The McClane Apocalypse Book Ten

by Kate Morris

  Simon drives them home but not to the big house or his little cabin, the one he and Cory built. He drives them back the path to Derek and Sue’s house.

  “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” she says nervously. “I thought they meant we could live here later, you know, like after they move.”

  He just looks over at her, picks up her hand, and kisses the back of it. Simon gets out quickly and comes around to her side in a hurry, arriving before she even steps out.

  “I think Sue and Derek must’ve left a light on when they were packing the rest of their stuff,” she says, pointing at the glow coming from the windows.

  “Hm,” is all he says and lifts her into his arms before she can stop him.

  “Simon, I can walk,” she says with a light laugh.

  “Not tonight,” he counters, kicking the car door shut with his foot.

  He carries her so effortlessly to the stairs and up to the front porch. Then he even manages to work the doorknob and carry her through the open door. The house is definitely warm. There is a fire in the big, stone fireplace built into the living room wall. He swings with her still in his arms and shuts the door. Then he twists the lock.

  “Someone must’ve lit the fire for us,” she says.

  “Hm, I guess so,” he teases.

  She finally catches on, “Oh, you did this? I feel stupid.”

  “Don’t talk badly about my wife, lady,” he reprimands and smiles, dazzling her.

  “Wife,” she repeats softly and cups his cheek.

  He doesn’t stop but carries her up the stairs to the second floor. He must be getting tired, his arms sore, but he doesn’t show any signs of it. He doesn’t put her down until they are in the master bedroom. He turns and locks the door. Sam spins to see a low fire burning in the wood-burning stove, a small one that heats the whole second floor. The bedding is different from the set that is usually on Sue and Derek’s bed. And his sniper rifle and two other rifles stand next to it against the wall.

  “Bertie sewed this,” he tells her, indicating the quilt. “Bertie and Talia. They’ve been sewing quilts and just finished this one. I think it’s some sort of wedding ring pattern or something. I don’t know,” he says with a chuckle. “You’ll have to ask them.”

  “That was so nice,” Sam comments, touched by their generosity. She knows how long a quilt takes to sew by hand.

  Candles are lit on the side tables and the one dresser. It’s so romantic and lovely Sam could cry.

  “You did this?”

  When she turns to face him, Simon has removed his suit jacket and has placed it on a hook on the back of the bedroom door. He just grins.

  “Simon,” she says weakly. “I didn’t do anything like this for you. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” he asks with a grin and removes his shoes. For some reason, Sam starts getting nervous. “I got the best gift of all today. The best gift ever in the history of gifting. I got you.”

  This makes her smile. But then her nerves kick in again, and she finds herself looking around, her eyes darting here and there not focusing on anything for more than a second.

  “Want to…want to talk?” she asks, her voice cracking.

  “Talk?” he asks and unbuttons his shirt cuffs and rolls them back to reveal his forearms. “No, I don’t want to talk.”

  “Oh, ok,” she says in an airy voice that sounds too high-pitched and shrill. Her fingers find each other in front of her and fiddle together. When she glances up at him again, Simon is staring at her with a smile of praise. He points to her and then at the ground in front of him. She tries to smile but fails and walks to him anyway.

  His arm slips around her waist and pulls her close. “You look…you…you take my breath away, Sam.”

  She raises both eyebrows.

  “This is…” he says but doesn’t finish as his fingers glide over her delicate veil and land on her bare collarbone, which sends shivers down her back. Simon scowls and swallows as if he has a sore throat. “I’ve waited so long to be able to touch you this way.”

  She nods. It’s all she can do. She knows exactly how long he’s wanted to touch her this way. She is fairly certain that she wanted him to touch her this way a whole lot sooner than he ever realized he wanted to. She’s about to tell him this but doesn’t. The rest of her brain isn’t working correctly, especially her capacity for speech as his fingers go to the back of her neck and up into her hair. He finds the pins holding her veil in place and removes them carefully, placing them and the veil on the dresser behind him. Then he finds the pins holding her hair in its fancy updo that Sue managed to style earlier. When he has them all removed, Simon runs his hands and fingers through her hair, allowing it to release and flow down over her bare back.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, but Sam believes he isn’t necessarily saying it to her. He certainly isn’t looking at her. It’s as if he’s making a declaration to the world.

  His fingers find the back of her neck again and pull her up for a kiss that nearly buckles her knees and makes her cry again. Behind her, she can feel him working the buttons at the base of her back. Those tiny satin-covered buttons are the only things holding her gown on. Once he has them undone enough, Simon slips the gown from her shoulders and allows it to fall slightly. Then he pulls the sleeves from the tips of her fingers until he has her arms free. Her underclothes are also new. Sue had found them for her. She’s not sure where Sue got them, but the low-backed, semi-sheer ivory slip is covered in lace and beading and seems too fancy to be hidden beneath a dress. Since the dress didn’t allow for it, the slip is strapless, as well, but has a boned corset to support her bust and cinch her waist. Simon’s nostrils flare as he stares at her. She offers a one-shouldered shrug of uncertainty. He takes her hand and helps her step out of the wedding gown now pooling around her calves. She also steps out of her ivory heels and is reduced in size and back to her short stature. She doesn’t know if he thinks the slip is dowdy or slutty or worthless or whatever is going through his brain because he isn’t saying anything. He must like it because he swoops down and captures her mouth with his again, stealing her breath.

  When he pulls back again, Sam notices that he has unbuttoned his shirt and is shrugging out of it. How had he unbuttoned it and she not notice? It’s not that surprising, actually, since Simon leaves her feeling out of sorts most of the time when he kisses her. Sometimes, when he used to allow his emotions to take over, he’d kiss her, and she’d go to another planet temporarily. She’s sure of it. She definitely wasn’t on earth anymore.

  He reaches down and picks up her hand between them and places it against his chest. Her hands tremble.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  Sam vigorously shakes her head.

  “Are you…” he asks and pauses as if the question is painful to ask. “Are you afraid?”

  She shrugs and pinches her mouth together. “No, not afraid. Nervous. I’m just a little nervous.” She is a little afraid, too, but she also doesn’t want to spoil this.

  “You don’t have to be,” he tells her. “I would never hurt you, Sam. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nods. “Yes. Sorry. I shouldn’t be so nervous. I just am. Aren’t you?”

  “Nervous?” he asks, to which she nods. “No, I’m not nervous. I’ve wanted you for so long, wanted to touch you and hold you and make love to you. Nothing could make me nervous tonight.”

  Her eyes widen. Simon is never this direct. Is this the way he’ll be as a husband? So many thoughts and questions float around in her mind. “But…but you’ve never… I mean, this is your first time, Simon.” Perhaps it isn’t his first time, after all.

  He steps into her space again and places both hands on her waist, which squeezes her into him, arches her back just slightly, and forces her to rest her hands against his chest.

  “I know, but it’s your first time, too, Sam,” he says huskily.

  She frowns up at him with tears in her eyes. He knows thi
s isn’t true. She shakes her head and says, “No, it’s not…I…you know that’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is,” he insists and presses a kiss to her mouth. “It’s the first time for both of us.”

  “But you know it’s not. I was with…”

  He interrupts and places a long finger to her lips. “It is. It’s my first time. It’s your first time, too. Understand me? You’ve never made love before, and neither have I and I’m glad that we’ll be each other’s firsts.”

  She does understand now. He’s right. What happened to her before was a violent act, not something of love, not something beautiful or special. It was rape. Not love. She had no say in the matter. She did not love that person. She loves Simon.

  “Understand me?” he asks and cups her face in his hands again. Sam nods, feeling tears stinging her eyes. Once she acknowledges what he’s saying, Simon kisses her more forcefully.

  Then he sweeps her feet out from under her and carries her the six steps to the bed where he places her gently down. He spends a long time kissing and caressing her, what feels like hours to Sam. His touches warm her skin where it is cool. He nuzzles her neck where it is sensitive. Squeezes the flesh of her hip. Sinks his hands into her hair. Lifts her off the mattress and kisses her breasts. Slides his hand down between her thighs making her lose her mind. His kisses leave a hot, moist trail all over her body. He even touches her like he did the other night but doesn’t send her over the brink again. Right before she does so, he joins their bodies and carefully, gently brings her right back there again. After she finds her release, Simon allows himself to give over to instinctive movements until he has also gone over that precipice. He buries himself within her so deeply that Sam actually does cry a few tears.

  “Did I hurt you?” he immediately asks with horror on his face as he comes down from his own high and slows his breathing.

  “No,” she answers simply. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to process this much emotion, Simon. I’m sorry. I’m ruining this.”

  He kisses away her tears and rolls to his side, bringing her with him. Rubbing the excess moisture from her tears with the pad of his thumb, Simon smiles gently in the candlelight.

  “I didn’t mean to cry,” she apologizes again.

  He shakes his head and says, “Don’t ever apologize for that. I want you to be honest with your feelings. No more secrets between us, ok? Never again. And, Sam, nothing could’ve ruined that.”

  She nods and accepts his kiss.

  “I always want to remember this. Remember this day, the way you looked, the way you look right now,” he says and gently runs his index finger over her forehead and down her nose to press against her mouth. Then he kisses the same path.

  “Me, too,” she says and sifts her fingers through his auburn hair. “You looked so handsome. I think I like the way you look now even better. I might have to sketch you this way.”

  He grins lasciviously. His hand slides down over her bare hip as he pulls her more firmly against him. The feel of his skin against hers reignites that flame again. Sam lifts her chin asking for a kiss. When he obliges, she pushes her tongue into his mouth and skims her fingers experimentally over his exposed nipple. He captures her hand and pulls back slightly.

  “You need to rest,” he scolds. “That was a lot for tonight.”

  “I feel fine,” she says. “We’re never going to get good at this if we don’t practice.”

  “Not good?” he asks in a teasing tone.

  “Horrible, actually,” she lies in the same joking manner. His eyes widen playfully, and he grins. “Terrible!”

  “Damn, so much for all that studying,” he says with a cute frown. “I guess I’ll have to take your advice and practice.”

  Then he rolls her onto her back and starts the process all over again. It is many hours later when they finally pass out from exhaustion. The last coherent thought Sam has is that she finally has everything she needs in her life. She falls asleep with a satisfied smile on her face, the same one she just saw on Simon’s face as she watched him doze off before her. For the first time since the fall, Sam feels a quiet bliss come over her like a warm blanket.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Reagan

  It has been a week since Simon and Sam’s wedding, and they haven’t been seen since. The family has noticed things missing in the house, though. A loaf of stolen bread gone, a jar of jam from the pantry, leftovers placed in the fridge, eggs, ham. Sue even made homemade spaghetti, Simon’s favorite, two days ago, but that still hadn’t drawn the new couple to the house. The leftovers were missing the next morning from the fridge, though. Cory said he saw Simon in the barn before dawn a few days ago milking one of the dairy cows. Reagan knows Simon is keeping up on his farm chores because he places his pail of milk on the kitchen island every morning but is gone before anyone wakes, apparently after he raids their leftovers to take back to his new home to his new wife. Nobody believed Cory’s story of spotting him. It is joked about now that it was just an urban legend and he didn’t actually see the phantom ghost of Simon at all.

  In her arms, Charlotte smiles up at her right before she burps. “Good girl,” Reagan praises.

  “Great,” Sue says. “You’re going to make her a heathen like you.”

  “Damn right,” she returns.

  “Hey!” Hannah scolds from her place at the island where she is holding baby Daniel. He’s getting so big already.

  It’s still morning, but the sun is warm and high already, promising actually to be a nice day out. She plans on riding later and then getting Charlotte outside for some fresh air. She also wonders if it’s still too chilly for a baby her size. She wishes so badly Grams was still here to ask her questions like that. Just because she went through med school doesn’t mean she’s an expert when it comes to children.

  The kitchen door opens, and Sam walks in.

  “Well, lo and behold!” Sue exclaims. “She lives!”

  Sam chuckles with embarrassment. “Hi, guys.”

  “How’s it going, newlywed?” Reagan asks.

  “Um…good,” she remarks and hangs her zip-up sweater on a hook by the door.

  “Must be,” Sue comments. “We thought we were going to have to send out a search and rescue team to my house.”

  “Oh,” Sam says and chuckles shyly. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  “You two coming up for air today?” Sue asks mischievously.

  “Oh, Sue,” Hannah chides with no real judgment.

  Sam laughs softly again and says, “Yes.”

  “I didn’t think Simon had it in him,” Reagan jokes bawdily.

  “Oh, he does. He really, really does,” Sam says, blushing as she remembers something in her mind. Then she purses her lips, grins, and her eyes alight with happiness as she glances off into the distance beside her at nothing in particular.

  “Go, Simon!” Reagan cries out with a fist pump into the air and a laugh. She didn’t think he’d have the first clue about women. Maybe he talked to Cory. She can’t imagine that, either. Whatever he did to educate himself, it must’ve worked. Sam seems awfully content.

  “Girls!” Hannah scolds more boldly but has a sly smile on her pretty face, too. “Goodness gracious.”

  “Now everyone will be nagging you two when you’re having kids,” Sue tells their little sister.

  “We want to wait,” Sam tells them and takes Charlotte, cooing to her and smiling down at Reagan’s daughter.

  “You should,” Reagan says. “Jesus, you are both kids.”

  “No, we’re not,” Sam rejects.

  “Reagan,” Hannah warns for taking the Lord’s name.

  She pops a piece of carrot into her mouth and says, “My ass you’re not kids.”

  It sets Hannie off, and she takes a hard swipe at the back of her head, sending the carrot piece in her mouth flying across the island. Sue laughs. Samantha giggles. Hannah glares, and Reagan just feels a sense of something coming full circle in her life
as she remembers back to a time when Grams had done this to her. It was soon after she came home to the farm from college when the country fell. Her eyes fill with unshed tears, and she has to look away. This keeps happening a lot lately. Emotions suck.

  “I think it’s a good idea to wait, too,” Sue confirms. “You’ve both been through a lot. Take your time. Just enjoy each other for a while. There’s no rush.”

  Sam smiles and nods. Reagan is glad to see it. She and Simon mean so much to her. They deserve to be happy, and she’s so relieved that he found the courage to forgive himself for what happened to her. He has been Reagan’s constant shadow for the last four years, trying so hard to learn as much as he could, to impress them, to earn a place in the family and earn their respect, too. She has news for Simon. Even if he hadn’t become a doctor, they would all still love him just as much as they do. Those two damn kids wormed their ways into the McClane family’s hearts the first week they came to the farm.

  “Yeah, try not to get knocked up like me,” Reagan says jokingly. “There’s not a rush to have kids. Just be careful. Take precautions.”

  “Yes,” Sam says. “We will. Thanks.”

  Sam wraps an arm around Reagan and hugs her tightly to her side while holding her daughter. She absorbs Sam’s offering and returns it. She doesn’t want to be like she used to be, shirking the touches and tenderness of her family. Not ever again. Life is too short. When she forgave her father in that final moment, something within her changed. She felt something snap. It was like a wave of peaceful contentment had transfused slowly through her. She doesn’t want to hold anger in her heart anymore. Someday she may find a way to make peace with what happened to her that night at her college. She’s not totally ready to face it, but with time and John by her side, she will. She also has her children to think of now. Jacob needs a mother. John jumped right into the role as a father, but the little guy needs a woman’s touch, too. She has run from her responsibilities as a mother, a sister, a daughter, and threw herself into work and study. Not anymore. She wants to be better than that. She has more to give than just medical advice.