"Is that how it worked for you?"
"No. I apparently was only repeating the rationale of my therapist."
"You know it wasn't your fault your wife—Susan was shot. You didn't pull the trigger. You didn't take her into danger."
"But I brought the danger to her."
"Someone wise once told me that we can't change the past, that we can't know if the outcome of an event would have been different if we'd done things differently. In any case, a person just has to let go of the guilt and move on—that it's what the people we lost would want."
He nodded. "I still need to work on that."
"Does that mean you're heading back to Chicago and your job?"
"No. I turned in my notice. I clearly have too high a profile to continue in undercover work and I don't want a desk job. There's nothing for me back in Chicago."
A hint of hope reared through Andi. Out of habit—out of fear of being hurt, she kept it in check. She'd chased hope too long—had been thwarted far too many times.
"How about your therapist?"
Cole tugged her close, one hand still holding hers, the other cupping the back of her head as he looked her deep in the eye and said, "I think I know someone better suited than any therapist to help me over this last hurtle of letting go of the past."
Hope pushed its way through her barrier of fear, a small but strong voice inside her head telling her Cole would never let her down.
Cole kissed her knuckles. "Someone who's been there, who's working her way along the same path." He brushed his lips across hers. "Someone who can help me move forward."
Hope surged through her and she threw her arms around Cole's neck.
"I've got more than enough in my savings account to pay your taxes," he managed.
"That's not important right now," she said.
"You wouldn't have to cut down the trees you love," he said.
She craned her neck back and smiled up at him. "But if lots aren't cleared, where will our campers set up?"
"Our Campers?"
"Or shall we start with the hunting camps?"
"We?"
She held up one hand as if for a shake. "Partners?"
He smiled. "I have a better way to seal this partnership than a handshake and, for the record, I intend this partnership to be a permanent one in every sense of the word."
And then Cole kissed Andi and Tuff Stuff howled.
EPILOGUE
AUGUST, six months later:
The sun hung low over the sparkling lake behind Andi's cabin, the sounds of axes biting into wood echoing from the forest interrupted occasionally by the whine of a chainsaw. But it was the rattle of chains and growl of a truck engine as it strained to dislodge a stump from its severed roots that turned Andi's head toward the woods beyond the garage.
Kelly stepped up to the garden fence beside her. "Sorry you let my father take over truck duty from you?"
Andi shook her head. "It seemed important to him to be part of the crew."
"It makes him feel useful."
"Recovering from his stroke has taken a long time," Andi said, recalling how guilt-ridden Kelly had been a couple years back because her father had had his stroke while they were arguing over her pregnancy. Guilt. She and Kelly had that emotional experience in common.
But life had gone on for Kelly, Andi realized, watching Kelly smile at her daughter playing in the grass at her grandmother's feet, that pregnancy she and her father had argued about now a toddler.
"Angel's birth raised Dad's spirits," Kelly said. "But it was Dane who got him thinking more about what he could do rather than what he couldn't."
Kelly's gaze shifted to Andi and, though she still smiled, there was a gravity in her eyes—in her words. "In the same way, Cole seems to have inspired you to join the world rather than hide away by yourself."
Andi snorted. "Never thought you'd see me drive a load of morels to Chicago to sell them, did you?"
Kelly's eyes warmed. "I never thought you'd be willing to go to Chicago to meet Cole's friends. But what I was referring to was how you've opened up to the friends you have here."
Andi lifted her chin toward the woods where Cole and Kelly's husband, Dane, worked digging out stumps from the trees she'd had cut earlier in the summer along with the help of neighbor John Joki, building supply owner Art Pakaala, and even State cop Tom Maki. These men had donated hours, days of their time to help her and Cole clear campsites so they could lay water and electrical lines for next year's campers. Cole indeed had helped her see she had friends—had helped her open up to them.
Then there were Kelly's mom, Alma, now stirring sloppy joe mix in the electric roaster on a table outside the back door, while Mrs. Niemi chattered away about where to put which salad and side dish on the long table and worrying whether they had enough to feed the hungry crew that would soon be heading in from the woods. Andi smiled. She'd even learned to accept their friendship for what it was, the mothering she'd lacked while growing up.
And in the middle of the circle of folding chairs ready to be filled by her crew of stump cutters, Kelly and Dane's daughter, Angel, played with Tuff, who patiently endured the toddler climbing and hugging and patting. Angel peeled back Tuff's lip, exposing one huge fang.
Tuff licked Angel and rolled onto her back. Maybe endured was the wrong word to describe how the big dog accepted Angel's attention. Maybe a better word would be relished.
A longing churned through Andi. But she'd long ago decided against having children. The world was too cruel a place.
Or so she'd thought until Cole came along and opened her mind to another world, one where she could have a happy future rather than just an existence, one in which she saw she had friends.
One in which motherhood could be hers. But only if…
Tears scratched at the backs of her eyes. She opened the garden gate and stepped inside, distracting herself with the task she'd been at when she'd paused to listen to the activity of her friends.
"I've got a bumper crop of tomatoes," she said, when Kelly followed her. "Enough to share with everyone."
"No doubt thanks to the new fence," Kelly said. "No deer are going to jump this one."
"Cole helped me rebuild it," Andi said, thinking how it all came back to Cole. Everything came back to Cole.
She set down her basket and began picking tomatoes.
"So, when you going to let that guy make an honest woman of you?"
Andi's hand stilled on a large, ripe tomato.
"I know he's asked you to marry him every week since the standoff with Taggert and Harley."
Andi's fingers slid over the smooth skin of the fruit. "He told you that, huh?"
"He was looking for advice on how to get you to accept."
Andi twisted the tomato from its stem. "He needs to be certain."
"I would think a man asking you to marry him weekly for six months is a strong indicator he's certain."
Andi placed the tomato in the basket and moved to the next plant. "The first time he asked, we'd been together less than two weeks."
"Dane and I weren't together much longer than that and I'd have said yes to him in a heartbeat if he'd asked."
Andi snapped a couple more tomatoes from their vines. "Cole didn't even have his full memory back yet."
"Does he have it back now?"
"Yes, but he also had a wife's death to reconcile."
"And you don't think he's done that yet?"
Andi stared at the tomato in her hand. "I don't know. Maybe. He went to Chicago for a few days this past week. Saw Susan's parents. Visited her grave."
"And?"
"He seemed at peace when he came back, settled."
"Like he'd said his good-byes and had moved on?" Kelly asked.
Andi faced her friend. "I need him to know for certain where he wants to be before I let him make that kind of commitment."
"So this is about what you need."
Andi blinked at Kelly.
Kelly no
dded knowingly. "I was so focused on my fear Dane wouldn't live up to what I needed that I very nearly succeeded at pushing him out of my life."
Taking the full basket from Andi's hand, Kelly left her with her thoughts. Had she been so focused on what she needed she'd forgotten about what Cole wanted? He'd repaired her garden fence. He'd taken a part-time position consulting with the area police departments. He'd moved forward with their dreams—their plans to make her land self-sustaining. They already had two small camps constructed in the highlands, constructed in time for the spring morel pickers and ready for the fall hunting crowd.
And he loved her. He showed her how much with every look, every word, every action. How much more proof did she need that he'd made his decision?
Across the yard, a truck rumbled to a halt in the driveway, hers. Its occupants spilled from the cab and open bed, those who'd brought their own gear stowing it in their own vehicles.
Andi stepped out of the garden as her six-man crew strode across the yard, all but Kelly's dad gritty and sweaty. But there was only one whose dirt-caked face she sought, his smile wide as their gazes met. She met Cole mid-yard.
"Damn, what I wouldn't give to wrap you up in my arms right now," he said. "But"—he spread his dirt-caked arms—"you wouldn't appreciate it."
She wagged her eyebrows. "Maybe if we didn't have an audience."
He laughed. How she loved his laughter.
"You can wash up in the mudroom," she said loud enough for all to hear.
"Mudroom's going to be crowded with six of us," Dane called, his tone suggesting mischief. "What do you think, Cole?"
Cole's smile took on a conspiratorial slant and he called back, "Sure."
The two of them peeled off their tees, their sweaty bodies gleaming in the low-slung sun.
"What are you doing?" Kelly asked while Andi simply took in every glistening inch of Cole's muscled chest.
Cole and Dane dropped to their butts, removed their boots and socks.
"What did you talk Cole into, Dane?" Kelly demanded.
Andi had a good idea what they were up to. She and Cole had always operated on the same wavelength. So she wasn't surprised when the two men stood and dropped their jeans.
"It stops right there," Kelly said, though Andi heard a hint of humor in Kelly's voice.
Cole and Dane ran for the lake, their race interrupted only long enough for each man to step out of his shorts before they dove off the end of the dock.
Kelly shook her head. "Boys."
Andi grinned. "And we wouldn't want them any other way."
"Be glad Dane isn't home fulltime," Kelly said. "No telling what kind of trouble those two together could get into."
Andi smiled. "I like the influence Dane's friendship has on Cole."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who'd have to arrest them if they stepped over the line."
Andi laughed. "I doubt that'll ever happen."
"Yeah. They're good boys."
"Keepers."
Kelly faced her. "So, you're finally ready to admit Cole's a keeper."
Andi gave Kelly a sly smile. "I better get some towels for those two before they scandalize your mom and Mrs. Niemi when they emerge from the lake all full frontal nudity."
"Don't go speaking for me," Mrs. Niemi said, standing in front of the serving table, one hand holding a serving spoon and the other on her hip as she watched Cole and Dane scrubbing the grime from their bodies. "I enjoy eye candy just as must as you young'uns."
Andi was still chuckling when she returned with a stack of towels and carried them out onto the dock. Cole swam over to the dock as she squatted and set the towels down.
"Hand me one of those," he said.
But when she reached out with towel in hand, he snagged her by the wrist and pulled her into the water with him. She surfaced, sputtering though she'd kind of seen the prank coming.
She dunked him. He splashed her. She swam away from him, daring him to catch her. He caught her by the ankle and dragged her against him. The play reminded her of their evening in the snowstorm pelting each other with snowballs. That night would always be one of her favorites.
She wrapped her arms around Cole's neck and her legs around his waist, all forgotten but the comfort of the arms holding her, the strength of the body pressed to hers, and the hot hunger of the mouth on hers and the man they belonged to. The man she needed—wanted.
The man she knew she could trust to be part of her life and any other they might yet decide to create.
When their lips parted, she gazed into his eyes. "Cole McCall, I think you have a question for me."
She felt the hitch of his breath in his chest against hers—saw in his eyes that he knew something had changed with her. He stroked the wet strands of her hair back from her face and held her face cupped between his hands as he asked the question.
"Andi Johanson, for the twenty-fourth time, will you marry me?"
"Yes."
He punched the air and howled, "Finally, she said yes!"
His words echoed across the lake and cheers resounded from the people on the shoreline by the cabin.
"I love you, Cole."
"And I love you, Andi."
Andi tucked her cheek against his shoulder, murmuring, "Thank you for bringing hope back into my life."
The end
Excerpt from FOREVER KNIGHT: St. John Sibling Series, Book 4 by Barbara Raffin
Light glinted off the long blade slicing the air toward Renn St. John's head—the same blade that had already driven him to one knee in the sand. With the flat of his own broadsword, he blocked the blow, sending his attacker staggering backward.
Taking advantage of the opposing knight's imbalance, Renn leapt to his feet and lunged at him, their clashing blades ringing throughout the arena. With practiced, unrelenting blows, Renn drove the knight back until he stumbled and fell to the sand, disarmed, Renn's blade at his throat.
Lifting his blade and sheathing it, Renn handed the new recruit off the ground, "Perfect. Once you unseated me in the joust, you drove me well away from the rail where the fight could be seen from every seat in the house. Do it just like that tonight during the show."
"Got it," said the former squire now The Joust's newest addition to its stable of stunt riders, his grin about as wide as the Rio Grande.
Though only a few years older than the newby, Renn cuffed the new rider on the shoulder. "Now go after your horse and make sure he knows he did a good job for you."
A smile stretched across Renn's lips as he watched the kid trot off toward one of the end openings in the arena the horses were trained to exit once they'd lost their rider in the joust. Barely three years ago he'd been the one facing his first show as a knight at The Joust. He still remembered the excitement he'd felt that night.
Hell, he still felt the excitement every time he suited up for a show. Damn, he loved this job.
Turning for the opposite exit through which his mount had left, his gaze caught sight of another of the Knight brigade, this one still mounted and hugging the stadium wall. Concerned there was a problem with the horse, Renn headed toward horse and rider.
But, closing on them, he saw the attraction…at least what held the knight's attention. On the far side of the wall dividing arena from viewing area, a serving wench was lay out dinnerware for the night's show.
Her thick mane of black hair hung midway down her back and fell over her shoulder where her off-the-shoulder peasant blouse costume bared a lovely expanse of skin. Something he noted as he strode toward her and Dugan, the mounted knight.
He likewise noted hers was a figure his boss and owner of The Joust would call buxom. Though, she had a narrow waist and, judging by what he could see above the dividing wall, gently flaring hips.
Unencumbered by the chainmail and knight's regalia worn during shows, Renn easily vaulted onto the ledge separating spectators from jousters. Yup, nothing overly done about the hips under the long skirt she wore. He wasn't surpr
ised. Dugan was a man of discerning taste.
Dugan's roving eye also tended to wreak havoc among the younger of the female staff. Renn wouldn't be surprised if the high turnover rate of clerks, ticket takers, and serving wenches wasn't in part due to Dugan's entanglements. Something Renn intended to head off with this latest hire.
But, when the girl in serving wench costume turned from Dugan to him, her heavy mane whipping off her shoulder and exposing her face, he amended girl to woman. Deep brown eyes regarded him with a dark glance. No, this one wasn't the usual college co-ed hired to play one of The Joust's serving wenches.
In spite of a sense that this one could handle herself with the likes of Dugan, he gave her a crooked smile with a nod in the direction of the seated rider. "I should warn you, fair maiden, Dugan here has a way with the ladies, ladies being the operative word here."
Her dark eyes appraised him. "And you, do you likewise have a way with the ladies?"
Dugan chuckled and his horse nudged Renn's chest with its muzzle. Cradling the horse's head and scratching his ears, Renn answered, "I fear I have more of a way with horses than ladies."
The wench's eyes narrowed.
Giving the chestnut gelding's ear a final rub, Renn met Dugan's gaze. "Shouldn't you be riding Tyke around the arena, getting him accustomed to it—bonding with him?"
The humor drained from Dugan's eyes as he held Renn's gaze a couple seconds too long. Challenge duly noted. Then, with a half-bow to the serving girl, he heeled the horse away from the wall.
Renn kept a watchful eye on Dugan and Tyke for a few more seconds before turning his attention back to the raven–haired beauty who'd attracted Dugan's attention. He half expected her to have gone on about her job of setting out faux-pewter plates and mugs. Instead, he found her watching Dugan put Tyke through his paces.
"You're new," Renn said, his seat on the divider ledge putting him eye level with her as she stood in the aisle in front of the first tier of plank tables.
"I am," she said without taking her eyes off horse and rider. "And that's a quarter horse."
Saving Andi: St. John Sibling Series: FRIENDS Page 16
