by Wendy Rosnau
He docked the cruiser in the old slip that still had his father's name on it, not ready to see anyone just yet. He figured Margo and Ry were back by now and anxious to talk to him—especially since the newspapers had gone wild with the story. He'd managed to pick up a copy of the Times each day he'd been gone to keep abreast of the situation, and hadn't been surprised the headlines read, The Crescent City Devil is the Hero of the Day Once More.
Blu shook his head. He certainly didn't feel like a hero. He'd placed an innocent two-and-a-half-year old in danger, and had lied through his teeth to the woman he loved. He felt like scum, and he deserved to feel that way. He'd been way out of line, insisting to Jackson and Brodie that he wanted it all done his way or no way.
His thoughts returned to Angel. He was still having trouble calling her Kristie, and he supposed he always would. He'd talked it over with Jackson when he'd decided to leave for a few days, and his friend had promised to stick by her while the whole mess got sorted out.
Blu headed below deck, limping as he went. His shoulder was doing fine, but his leg was sore as hell. He'd have more of a limp than before, the doctor had told him, but the old injury had never slowed him down, so there was no reason to think this one would, either.
In the galley, he stopped and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, then headed into his bedroom. Dropping the bottle onto the bed, he stripped off his clothes and sprawled on the mattress. Tomorrow he would join his crew and get lost in work, but tonight he was going to get drunk.
An hour later Blu woke to the sound of the Nightwing's engine winding up. He wasn't drunk, he hadn't even downed half of the bottle, but he'd had enough to slow his responses. It took him a minute to find his jeans and turn them right-side out. Then two minutes to pull them on—his damn sore leg refusing to cooperate. By the time he'd climbed the stairs, the cruiser was on the move.
The warm night air, when it hit him in the face, took his breath, and Blu felt momentarily dizzy. He blinked and focused, blinked again as his gaze locked on Angel at the helm, her legs planted, her beautiful hair tied back in a long tail that had been cut to fall somewhere in the middle of her back. She was wearing the red-and-purple sarong Lema had given her, and her tiny feet were bare.
For a moment Blu couldn't move, then he limped to the stern and eased down onto the leather bench to watch her handle his boat like a racing pro. He studied her movements as she entered the narrows, watched as she eased off the throttle and maneuvered them through, then suddenly pulled back on the throttle once more and shot them into the Gulf at full speed. Ten minutes later she eased off, then pulled on the wheel and let the cruiser spin into a tricky little circle before bringing her to a gliding halt.
Blu glanced around and saw that she'd brought him to the quiet cove where they had spent half the night driving each other crazy in his bed. His gaze went back to the helm. Waited.
Her shoulders moved up then down as she took a deep breath. Then, slowly, she turned. She didn't say anything at first, simply stood there studying him. Finally she said, "How's your leg and shoulder?"
Blu kept his gaze glued to her. "Fine. How's Mandy?"
"Anxious to see Da."
Her answer threw him, and he sat up a little straighter. "And Perch? How's your grandpa?"
She smiled. "He's been refreshing my memory. I was a very curious child. By age ten I was driving the pilothouse."
"So you still don't remember anything?"
"No, not yet. But I'm okay with that for now. Curt—I don't want to remember him. But if and when I do, I'll deal with it."
"I'm sure you will," Blu said, believing it. She was stronger than anyone knew. "Jackson talk to you? Detail what was in the file?"
"Yes. But I think I would have preferred to hear all of it from you. How long have you known that I was never married to Salva?"
Blu studied her face, listened for the bitterness in her voice. When he didn't hear any, he said, "I never really knew for sure. It was all speculation. When I learned there was a good chance that Mandy wasn't his, it occurred to me that a man like Maland had no reason to marry someone he already felt he owned."
"And the reason you didn't tell me days ago?"
"If I told you that, you would have suspected there was more. I promised you that I would keep you safe. Keeping you safe meant I needed to also keep you in the dark, at least until we had Maland baited. You weren't suppose to know what I had planned for Mandy until it was all over."
"Mort explained how he went to the shelter dressed as me. When I dressed that morning at your mother's place into the disguise you sent with Brodie, I thought the other bag was a disguise for Amanda. Mort made me think she was going to leave the fish market dressed as a boy. But it was Mort's disguise in the bag. Very clever of you."
"If the wig and makeup worked that day, I knew it would work again at the wharf."
"And Amanda was the bait?"
Blu looked away. "Oui, she was the bait."
"Then it was all about your promise to us? Me and Mandy?"
Blu was only half listening. He couldn't keep going over this. In his mind he had relived that moment a hundred times when Maland's men had drawn their guns. He'd had no right to play God with Mandy's life and he would never forgive himself as long as he lived.
"It's still bothering you—the decision you made—isn't it?"
He turned. "What?"
She closed the distance, came to stand directly in front of him. She looked beautiful against the night sky, her skin so soft, so fragile. "I brought you out here to tell you that I've been waiting every day for you to come home so I could apologize. I came every day to DuBay Pier, and then to River Bay to see if you'd come back. I've been a pest at the fish market. Oh, and I met your sister, and your brother-in-law. They're anxious to have you home, too. Grandpa's been worried I'm going to make myself sick if I don't start eating. And Mort and Brodie—I think they've started to avoid me since the only words I know how to say lately are, 'Have you seen Blu?' And Jackson's no help at all since he's been suspended."
"What's he done this time?"
"Something to do with Salva going into jail in one piece, but ending up with several broken ribs, a broken nose and two black eyes. I guess there are a few other things wrong with him, too."
She was gauging Blu's reaction. He remained sober. "So you're here to apologize? For what?"
"For telling you I hated you. I don't. Never have."
"Okay, so you don't hate me."
"Ah, there's something else, too. I'm here to … to claim what's mine."
Blu came to his feet slowly. "I don't think there's anything of yours left on the boat. At least, I haven't seen anything."
"Oh, but there is." She reached out and laid her hand on his heart. "This— This is mine, isn't it? You gave it to me without telling me days ago. You didn't say the words, but you do love me, don't you, Blu? You love Amanda, too."
"Don't." Blu backed away. "You know who I am, what I've done. You don't want—"
"That's right. I'm no longer naive. I know exactly who you are, and I love who you are."
Blu needed air. But hell, he was standing outside and there was a slight breeze. Still, he felt almost dizzy.
"Breathe, Blu. It helps if you breathe."
He took a solid gulp of air, deciding that was the problem—he'd forgotten to breathe.
"There, that's better." She stepped forward and rubbed his chest, her warm little fingers curling into his flesh. "I saw you. I made Brodie take me to the wharf, and I saw everything. I saw the way you called Salva's attention away from Mort and Amanda. I saw you sacrifice yourself to save them. I saw—"
"Jeez! Brodie was supposed to keep you away until it was all over. I'm sorry. I had no right to play God with Mandy's life. I—"
"Shh. Don't be sorry. We're alive and free because of you. Don't be sorry."
Angry with himself, Blu growled, "Then what the hell should I be?"
She hesitated. Stared up at h
im a long minute. "Can't you just be … be mine?"
Blu could see tears had entered her eyes. His anger vanished. "Yours?"
"Mmm." She nodded. "Yes, mine. I know I'm really young, and that my memory is still gone for now. But I've been remembering a few things. Grandpa says I've always been an honest person. A hard worker."
Hell, she was trying to sell herself to him. Blu didn't know what to say.
"Grandpa says, dance forward. Don't go backward. He says a man that is good bone-deep is hard to find, and when a woman is lucky enough to find one— Well, I thought maybe we could dance forward together. That's if you—"
"You've talked to Perch about me? About us?"
"Yes. I told him that you and I… We… Say you saved us because you love us, Blu. Say you saved us because you want me."
His hands had started to shake. Blu pulled her into his arms, sighed when her body melted against him. She felt so damn good, he almost forgot what he was going to say. "I want you, fille. God, how I want you. It works both ways, though."
"Meaning?"
"What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine. You know how that old saying goes."
"Yes, I think I know how it goes."
Blu bent his head and kissed her gently, then ran his hand down her back and pressed her against him. "You want to take a ride to heaven?" he asked. "I'll share mine if you share yours."
He felt her rub against him, felt her little breathy sigh escape her lips. On tiptoes, she looked him in the eye, then whispered, "I love you."
"I love you, too." Then he bent his head and kissed her parted lips. "Welcome home, Angel."
Slowly she stepped back and slipped the button through the hole and let the sarong float to the deck. Standing naked in the moonlight, she said, "I've been home for a while. I've decided home is a feeling, not a place. And I've been feeling like I've been home ever since I saw your face in Salva's office. I truly am home, Blu duFray—" she stepped closer and snuggled against him "—and I'm going to stay right here forever."
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
"He's actually holding her like he knows what he's doing. I can't believe it. If I wasn't standing here—"
"Peeking out the window," Ry pointed out from his position in front of their yellow kitchen stove. He glanced at Kristie, who had volunteered to set the table, and winked.
Kristie smiled, then watched Blu's sister squeeze closer to the window. It was Sunday, and she'd learned that dinner at Margo and Ry's had become a tradition for the Crew, as they called themselves—Blu's family and extended family included Rose and Brodie, Mort and Jackson. And of course, Margo and Ry.
"Margo, I just washed those windows this morning. Your nose is cute, but come on, baby. He's not going to drop her."
"Did I say he was going to drop Mandy?" Margo quickly glanced at Kristie. "He won't, will he?"
"No, he won't drop her," Kristie promised. "Blu wouldn't hurt a fly."
She saw Ry and Margo glance at each other, their expressions both showing concern.
"Maybe I should rephrase that. He wouldn't hurt a fly unless the fly had malicious intent on its mind, with its sights set on one of us."
"Whew! You had us worried for a minute," Margo said.
"I've seen Rose's scrapbook. I know who Patch Pollaro is. More importantly, I know who Blu duFray is." Secretly, Kristie wondered if she was the only one who really did. Her Blu was the gentlest man on earth.
"Oh, look. She's leading him over to the swing, Ry. Come look."
Ry stayed where he was at the stove, stirring a mixture that had just started to boil. "Margo, is this supposed to look like this?"
She quickly glanced in his direction. "How should I know? It's a new recipe."
"We're never going to eat unless one of us gets serious here."
"Well, one of us is. And don't you dare let it burn."
"Remember, I don't cook, baby. We've got eight people for dinner and if you leave me in charge, hell, we'll all starve."
"Where's Jackson? Get him in here."
"Somebody call for me?"
From the window Margo said, "Jackson, help Ry. He's burning dinner."
"I am not burning dinner. Not yet, anyway. Here." Kristie watched Ry hand over the spoon to his partner. "It's supposed to be some kind of creole, I think. There's rice under that cover, and shrimp in the oven. Where did you get that beer?"
"It's on the porch. Brodie brought it."
"Hewitt's here already?"
"He came with Mort a few minutes ago. Rose is here, too." Jackson's gaze found Kristie. "She came with your grandpa." He took a step in her direction and kissed her on the cheek. "How you doing, sweet thing?"
Kristie blushed. "I'm doing fine."
"So the Devil's still treating you all right, or do you need me to take him out behind the house and teach him a lesson or two?"
Laughter came from the window. "You teach Blu a lesson, ha!" The laughter grew. "That, I'd pay to see."
Ry moved up behind his wife and swatted her small behind. "Come on, let's get out of here. Kristie, you come, too. Jackson will let us know when dinner's ready."
Kristie followed both Margo and Ry onto the veranda.
"There you are, Kris." Rose appeared and hugged Kristie.
"Hi, Rose. Jackson said you came with Grandpa?"
"Yes. Perch said it was silly for me to take a cab when he was driving right by. Say, Bessy's going to be gone to her sister's next week. Do you think you can help out at the store for a few days?"
"Sure."
"I could help out."
Kristie glanced behind her and found her grandpa standing close by. Surprised by his offer, she asked, "You could?"
"Why not? I know the fishin' business inside and out."
"I would have to agree with that," Rose replied, smiling.
"Then I'll let you two discuss it while I check on my daughter." Kristie stepped off the veranda and crossed the backyard to the swing where Blu sat with Amanda on his lap.
She had selected a light blue sundress to wear to dinner, and had left her hair loose to move against her bare shoulders. There was a gentle breeze, and she could smell jasmine in the air. Blu looked so handsome holding Amanda, his shoes off and his long, jeans-clad legs stretched out in front of him. He looked sinfully sexy and tough as nails. And she was so in love with him that this past week had seemed like a dream.
"Hi, you two."
"Hi, Mommeee." The minute she sat down, Amanda launched herself at Kristie and hugged her, then pointed to Brodie Hewitt, where he stood on the veranda talking to Ry and Margo. "What's dat in Unck's hand?"
"Brodie's thirsty." It was Blu who answered.
"Me firsty, too, Da." Suddenly Amanda wiggled down and set her sights on Brodie. "Unck, me firsty."
She was pointing to his can of beer. Both Blu and Kristie said at the same time, "No!"
Brodie grinned, then moved away from the railing and produced a can from the cooler. Holding it high, he yelled, "I brought Mandy and Rose root beer. Come here, darlin'. Unck will fix you up."
As Amanda trotted off toward the veranda, Kristie felt Blu tug her close and put his arm around her. "So, do you think you're going to like being married to the Crew?"
"Married?" Kristie gazed at him. "What are you saying?"
"Go fishin' in my shirt pocket."
Kristie slipped her hand into the pocket of Blu's sleeveless white T-shirt and when she pulled it out, she was holding a sparkling diamond ring. Blu took it from her, sat up slowly, and slipped it onto her finger. "There."
Kristie glanced at the diamond ring. They hadn't talked about marriage. Oh, she would love to marry Blu. She couldn't think of anything more perfect. Only… "It's beautiful…"
"But?"
"Are you sure you want an instant family so soon? Maybe you should get used to us in small doses for a while. That way if you change your mind—"
"Perch says I can't have you living with me the way
things are."
"He what?" Kristie pulled back and frowned. "Is that why you haven't let me stay over on the Nightwing this past week?"
"He's right. We should get married."
Kristie was speechless.
"What, you want me on my knee? Is that what you're waiting for?"
"No. Well, not unless you want to."
Blu glanced at the crowd on the veranda. They were all laughing, busy talking. All except Rose and Perch. Blu locked gazes with the old man. Perch smiled, then gave a nod.
His silent approval put Blu on his feet, then down on one knee. Kristie suddenly felt shy. She fidgeted on the swing, straightened her skirt. When she finally looked at Blu, she found him smiling, staring at her mouth. "What are you looking at?"
"I sure do love that mouth of yours and how you use it."
Kristie blushed. "Blu, stop teasing."
He gestured to his knee. "Well, here I am. On my bad leg, too. Is this what you want?"
Kristen shook her head. "You're all I want. But I'll take the Crew, too, if that's what it takes to spend every night in your arms."
He grinned. "Will you marry me?"
"In a heartbeat, Blu duFray."
The applause from the veranda warned them both that their audience had grown. Blu got to his feet and pulled Kristie off the swing. Then, in front of the Crew—and her grandpa—he kissed his Angel like a man in love.
Kristie was still enjoying Blu's warm lips when Jackson appeared on the veranda and declared dinner was on the table.
* * * * *
