Epiphany

by Rita Herron

  She’d thought Trevor was still there until a nurse placed her crying baby in her arms and started asking her questions.

  In a haze, she’d recited the facts she’d memorized and practiced. “Woman’s Hospital on River Bend. My O.B. is Dr. Faber.”

  Her attention was centered on the tiny miracle resting in the curve of her right arm. She’d carried him for nine months, through the death of her husband, Bonner’s vicious attack, and her brother-in-law’s evil duplicity. All that was now behind her.

  “You’re safe, little guy,” she whispered as she felt a sensation of cold and then a sharp sting on her left arm.

  She frowned at the nurse. “What are you doing?”

  “Just giving you a sedative, Mrs. Randolph. We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes. Dr. Faber is waiting.”

  The haze in her brain grew thicker. She licked her lips, which felt suddenly dry

  “Can’t give me a sedative. I refuse.” She forced her eyes open. “Trevor, don’t let—”

  An icy chill took hold of her heart. She lifted her head, her gaze searching the small, bright space.

  “Where’s Trevor?” In her arms, the baby wriggled restlessly.

  The nurse leaned over her. “I’m going to take the baby, now, Mrs. Randolph. You’re tired. He’ll be just fine.”

  Merry tried to stop the nurse, but her limbs were too weak. “That’s my baby,” she whispered.

  The nurse smiled at her. “And we’re going to take good care of him. Now why don’t you close your eyes?”

  “Get Trevor! I can’t do this without him.”

  “The detective is fine. He was lucky. The bullet went straight through his calf muscle. His captain showed up and they’re taking care of the man who tried to kill you.”

  Merry shivered, an aftershock of the cold and her ordeal. Her lips were going numb. The nurse’s voice took on a droning quality. “We’re almost there. Just close—”

  “Why isn’t he here? Does he know the baby’s all right?”

  The haze took hold of Merry’s brain and the bright lights faded to darkness.

  IT WAS CHRISTMAS DAY.

  Trevor let himself into his apartment. It had been a long night. After being patched up by the EMTs, he’d ridden with Captain Jones to the precinct where they’d locked up Lawrence and Trevor had been debriefed. He’d go in later to write up his report.

  After showering and donning sweatpants, he tossed his ruined jeans and T-shirt into the trash.

  Then he stood in the middle of his stark, impersonal apartment and looked around. What the hell had he been doing for the past four years? How had he spent his Christmases?

  He wandered restlessly for a few minutes, picking up the remote control then setting it down, glancing at the phone and wondering if he should call his parents, staring out the window at the icicles dripping from the eaves and road signs as the sun melted them.

  He couldn’t force himself into the vacuum where he’d spent the holidays after his baby had died. That dead space had disappeared.

  In its place was a world—a world filled with pain and anger, with joy and tenderness and an aching, open wound that was his heart.

  Merry had done this to him. She and her determined little baby.

  Trevor’s legs, his good one as well as his injured one, trembled and he flopped down onto his couch. He wiped his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes.

  Dammit, he had to do something.

  He grabbed the phone, called Directory Assistance and let the phone company connect him with Woman’s Hospital.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Mrs. Randolph was discharged.”

  Tossing the handset aside, he leaned his head back against the couch cushions, a dull headache building. He hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours.

  But when he closed his eyes, all he could see were Merry’s brilliant green eyes and the red, wrinkled face of the tiny baby he’d held for a brief moment.

  With a hoarse cry, he doubled over in pain.

  His heart was flayed open, bloody and raw. There was nothing that he could ever find that would heal it.

  Nothing but Merry and her baby.

  What was he going to do now?

  THE BUTLER who answered the door on Monday morning looked Trevor up and down, and lifted his nose.

  Trevor held up his badge, forestalling the words he knew were coming. The servants’ entrance is around back.

  “Detective Trevor Adkins, here to see Mrs. Randolph.”

  “Mrs. Randolph is—”

  “I have information for her, about the incidents of Saturday night.” Trevor snapped his badge holder shut and stared down the butler. “And questions. Of course, she could come down to the precinct.”

  “Just a moment.” The impeccably dressed butler stepped over to a phone on an ornate table, picked it up, punched one number, then spoke quietly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The man’s pointed nose lifted even higher as he hung up and spoke. “Mrs. Randolph can give you a few moments.”

  Trevor showed his teeth and raised his brows. “I thought she would.”

  He walked down the hall behind the pompous man, his limp taking away from the confidence he’d hoped to convey.

  Inside he was nearly paralyzed with fear.

  What would she say? Hello, Detective, and thank you for your help?

  What would he say?

  He had no idea. He hadn’t dared think about it, because he knew if he gave himself even a nanosecond, he’d back out.

  The ornate, marbled foyer led through an arched doorway into a dark hall, decorated with rich greenery and gold ribbon.

  Gleaming hardwood floors reflected recessed lighting and narrow tables sporting poinsettias and holly dotted the way.

  He was surrounded by Christmas lights and smells, all the trappings of the season he’d tried to banish from his life. Strangely, they didn’t affect him as they usually did. Probably because he was already so damned panicked.

  He glanced up and saw mistletoe hanging from a light fixture. Not sure what he was thinking, he gave in to an urge and surreptitiously snapped off a sprig as he walked under it.

  At a closed set of double doors, the butler paused and knocked.

  Trevor’s heart lodged in his throat. He tried to swallow and almost choked. The urge to turn and run was overwhelming. He had to force himself to stand his ground.

  MERRY SMILED down at her baby, then raised her gaze to the opening doors.

  There he stood. Trevor Adkins. His cheek was scraped, his hip was cocked, probably to take the weight off his injured leg, and his shoulders were stiff and straight.

  Her pulse hammered in her throat. She moistened her lips.

  Paulo, the butler, backed out of the room and pulled the double doors closed.

  “Hello, Trevor. Come in.” Her throat was still raw from screaming as the baby came.

  Trevor hesitated and her smile wavered.

  “You look good,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded stiffly. “Sure. All in a day’s work.”

  His tone didn’t match his flippant words. He sounded as he had when he’d first realized she was pregnant.

  Paulo had said the detective had some questions for her. She searched Trevor’s dark blue eyes. Was that really the only reason he’d come?

  “I…wanted to let you know that Lawrence won’t be getting out.” He paused and shifted, a fleeting grimace of pain shadowing his face. “The bullets in the Hummer and the pickup were a perfect match for the ones that killed Bonner. Plus, Lawrence’s DNA and prints were all over the gun.”

  Merry nodded carefully. “I trusted Lawrence. It’s so hard to believe he hated me.”

  Trevor’s gaze sharpened. “He didn’t hate you. He was obsessed with money.”

  She shifted on the chaise longue and readjusted the baby’s position in her arms. So far Trevor had been all business. He hadn’t even glanced at her new son.

  “Thank you for the information,” she
said as her insides ached in trepidation. Could he really stand there and not acknowledge the child he’d helped bring into the world? Just the thought wrenched her heart.

  “Come closer,” she murmured, “and meet Joshua Trevor Randolph.”

  Trevor’s face paled and his fists clenched.

  Merry bit her lip. “I hope you don’t mind. It seemed right to name him after the man who delivered him.”

  He shook his head stiffly and his voice cracked. “I don’t mind.”

  The minuscule show of emotion caused Merry’s heart to leap. He certainly didn’t sound indifferent, or controlled. He sounded scared to death.

  She forced her trembling lips into a smile. “Come on. Come say hi to your namesake.”

  Trevor stepped forward, his jaw working. Slowly, he approached the chaise. She patted the space beside her. “Sit here. I know your leg must be hurting.”

  Looking panicked, he lowered himself beside her.

  Little Joshua stretched and yawned, and Merry heard a choked sound come from Trevor’s throat.

  He stared at the baby, the same expression of horrified awe on his face that had been there when he’d first touched her tummy.

  “Trevor, I want to thank you for saving us. Lawrence almost killed you. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”

  He shook his head, his gaze still on the baby. “I was just doing my job.”

  Pain lanced through her. Don’t, she begged silently.

  He raised his gaze to hers and what she saw in his eyes renewed her fragile hope. She held her breath.

  “What I did for you was nothing, compared to what…you did for me.” He looked down at something he held cupped in his fingers. “You brought me back from the brink, Merry.” His breath caught. “I hadn’t even realized how dead I was inside until you forced me to look at myself.”

  He wiped his face, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “And this little guy—”

  He cleared his throat.

  Then he looked at her and everything he held inside shone in his eyes. His honor, his bravery, the love he’d hidden away for so long.

  But could he take that last step back to life? Merry didn’t know whether to speak or to wait. Her confidence waned. She was so afraid of misunderstanding what that intense gaze held.

  Finally his mouth relaxed in a tiny smile and he held up the item he’d kept hidden in his right hand.

  Merry almost laughed. It was mistletoe. Her pulse thrummed inside her. Little Joshua felt it and moved restlessly in the curve of her arm.

  Trevor’s eyes were bright and damp as he spoke. “Would you mind if I stole just one kiss? It would…it would mean the world to me.”

  Her own eyes filling with tears, Merry shook her head. “Not at all,” she whispered.

  To her surprise, Trevor held the mistletoe over the baby’s head, then leaned down and gently placed his lips against Joshua Trevor’s downy black hair.

  As she blinked and her tears spilled over onto her cheeks, Merry touched Trevor’s cheek. He turned to press the side of his face against her palm.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” she said softly, taking the biggest risk she’d ever taken in her life.

  He raised his head and looked at her solemnly. “No.”

  Her heart stopped and her hand fell away from his face.

  He captured it in his and brought it to his chest, where she felt his heart beating rapidly and steadily. “I think it takes a while to get to know another person, to learn to trust them, to depend on them—” He paused and his fingers tightened around hers. “To be able to open your heart to them.”

  He swallowed and a flash of uncertainty flared in his eyes. “I think it takes a while to be sure.”

  Merry looked at the man who had protected her, who had treated her as though she were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “How…how long do you think it might take?”

  Trevor leaned in until his lips were a mere breath away from hers. “Maybe fifty years. Maybe more.” He brushed her mouth with his. “The question is, are you willing to invest that much time?”

  Merry closed her eyes. “Fifty years? That’s a big commitment.”

  Trevor nodded, then caught her lips in a soft, tender kiss.

  Joshua Trevor kicked and cried out.

  Trevor started and straightened. The baby’s arms were waving in the air. Trevor held out a finger and little Joshua grabbed it.

  “I think little Joshua Trevor wants us to give it a try.” Merry held her breath.

  Trevor looked at her baby, and Merry knew he already loved him. Then he looked at her, and the light shining in his eyes filled her heart with so much joy she thought she’d burst.

  “If he’s willing, and you’re willing,” Trevor said in a hoarse whisper, “then I’m ready. Just for fifty years or so.”

  “Maybe longer,” Merry murmured, and cupped her free hand around Trevor’s neck.

  “Maybe longer.” Trevor lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as little Joshua Trevor hung on to his finger.

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