by Angel Smits
“Why didn’t you fight for him, then?”
“I did, but no one wanted to listen to a girl like me. Then you came to town that day. Only out-of-towners would have shopped those hours. Everyone else knew that was when we girls on the line did. But there you were, with my little boy clinging to your hand. He was so pretty.”
A chill filled the room, and Faith shivered. She swallowed and waited for Delta to go on.
“You just had to flaunt him in front of me, didn’t you?” Delta finally said. “He was mine. I hated you when he called you Mama. It felt so good to take him and hold him.” Was that a sob in her voice?
Once she started talking, Delta couldn’t seem to stop. Faith waited, listening, something she’d seen her father do hundreds of times with a troubled parishioner.
“Where did you take him?” Faith prompted.
“A line shack up in the hills. You’d have never found him there.”
Delta was probably right. Faith tried, really tried, to understand this woman. She knew what it was like to have parents that didn’t approve of your actions, but she’d never experienced that deep a level of distrust.
“He kept crying, and I started to wonder if my parents were right, that I couldn’t care for a child.” The self-doubt clung heavily in her voice. “I almost believed them, so I went to town to see if I could get help.” She paused a long time, staring at Faith in a strange, unseeing way. “While I was gone, he got out of the cabin. I don’t know how. I locked that door. I should have nailed it shut, but I didn’t have a hammer.”
Faith shivered at the thought of a child, of anyone, being nailed into a building.
“It was dark when he got out, but I finally found him. Backcountry is dangerous with all those played out shafts.”
This time Faith knew ghosts had plenty of tears. Delta’s glistened in the light. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. He just wouldn’t stop crying. And all he wanted was you.”
Somehow, Faith knew that those words had been frozen deep inside Delta for a long time. Too long.
“Mother?”
Another voice—a familiar voice—broke the night. Faith’s throat constricted with tears. Tim Gibson had used that voice. It must mean . . . Her heart ached for Lorena’s loss.
“Timmy?” Delta answered.
“Yes, Mother, it’s me. I’ve come to find you. It’s time to go.”
He sounded so patient and kind in comparison to Delta’s sad insanity. “You came? Oh, I always knew you would come back to me.”
In the distance thunder rumbled. Delta’s voice faded into sobs and eventually those died, too. Lightning flashed through the room. Delta’s glistening form evaporated into the darkness. For an instant the heavy scent of roses wafted through the room and then vanished as the storm rolled away.
“Is she gone?” Faith whispered in the unnatural quiet. Cord reached out and touched her arm. She knelt down and looked around the room. Johnny lay in the corner, silent. Delta was nowhere to be found.
“I don’t know.” Cord wasn’t betting on anything right now. “Lord, I hope so.”
Faith hurried over to Johnny. “He’s still alive.” The blood on his chest wasn’t as bad as she’d thought before. His breathing was even and deep. Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open and Faith jumped back.
“Delta?” she asked hesitantly.
“Who?” Johnny tried to sit up, then collapsed as the pain seized him. “What the hell happened? The chandelier?”
Faith looked up. The crystal and brass light hung over their heads, covered in soot.
“Welcome back.” Cord smiled at his friend, thankful to see the familiarity in his eyes. “We need to get the doc.”
“I’m so sorry, Johnny.” Tears filled Faith’s eyes, and a thick lump caught in her throat.
“You didn’t have any choice,” Cord assured her. “Can you get to the clinic?”
“Yeah.” Together they wrapped Johnny’s wound the best they could. She hurried to the door, then turned around and gave Cord another short kiss.
“Do I get one, too?” Johnny whispered, and Faith’s guilt lifted a little. She pecked his cheek before running out into the cold night.
DOC JAMES COULDN’T remember a longer day. Or week. Between car accidents, unseasonable colds, and falls in the mud, he’d been busy patching up the residents and visitors of Cripple Creek since dawn. Now another deluge of rain kept him from making his way home.
The receptionist had left over an hour ago, when the rush had finally let up. He sat down in her vacant chair, staring out at the storm, hoping it would soon stop. He was heartily sick of these storms. His old joints ached more with each drop.
Next to his elbow the phone rang. He almost didn’t answer it. He was tired and didn’t want to do anything more than slip into a nice long nap. His instincts wouldn’t let him ignore it, and he picked up the receiver.
“Clinic. Doc here.”
“Doctor,” a soft voice spoke through the phone.
He had to strain to hear the words barely whispered over the line. Several words were lost to him.
“ . . . Double Barrel . . . help quick . . . gunshots . . . now.” The line went dead in his hand. Gunshots? Reaching for the black bag he kept under the counter, he stood, cursing the aching in his knees slowing him up. Grabbing his coat off the rack, he slipped it on and stepped out into the rushing dampness.
He was halfway to the burned casino when a figure barreled into him. He nearly stumbled, but he caught the thin shoulders of the woman, and together they got their footing. It was the young woman he’d seen a while back when he’d stitched some cuts.
“Doctor,” she yelled over the storm. “I was just on my way to get you.”
“There’s trouble at the Double Barrel. Sorry I can’t help you right now.”
“That’s what I need you for.” Relief washed through Faith. She didn’t take the time to figure out how he knew, she just thanked heaven he did. “Come on.” Together they made their way through the soggy streets back to the casino.
“Check Johnny first,” Cord instructed through his pain as the doctor followed Faith into the room. “I’m not losing blood.” The old man moved to where Johnny lay.
Faith knelt beside Cord once again. He leaned against the wall beside Johnny, the effort of helping her and his friend evident in the tightness of his jaw and the pallor of his skin.
“You okay, honey?” Cord reached out to caress her face as she took his hand in hers.
Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and the bruises had already turned the majority of one side of his face a dull purple. His lip was split and dried blood clung to his chin. She reached out with the hem of her shirt and carefully wiped the stain away.
“I’ll recover.” As if the strength keeping her going vanished, a tear slipped over her cheek. “I was so scared.”
“You were wonderful,” Cord said.
She wanted to put her arms around him and blot out the horrible memories that would haunt them both for a long time.
“Well, now, boys, what have you been up to?” Doc’s voice penetrated the intimate little circle Cord and Faith had created.
The doctor carefully cleaned Johnny’s wound. Faith saw the pain in her friend’s eyes and moved to sit closer to him. She knew the doctor was required to report all gunshot wounds to the sheriff. This wouldn’t be easily dismissed. Cord could lose everything. She had to explain.
“Do you remember how we talked the night you stitched my cuts. About the Cumberland’s?”
“Yes.” The doctor pulled tools from his medical bag, glancing up at her for only an instant.
“Remember how you thought I resembled Maria?”
“Did I say that? I know I thought it.”
“Did you ever think Cord might look like Rafe?”
The doctor paused then and gazed at Cord’s battered face.
“When he’s not so abused.” She tried to smile, hoping to appeal to the old man’s heart, not to his analytical mind.
“Just thought those were the imaginings of an old man,” he mumbled more to himself than the others in the room.
“They aren’t. I was Maria—in a former life. He was Rafe.”
The doctor rubbed his chin, pondering her words. Faith held her breath, hoping against all common sense that he believed her.
“And I suppose next you’ll be tellin’ me this is little Timmy?” Disbelief filled his voice.
“Hell, Doc,” Johnny forced a laugh. “Even when I was a kid no one called me little.”
The doctor continued his work, not saying anything more. Faith didn’t know what else to say.
“What’s this?” The old man pulled a dark hunk of something into the light. Blood flowed from the wound, and Faith helped the doctor staunch the flow.
“Oh, hell.” Johnny grimaced. “An old man came in this afternoon.” His eyes fluttered shut. “Said he forgot to give it to you earlier.”
“Whatever it was, it saved his life. See? The bullet’s stuck in it.” Doc tossed it aside, more concerned with his patient now that the bullet was out.
Faith stared at the lump. Black stone. White flecks. A sliver frame. The brooch. She swallowed. It had saved Johnny from death and her from murder charges. She looked at Cord.
She’d never really understood what it meant when someone had their heart in their eyes until now. She scooted over to him, and he wrapped her in his arms.
“I love you, Faith.”
She lifted her head, staring into those much-loved eyes. “Oh, Cord.” Tears formed again. “I love you, too. I was too afraid to hope . . . for a future. We’ve only known each other a short time.”
“No.” His gaze sought and found hers. “We’ve known each other forever.”
Cord startled her by running his finger down the side of her cheek where a tear left its track. He pulled his finger away and they both stared at the thin layer of soot covering it.
“I could have lost you forever,” he whispered. “Marry me.”
Several long, silent minutes passed as the world seemed to hold its breath. “Oh, Cord. Yes.” Faith wanted to launch herself into his arms, but she hesitated, afraid of hurting him. He slipped his hand beneath her chin and pulled her face close. All of his love poured through in his kiss.
From out of the darkness where Delta had disappeared, another light seeped from the shadows. “Cord?” Faith didn’t think she had it in her to fight anymore. She moved to his side. His innate strength bolstered her.
The light grew brighter and closer with each passing second. They watched as it merged into a tiny figure. It didn’t take but an instant for Faith to recognize him.
“Timmy?” She stood and went to stand before the form.
“Mama?” His tiny face looked up at her, and she knelt down to meet him eye to eye.
“I . . . I think so.”
“I tried really hard to help you. But she was too strong.”
More tears formed in Faith’s eyes as Delta’s revelation filled her mind. He looked so alone and tiny in that bubble of light. Her arms ached to reach out, to hold him, but she knew that wasn’t possible. She’d find nothing to hold. “You did your best. It’s easy for good to overshadow evil. We just have to let it.” The words of her father’s sermon reached out across the years to comfort her.
“Sid said you’d win.”
“Sid?”
“My bear.” He held out a bear glowing with the same light. Rafe’s present to him that fateful night so long ago. A bear infinitely familiar to both she and Cord. “I got him for Christmas, remember?”
“I remember.” She smiled at the stuffed animal, and the little boy’s sweet face.
“I have to go. I just wanted to tell you and Pa, thank you.”
Faith glanced over at Cord, wondering how he liked being referred to as Pa. Pride filled his eyes.
“Thank you for what?” Cord asked.
“For making my wish come true.”
“Wish?”
“Yeah.” Timmy turned as if hearing something behind him. “I gotta go. Doc?”
“Y . . . yes?” the old man’s voice wavered.
“Buck was awfully glad you picked up that phone. Made him proud. ‘Bye Mama, Pa. I love you.” And with that, the bubble shrank, and Timmy’s image faded away. The last glimmer flew upwards, bouncing joyously in the air and out through the window.
Faith rushed to watch as the light soared through the night sky like a shooting star. Through a hole in the clouds he found an empty spot in the heavens and filled it with the bright glow of a new star. She stood staring at it until a cloud slipped by, blocking her view.
“Doc?” Johnny called to the doctor who still sat where he was, staring. “Who’s Buck?”
He was silent for a long minute, and they all wondered if he’d heard the questions. Tears of joy trickled from the old man’s eyes. “My father.”
“Faith?” Cord called her back to him.
“I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?” Faith wiped her cheeks and watched him shake his head.
“Look over there.” He extended his hand toward the spot where Timmy’s image had been. A small, furry lump lay on the wooden floor.
“Sid.” She scooped up the worn bear and pulled it tight against her heart.
Epilogue
“COME ON, HONEY. Focus. You can do it,” Cord’s soothing voice spoke near her ear.
Faith turned to look at the stuffed bear—Timmy’s bear—that they had chosen as their focal point during the Lamaze classes. She tried to focus, but the pains were coming closer together, and each was more intense than the one before.
“This is all your fault, Cord Burke,” Faith growled after the contraction subsided.
“Guilty as charged.” His smile spread as he looked at his wife, who was in the last stages of labor. It had been a long night, and as the hours passed, her temper had flared. “It’ll be over soon, don’t worry.”
“And you’re never touching me again, do you hear?”
“Uh, huh.” He didn’t believe it for a minute and he knew the sarcasm in his voice told her so. Another contraction saved him from her angry retort. They’d warned him she’d be difficult to deal with. This was definitely a different side of his lovely Faith.
Damp hair clung to her brow. Her skin was sweaty, and a bright flush filled her cheeks. Cord knew he’d never seen her look more beautiful. The death grip she had on his fingers made him realize he’d never loved her more.
“Okay, Mrs. Burke,” the doctor said. “We’re close. Come on. Push.”
“How the hell does he know if I feel like pushing?” Faith grumbled to Cord. Cord shared an amused glance with the doctor.
“You’re doing fine, honey,” Cord crooned. His own exhaustion threatened his even temper. Just then another contraction gripped her. She bent upwards with Cord’s strong arms to help. Several long, painful minutes later the doctor’s voice rang out in the room.
“I’ve got the head. There you go. Push one more time.”
With the next contraction the tiny body slipped into the doctor’s arms.
“It’s a boy.”
Over the surgical mask he wore, Faith saw Cord’s smile in his eyes. She felt her own smile, and the warm love blossoming in her heart for the tiny baby the doctor lifted to her waiting arms.
He was perfect. The doctor didn’t spank the little guy to get his lungs breathing. He actually looked happy to be out in the world.
As the tiny body lay across her chest, Cord counted his fingers and toes while Faith looked into the little eyes so very much
like Cord’s, so much like . . . No, her mind was playing games on her.
“Timmy?” she whispered, looking deep into his eyes. She couldn’t believe she heard a giggle come from the baby. She looked over at Cord to see if he’d heard. He was staring at the baby, but there was no recognition in his eyes.
“Cord?” she spoke urgently enough for him to tear his gaze from his son’s fingers. “Look into his eyes.”
“Hey, little guy.” Cord shifted around to see his son’s face. “Look up here at your Papa.” He met the little blue stare. “Timmy?” Another giggle filled the room.
“You don’t think?” He met Faith’s tear filled gaze. “No, it’s not possible.”
“Anything’s possible. It’s Timmy. It’s really Timmy. He’s ours again.” She pulled the baby close to her breast and cried tears of joy so deep they reached past her mind, past her heart, to her soul, cleansing away all the pain and loss of several lifetimes.
Cord gathered his wife and son close in his arms. Joy filled his heart as her tears dampened his surgical gown. Nothing could come between them again. They’d fought time, battled death and faced damnation—and they’d won.
The End
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About the Author
Angel Smits’s background as a geriatric social worker has given her a glimpse into many varied lives and generations. She finds her characters and stories in the people she’s met. Angel has received the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart award and is a multi-published romance author. Angel lives in Colorado with her husband, daughter and an overly-energetic border collie.