Amber and Blue
Page 19
"He's dead."
"You killed him?"
"No—Grace did," Alex replied. "She saved my life." He turned and left the room, leaving Lucien, in stunned silence, behind him.
On his way out, Alex walked slowly by the nurse who had given him a dirty look earlier in the day. She leaned back in her chair, with her shoes flopped off, and her feet propped up on the once sterile counter. A gnarled ink pen dangled from her teeth, and her drugstore glasses hung low on the tip of her nose, while reading the article, "Ten Ways to Turn Him On".
Irritated, he stopped and yelled over the counter. "Room 103 is awake!"
Startled, she jumped to her feet, spilling her coffee in her lap, and sticking the pages of her brand new Cosmopolitan together.
"He needs something for pain!"
Alex was incensed that a man could lie in needless pain, while this old bat neglected to do her job. Maybe he would hang around for just a few more minutes to make sure that she did.
******
Chapter 33 Retribution
Joliette was quiet, and the old cemetery was deserted, except for the two men, who stood silent—their heads bowed. A slight warm breeze blew fresh cut grass across the granite gravestones, and rustled flowers, faded from the sun, left long forgotten and crumbling in their vases. The old man drew a crisp white handkerchief from his shirt and snapped it open. He pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes. His hands shook, as he folded the cloth into a small neat square, and carefully arranged it, as before—in his left breast pocket.
"What are we supposed to do father?" Jacques asked.
"Your mother's side of the family demands retribution—blood for blood."
The slump of the old man’s shoulders rose and fell when he heaved a ragged sigh, and stared down at the fresh grave beneath him.
"But Lucien is innocent."
"They don't want Lucien, they want the girl." Montcalm said. "They say it’s a matter of pride—a matter of honor."
He knelt, and wiped the dirt away from the marker at his feet. He looked feeble and frail, and Jacques watched his hand tremble, as it passed over the inscription.
BELOVED SON
"Why can’t they just let it go?" Jacques asked.
"They can't be reasoned with," he said. "Most of them have the illness. It's like a poison coursing through their veins—like venom in their blood."
"I'm not going back there," Jacques said. "I'm a man and it's time I make my own decisions."
"Yes, you are, and I … am an old man."
Jacques leaned close, and caught his father’s elbow, when he struggled to rise.
"I also have some decisions to make," Montcalm said, "but for now, we’ll pick up the pieces, and try our best to move on."
******
Chapter 34 Thirty-One Days
It was early morning, and a month had gone by since her memory had returned. Alex was alone in the study, rolling the engagement ring, back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. He was waiting for her. He sat restless, shifting his crossed legs, from one to the other, and then back again.
Cracking his knuckles one at a time, they sounded like popcorn, reverberating off the quiet, oak-paneled walls. He stood and began to pace. Today was the day. The death of André had taken an emotional toll on her and he wanted to be sure she was ready, but he could not wait forever.
A month was thirty-one days too long.
Grace woke up late. Desperate and wide-eyed she slung open her closet to dig for the perfect pair of shoes. He was waiting, and she wanted to look her best. She stopped her search when her wedding dress caught her attention, the way it had every day for the past month. Before her memory returned, it was just a dress, disjointed from any emotional connection, but now it taunted her, like a schoolyard bully, making her feel unwanted and shunned.
With all of the time they had spent together in the past month, he had yet to breathe a word about their marriage—not a hint. Each day the unwanted feeling grew, like a leech in her gut, absorbing all of the happiness she swallowed, and spitting out nothing but misery. Her doubts and questions began to plague her without relief.
Is it Lucien? she wondered. Is Alex upset because he thinks something happened between us? Will he ever ask again? She tried to put her worries aside as she made her way down to greet him.
He buried the ring in his pocket when she came into the study, and it came to rest next to the buckeye he kept for good luck. She was beautiful as always, but in the past week, he’d noticed a subtle change in her mood. Although she tried hard to hide it, she seemed distant and sad.
Is it Lucien? he wondered as they pulled away from the drive. Despite the fact that Lucien and Grace no longer dated, he continued to flirt without shame. He was relentless. Lucien refused to give up and Alex's patience was wearing thin. Once they were engaged; however, his flirting was going to stop—one way or another. He wanted today to be perfect, but thoughts of uncertainty began to intrude when her mood deteriorated over the course of the drive. Have I done something to upset her? Will she even say yes if I ask again?
She watched him closely as he drove, and became more emotional as the time wore on. Every facial expression, every move he made, every breath he took, she analyzed. Her paranoia increased and her baseless suspicions grew wilder. He acted nervous—was he considering ending their relationship? He’s relaxed—is it because he will be free from her soon? He was smiling excessively—does he enjoy the thought of dumping her?
By the end of their drive, she was more than convinced that he did not love her anymore. Her fears compounded when they arrived at the lodge. He scowled and looked toward the sky as he came around and opened her door. Her eyes welled red and glimmered with unshed tears, but she hid them from him when he swung her down from the truck. He wove his fingers through hers, and pulled her along behind him toward the meadow.
The mid-summer azaleas had lost their blooms, and leafy green shrubs took their place. The primrose and honeysuckle had vanished with the spring, and a rolling mantle of soft clover flowers puffed over the meadow like nature’s down quilt.
Dark blue circles splattered his light blue shirt when the first drops of rain began to fall. He frowned again and grumbled. His eyebrows furrowed and he gritted his teeth at his irritating stroke of bad luck. Unaware of his foul expression, and the emotional state of the girl by his side, he glanced down to see her face wet with tears.
"Grace?" he questioned.
The rain began to roll in thick waves over them but he paid no attention. He stood worried and confused looking down at her crying, and he had no idea why.
"Please … don’t cry." He reached down and wiped her cheek. "What’s wrong?"
She turned away from him, and started toward the truck, in an attempt to escape from the rain, and to run far away from the inevitable.
She only made it a few steps.
"Wait!" he called from behind her over the loud pouring rain.
She stopped and stood still, but was afraid to turn back.
"Grace?"
"No, please don't," she begged and she hung her head without turning around.
"No? But—
"Please don’t do this," she said. Black lines of mascara raced down her cheeks, and smeared, leaving large dark smudges when she reached up to wipe her face.
"Grace, please .…"
She gathered her courage and turned to face him. Her eyes followed as he knelt in front of her. He buried his knee in a thick puddle of mud. His soaking wet hair stuck flat to his head. The rain rolled in rivulets down the sides of his face, and ran like a river down his neck. His precious blue eyes looked up at her … questioning. Between his fingers, he held a ring, in a hand that shook with uncertainty.
"Please …." he begged over the roaring downpour, "whatever it is I’ve done to upset you … I’m sorry. I love you!" Confusion filled his expression and his voice cracked with emotion, as he struggled to be heard over the rain. "Please, I have to know …." He paused, hung his head low, and t
ook a deep breath, as if preparing for an invisible blow.
"Will you marry me?"
He looked up, and held his breath and waited. She stood silent. Her green eyes were wide and tinged red with emotion. Her trembling hands covered her face and hid an expression that he desperately needed to see. The rain fell in a solid mass around her, like drapes, soaking her white flowered sundress. Her skirt hung limp and stuck to her legs. Cascades of water poured from the ends and formed a large puddle at her feet. Rain splashed her sandals with thick gritty mud, and covered her shiny pink toenails. His heart beat slow and hard in his chest, and he started to fear the worst.
"Grace?" His stomach knotted in desperation when he stood up to ask again. "Please … I love you. Will you marry me?"
She nodded her head, unable to speak, and her hands still covered her mouth.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Yes!"
He took her hand and slid the ring on her finger. She threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her feet from the ground. He swung her around in the dense pouring rain, but slipped in the wet grass and fell.
He lay flat on his back, still holding her close, not wanting to ever let go. He smiled, and rolled her over to the ground beneath him. He reached down and picked a fat white clover flower. He placed it behind her ear and pressed his lips to her mud-splattered cheek.
"I’m ready," he murmured in a low throaty growl, "right this second—to make a certain kind of memory, that I guarantee, you’ll never forget."
******
Chapter 35 Vegas
The night was interesting, to say the least, and Lucien had just gone to sleep when the alarm startled him awake. It was five a.m. and his flight would be leaving in a few hours. Vacation was at an end, and Vegas had been very good to him. It was a relaxing conclusion to an otherwise brutal month. He was well enough now and in one more week, it was back to work. He picked up his phone, and it lit the room when he turned off the alarm. He hesitated to put it down when the picture of her smiling face greeted him.
He took a deep breath and blew out a wistful sigh. She was beautiful. He kept the photo because he loved her still, although she belonged to another. He gazed at it with longing for a moment, and wondered what might have been. Still, even now, he refused to lose hope, that maybe one day—
"Do you have to leave so soon?"
The voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts.
Sometimes, he thought, life still throws an old dog a bone.
He rolled over and flashed a brilliant smile at the two women next to him.
"For you ladies," he said. "I can stay … for just a little while longer."
The End
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About the author:
K. R. Rowe spent her childhood in the scenic city of Chattanooga, and later relocated to East Ridge, Tennessee. Her father was born and raised near Tellico Plains, in the heart of Tennessee’s tract of the Appalachian Mountains. With her mother’s South Carolina heritage, her southern roots run deep. From a very young age, her overpowering love of the mountains continues to draw her to them. When not tied to her desk, her free time with her family is often spent enjoying any activity that can take her far from the hustle and bustle of everyday life and into the peace of the forest.
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Acknowledgements:
Prologue
Chapter 1 The Lodge
Chapter 2 Tequila
Chapter 3 Betrothed
Chapter 4 Canada
Chapter 5 First Attempt
Chapter 6 The Near Confession
Chapter 7 Leave of Absence
Chapter 8 Deceit
Chapter 9 The Match
Chapter 10 Short Leave
Chapter 11 Abduction
Chapter 12 Pretense
Chapter 13 The Rescue
Chapter 14 Revenge
Chapter 15 The Party
Chapter 16 Ghost in the Battlefield
Chapter 17 Healing
Chapter 18 Memaw
Chapter 19 Warning
Chapter 20 The Tiger
Chapter 21 Like a Son
Chapter 22 Thunder Bay
Chapter 23 Montréal
Chapter 24 Taken Back
Chapter 25 Committed
Chapter 26 Competition
Chapter 27 Epiphany
Chapter 28 Second Chance
Chapter 29 Asylum
Chapter 30 The Decision
Chapter 31 Escape
Chapter 32 The Hospital
Chapter 33 Retribution
Chapter 34 Thirty-One Days
Chapter 35 Vegas