by M. S. Parker
Four bodies were on the floor. Two were the men who’d brought me up here. One was the man with the broken nose. The other–
I must’ve made some sort of sound, because eyes and weapons turned in my direction, but all I saw was the man I loved, surrounded by blood.
The world grayed out and my knees buckled. I grabbed onto the doorframe and pushed the weakness back. I had to get to Glenn. Had to see if he was okay. He had to be okay. I couldn’t have come back here, left everything and everyone I knew just to lose him like this.
A team of paramedics rushed in, two going to Glenn and two coming to me. I kept trying to ask them if he was okay, but they just kept asking me if I’d hit my head and reassuring me that there was no need to get hysterical.
If I hadn’t been so worried about Glenn, I would’ve been tempted to show them all just how hysterical a twenty-first-century woman could be.
“Maya?! Maya!”
My name snapped me out of my head and I pushed back the man blocking my line of sight. “Glenn?”
“Are you okay?”
“Sir, you need to lay still and let us look at you.”
“Miss, please stay still.”
Everyone seemed to be talking all at once, but all I saw and heard was Glenn. He was alive. His voice was strained, his face pale, but he was alive.
The rush of relief I felt made me dizzy, and the paramedics took advantage of that to bundle me into the back of one of the police cars while the others put Glenn into the ambulance. Or what passed for an ambulance in this time anyway. As long as it kept Glenn alive, it could’ve been a clown car for all I cared.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but as I explained before, I can’t give you Mr. Jackson’s information.”
I pushed myself up out of my wheelchair until I was standing. “I’m his fiancée, and pretty much the only family he has.”
She sighed and looked at the cop who’d been following me around, but I knew by her scowl that he’d just shrugged. He’d been doing that pretty much non-stop for the past ten minutes.
“He’s in surgery,” she finally admitted. “You should go to the waiting room and we’ll come see you when he’s out.”
“Come on, Miss,” the cop leaned over, and I knew he was about to try to convince me to leave.
“Maya!”
Florence rushed in and threw her arms around me, nearly knocking me back into my seat. Astor was right behind her, his face pinched with worry.
“Are you okay?” She ran her hands over me, as if checking for any injuries.
“I’m okay. Harrison?”
Florence looked up at the cop and the nurse, her expression firm. “I’ll take care of her from here.” She looked down at me, her face softening. “He’s unconscious but alive.”
“He tried to fight them,” I started to say, my eyes burning with tears. “Tried to stop them.”
“Of course he did.” Florence brushed my hair back from my face. “He loves you just as much as we do. Just as much as Glenn does.”
“He got shot.” I felt a sob trying to work its way out. “Because of me.”
“No.” This time, it was Astor who spoke. He crouched down next to me. “None of this was your fault. It was all that foul woman who got her hooks into Glenn.”
“That foul–” My jaw dropped. “Kimberly?”
“Yes. The nice security guard who held her here until the police arrived filled us in. Glenn apparently found your locket in her purse and–”
“Florence.” Astor put his hand on her arm. “How about we get Maya someplace more comfortable and you can fill her in on the whole story.” He looked at the cop. “And if the police wish to further explain things, they can do so there.”
Less than ten minutes later, I found myself in a small private room right next door to Harrison’s room. It paid to have someone like Florence Woods at your side when you needed things done. No one wanted to say no to her.
I refused the bed, not wanting to waste the time to get back into the chair when Glenn was out of surgery. Even Florence wouldn’t be able to get the two of us into the same room. Fiancée wasn’t the same as spouse.
She told me everything as we waited. How Kimberly had hired three thugs to kidnap me, thinking that once I was out of the way, she and Glenn would get back together again. How one of them had brought my locket to her as proof they had me.
Florence had barely finished her tale when a police officer came in and began asking questions. After I’d answered them, he told us that the security guard here at the hospital had called the police and relayed everything Kimberly had confessed, including the location of the cabin where I was being held. Glenn had gotten there first and charged in even though he was outnumbered three to one. The cops were crediting surprise as the only reason he’d managed to tackle one and steal one of their guns. Glenn had gotten shot in the shoulder just as the cops had burst in and shot the kidnappers. I’d seen the rest.
I was still processing everything when a nurse came in and said the words I’d been waiting to hear.
“Your fiancé is out of surgery, Miss Cruz. I’ll be happy to take you in to see him.”
Twenty-Two
Glenn
“How are you feeling, Mr. Jackson?”
As the nurse peered down at me, that annoying light shining in my eyes, I squinted my eyes and averted my face. “Like I’m going to go blind if you keep doing that. I want to talk to my fiancée.”
I was lying.
Well, sort of.
I hadn’t actually asked Maya just what our relationship was at this point, but if I didn’t tell them something, they weren’t going to let us see each other, and I’d just woken up, so I wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.
I’d been told Maya had been looked over while I’d been in surgery. They’d refused to tell me anything else until I’d convinced them we were engaged. Then they’d only said that she’d been sitting with me for the past twenty minutes, and she’d be back soon.
Then, a couple minutes after that, a white-haired doctor with a somewhat disapproving demeanor had come in and spoken to me.
“Am I to assume you’re the father?”
The question had been used as an insult. I hadn’t taken it as one. I’d just smiled and replied yes, then asked how she was.
His words had been pointed, pulling no punches. “It’s not good for a woman in her condition to be exposed to so much violence. Her blood pressure was rather elevated and she’s quite…agitated. The only reason I allowed her in here was because it was an easier way to calm her than forcing drugs on her. If I find that your behavior risks the health of my patient, I’ll keep you away from her.”
I hadn’t liked it.
But I’d heard what I needed to hear. He was serious about caring for the woman I loved. I’d do whatever he said if it meant she was safe.
As the nurse checked my dressing, I caught her wrist. “I’m fine,” I said, irritated. That was probably pushing it. My shoulder and upper chest hurt like hell. The doctor had assured me it was a simple injury—the bullet had gone in and out. That didn’t sound simple to me, but what did I know? But I wasn’t dying, and that was all that mattered. “When can I see my fiancée?”
The nurse pulled back and eyed me. The look on her face made me think she was hiding a smile. Then, she wasn’t hiding it anymore. “That’s why I’m in here, Mr. Jackson. I had to make sure you were up to the visit. Wait here.”
She disappeared too fast for me to ask her anything.
I would’ve gone after her, but all the medicine they’d pumped into me have me moving way too slow. Still, I tried. Slipping off the bed, I grabbed onto the handrail and looking around. I was in a small, private room – no doubt thanks to Florence.
Before I could make up my mind whether I should try to get up again, doors swung open at the far end of the room and the nurse appeared, pushing a wheelchair.
And in the chair…Maya.
I took a step, then another.
On the third,
I stumbled and went to my knees.
Maya gasped and the nurse rushed to me. I shook my head, holding out a hand.
I tried to say her name, but my throat was too tight.
The nurse got it.
Moments later, Maya was in front of me and I pressed my face to her legs, praying and whispering and trying not to cry.
She bent over me, her hands running through my hair as she murmured and talked. None of her words made sense. But they didn’t need to. She was here and she was safe.
Slowly, I slid my hand up and rested it on her stomach.
Not even a minute later, something thumped against my hand.
I laughed weakly.
Maya covered my hand with hers. “The baby is fine.”
“Thank God,” I said.
“Yes.”
One of the nurses had found us a quiet balcony that offered us even more privacy than our rooms.
Maya sat in a chair, her wheelchair off to the side. I sat next to her.
They’d tried to give me a wheelchair, too, then went silent as I glared at the offending contraption like they’d offered me raw sewage in a bucket.
I could walk, damn it.
My legs might feel like wet noodles by the time I got back to my bed, but I could walk.
And there wasn’t any reason for my legs to feel that way, either. I’d taken a bullet to my upper chest, not my legs. But since I’d never been shot before, I had no idea what was normal.
I laid a hand on her belly. “They better be taking care of you.”
“I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not made of glass.”
“This is all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, Kimberly wouldn’t have done what she did. She should rot in prison.” I scowled.
“Something isn’t right with her,” Maya said. “You aren’t responsible for this. And in a way, she isn’t entirely responsible either.”
“I don’t know if I want to believe that or not.”
“You should.” She covered my hand with hers and squeezed. “Be angry. It’s okay. She made stupid, ugly choices, and that’s what led to her ending up like this. But something else was at play, too.”
With my free hand, I brushed her hair back. “I think you’ve got more kindness in you than I do.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’ve got plenty of kindness. It’s just buried right now under hurt, anger…fear.”
It was my turn to offer a blustering sort of smile. “You think I’m too macho to admit I was afraid?”
“Oh, you’ll admit it to me.” She sighed and leaned in against me. “Now, I want to forget the past day. All of it. Can we do that?”
“I’m just fine with that.” Hugging her tight, I buried my face in her hair. After a few minutes of just sitting there and holding her, I spoke again. “I’m done with all of this, you know.”
Her gaze came to mine, somber and sad. “Done with what?”
“All of this. This…waiting. The rituals. That’s what dating is. We’ve already gone through that. We know who we are to each other.” Covering her cheek with my hand, I stared into her eyes. “I love you, Maya. You’re the only woman I will ever love. And I’m…tired. I don’t want to play these games anymore. I’m ready to move on to what’s next.”
“And what’s next?” Her voice was soft, hovering just above a whisper.
“Us. Forever.”
Twenty-Three
Maya
“Wow.”
Glenn rested a hand low on my back as we climbed out of the car and took in the view.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Voice thick, I inhaled, the familiar scent of a brisk October day in Philadelphia filling my lungs, my head…my soul. “It’s just…home.”
Glenn and I had talked.
We both wanted to start over, but he’d been the one to say he wanted a whole new start—one that meant leaving California.
Then he’d asked if I’d like to come back to Philadelphia.
At first, I’d been reluctant.
But the more I'd thought about it, the better I'd felt about the idea. Now that I was here, my chest felt so full, like it would burst.
I was home.
It hadn’t been that long, not by my own timetable, that I’d been here. But in other ways, it wasn’t even something that time could measure.
So many things looked the same. The bright colors of the leaves, a sign of autumn making its mark on the city. The stately old houses, some of them so well kept, it was clearly a point of pride. Others were like shabby old ladies who were long past their prime and they knew it, but the air of genteel beauty was still there—and if one knew how to look, it was still very easy to see.
Glenn had purchased a house with just those qualities, one that I remembered seeing as a child. By then, it had been marked for demolition after decades of sitting abandoned. It wasn’t far from where my dad had grown up.
He’d shown me the house once, and I’d felt this surreal tug towards it.
When Glenn had asked me where I wanted to live, this house had come to mind and the idea wouldn’t go away.
Maybe, just once, I’d be able to see my dad again. Even if he was just a little boy.
“Everything is so familiar,” I finally said, looking over at Glenn. “Even though it’s not. Not really.”
He curved an arm around my shoulders. “Can you be happy here?”
“You’re here with me. So…absolutely.”
The first day at my new job had proven to be both delightful and exhausting.
I’d ended up at a library after all.
I’d also, as luck would’ve had it, ended up at one that was struggling and in need of funds. Glenn was already planning to act as an anonymous patron. I wanted to make a mark on things, and he had decided that he still wanted to honor Cane.
I’d asked if he’d considered offering a bequest to a library.
He’d thought that would a good idea. He'd told me that Cain had struggled to read early in life, and it had been a librarian at a local library who’d changed things for him.
We’d gone to the library close to the house we were making an offer on, and while he’d been discussing all things patronage, I’d seen the help wanted sign.
In the end, he’d been shaking hands, and I’d been getting the information on when to report for work.
I had a job.
I had a new home, one we’d make our own.
I had a man who loved me and a healthy baby growing inside me.
I was decades away from my own time, but I had come to accept that everything happened for a reason.
Somehow, I’d find a way to get a message to my mom and dad and let them know that I was happy. I was safe. I was loved.
That was the one thing on my mind as I let myself into the house. The smell of freshly cut wood and paint filled my senses, and I paused to look around. Over the past few weeks, bit by bit, more things were changing. By the time Christmas rolled around, the house was supposed to be done.
I wasn’t in any hurry, though.
This house, when it was done, would look like it had when it had first been built, maybe even better. And it would be cared for, passed on to our children.
I sighed, something sappy and sentimental welling up inside me. Stripping my jacket off, I called for Glenn.
He called back, his voice echoing from the back of the house.
I made my way down the hall, pausing by the room he’d taken as his own. An office. One hand on the wall, I lingered, eying the typewriter and the ever-growing stack of pages.
He was writing.
I’d come home a week ago to find him bent over a new typewriter, pounding on it like the hounds of hell were chomping and growling, waiting for him to finish those pages. It had taken two tries to get his attention.
When he’d finally heard me, he’d given me a sheepish smile, but it had taken some coaxing to get him to talk.
He had, apparently, had ideas for book
s and screenplays for a while. He just hadn’t ever had the courage to try. “After the mess with Kimberly…that changed. We can’t wait around for life to happen, baby. We have to make it happen,” he’d said.
So, he was writing. If nothing ever came of it, he’d told me, he was fine with it. He had enough money that we didn’t have to ever work. I’d told him I had to do something, and he understood that. But at the same time, he was tired of the spotlight, tired of the camera. He wanted something more.
I resisted the urge, as I always had, to sneak in and pick up the pages to read, instead, moving deeper into the house.
I found him in the kitchen.
It was the only room in the house that was done so far, and I always smiled when I came in.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I gasped.
The lights were dim. There were candles on the table and on the counters.
Roses the color of snow filled vases, and their scent perfumed the air.
And Glenn stood on the far side of the room, holding a single white rose.
“What’s this?” I asked, my breath hitching in my throat.
“A seduction.” He moved toward me, each step slow and unhurried.
“I’m seduced.” With a weak laugh, I accepted the rose.
Glenn didn’t let go, though. He reached for my free hand and turned it palm up.
Something fell against my hand.
Automatically, I looked down. Then my breath locked in my throat. Candlelight made the stone sparkle in the most delicate of ways.
It was familiar, that ring.
I’d worn it once before.
I started to shake.
“Oh.” I let the ring fall into my hand. Without conscious thought, I tightened the grip I had on the rose with my other, not realizing what I’d done until a missed thorn pricked my fingers. Crying out, I let the rose go.
As it fell to the floor, Glenn took my wrist and lifted it. He dabbed the few drops of blood away, then kissed the inside of my palm.
“What is this?” I asked again, my voice shaking now.
“A proposal.”
