She was so lovely today. Her hair was in something she called a fishtail braid, and she wore a navy blue sweater with jeans. She had on boots which came up to her knees. There was nothing sophisticated about her clothing. She wanted it simple, so as not to offend Tristan’s parents, who lived meagerly. Tristan had followed suit and wore jeans, a sweater, and a pair of boots.
Alexander was oblivious to everything. Back at the villa in Seville, Abby had dressed the baby in a sweater, pants and shoes that looked like miniature versions of Tristan’s. She’d spoken in an even voice and told him they were meeting some very important people today so he had to look cute. Alex had drooled in response and touched his mother’s arm. Abby was excited to meet Tristan’s parents, and Alexander was happy. It appeared the only one scared was Tristan.
“We’re here.” He put the rental car in park and looked at his father’s car. Still the same vehicle he’d driven when he’d taken Tristan to the airport all those years ago, the 1975 Volkswagen Rabbit evidently worked just fine. Although, if it didn’t, his father would fix whatever was wrong, with his calloused, capable hands, and make it work. That’s what he did. And then he thanked God for the ability.
“Are you ready?” Tristan looked down at Abby’s hands as she rubbed his forearm reassuringly. He mustered up the courage to paste on a smile.
“Sure.”
“Tristan, take a minute, and gather your thoughts. We won’t move until you do.” Abby inclined her head to the backseat where Alexander gurgled contentedly. “No matter what he said or did to me, I would still want him in my life. There may be healing necessary, but it will happen.”
“Do you really think so?”
Abby smiled reassuringly. “I do. I thank God every day that I have you in my life. Surely your parents must have prayed just as hard for your return.”
He took a deep breath and felt the strength of Abby’s presence. Somehow, her reassurance rubbed off on him. “Let’s go meet my parents.”
Abby got the diaper bag and Tristan resisted the urge to tell her to leave it. His parents might turn them away at the door. He unbuckled Alexander, cuddling the baby close to him. That was the very picture of irony. Tristan employed thousands of people. Controlled companies. People feared him. Yet he clutched this tiny baby for strength.
They approached the door, the pebble walkway crunching under their feet. The door opened, and Tristan’s steps slowed. His father stepped into the doorway, watching his son with a wary gaze.
“Hola, padre.”
“Mi hijo. Ha vuelto.”
Tristan didn’t need to translate. Abby spoke Spanish fluently, so she understood as the older man said, “My son. You have returned.”
“Si—” Tristan was interrupted by a feminine voice asking who was at the door. His nervousness increased as his mother stepped into the doorway. She clasped her hands over her mouth and tears flowed freely from her eyes.
“Hola, mama.”
His mother wept but motioned him over. Her appearance had changed. She’d worked nonstop before he left, and Tristan knew that wouldn’t have changed after. In her work clothes, with her hair still fastened in a bun, she opened her arms and wrapped them around her son.
“Te amo, mama.”
His mother’s body wracked with sobs at Tristan’s words. She held on to her son, as if she was afraid he would slip away. His father stayed by her side, the joy of welcoming a long lost son evident on his weathered face.
Alexander squirmed and protested, and only then did Tristan’s mother notice Abby or the baby in his arms. She pulled away from her son, though she kept a hand clasped to his arm, and looked up at him in question.
Tristan beckoned Abby over to join his reunited family on their humble doorstep and said the words in Spanish that would guarantee Abby a place in their family.
“Mother, Father, I want you to meet my wife, Abby. And this is our son, Alexander.”
Epilogue
“Abby, wake up.”
“Mmmph.”
Tristan didn’t laugh, only because he knew that was the quickest way to make Abby’s early morning surliness worse.
“Come on, Abby. Let me see those beautiful blue eyes.”
“No. Sleep.”
She pulled the pillow over her head in response, which caused Tristan to release the laugh he’d been holding in.
Abby tossed the pillow away and glared at her husband. Her brown hair was going in fifteen different directions, which only made her mood more adorable. “The sun isn’t even up and it’s the only day all week both of us can sleep in. What’s going on?”
Tristan tugged Abby to her feet and pulled her to the window. “That’s exactly the point. I want to watch the sun come up with you in my arms.”
“We could do that better from the bed.”
“But that wouldn’t be as romantic. I’ll tuck you back into bed myself, sleepyhead, after we watch the sunrise.”
Abby frowned and sank back into Tristan’s waiting embrace. “Your romance is poorly timed, Mr. Ramirez. I only got to sleep at three.”
“Need I remind you who slept outside in a tent last weekend while you were resting comfortably in the cool house? We agreed. I do boy things. You do girl things.”
Her soft laughter made his body react, and it wasn’t the time for that. Tristan had plans.
“But the boy things involved a state of the art tent. Don’t even try to make me believe there was no air flow through there. I know better than that. Besides, I checked outside at midnight and everybody was asleep.”
He bent and kissed the area behind her ear, the place that always drove Abby wild. “You should have woken me up. We could’ve had a quickie behind the gardenia bushes.”
Tristan loved hearing Abby laugh. She playfully smacked his arm. “That is totally misleading. You’re never quick.”
“Only because I have remarkable self-control.” Which wouldn’t last long, not with Abby rubbing herself against his groin like that.
“Right. That’s just...” Abby paused as the sky lightened suddenly. “Oh, Tristan, that’s beautiful.”
“I couldn’t think of a better way to begin today than this.”
“I can’t believe it’s been ten years.”
“My ten favorite years, ever, Mrs. Ramirez. My life changed the day I saw you for the first time.”
~
Abby looked up at her husband. A handful of gray strands peppered his black hair. Fine lines creased the skin around his eyes. But that was okay. Aging was part of living, and Abby was perfectly happy with that. Besides, Tristan was still one of the most breathtakingly-handsome men on the planet. At forty-four, he turned more women’s heads than he had at thirty-four. Ironically, Alexander looked a lot like Tristan. His hair was a dark brown, not black like Tristan’s, but not the lighter color of David’s hair either. His eyes were nearly-black, just like Tristan’s. No one ever questioned that, thankfully. If Abby ever had five minutes alone with Ehron again, she would definitely ask him. But he hadn’t made another appearance after that night in the hospital.
Tristan held her like she was precious, just as he had for the past ten years. Being in his arms was incredibly wonderful and Abby was so very glad that he had woken her up for this.
~
He kissed her cheek. “Look. This is my favorite part.”
The sun crested over the tree line and the beams of early morning light shone through the window. Even with her sleep-mussed hair and streaked makeup left over from their daughter’s slumber party last night, Abby was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. In the past decade, three more children had joined Alexander—two boys and a girl—and Abby loved their children with a fierceness that humbled Tristan.
The past ten years hadn’t been all easy. Abby had a malignant lump removed from her left breast two years ago, though thankfully everything had been perfectly normal since. That was when Tristan started turning gray—watching Abby go through precautionary radiation treatments was
a special kind of torture. He’d learned a deeper level of patience and developed a more powerful respect for prayer.
Abby didn’t go back to work in the classroom after Alexander was born. But she loved teaching and working with the kids too much to walk away altogether. Through her fundraising and years of knowledge, she started an after school tutorial program. Many inner city kids received help that would otherwise not be available to them. Some kept in touch, and a few of the first kids who entered the program were graduating this year from college. Abby cried every time she got an update.
She smiled as she watched the rising sun, whereas fifteen minutes ago she was a bit put off with him for missing out on sleep. He kissed her again, savoring the feel of his lips on her skin. She was his heart. Abby made it possible for him to beat death and come out better on the other side.
“I take back what I said earlier. Holding you is my favorite part.”
“Tristan, if you don’t stop, I’m not going to get downstairs to have breakfast ready for Emma and her friends.”
He kissed her cheek and stood, walking over to their chest of drawers. “Don’t worry, mi corazon, Emma and her friends will sleep a while longer, as will Alexander. We don’t have to worry about Ryan and Michael, since they are with your parents.” Tristan turned on the music and a love song played low. He extended his hand. “Dance with me, Abby.”
She smiled brightly as he pulled her into his arms. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Moments like these were precious and Tristan truly appreciated how very damned lucky he was to be here at all. His family was happy, healthy. He loved his work. And he held his life in his arms.
All because he’d caught the attention of an angel.
Thank you, Ehron.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Tristan heard a faint you’re welcome, and smiled.
“When we’re old and at the end of our lives, do you think we’ll still love each other this much?” Abby smiled, her blue eyes shining in the early morning light.
“I think when there are no more tomorrows left, and our names are a distant memory, I’ll still love you.”
Abby stood on tip toe so she could reach him lips. “Forever.”
Tristan nodded, just before kissing her. “Forever.”
The End
About the Author
Candace is a married mom of two boys who grew up spending hours in the library, which turned into a lifelong love of books. She caught the writing bug in school and has never outgrown it. As a fan of Stephen King, Candace loves reading (and writing) about things that go bump in the night.
Tristan’s Redemption is her first published novel, but she plans to publish more in the near future.
Connect with me online:
Email: mailto:[email protected]
Twitter: @cpblackburn73
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CandaceBlackburnAuthor
Tristan's Redemption Page 17
