by Linda Mooney
Worst of all, he believed he had given up his last and only hope of happiness.
Well, so had she not too long ago.
Stumbling in the near-dark toward the castle, Johana made her way through the forest until she suddenly burst into the clearing that surrounded the huge structure. At that moment the weather shifted, and a heavy wind gusted across the grass, nearly knocking her down. Lightning sizzled. The next thing she knew, thunder crashed directly overhead, almost deafening her. Another bolt of pure white heat lanced the earth, and several trees exploded into flames.
It was the next stage of grief, she realized. First denial, then acceptance, followed by mourning and anger. Warren was treating this less and less like a chance at a new life, and more like a funeral.
Miraculously, the drawbridge was still down. Johana hurried across the moat. By this time she was soaked to the skin. Once inside the interior of the castle, she trusted her instincts and followed what she hoped was the same route they had used yesterday.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty hall when she finally managed to find her way there. The fire continued to crackle away in the large fireplace. Grateful for its warmth, she rushed over to try and warm up a little. She started to hold her hands toward the flames when she sensed someone in the room with her, and Johana smiled.
"It's raining cats and dogs outside,” she tried to say nonchalantly, but it was difficult as her body was shivering and her heart was banging around inside her chest.
"Just a little spring shower. It should let up soon,” his deep voice reverberated. “Are you cold? You could use a towel and some dry clothes."
At her feet a large fluffy towel and a pile of folded clothes materialized into view. Johana glanced down at them but didn't move from her spot in front of the fire. It felt too damn good to be there.
Behind her she heard Warren walk toward her. She heard a sniff, and then he calmly said, “Are you sure you're not going to regret what you've done?"
There was no derision. No anger directed at her for disobeying him. No need to sacrifice his chance at happiness or hers. He had accepted his fate and was welcoming hers.
Turning around, she could see the redness around his eyes. The telltale signs of puffiness he could no more hide than deny. But the look on his face was warmer than the heat stoking her backside.
With a start, Johana realized she hadn't checked to see if her arm had changed. She took it as a good sign. A positive and fresh start to a new life. To their new life.
"Are you sure you're not going to regret my coming back?” she asked in the same tone of voice.
He never answered her when he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to him. They both had been waiting a very long time for their second chance.
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* * * *
It was nearly three a.m. when Gracie climbed out of bed, unable to sleep. She debated whether or not to take a sleeping aid, then decided why the hell not. There were plenty of sleeping pills left that Bill would never need.
At the thought of the man, she paused. Before she was aware of her actions, she found she had bypassed Castle's bedroom where the medication was kept and gone straight to the office.
The police had finally left around midnight after interrogating her and the staff of people employed at the estate. She had given the detectives the letter Bill had written several weeks ago when he had concocted his plan to remain inside the painting. The cops had read it, done their investigation, and promised to call if they heard anything. In the meantime Gracie had to promise to do the same.
The bitter smell of sealant still filled the room as she walked inside. Flicking on the overhead light, she stared at the freshly covered painting. Huber said it would take a good forty-eight hours for the coating to sufficiently dry enough to touch. Until then he advised no one go near it until he came back in two days to check it. At that time he would determine whether or not to administer another layer, but he doubted it would need one.
Even with the sealant the painting retained its ability to enthrall and command attention. In fact, Gracie would swear the trees looked more realistic, the lake more luminescent, and the castle itself almost glowed in the sunlight—
She paused. Blinking several times to make sure she wasn't seeing things, Gracie stepped closer to the area of the castle. There, in one of the upper towers, in the window backlit by what appeared to be firelight, she could swear she could see the shadows of two people locked in a passionate embrace. The woman's head was thrown back as the man bent over her.
"I'm imagining things,” she half-laughed. She knew this piece of art better than any other person besides Bill. She also knew he had not painted that kind of detail in any of the windows. Which could only mean one thing.
"Let me be the first to offer my congratulations,” she whispered as her throat closed up. She wanted to say more, but she had to deal with the tears of joy blurring her vision.
Gracie turned off the lights as she left the office and went back to her bedroom. She wouldn't need the sleeping pills tonight after all. Instead, she would treat herself to sweet dreams of a Happily Ever After and know that such things really and truly existed.
The End
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Author Bio
www.LindaMooney.com
Linda loves to write romance with a science fiction or fantasy flair. Her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion picture or graphic novel. By day she is a Kindergarten teacher, wife, and mother of two. But at night she delves into worlds filled with daring exploits and sensual, erotic romance. She also dabbles with writing horror as Gail Smith.
Whiskey Creek Press Torrid:
Runner's Moon: Jebaral
Runner's Moon: Tiron
Runner's Moon: Simolif
Sandeflay
Tease Publishing: (horror)
Journal
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