekly emails then monthly ones. Thinking back now, she hadn’t heard from him in over a month.

  It’s okay. Really. She swallowed hard.

  They also agreed with the CIA’s opinion that revealing the truth regarding her death and Baz’s role in it would do more damage than good for everyone involved. The agency was working quietly to infiltrate Duff’s network worldwide. Neither the van Laere family or VL Holdings could withstand any more public scandal. And Mt. Shasta didn’t need tabloid reporters covering it like flies on honey to find out where Brianna had been for the last eight years.

  Absolutely no one would benefit from the revelation that she was alive.

  So, Vicky had her life and her mountain. Christiaan had his life and his company.

  Back to life as usual. Too bad her heart wasn’t buying it.

  “Hey, Vicky!” then static crackled over the radio clipped to her shoulder.

  “What, Dean?”

  “There’s been a report of something downed approximately one mile north of Helen Lake. Are you still up there? Can you see anything where you’re at?”

  “Yep, still on the mountain. Give me a minute.” Quickly, she did a three-sixty of the landscape with her binoculars. “Sorry, not a thing. No smoke. Nothing.”

  “Okay,” he answered. “Can you head that direction and report back what, if anything, you find?”

  “Sure. Vicky out.”

  Her breath steamed in the cold air as she picked up the pace across the lower snowfield. What were the odds that someone would crash in the same vicinity as Christiaan had months ago?

  Within a mile, she crested the ridge and surveyed the landscape. Ninety yards to the east, a small helicopter sat idle. No damage. No passengers.

  She radioed the location to Dean then headed down the slope. Hopefully, footprints in the snow would tell her where everyone had disappeared to.

  They did. Three sets of tracks headed up to Serenity Rock. Her pulse pounded in a combination of exertion and apprehension as she turned the corner and spied the tallest man in the trio.

  Piercing blue eyes. Long, straight nose. High cheekbones. Stubborn jaw. All revealed a European aristocratic lineage.

  Christiaan.

  Rushing to him, she jumped into his arms and buried her face in his neck. My God! It felt good to be in her husband’s arms. “I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”

  He laughed. “I thought that once about you, too.” Pulling her face to his, he claimed her lips and kissed her hard. Raw, possessive passion flowed between them like electricity.

  As his tongue drove into her mouth, desire stronger than when they’d met fifteen years ago nearly buckled her knees. She quickly unzipped his jacket and shoved her hands under his shirt. Damn, I want to do him right here… right now.

  Laughter in the background brought them up for air. Vicky pulled her arms down and adjusted his shirt before turning toward the other couple.

  “Get a room, will ya?” Dean barked.

  Rainbow laughed. “Gee, sweetie, could you at least wait until the honeymoon?”

  Vicky looked back at Christiaan. “Honeymoon? What honeymoon?”

  He took her face into his hands and held it gently. “Mijn minnares, the last several weeks without you reminded me how much I need you… want you… love you. I don’t care what we decided. We will make this work. Somehow, we will.” Dropping to one knee, he took her hand and peered up into her eyes. “My life would be so much better if you were in it. Will you remarry me?”

  Vicky’s gaze clouded with tears, and a gasp broke from her lips. “Yes, Christiaan Gerhard Cornelus Jan Stokman, Baron van Laere, I will remarry you.”

  Rainbow stepped forward with a bouquet of daisies and a book of Zen poems. “Yeah! I finally get to use my Universal Church of Life ordination.” Handing the flowers to Vicky, her friend motioned for Christiaan to join them. Placing their left hands on the book, she started. “Friends, we are gather—”

  “Wait!” Vicky jerked her hand back. “Before we go any further, I need to know something.”

  All color drained from Christiaan’s face, and the vein in his neck began to throb.

  “Don’t worry. I’m no longer going to build a geothermal industrial park at Mineral Springs. Instead, I want to turn the property into a couples retreat. A place where husbands and wives can come together to focus on communication, rekindle their passion, and maybe learn a thing or two about conservation and Shasta folklore. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great, but that’s not what I want to know.” She took a deep breath. “Who are you marrying? Brianna or Vicky?”

  Looking deep into her eyes, he cupped her chin in his hands. “Both.”

  Suddenly, the last fifteen years slipped away like snow on a sunny day. All the pain and suffering, struggles and misunderstandings disappeared. Today, at this very moment, it felt like a new beginning for them, their love, a
nd their future. The sooner they got started, the better.

  “Let’s do this.” Placing her right hand back on the book of poems, she used her other hand to put Christiaan’s on top.

  “Friends, we are gathered here today with this incredible couple for a very important moment in their lives.” Rainbow smiled, then turned to Christiaan. “You have something you’d like to say to your beautiful bride?”

  “Yes, I do. Mijn minnares, once I promised to love, honor, and cherish you ‘til death us to do part. Then I let business, people, and others’ expectations take over and didn’t realize I’d lost you until you were gone.” He paused to wipe a tear from his cheek.

  “Eight years ago, I learned not even death could extinguish my passion for you. Three months ago, God handed me a second chance to love you like you deserved to be loved. For the rest of our years together, whether that’s five, fifteen, or fifty, I promise to never let you go. Ik hou van jou.”

  Vicky giggled. “I love you, too.”

  “Do you have anything you’d like to say to your groom?” Rainbow urged.

  “Yes, I do.” Vicky paused to settle the butterflies in her stomach. “Mijn minnares, fifteen years ago, I, too, promised to love, honor, and cherish ‘til death us do part. Eight years ago, I let my insecurities, my jealousy, and others’ lies take over and walked away from the best thing that ever happened to me. Three months ago, God handed me a second chance to love you like you deserve to be loved. I promise, for the rest of our lives, I’ll never fail our love. Ik hou van jou.”

  “That was sappy,” Dean said. “Real sappy.”

  “Idiot.” Rainbow punched his arm. “You guys, that was so beautiful.” She sniffled. “So beautiful. You’re beautiful. Okay, let’s make this official. Got the rings?”

  Christiaan slipped the chain hanging from Vicky’s neck over her head, then unclasped it to remove the slender band. Taking her hand, he slipped the ring onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed… again.”

  Wrapped in a cocoon of euphoria, Vicky pulled Christiaan’s ring off his finger, kissed it, and then slid it back on. “With this ring, I thee wed…” She laughed. “Again.”

  “By the power vested in me by the Universal Church of Life, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Christiaan, you may now kiss your bride.”