Yours, Mine and Ours

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Flint refused to dwell on the possibility that fate might blindside him again. He had to keep his wits alert and his eyes sharp for any sight of her in the oncoming lanes.

  The Volvo made good time until he reached Palmdale Road. Like the other major thoroughfares, it had come to a standstill. The problem appealed to be a fallen power line.

  Flint wrenched the car onto a side street. Two blocks over, a residential lane paralleled Palmdale most of the way to the freeway. In fact, it ran right behind Serena Academy, he realized with a start. If Robin were seeking an alternate route, she’d very likely choose this one.

  The speed limit was low and there were half a dozen frustrating stop signs, but to Flint’s relief, the way remained clear. Then, as he topped a rise, he made out a welter of green several blocks ahead. On approach, it resolved itself into the massive branches of a fallen tree.

  A few cars were skirting the mess, which lay undisturbed. With all the tie-ups on major arteries, this blockage might not even have been reported yet.

  As he waited for a sports car to pass and then eased the Volvo into the open lane, Flint caught sight of a glint of glass beneath the branches. The flicker of reflected light set his heart pounding.

  A small car might be trapped beneath the branches.

  He parked in a clear space and dialed 9-1-1. Mercifully, the call went through. After reporting the accident, Flint opened his trunk and pulled out his tools. Because he drove to out-of-the-way places in his work, he carried not only the usual tools but also an ax.

  At the edge of the branches, he called out several times, but received no answer. Could he be wrong? Was he wasting valuable time?

  Robin drove this way. All the clues added up.

  Flint attacked the branches with an intensity that burst from some unknown power source. Right now, nothing mattered except clearing the wood and freeing whoever or whatever might be under there.

  Sirens wailed toward him, but they were a long distance off. He could see the color of the paint now. It was green, like Robin's compact.

  Working with such ferocity that he had to take care not to smash into the buried car, Flint cleared away several large branches. The roof appeared partially collapsed.

  Then he made out a patch of blonde hair pressing against the side window where the driver must be wedged. “Robin! Robin!”

  No response.

  He couldn't lose her. The threat to his happiness, to his family, had been greater than he suspected, all these weeks, but it hadn't come from Robin. He should have protected her, even though Flint could hardly be expected to foresee this quake.

  He couldn’t let her die without saying that he loved her.

  With a burst of adrenaline, he dragged off the last heavy tree limb and wrenched open the door. The occupant sagged, but the seatbelt held her in place.

  It was Robin, he knew even before he saw the curve of her cheek. He could tell by the sweet, light fragrance that filled him.

  "Are you all right?" Flint crouched and smoothed away the tumble of golden hair.

  She stirred, then coughed. "Flint?" His name came out in a whisper.

  "Are you hurt?" He wished he’d gone to medical school, or trained as a paramedic. Anything to be able to help.

  "Something's on my chest." She barely squeezed out the words.

  The caved-in roof had trapped her. Even with his adrenaline pumping, Flint couldn't pull away the hunk of metal. It must hurt her to breathe.

  In his concentration on Robin, he didn't realize the firemen had arrived until one of them touched his shoulder. "Sir?" the man said. "Would you step out of the way, please?"

  “I’ll be here,” he told Robin.

  Flint moved off, but not far. For the next half hour, he answered a policeman's questions and called reassurances to Robin as the firefighters brought in equipment to claw open the car.

  When they freed her, the onlookers burst into applause. Paramedics tried to whisk her onto a stretcher, but Robin declined. "I'm just bruised," she said.

  At Flint's insistence, she let the paramedics check her. They confirmed that except for some bruises and minor cuts, she appeared fine. She hadn’t lost consciousness and retained a clear memory of the accident, and her blood pressure remained normal.

  "Those contusions will hurt like hell in a few hours," one of the medics warned. "Keep her warm and watch for signs of shock. Also a headache or confusion."

  "I'll take good care of her," Flint promised as he steered her to the Volvo. He’d taken first-aid and CPR training, in case the children ever had an emergency.

  Robin sat gingerly on the car seat, wincing when she fastened the seatbelt. "Are the children all right?"

  "They're fine. So are Maureen and Gigi, except their brains must be addled. They kept yammering about some ghost."

  Robin gave him a weak grin. "How on earth did you find me?"

  "I'm not sure." Now that he thought about it, Flint realized how lucky he'd been. "Maybe one of your mother's spirits was guiding me."

  Robin let out a low chuckle. "Gigi would love to hear you talk like that."

  They were passing the academy. Heavy roof tiles littered the ground around the theater building.

  "You were right about that place. If those tiles had hit someone…” Robin shuddered.

  "I was wrong about a lot of other things, though," Flint said.

  She didn’t ask what, and he didn't speak again. He wanted to concentrate fully on Robin when he said what he had to say.

  “Do you feel well enough for a brief detour?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He drove up a winding road to the heights. Although some dirt had slid loose on the cliffs, the rocky soil up here appeared to have withstood the shaking well.

  Flint halted at a turnout that overlooked the city. From here, they could see all the way to the ocean.

  Afternoon sunlight revealed a town battered but unbowed. Traffic moved in antlike lines along the major arteries, and Flint observed a few fallen trees. But he saw no black smoke from fires, and no blocks of collapsed buildings.

  In the panorama below, Flint viewed his entire life laid out before him. There was the neighborhood where he lived, off to the right. Farther south lay City Hall, where he'd spent this morning, and then the beach, where he'd found Maureen and the children.

  "We got off easy," he said. “This time."

  "It could have been worse," Robin agreed.

  He wasn't sure how he’d have survived if he had lost her. Deeply as he loved the children, Flint had to let them grow up and lead their own lives. Only Robin could fill his future with joy. Slipping an arm around her, he drew her carefully against him.

  Her head rested on his shoulder. "Thank you for saving me. Flint, in case you were wondering, I don't have any hard feelings about your kicking me out."

  "You don't?" he said.

  "It's not your fault you're stubborn and pigheaded and a pain in the neck," Robin murmured against his jacket. "But if you think I'm going to walk away and never see the children again..."

  "I think you should have custody of the children," Flint said.

  That stopped her for several seconds. "What?"

  "The children need a mother," Flint said. "You’re the logical choice."

  "They need a father, too," she pointed out.

  He gazed over the town, registering the flashing red and blue lights of rescue vehicles here and there. “Then we’d better get married, and you can have custody of me, too."

  Robin sat up gingerly. "I might have a concussion. I’m so confused, I could have sworn you asked me to marry you.”

  "Marry, get hitched, tie the knot. In fact, we should have three ceremonies, one for each child, just to make sure it’s well and truly done."

  "But you can't stand me," Robin objected.

  Flint burst out laughing. "You can't stand me, either. Mutual antipathy--what better grounds for a lasting marriage?"

  "I like you most of the time," she protested
.

  "You just called me pigheaded and stubborn."

  "Well, you are!" She regarded him dubiously. "Come on, Flint. What's this all about?"

  His laughter shaded into yearning. "I love you," he said. "I'm tired of fighting my feelings out of a misplaced sense of loyalty. I wasn't really being true to Kathy, I was trying to protect myself against ever again losing someone I love. Well, I want every minute I can have with you, no matter what."

  Robin's expression hovered between joy and incredulity. "Flint, ever since we met, you've held me at arm's length. I’m afraid that, any minute now, the defenses will shoot up again."

  Flint couldn't believe this was happening. He'd finally realized how much he loved Robin, and she didn't believe him.

  "I'll show you," he said.

  Sliding out of the car, he strode to a nearby house where he'd noticed a rose garden in full bloom. A woman answered the door on the second ring.

  Flint pulled out his driver's license and several twenty-dollar bills. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he said. "My name is Flint Harris. I'm not selling anything and I'm not a crook. I nearly lost the woman I love in this earthquake and I'm trying to persuade her to marry me. Could I buy a bouquet of those flowers from you? I'm desperate to make a good impression. If you have any better ideas, I'll pay for those, too."

  The woman gazed from him to his driver's license. Then she said, "Oh, I've seen your picture in the paper. You're that earthquake expert."

  "That's me," he said.

  She invited him inside and asked his opinion about a couple of cracks in the living room wall. Fortunately, the damage appeared superficial.

  In return for his assessment, the woman refused any payment. She fetched a garden clipper and in minutes assembled a gorgeous riot of blossoms, interspersed with ferns. The woman put the bouquet in a jar half-full of water.

  "That way they'll last longer," she said. "Good luck with your lady."

  "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," Flint said as he went out the door.

  "I love romance." The woman indicated a rack of paperback novels with couples cuddling on the covers.

  Robin was dozing in the front seat when Flint opened her door. "What on earth were you doing?" Then she saw the flowers. "Tell me you didn’t steal those."

  "I bartered for them." He handed her the flowers and knelt on the pavement beside the car. "Robin Lindstrom, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

  "You can't be serious," she said.

  "That isn't the way you're supposed to answer," he complained.

  She took a deep whiff of the flowers. "These are fabulous."

  Flint gritted his teeth. "I hate to mention it, but this position is murder on the knees."

  Concern darkened her eyes. "Oh, Flint, I'm sorry. Please get up."

  "First, you have to give me an answer." He hoped that pushing her was the right tactic. The truth was, he couldn’t bear the suspense.

  Robin stared at him through the roses. "Yes. I insist on marrying you, as many times as you deem necessary. Will that do?"

  "Just fine." Flint got up and brushed gravel from his pants. "I'm holding you to it."

  "I hope that's not the only thing you're holding me to," she said.

  He got inside the car and made it perfectly clear that he planned to hold her as often and as close as possible.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maureen's house lay about a mile from Flint's in an older neighborhood. Built in the California bungalow style of the 1930s, it had a covered front porch, double hung windows and a rose-covered trellis that spanned the front walkway.

  As she got out of the car, Robin took a last whiff of her bouquet and wedged it on the floor. She still had trouble believing that Flint loved her and they were getting married. She’d become the children's mother in every sense of the word.

  But Kathy would always be there, too. Watching over them with love.

  As Flint helped her out, pain throbbed up Robin's back. The muscles protested their long stint of immobility while she was trapped, and she could feel bruises turning black and blue on her chest.

  Robin had been frightened during her ordeal, but not panicky. She'd been driving along the quiet street when she saw the tree swaying. Apparently the ground around it had been over watered and the quake had torn loose the weakened roots.

  When she heard the crunch of branches against her car, Robin had assumed a limb had fallen and that she would drive clear. The seat belt had saved her from hitting the windshield, and she'd had time to dodge to one side as the roof caved in.

  Even when she'd discovered she was trapped, Robin had expected help to arrive at any moment. Not only had she been in a familiar setting, but somehow she’d known Flint would come. She’d scarcely felt surprised when he appeared.

  Her thoughts broke off as Maureen ushered them into the house. Light washed through open curtains, illuminating a living room filled with antiques. The children sat on flowered carpeting, playing cards around a mahogany coffee table. They waved at Flint and Robin but were too intent to interrupt their game.

  A large seascape depicting a storm had been removed from the wall above the settee, Robin noticed. At first, she thought it might have fallen in the quake, but then Maureen pointed out two bright posters leaning against a chair, both Hawaiian scenes.

  "I'm tired of living with dark colors," she said. "I brought those back to give to friends, but I’ve decided to enjoy them myself."

  "That's the first time I remember you opening the curtains more than a crack," Flint noted.

  "You'll be seeing a lot of changes around here." His aunt gestured them to follow her to the dining room.

  When Robin cleared the door and got a view of the table, she gasped. A huge china cabinet had collapsed, smashing plates and cups. "How awful!"

  "I always sit there to eat my lunch," Maureen said. "I eat between twelve and one. If I hadn't gone to the séance, I might have been killed.'

  Flint put an arm around his aunt. "Thank goodness you're safe. Here I am an earthquake consultant, and I didn't insist you fasten that to the wall."

  "You warned me plenty of times," Maureen said. "I'm capable of fastening it myself, but I never bothered."

  Something clicked for Robin. "That’s the danger Frederick warned you about."

  "This must be why he set the time of the séance when he did," Maureen said. "He returned after all these years to save my life. He must have loved me a great deal." Her eyes brimmed with tears.

  Flint stared at the fallen cabinet. "As a scientist, I have to call this a coincidence. But it’s a hell of a coincidence."

  “Call it what you like.” Maureen’s forehead wrinkled. “May I ask why you and Robin arrived in the same car?”

  “Small rescue operation,” Flint said. “Followed by…” He glanced at Robin. “May I tell her our news?”

  “Of course.”

  When he did, Maureen clapped her hands. “Finally, my nephew came to his senses!”

  A few minutes later, they broke the news to the children, who ran to hug them. "I knew if we went to Grandma Gigi's, everything would be all right," said Caitlin.

  They picked up more-or-less healthy fast food on the way home. Afterward, the exhausted triplets fell asleep almost before their heads bit the pillows.

  Except for a few books that had toppled, Flint's house had escaped unscathed. Not Flint's house, our house, Robin corrected.

  In the family room, she noticed that the earthquake had tipped one of the photos. It was the picture of Kathy with the children.

  As Robin straightened it, the woman appeared to wink. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Kathy wasn't winking, but her image gave off a faint glow that Robin could have sworn hadn't been there before.

  Flint's footsteps approached from the kitchen. "I cleaned up," he said.

  "That's my job."

  "You're not the housekeeper any more." His arms encircled Robin. "You're a mother, a wife-to-be and a teacher. I
f we need to hire more help around here, we'll do that."

  She relaxed into his embrace. "We owe a lot to this earthquake."

  "There's something else I’d like to add." Flint tensed slightly. "It isn't fair to ask you to move into a house Kathy decorated, that's full of her memories. If you prefer, we can move somewhere new."

  Robin already knew her answer. "I'd rather stay here. Kathy gave birth to these children, loved them and nurtured them. We should cherish her memory.”

  She heard Flint's relief in his quick release of breath. "It's a good neighborhood for the children. We' all feel at home here."

  "So do I," said Robin, with all her heart.

  *

  "That’s your cue!" Maureen whispered.

  Caitlin bit her lip, her face uncertain beneath its circlet of flowers. "I hope I don't trip."

  "You'll be fine," Robin said.

  Clutching her bouquet, the flower girl slipped through the doorway and marched down the aisle. The pink dress transformed her from a tomboy into a princess, and she walked with head held high.

  Next it was Maureen's turn, as maid of honor. No one could stroll with more grace and dignity.

  Robin waited with nerves tingling until the organist launched into "Here Comes the Bride." Gigi gave her daughter a nudge. It amused Robin that her mother was almost as excited as she was.

  They entered together, Gigi in her deep rose cocktail dress and Robin in the ankle-length ivory gown that the children had helped select. Pink rosebuds trimmed the overskirt and the matching short veil on her ivory hat. In her arms, instead of a formal bouquet, she carried a spray of garden roses in vivid colors.

  As the guests turned to watch, Robin picked out the faces of neighbors, teachers and friends. Julius Caesar wore a garland of laurel leaves above his freshly dry-cleaned toga.

  By the altar, close to their father, waited Brick and Aaron, solemn in their junior-size tuxedos, and Caitlin, ethereal and lovely. "Isn't that funny," whispered Gigi. "You and Flint had three children before you even knew each other."

  "We'll just have to make up for lost time," Robin whispered back, and saw her mother grin.

  Then she lost all awareness of everything except Flint, standing tall by the altar, waiting for her with love shining on his face.