by Amelia Autin
Lovingly she traced the contours of his face, subtly reminding him of everything he'd gone through to reach this moment with her. "You know I will," she said simply. "But is this what you really want? Don't say it just because you think it's what I want."
He threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her face up for a lingering kiss. "It's what I've always wanted," he confessed. "A place to call home. I just didn't know it until I met you." The admission shattered the last barricade inside him, and the words finally broke free. "I've been running all my life, Mandy," he whispered, "searching for someplace to belong. But my running days are over. No place I go will ever be home unless you're there. So I'm staying right here. With you."
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
"Reiiil-lyyyy!" Mandy's distant voice, carrying a hint of exasperation, trickled through the closed workshop door. "Ryyyy-aaaan!"
Ryan Callahan shaved another wooden curl off the maple plank destined to become a part of a bunk bed, then put the plane down and straightened, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm. He glanced over at the towheaded boy perched on a sawhorse watching him, then at the toddler picking wood shavings out of the sawdust.
"Your mother's calling you, boys," he said. He checked his watch. "It's bath time. Better go on up to the house."
"Oh, Da, do we have to?" objected four-year-old Reilly, hopping down from the sawhorse. "I don't wanna take a bath." He rubbed his faintly grimy arms on his shirt. "See? I'm not dirty." And little Ryan, who loved baths but who adored his big brother even more and tried to copy everything he did, echoed, "Not duhdy."
"You know the rules," Ryan firmly reminded his sons. "Now scoot."
They trotted off and Ryan put away his tools, then made his way toward the house, the sight of which never failed to fill him with satisfaction.
Rebuilding hadn't been easy, especially since he'd insisted on doing the bulk of the work himself. But he'd finished before the first snows came, and his pride in his accomplishment had been unequalled. Until his children had come along, that was.
Lord, was there anything in the whole world comparable to the thrill of watching your child being born, knowing that you'd played a part, however small, in creating that tiny life? If there was, Ryan had never found it, unless you counted the far different thrill of the creation process—making love to Mandy. His wife.
His wife. Going on for five years now, he realized, with a surprised shake of his head. Five years. Who could have foreseen back then that things would turn out as well as they had?
The New World Militia had fallen apart after Pennington's death, just as he'd predicted, helped along by the plea-bargained testimony of Walsh and Brooks regarding the militia's secret activities, including illegal drug trafficking. The authorities were still keeping a watchful eye on certain individuals, and Ryan still packed a gun—he was too much of a cop to ever relax his vigilance that much, and life was doubly precious to a man who had so many hostages to fortune—but he was breathing easier these days.
Cody Walker had completely recovered from his wounds, and shortly thereafter had resigned as sheriff to take a job with the Drug Enforcement Administration. Before he'd left, though, Walker had recommended Ryan as his replacement, a position Ryan still held.
Mandy still owned the Book Nook, although she'd shifted to part-time work once their second child had made his debut into the world.
Ryan smiled to himself. Five years, two children, and another on the way. A girl this time, he hoped. A miniature version of Mandy…
* * *
This was the best time of day, Ryan thought much later, as he walked into the bedroom after his shower and found Mandy undressing there. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her expanded waistline, caressing the warm skin over the slight outward curve caused by her pregnancy. The thought of his child growing safe and secure inside her was as miraculous to him this third time around as it had been the first, and his contentment deepened.
"Did you check on the boys?" he asked.
"Sound asleep, both of them."
"That's good." He nuzzled her ear the way he knew she loved and she shivered.
"Mmm." She tilted her head to give him better access, but sighed wistfully. "They're both growing so fast. Reilly's off the charts and little Ryan can hardly be called little. I looked at him tonight and I realized he's not a baby anymore."
"No, he's not." Ryan placed a hand over her stomach. "But in four months you'll be glad for that."
Mandy smiled and turned within the circle of his arms. "You always know the right thing to say."
"Miracles do happen, then."
She chuckled, a rich, contented sound that affected him deep inside, as it always did. His arms tightened around her and his tone shifted from lighthearted teasing to intense emotion held sternly in check.
"You're my miracle, Mandy. You know that, don't you? I probably don't say it enough, but—"
"Often enough for me."
"No one has ever loved me the way you do, and I don't ever want to lose you, or your love." He rested his forehead against hers. In a hushed voice, as if he were revealing a well-kept secret, he said, "For the longest time I was afraid to believe I could have it all."
Mandy cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. "Do you believe now?" she whispered, placing his hand over the child she carried in her womb, and reminding him at the same time of the two who slept so peacefully just down the hall. All three created from their love. "Do you believe enough now?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, pushing the words past the unexpected constriction in his throat. He saw his future spread out before him—laughter and love, and children growing up, and growing old together, and starting all over again with grandchildren—on and on in the endless kaleidoscope of life. "Oh, yeah," Ryan repeated, wrapping both arms around Mandy. "I believe."
And he smiled.
* * * * *
