Cold Case Affair
Page 18
“I’ve heard so much about you, Troy.”
Troy nodded, silent.
“Jett told me you’re named after my father.”
“He died before I was born.” His voice brought tears into her eyes. Her son. A second chance…it was overwhelming. The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She laughed nervously, reaching for a tissue to wipe them away.
“My dad said Troy O’Donnell taught him about planes, and that’s why my dad is a pilot.”
Muirinn tried to swallow around the incredible emotion balling painfully in her throat. She nodded. “He…he was your grandfather.”
Troy nodded all too sagely for his years. Warming easily to the conversation in between glances at his dad for reassurance. “I know. My dad told me. And that makes Gus my great-grandfather.”
“What did your dad tell you about me?”
Troy shot another glance at his father. But Jett stood quietly to the side, letting his son direct things where he needed them to go. Troy turned back to Muirinn.
“He said he always loved you, and that you are my mom. But that you couldn’t be here right away. That you needed time.”
Muirinn was unable to talk. She looked at Jett, his gaze held hers.
Then little Troy’s mouth flattened, and he drew a breath in deep, as if he were mustering courage. He glanced at Muirinn’s tummy, then down at his shoes, then up again. “Can I touch it?”
“The baby?”
He nodded fiercely.
“Yes,” whispered Muirinn, taking his hand, her heart breaking at the sensation of it in her own. She placed the little palm on her belly, on top of the covers. “If you wait you might feel her move.”
He narrowed his eyes, focusing intently, a boy raised here, in wild country, open about life and death. The way she liked it. The way Muirinn wanted it to be.
“There,” she whispered. “Did you feel that?”
His green eyes flared, and his mouth dropped open. “Was that the baby?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “That was your sister.”
“Cool!” He grinned, a bright white slash of teeth against his tanned skin. All kid again. The kid she’d glimpsed at the dock, the child she’d envied Jett for having with all her being. The child she had not known was hers.
Jett stepped up, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. “The nurse outside has ice cream for you, Troy. I need a word with Muirinn, and then she needs some rest.”
Troy grinned at her, bounded out.
Muirinn didn’t trust herself to speak for several long minutes. “Thank you, Jett, thank you so much. He…he’s…” Tears streamed again, and she couldn’t talk at all. Jett took her into his arms. “It’ll take a while,” she said between sniffles into his shoulder. “I’m just so happy to be able to watch him grow.”
“You really are going to stay?”
She’d told him over and over again, but Jett was almost afraid to believe it, to accept that, this time, it really might happen.
“I wouldn’t leave for the world, Jett. Everything that is precious to me is right here in Safe Harbor.”
He stood silent, energy raging like wildfire through him. Why in hell was he so scared?
Because he really didn’t want to screw up this second chance.
Then he came right out and said it—not the way he’d planned, but because he was terrified he’d miss the opportunity. “Marry me, Muirinn. I don’t want secrets, I don’t want boundaries.” He hesitated, suddenly panicking that she’d say no. “I just want you. I always have.”
She stared at him in silence, and Jett felt perspiration prickle over him. “We can finally be a family, Muirinn,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “The way it should have been.”
She inhaled deeply. “I’ve wanted nothing more, Jett,” she whispered.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded, tears flowing down her cheeks. “All these years…” she swallowed, wiping her eyes. “I…I never dreamed I could have a second chance.”
And he gathered her into his arms, and kissed her. Never again would he let her go. This time she was here to stay.
December.
Muirinn stepped up and placed a twelfth long-stemmed white rose alongside the eleven others on the small cairn of mining rocks. On top of the cairn rested a miner’s hat with a headlamp.
She lowered her head and said a silent prayer for her father, for her mother, for the families of all the men who had lost their lives that tragic day. And she prayed for Adam Rutledge, and for Hamilton Brock.
For the future.
For the sins of all fathers to be forgiven.
Then, solemnly, she returned to her pew in the tiny church where her family stood.
Jett slipped her hand into his. He was holding Arielle, her two-month-old daughter, bundled up warm in his arms.
He and Troy had helped name her—after a mermaid. From Mermaid’s Cove. In honor of Gus, who had once made Muirinn believe that she, too, had been brought up from the sea.
Muirinn closed her eyes as voices rose in hymn, and she said a special prayer for her grandfather. But she didn’t need to. Because she felt him here, watching over them, just as she felt the tiny bone compass warming against her chest. Gus had shown her a way home.
He’d shown her true north.
It was snowing softly when they left the church, having finally laid the miners’ memories to rest. The town could now move forward, and the future had started with winter snows blowing in over the sea.
Jett put his arm around Muirinn, drawing her close. Arielle was tucked in under his jacket, warm as a bun, and Troy ran ahead, jumping into new snowdrifts, Christmas lights twinkling in the town.
Jett’s chest swelled with fierce devotion, happiness, and he leaned down and kissed his bride-to-be.
She smiled up at him, snowflakes like white confetti dusting her red curls.
It was these simple pleasures, thought Jett, that made it all worthwhile, and the fresh snow was redolent with promise of a long winter. A time of rebirth.
Because in the spring, they would marry, and it would all be new again.
And he couldn’t be more happy. He had his family at last.
“I’m going to finish her,” he said suddenly, as they walked trough the drifts, arm in arm.
“Finish what?” her voice was dreamy, soft.
“Muirinn of the Wind. I’ll do it over the winter, give her wings. She’ll be ready to fly by summer.”
Muirinn looked up into her man’s deep-cobalt eyes. “I love you, Jett. I always have.”
“I know,” he whispered.
She laughed, and he kissed her softly on the mouth, thinking of the tune that had been playing on his truck radio when he’d driven past Gus’s house and first glimpsed that light up in the attic.
I believe in miracles.
And today, he did.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4134-7
COLD CASE AFFAIR
Copyright © 2009 by Loreth Beswetherick
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Visit Silhouette Books at www.eHarlequin.
com
*Shadow Soldiers
*Shadow Soldiers
*Shadow Soldiers
*Shadow Soldiers
**Wild Country
†Love In 60 Seconds
**Wild Country
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17