by Vicki Hinze
“I know nothing is wrong with the car, Jonathan.”
Jonathan. Not John but Jonathan. He nodded, afraid to say anything for fear she’d stop talking. “The gearshift wasn’t stuck.” She lowered her gaze to his chest. “I lied.”
His heart rate doubled. “Why?”
She looked down at her hands. “Because I didn’t want to leave.”
She wears your ring.
Memory. Not Tony. Memory. John looked at Bess’s left hand. It was there. His ring was still there. “Why didn’t you want to leave?”
She shrugged. “I’m a glutton for punishment, is all I can figure.”
He nearly smiled. “Is that why you didn’t go to Little Island with me? Because you’re a glutton for punishment?”
She sighed then sat down on the window seat, her spine stiff, her hands folded in her lap. “No.”
He walked over, stopped on the braided rug, then looked down on her bent head. “Can you tell me why?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Please.”
She looked up at him, her face still tear-streaked, though she’d stopped crying. “I didn’t want either of us to go out there.”
That he hadn’t expected. “Why?”
“Because my instincts told me the woman buried out there was Dixie. And I knew that once you solved the case, you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
“Why would you think that?” Amazing conclusion. But where the hell had it come from?
“Because you wouldn’t feel like a failure anymore, and you wouldn’t need to prove anything with me.”
More than amazing. Baffling. “I thought you refused because you didn’t trust my judgment.”
“I trusted your judgment. Our instincts agreed.”
He could stop there, but if this was to be a baring of souls, he wanted it done right the first time. Once was hard enough. “And I thought you’d compared me and your sorry Spaniard, and he’d won.”
She shook her head and flushed guiltily. “He’s just a friend, Jonathan. I should’ve told you that before. But . . .”
“You liked seeing me jealous.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but paused, then told him the truth. “Wicked of me, but, yes, I did.”
“Why?”
Again she dropped her gaze, this time to his waist. “Because it showed me that you weren’t indifferent.”
He smiled, though she didn’t see it. “No, I’m not indifferent. Not about anything when it comes to you.”
Her fingers were laced, and she started wringing her hands. “I wanted to come first with you. Never in my whole life have I come first with anyone, or felt loved unconditionally. My parents loved me, but they never liked me. I was too exuberant, too demonstrative, too emotional. I embarrassed them.”
“So you buried the parts of you that they objected to, hoping that then they would love you unconditionally.”
“You would have, too, if your parents looked straight through you as if you weren’t there, and didn’t speak so much as a single word to you for a month at a time.”
He didn’t know what to say. He’d had no idea that they’d ever done anything like that to her. They’d spent time with her parents, and he’d never seen any signs of friction or tension, or . . . he thought back. Or signs of any affection. None.
How could he not have seen that?
Bess’s gaze dropped lower, to his knees, then to his shoes. “That’s why getting to know your parents meant so much to me, Jonathan. I wanted to see if maybe I—” She hushed and shook her head. “It was a silly notion.”
“I had no idea, honey.” Tony had told him to ask her about the facade. And he’d meant to, but he’d gotten sidetracked. There was a lesson there. One he now considered learned.
She blinked hard and fast, and raised her gaze to his. “Your parents disowned you because you married me and I wasn’t wealthy, didn’t they?”
“What?” He hadn’t meant to shout but, she’d surprised him. Where in the name of God could she have gotten that idea?
“You were ashamed of me.”
“No! Never!” He dropped to his knees in front of her and clasped her arms. “God, Bess, I wasn’t. I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she whispered, looking ready to break.
“I’m not. Honey, I was ashamed, but not of you. Never of you.”
She stared at him, waiting for an explanation. And the time definitely had come for one. Good God, all this time she’d thought he’d been ashamed of her? Because she wasn’t wealthy—
A truth hit him with the force of a thunderbolt. “That’s why you wouldn’t touch our money. You thought my parents saw you as some type of fortune-hunter and in taking the money, you’d prove them right. So you refused to touch it to prove them wrong.”
“They were wrong. I never cared about the money, Jonathan. I loved you.”
“Then,” he said softly, the puzzle pieces sliding into place. “You loved me, then.”
“Yes.” She drew in a breath that heaved her narrow shoulders. “Then.”
He cupped a hand to her cheek. “You’re so wrong about all this. I was heartless not to explain. I’m sorry, Bess. I can’t take the hurt I’ve caused you away, but I’m going to tell you the truth so you don’t hurt over this anymore.”
He paused to collect his thoughts, to look into her eyes once more before they filled with disgust. “Selena doesn’t know what I’m about to tell you. I don’t want her ever to know it. I’m trusting you, Bess. I’ve never in my life trusted anyone, but I’m trusting you.”
“I won’t tell her, or anyone else, Jonathan. I swear it.”
He steeled himself for her response, knowing it’d hurt like hell no matter what he did. “Grace and Mitchell Mystic are dead.”
“Who?”
“My parents.” He swallowed hard. “Selena thinks they died when she was three, but they didn’t. They decided they were tired of being parents and just walked out.”
“But you were so little!”
He had been. But he’d been determined. “For three days, I wouldn’t accept it, that they weren’t coming back. Then I called Uncle Max. I don’t know what would have happened to us if he hadn’t taken us in.”
Too wired to crouch, Jonathan stood up and paced. “We never saw them again.”
“How do you know they’re dead?”
“After they died, a lawyer called Uncle Max. He told me. Selena was so little she didn’t remember them ever being alive. We decided it was best left that way. I knew they were dead, but I didn’t know how they’d died. Uncle Max had said a tragic accident, but he couldn’t lie any better than you.”
“You found out.”
Jonathan nodded. “Yes, I did. But I wished I hadn’t.”
“Whatever it is, Jonathan, it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.” He paced from the bed back to the braided rug, then stopped. “They were in a cult situation, Bess. They committed suicide. They must have seen it coming and had an attack of conscience, because shortly before their deaths is when they went to the lawyer and willed their worldly goods to Selena and me.”
And he would have traded their fortunes for a simple smile. For a single dear heart.
“I’m sorry, darling.” Bess looked up at him, tears in her eyes.
Bess’s tears. God, nothing could get to him like Bess’s tears. He stiffened against them, against the pity he saw in her eyes. “So you see, you were wrong, Bess. I was ashamed. But not of you. I was ashamed of me.”
“Why?” She jumped to her feet.
A bolt of pain rammed through him, so intense he mentally staggered. “My own parents couldn’t love me. Didn’t you hear me? My own parents . . .”
She clasped his arms and squeezed, digging her fingertips into his flesh. “No. This isn’t about you, Jonathan. It wasn’t about you. They got caught up in this cult thing. It was them, not you.”
He clenched his jaw. “They walked out on me.”
“And then I did, too.” Her chin quivered. She worried her lip, trying to hide it, but tears sheened her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. If it helps, know that I walked out because I loved you. Maybe they did, too. Maybe they had misgivings about taking you with them into that kind of life. Maybe they knew you’d be better off with Max than with them. Just as you knew learning the truth would hurt Selena. You couldn’t risk telling me about them for fear she’d find out and she’d feel . . . unloveable. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.” He stared hard into her eyes.
She dropped her gaze, paused. “Maybe, in their own way, your parents leaving you proved just how much they loved you.”
“Bess, are you trying to tell me that you left me because you loved me?” He didn’t dare to believe it. Didn’t dare!
She nodded.
He touched a gentle fingertip to her chin. “You said we’d closed a chapter of our lives. You were right about that.”
“Yes.” She sounded sad, so very sad.
“I want to open another chapter, Bess.”
She looked up at him, her eyes searching.
“You said once I solved the case, I wouldn’t need you anymore. But that’s not true. I’ll always need you.”
“Elise—”
He pressed a fingertip over her lips. “Was the mother I never had. I loved her for that, and for loving me. I’ll always love her. This wedge between you and me wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I muddled what mattered most—you. I don’t want to lose you again, Doc. I don’t ever want to lose you again.”
Devotion. Bess saw it in his eyes, heard it in the low, throaty timbre of his voice. She’d been so . . .
Sometimes you have to leap upon a mystic tide and have faith the sand will shift and an island will appear.
Her heart started a low, hard beat. Yes. Yes . . . she understood.
Mystic tide. Speak your heart, confident your beloved will understand.
That’s right, Bess. Go on. You can do it.
Her blood pounded through her veins.
Shifting sand. Flexibility. Assumptions voiced, truths revealed.
Come on, Bess. Yes! You’re almost there. Come on!
Oh, God. Her heart thumped hard, threatening to beat through the wall of her chest.
An island will appear . . .
Bess gasped, “Jonathan, the island! It’s love!”
Ah, Bess. Bess. Finally.
“What?”
“Tony’s message. The island is love. That’s what he meant for us to know.”
Jonathan shook his head. “For me, it was a road map, honey, to solve the case.”
“Yes, it was. But it was also a road map for me and you and our relationship.”
“I don’t get it.”
Oh, thank you, Tony.
Anytime.
“For the right fee, I’ll explain it to you, Jonathan.” Bess shrugged. “I’m unemployed, if you’ll recall.”
“How can you joke?”
“Because I’ve figured out the message.” She smiled.
“Will you pay my price? I know how you love agreements.”
“I’ll pay.” His eyes twinkled. “Wait. What’s your price?”
“I’ll tell you . . . later.”
“I don’t know if I like going into a deal with you without knowing the terms, but I do love that sparkle in your eye, so I’ll bite the bullet and go for it.”
“Thank you, darling.” She squeezed his arm. Trust. Sweet trust.
“Okay, so tell me.”
“I can see patience is going to be perpetual for you, too.”
“What?”
“Annual mottoes, darling. Never mind. We’ll discuss that later, too.”
“Bess.”
She wrinkled her nose at his warning tone. “People change during a marriage and, when they do, they’ve got to trust love to sustain them through those changes so they grow closer and not apart.”
Jonathan looked thoughtful, then he smiled. “The island is love.”
“Yes.” She smiled back at him.
Wonderful! Finally! Leap, Bess! Leap!
I am, Tony. Good grief, give me a minute. I’m new at this stuff.
He chuckled.
Men.
“What’s your price?” Jonathan asked.
God, Tony, my heart feels like it’s coming out of my chest. What if he laughs at me? Lord, I’m nervous. Never mind. Trust love, right? Right. See, I did get it.
Quit stalling.
All right, all right, but if I end up crying, I’m going straight to Miss Hattie on you.
Duly noted.
Bess licked at her lips and looked Jonathan straight in the eye. “My price is the divorce. I don’t want it.”
He blinked, then blinked again. “Because of media reaction in your job?”
“No.” Oh, Tony. What if he hates me now? What if he doesn’t give a flying fig that I’m crazy about him? I’m so . . . scared. “Because I loved you . . . then.”
Chicken.
Thanks so much for your support. This is hard, you know. Oh, why don’t you go rattle a chain?
No way. I’ve worked hard for this moment and, by gum, I’m going to see it.
“I know you did, sweetheart.” Jonathan dragged the pad of his thumb along her chin.
If he gives me hell, Tony, I’m going to be so angry. Hurt, too. Hurt? Did I say hurt? I’ll be devastated, is what I’ll be. God, I must be nuts to try this leaping. It’s a wonder anyone survives it.
You’re doing fine. Hold tight. Faith, Bess. Faith.
Faith. Oh, I do love him so, Tony. I really, really do. “And because I love you now.”
The look in Jonathan’s eyes softened and he stared at her, then groaned from deep in his throat and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in the cay at her neck, and hugged her tightly, rocking back and forth on his feet. I love you, too, Bess.
Good grief! You heard every word. Tony, how could you!
Um, I think I hear some chains calling me.
Wait! Thank you, Tony.
That goes for me, too.
Anytime. Hold tight to the magic.
Jonathan reared back and looked at her, his eyes shimmering. “I heard, Bess. And I meant what I said. I love you. I don’t want the divorce, I never did. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
He kissed her deeply, longingly, lovingly. And by the time he lifted his lips from hers, Bess believed him. He wanted her. He loved her.
He was not ashamed.
He smiled, his eyes tender and bright.
She smiled back, from the heart out.
“Let’s go,” he said, rubbing their noses.
“Where?”
“I made a promise to you. It’s almost sunset.”
She hugged him tightly, her heart so full it was overflowing. “First we’re calling Francine and Bryce and stopping this divorce nonsense.”
“Great idea.” He laughed. “Judge Branson will love it. I’m going to send him a new set of golf clubs for levying that fine on you.”
“What?”
“It got me up here.” He lifted the phone receiver at the desk.
“Add a new putter, too,” her arms around his waist, she squeezed, needing to hold him tight, “from me.”
He frowned and hung up the phone. “It’s out of order again.”
“Fine. We’ll use the one downstairs.”
Laughing and holding hands, they hurried down the stairs together. At the bend, beneath the portraits of Collin and Cecelia, Bess paused, pulling them to a stop. She looked up at the portrait of Cecelia, the healer, and smiled. Legend says miracles happen here. And they do. I think you must have loved so much that it lingers. That’s the magic here, isn’t it? Love. And, Cecelia, bless you for saving one of those miracles for John and me.
“Honey, why are you crying?”
A flood of peace and, contentment filled her. One such as she’d never known. One she’d forever fail to fully explain, but never fail t
o appreciate. “I’m happy.” Bess smiled at her husband.
He pecked a kiss to her lips. “Me, too.”
She curled her arms around his neck. “I love you, Jonathan. With all my heart.”
“I love you, too, Doc.” He kissed her long and deep. “I love you, too.”
Miss Hattie heard John and Bess’s exchange on the stairs and sighed her content. Healed. At peace. “Lovely. Isn’t it lovely, Tony? Just lovely.”
The phone rang. She answered it, and was still on the line with Bryce Richards when Bess and John came into the kitchen. They were smiling, their faces flushed and exuberant. Their joy seeping into her heart, she held up a finger for them to wait, then spoke into the phone. “I’ll have your word, dear, that you’ll come and bring the children. You need a little rest, and they need pampering.”
After listening for a moment, she smiled. “Well, I think the odds of getting them a mother from Macy’s are rather slim, dear.” She laughed softly. “All right, Bryce. We’ll see you then.”
“Bryce?” Jonathan asked.
“Just a moment, dear. Jonathan has a question, I—think.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Hattie. Is that Bryce Richards?”
“Yes, it is.” She held her earring in her hand. “Did you need to speak with him? We’ve finished our chat.”
“Please.”
Miss Hattie passed John the phone, then turned to Bess, who hugged her and whispered close to her ear. “We’re not getting the divorce, Miss Hattie.”
“Of course not, dear.” She smiled, gave Bess’s back a solid pat, and then sat down in her rocker.
“Yes,” John said. “And tell Francine, will you? We’re in a bit of hurry.” Jonathan slid Bess a smile. “We’re going to watch the sun set.”
Bess smiled back at him and the love flowing between them had Miss Hattie pulling her lacy hankie from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes.
Jonathan hung up the phone and folded an arm around Bess’s waist. “We’re not getting a divorce,” he told Miss Hattie.
“Of course not, dear.” The angelic woman smiled then looked at Bess. “Promises are made to be kept.”
