by Louisa Trent
Dragging herself along on her tummy, and using her elbows like ski poles, she made her way to a mountain of cement blocks where she thought the groan might have originated.
There was a small opening in the front of the cement mound. Ignoring her panic, she squeezed her way inside.
“Tomas?” she whispered, afraid a raised voice might bring the whole thing down on top of them.
“Sera! Is that you?” came the choked response.
“Yes. Thank God, you're okay.”
“Don't come any closer,” he wheezed. “This whole area is unstable. Get the hell out of here now.”
“I can't,” she answered, directing her voice to the echo of his. “Not without you.”
“My leg is all busted up. Half the ceiling is on my head. I'm whipped, Sera. I'm not going anywhere.”
“Then neither am I.”
No clearance overhead. Total darkness. No air. She was literally entombed in the rubble. But she was with her husband, and he was alive. That's all that mattered.
“Get the hell away from here!” he growled. “This place could blow any minute. There's a leak in the gas main.”
“I know. But don't give up. The rescuers will find us. The workmen are digging directly above us now. Just hold on a little longer, they'll get us both out.”
“There is no us! There never was,” he exploded with the same force that must have collapsed the building. “Why the hell did they call you?”
“Because I'm your wife.”
“Not for much longer,” he rasped. “My lawyer is drawing up the paperwork; you'll soon be free of this farce of a marriage.”
“I don't want to be free.”
“I don't care what you want. Get out now while you still can.”
Tomas wore a shroud of gray plaster dotted with bright red blood. His leg was sticking out at an unnatural angle, a bone protruded white under his ripped black jeans. She swallowed the tears. It was time to be strong.
“I snuck around the police barricade, Tomas,” she told him. “I had to tell you to come home. I need my husband.”
“Don't con me, Sera. You don't need me.”
“Then how's this?” she asked, defiantly. “I'm about to faint. If I lose consciousness on the way back out, the rescuers will never find me. You're my only chance of survival. The rescuers know you're here. They have a pretty good idea of your location. No one knows about me.”
“Why?” he asked, and looked straight at her. “Why did you do something so dangerous?”
“Because I can't go on without you.”
“You survived without Matt, and you loved him. After he died, you went on. You can certainly go on without me.”
“Oh Tomas, haven't you caught on yet?” she asked, her hand reaching across the broken glass until their fingers joined.
“Don't do that. Don't touch me!”
“I have to. Without touching you, without feeling your strength, I'll lose consciousness.”
“You don't play fair,” he said, but his fingers tightened on hers.
She clung to his hand. “Help me, Tomas. I need you.”
“Damn.” He laughed grimly. “Well, who knows? Maybe my back will hold, and we will be rescued before this place blows. Anything's possible. And hey, this was the one building that needed to be demolished anyway. The process was just speeded up.”
Her tears started to fall. “I've missed you so much.”
“Don't cry, baby.”
“I can't help it. Oh Tomas, please come home.”
“Why?”
She tried to touch a finger to his face, but she couldn't reach. “Because I love you.”
“What about your feelings for Matt? I know he still owns your heart. And I'm warning you, Sera, I won't take leftovers. I never had affection as a kid and I want the real thing now. Not only your body, but everything else too. I don't ever want to be second best again. If I can't be first in your heart, then I can't come home.”
“You're my heart's passion! Don't you understand? It's you! You're the one. It was never Matt. What I had with Matt was friendship. You're my first and only lover.”
“What?”
“Matt was a good man, but he didn't want me as his wife. He only married me so that I could continue my missionary work in India. When my parents died, he took over their mission. The only way I could stay on was if we were man and wife. Our marriage was never consummated. I lost my virginity that night with the candle.” She could laugh about it now, and did.”
“Shit, Sera! Why the fuck didn't you say something?”
She shook her head. “None of that matters now. Don't you see? All that is my past; my future is with you.”
“You're only promising me a future because you know that's what I need to hear.”
“Never. You're strong. Strong enough to hold up this building if you have to. Strong enough to give your crew a shot at a better life.” She wept openly. “Strong enough to love me. You do love me. You've never told me but I know that you do. And I love you.”
“Don't say those things to me unless you really mean them. I can't lose another home. There's been so many houses. So many different families. They came and went. They'd let me into their lives for a short while and then I'd...and then for one reason or another...I'd have to move on. I can't move on anymore. I love you Sera, but this time I want to stay put.” He struggled for control. “And even if we do try to make a life together, it won't be easy for us. I'll always be an outsider, looking in.”
“All you'll ever have to do, Tomas Ruiz, is look into my heart. There's so much love there,” she said half-giggle, half-tear, “I'm surprised there's room for anything else. Come home. Please come home.”
“There's two things-”
“Name them,” she whispered into the darkness.
“Marry me again.”
“Yes.”
“In a real church this time.”
“Yes.”
“And Sera, I want babies. Lots of babies.” Tomas laughed as the sound of their rescuers grew closer. “And never, ever, wear your hair all tight again. And keep baking those desserts... “
“But you said there were only two things.”
“Here's one and two. Let me love you. Always let me love you.”
“Done. And now I have something to tell you.”
“Go on,” he said smugly. “I'm tough. As long as we're together, I can take anything.”
“I'm pregnant, Tomas.”
As the rescue sling was lowered through the rubble, big, tough Tomas Ruiz fainted.
Sera Ruiz was a practical woman, and as such, she considered her husband's swoon heaven sent; taking him home was so much easier now that he wasn't fighting it.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Louisa Trent is happiest writing and so she writes all the time, even when the veggies are in need of peeling and the dust bunnies are in need of vacuuming. When she was far too young to contemplate anything as serious as marriage, she snatched up a boy with a sense of humor and led him right to the altar. Somewhere along the way, she picked up a couple of academic degrees which she uses each and every day, though certainly not in the way she intended to use them. Blessed with three funny sons and a husband who still makes her giggle, she lives in a quaint New England town in a messy home surrounded by flowers and laughter.
* * *
Visit http://www.atlanticbridge.net for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
