He shifted his shoulders against the wall as though the padding were uncomfortable.
“We worked out a course of treatment, which combined minimally invasive surgery with chemotherapy and radiation. She wanted to do it in Europe, away from the US media. I made all the arrangements.”
“You don’t have to go any further. I understand.”
“I want it out of me,” he said. “It’s been locked away in the dark for too long.”
“Then I’m listening.” She snuggled in against him to offer him comfort.
He shifted and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer. “The night before we were supposed to leave, she asked me to take her to dinner at Sardi’s at six o’clock, when all the theatergoers would be there. I was surprised, but willing to do anything to make her happy.
“She wore a gold satin dress that was much too fancy for the restaurant, but of course, it was intentional. She wanted to attract everyone’s eye. It was her last performance, and she was brilliant, signing autographs on napkins and T-shirts and menus. Her audience loved her.”
Claire had seen photographs of Anais Tremont, so she could picture the glamorous, dark-haired woman holding court in the restaurant while Tim stayed in the background, doing whatever his ailing wife wanted. It made her want to cry.
“When we got home, she was still on a high, glowing the way she did after a particularly fine performance. I was encouraged because she had been depressed ever since her diagnosis.” He had that ugly, rasping note in his voice again. “It turned out she had borrowed the gun five days before.”
“So she never intended to go to Europe?”
“It’s impossible to know with any certainty. The fact is, I never had a clue as to what Anais was really thinking. She was an actress, through and through.”
He went silent for a moment, and she felt him tense.
“The next morning she shot herself on the stage of the Marquis Theatre. She had sent me on a made-up errand so she could get out of the apartment without my knowing. She left the suicide note on top of her suitcase. She had sent another letter to her lawyer to make sure no suspicion was cast on me.”
Claire couldn’t find it in herself to give Anais much credit for that.
“Her note said she couldn’t face what the treatment would do to her body, because it was the instrument of what mattered most to her. It couldn’t be less than perfect because then her performance would be less than perfect, and she couldn’t bear that. She asked me to keep her secret so her memory would be unmarred by the ugliness of the disease.”
“Dear God!” Claire breathed. She wanted to rave about what a hideously selfish person his wife had been, but that would only add to his pain. She curled her hand around his.
“So now you know all of it, all the things I thought I would never tell another soul.”
“She forced an unfair promise on you.” She reached up and turned his face toward hers. “I swear never to tell anyone else.”
“You needed to hear it.” He lifted Claire away from his side and slewed around so they were facing each other. “I couldn’t ask you to make this decision without knowing the whole truth.”
He squared his shoulders and gazed straight into her eyes. “Stay. Stay in Sanctuary with me. I swear I’ll make it worth everything you’re giving up.”
“Yes!” Claire launched herself against his wonderfully solid chest, joy surging through her. He caught her with one arm while bracing the other behind him.
Startled by the commotion, Willow jerked fully awake and whinnied.
“Sorry, girl,” Claire said, laughing and trying to kiss Tim all at the same time.
He bent so their lips met in a butterfly’s kiss as he shifted her onto his lap, locking his arms around her. When he lifted his head, his eyes blazed with relief and something much stronger. “If you said no, I was going to lock you in this stall until you changed your mind.”
“There was no risk of that,” she said, drinking in the power of his desire for her. She combed back his wayward lock of hair, then dropped her hand. “I’m not expecting any kind of a commitment from you. Just the possibility that something might work out between us.”
“Then you’re a better person than I am, because I intend to exert serious pressure on you to stay here for the rest of our lives.” He cupped her face ever so gently in his big square hands. “I love you.”
He leaned down and brushed her lips with his in a question and a promise.
She pulled away a fraction of an inch. “I love you so much it frightens me, because it happened so fast. But I’m going with it.”
“That’s the spirit.” Tim pulled her back in for a soul-searing kiss that banished all fear, all caution, and all rational thought. Then he toppled them both over onto the dog beds so all she was aware of was his scent, his taste, and the feel of him against as much of her body as she could entwine with his.
In the video-monitoring room, Ed noticed the feed from Willow’s stall suddenly come back to life.
“The boss got it fixed,” he said, leaning forward to check the focus. The camera showed a blanket crumpled on the floor just below it, the mare staring into the corner with her ears pricked forward, and two people lying on the dog beds, entwined in an embrace that made him whistle with appreciation.
He was grinning as he reached over and hit the monitor’s Off button.
“AUNT CLAIRE, WILLOW’S eating my bouquet!” “Oops!” Claire laughed as she shortened the mare’s beribboned lead line, pulling her nose away from Kayleigh’s flowers. “She’s making up for all those years she didn’t have enough to eat.”
“All right, everyone look this way and smile,” the photographer said.
Claire could hardly stand to take her eyes off Tim. He looked so gorgeous in his pale-silver suit, yellow tie, and dark-blue shirt. The camera would never be able to capture the deliciousness of his slow smile or the protective strength of his arm as it encircled her waist.
“Now she’s eating your bouquet,” Kayleigh said.
“Well, the wedding ceremony did keep her from her dinner,” Claire said, tugging a bit of freesia out of Willow’s mouth before turning her gaze to the camera lens. No one had to tell her to smile. She couldn’t have kept the happy grin off her face if she’d wanted to.
After all, here she was, surrounded by the people she loved most in the world. Her amazing new husband held her pressed tightly against his side. After a very hard-fought foosball match, Tim had asked Paul to be his best man, so her old friend was arrayed on Tim’s other side.
Willow stood behind her on her right, with her head in its decorated halter poking out between Claire and Holly. Beside Holly, Sharon was holding her bouquet like it might bite her. Brianna and Kayleigh were posed in front of them in their adorable lavender flower girl frocks. All the dresses, including Claire’s floating pale-peach chiffon, had been designed and sewn by Holly.
Behind them rolled the soft bluish greens of the mountains, as seen from the pasture behind Healing Springs Stables. She and Tim had been brought together by one very special whisper horse, so they had wanted to be married where Willow could be a part of it.
“One more and then you can go eat,” the photographer said. “So everybody look their most beautiful.”
Tim bent down to murmur, “You’re doing that already.”
She tilted her face up toward him. “You’re no slouch in that department yourself.”
“Perfect! The look of love!” the photographer said and stepped out of the way as Brianna and Kayleigh bolted toward the tables set up under a tent.
“You all go ahead,” Claire said. “I’m going to turn Willow loose so she can eat something more substantial than wedding flowers.”
“Are you going to leave all that froufrou on her halter?” Tim asked as he took the bouquet Claire handed to him.
“Why not? Everyone else still has their party finery on.” She unclipped the lead line and gave Willow a pat and a push. �
�Off to your grass, girl.”
Willow shook her head before she ambled off toward her favorite grazing spot. Claire watched her, marveling that the glossy creature swishing her long, flowing tail was the same horse she had first seen in Sharon’s barn a little over a year before.
“She’s come a long way,” Tim said, wrapping his arms around from behind her as she leaned back against him.
“Kind of like us.” She felt the ruffle of his breath in her hair as he dropped a kiss on top of her head. She let herself revel in the feel of him enveloping her. A horse whinnied from a far pasture, and Claire noticed Willow’s amble had turned into a trot. “What’s she doing, Tim?”
“I’d say she’s celebrating the occasion.”
Willow’s stride lengthened, and she stretched out her neck as she broke into the powerful, fluid gallop of a true Thoroughbred, her tail streaming out behind her, eating up the ground beneath her hooves.
“She wasn’t supposed to be able to do that,” Claire breathed, “ever again. You told me that.”
“As Sharon once said, I underestimated the power of love.”
Photo by Phil Cantor, 2003
Born and raised in the mountains of West Virginia, Nancy Herkness’s passion for writing romance began the day her grandmother gave her a Georgette Heyer novel. After graduating from Princeton University with honors in English literature and creative writing, she had successful careers in retail, computer programming, and marketing before finally returning to her first love: writing. The author of A Bridge to Love, Shower of Stars, and Music of the Night, Herkness was named one of 2003’s Best Up and Coming Authors in the Affaire de Coeur’s readers’ poll. She is also a winner of the Golden Leaf Award, the Aspen Gold Award, and the Write Touch Readers’ Award. She currently resides in New Jersey with her husband and two mismatched dogs.
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