Through a Magnolia Filter

by Nan Dixon

  Black hair bobbed in the distance. She skirted a tour group ambling down the path. “Liam!”

  The man disappeared.

  She dodged between people. Why did he have to come here when it was so crowded? “Liam!”

  Someone shot her a dirty look for yelling. “Show some respect.”

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped.

  Respect. She slowed to a walk. The Fitzgerald plot. He might have gone to pay his respects to James and Fiona.

  She cut down a small path, free from the crowds. The crunch of shell under her shoes filled the tree-lined space. She headed deeper into the cemetery.

  One more corner and there he was. He knelt next to James’s headstone, eyes closed, hand resting on the granite.

  She left the shell path and walked on the fringe of grass. Now that she’d found him, what should she say?

  At the black wrought iron fence she stopped, gasping for air.

  His head snapped up. A smile started across his face, his eyes filling with joy. Then a mask of sorrow smothered his happiness.

  “Liam,” she whispered.

  He stood. “Why are you here?” His voice was harsh.

  “Why did you do it?” She stepped closer.

  “Do what? Come here to Savannah?” He shook his head. “To bring you the letters and tell the story of the Irish influence on Savannah.”

  She shook her head. “Not that.”

  “Then what? Fall in love with you?” His laugh filled with pain. “It was inevitable.”

  “No.” She stopped on the opposite side of the plot fence. “Why did you call Evan about me?”

  “I...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Because I wanted to help you with your career. I wanted to make you...happy.”

  “Happy?”

  He closed the distance between them. Only the fence separated them. “Because it’s your dream.”

  Her dream. Was that what she really wanted? She didn’t know anymore. Before Liam, everything had been so clear. Now...

  “What’s your dream, Liam?” She had to ask.

  His eyes closed. “My dreams don’t matter.”

  Oh, but they did. “What makes you happy?” she asked, taking his hand.

  “I can’t do this again.” His fingers squeezed her hand so hard, she winced.

  “Please, answer my question.”

  His blue gaze caught hers and held. “You. You make me happy. I...I thought it was this place—” he waved his hand toward the historic district “—or your family. But it wasn’t. It was you. It was always you. And I didn’t understand until I’d ruined everything.”

  Her heart fluttered like a camera on auto shutter, clicking away.

  She set her free hand on his chest.

  He shivered under her fingers.

  She pressed harder, so amazed she could touch him again. Touch him and not be afraid that his affections were just an act. “What if I told you I’m not happy?”

  “A ghrá.” He brushed a curl off her face. “What can I do to make you happy? Is it that you can’t stand me being near? I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “A ghrá, what does that mean?” she asked.

  “My heart.” The words were like feathers on her face, stroking and calming her heartbeat.

  He still loved her. She hoped.

  “And if I said losing you makes me unhappy—” she reached up and cupped his face “—what would you do then?”

  So much light filled his eyes they sparkled like sapphires. He stepped over the short fence, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I would have to stay.”

  The pieces of her life fell into place with a click as loud as her camera. “I love you.”

  His arms tightened so hard, she worried he would break a rib. But she didn’t want him to let go. The world spun as he swung her around.

  Their laughter exploded.

  When her feet touched the ground, his mouth was there, joining with hers. Tongues chased each other. She wanted to be closer.

  “Why?” he breathed. His lips brushed the shell of her ear and sent tingles through her.

  “Because I was wrong.” She arched her neck, inviting him to explore.

  “Wrong?” He took her invitation, his lips trailing from her ear to her collarbone.

  Her legs wobbled. “I should never have pushed you away.”

  Liam carried her to a bench. He cradled her in his arms, and her world righted.

  There hadn’t been a bench here when they’d cleaned up the plot. “Where did this come from?”

  “I bought it.” He buried his head in her hair. “I thought...it’s nice to sit and think.”

  She cupped his head between her hands and tipped his face up. “That’s why I love you. You’re so thoughtful.”

  “If I’m so thoughtful, why did I treat you so thoughtlessly?”

  “Because we both had to grow up to deserve each other.”

  “You? You’re perfect.”

  She stroked her thumb across his lip, laughing. “Far from it. If I were perfect, I would have realized a long time ago that I am as important to my family’s B and B as both Abby and Bess. I don’t need to travel to have my talent recognized. And I don’t want to. I belong here with my sisters.”

  “You can’t give up your photography!” His face screwed up in anxiety, on her behalf.

  She loved that. Joy shimmered inside her. She loved him.

  “I’m not giving up my photography, but I can compromise. I don’t have to be gone all the time. Plus—” she smoothed the wrinkles in his forehead “—Savannah is the most beautiful city in the country. Then there’s the low country and the islands. And I can freelance for Evan and see the world. I just have to prove to him I’m worth the risk.”

  “You’re worth the risk.” He hugged her, hard. “What about your B and B?”

  “I want it all. You. My photography. Working with my family. Maybe even some website work. But I’m not taking Barb’s offer. No way. I’m a photographer.”

  She kissed him, drawing his tongue into her mouth.

  His hands tugged her closer, binding them together like a vine and a tree. She was his tree. Could he, the wanderer, adapt to life in Savannah? She broke the kiss. “What do you need to make you happy?”

  His arms tightened one more wonderful notch. “This. You.”

  “And if I make Savannah my home base?”

  “My home is wherever you are. But I would love you to come to Ireland with me to see Michael’s grave.” His eyes twinkled. “Just a visit, mind you.”

  Her heart burst open like a time-lapse film of a flower blossoming. This was what she wanted. This was where she wanted to be.

  Because she’d thought all she’d needed to be happy was to escape her sisters’ shadows. But now she knew, all she needed was Liam’s love to be happy.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He brushed a kiss on her nose. “I love you more.”

  They walked hand in hand back through the avenues of moss-laden oaks. She let her head rest on his shoulder. “I’ve never felt so much...peace.”

  “Nor I.” He brushed a kiss on her knuckles. “You’re my family now. Will you come to Ireland with me?”

  “How much time do I have to get my passport?” she asked.

  “My love, I’ll wait for you forever.”

  EPILOGUE

  Which of my photographs is my favorite? The one I’m going to take tomorrow.

  Imogene Cunningham

  October

  DOLLEY EDITED HER picture of an old man asleep in a hammock in Costa Rica, changing from color to black and white. She wanted to emphasize the deep creases in his face, the road map of his life.

  Liam peered over
her shoulder. “The black and white highlights his wrinkles.”

  “But the colors in the hammock give the photo life.” She toggled back and forth.

  “Both are wonderful.”

  She grinned and spun her chair to face him. “Are you done with your edits?”

  “Almost. I got distracted by what came in the post.”

  “I hope it’s a check.” She ran her finger up and down Liam’s cheek. “I like checks.”

  “Not a check.” He nuzzled her neck.

  She and Liam had bought one of Gray’s River Street warehouse condos. She was close to the B and B and Liam loved watching the boat traffic. They’d even built a darkroom in the Carleton House basement.

  She was on assignment a week or two each month for Evan. And Liam worked part-time in New York, editing the documentary, and the rest of the time in Savannah on a new exhibit.

  He pulled her out of the chair.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, letting the joy of her love fill the room. By the time the kiss ended, they were gasping. Reluctantly, she pulled out of his embrace. “I need to stop or I won’t finish my work.”

  He pushed a box closer to her desk. “You might want to open that.”

  His nonchalance was suspicious. “What is it?”

  He handed her scissors. “Only one way to find out.”

  She cut through the tape and pulled away the packaging. Planting Roots in Savannah: The Fitzgeralds’ Influence on Irish Immigration.

  “It’s your book!” She bounced up and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s here!”

  “I thought you were observant. Look a little closer at the title.”

  She read the title and then the rest of the cover.

  By Liam Delaney and Dolley Fitzgerald

  “But I sold the rights to those pictures to your publisher. I signed a contract.”

  “It wasn’t right. I will never take credit for your pictures again.”

  She hugged the book to her chest. “Maybe I should have negotiated for a higher royalty percentage.”

  “That’s the woman I love.”

  “Oh.” It didn’t matter how many times he told her he loved her, it always made her sigh. “I love you, too.”

  He grinned.

  She no longer counted his smiles. He smiled all the time. So did she.

  He pulled her into a hug. “I think we should do more collaborations.”

  “I like that idea.”

  They walked into the great room and stared down at River Street.

  He tapped on his jeans. “I’m thinking of a more permanent collaboration this time.”

  “I may have to get an agent to negotiate with you. I have a hard time saying no.”

  “That’s a grand opening for this negotiation.” He pointed a finger at her. “Stick with that answer.”

  She frowned. “What answer?”

  He pulled a jewelry box out of his pocket and flipped it open.

  “Oh. Oh, my.” An emerald surrounded by diamonds stared up at her. “Oh, oh, my.”

  Liam shifted. “I was looking for the answer yes.”

  Did he think she wouldn’t agree to a marriage proposal? “I...I haven’t heard a question.”

  Liam took her hands. “Will you marry me? Be my family and, most important, my friend?”

  “Yes.” She twirled, surprised when rainbows and glitter didn’t fly off her. “Absolutely!”

  He caught her in his arms, his grin splitting his face. “Thank you.”

  He kissed her. Took her on a whirlwind tour of paradise, right there on Savannah’s River Street.

  She didn’t need travel or fame. With Liam by her side, she had the world.

  * * * * *

  Read more in the FITZGERALD HOUSE

  miniseries to find out how Abby and Gray

  found their happily-ever-after,

  in SOUTHERN COMFORTS—

  Harlequin Superromance, December 2014.

  Bess and Daniel’s story is

  A SAVANNAH CHRISTMAS WISH—

  Harlequin Superromance, December 2015.

  And keep an eye out for the next

  Fitzgerald House book, coming in 2017!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE MARINE’S EMBRACE by Beth Andrews.

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  The Marine’s Embrace

  by Beth Andrews

  CHAPTER ONE

  HER PILLOW SMELLED of him.

  Caught in that wonderful, hazy time between asleep and fully awake, Fay Lindemuth sighed and pressed her face against the soft fabric. Inhaled the familiar, tantalizing scent of her husband’s aftershave. Hugging it close, she wanted nothing more than to hold this perfect moment in her memory forever. To draw it out, make it last as long as possible.

  But these perfect moments didn’t last. Not for her.

  So she had to make the most of it. Happiness, so long sought and even longer fought for, suffused her. She used to dream of having Shane back in her life. They were soul mates, destined to be together, bound by the vows they’d made to each other and the two sons they’d created.

  For the past three years, circumstances and their own choices had kept them apart. But never for long. He always came back to her.

  He always left her again.

  And in those times, when the heartbreak and loneliness threatened to overwhelm her, she turned to her dreams for comfort, to feel close to Shane. It was the only time she was free of pain.

  Oh, she was careful. She didn’t nap during the day, didn’t sleep in until noon or go to bed before 10:00 p.m.—no matter how badly she wanted to. She refused to let the promise of oblivion lure her into backsliding. Into forgetting the progress she’d made.

  She was better. Everyone said so.

  Maybe, one day, she’d believe it herself.

  And this was a step in the right direction. A step closer toward being whole once again. She had Shane back. Everything was how it used to be. How it was meant to be.

  Smiling, she reached for her husband...

  Only to encounter emptiness.

  Her eyes flew open, her fingers curling into the cool sheet as panic reared its
ugly head. Whispered to her that he was gone. That she was alone. That she’d always be alone.

  Lies, she assured herself, but her fingers went numb with cold, her chest ached. She had her two precious boys and her parents. She had Neil, her older brother. She had Maddie, who, besides being Fay’s best friend, was also Neil’s girlfriend and the mother of his fourteen-year-old daughter, Breanne. And she had Shane. For good this time.

  He’d promised.

  Sitting up, she pulled the sheet over her bare breasts. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but once they did, she noticed movement by the dresser. Was that a rustling sound?

  Someone was in the room with her.

  Shane hadn’t left her.

  Leaning across the bed, she reached for the lamp, the ring she wore on a delicate chain around her neck sliding out from under the loosened sheet. She stopped. The rustling could have been the wind blowing through the trees. The movement a shift of shadows.

  After all, she did have a bad habit of letting her imagination get the best of her. Of believing only what she wanted, no matter how solid the proof against her fantasies were.

  Face your fears.

  That’s the advice Dr. Porter always gave during their weekly sessions. The psychiatrist loved spouting platitudes about how Fay was capable of controlling her emotions. Of handling any situation. Strong enough to get through disappointment or heartache. Strong enough to survive.

  Which was laughable, but it made him—and her family—feel better, so she went along.

  Pretend to be strong and eventually you’ll be strong. Act as if—as if you’re confident. Clever. In control. Brave.

  Act as if, she repeated silently to herself, her fingers tightening on the lamp’s switch. Act as if...act as if...

  She turned the light on and sagged against the headboard.

  Shane was still here.

  Thank you, God.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she smiled, but he turned back to finish tugging on his jeans.

  Her smile fading, she told herself not to read into things. He’d never been big on mornings, had always preferred keeping to himself for the first few hours of the day. Plus, she probably looked awful, the eye shadow and mascara she’d carefully applied last night streaked and smudged, her hair a tangled mess.