“Coming with you.”
“I thought I told you to stay put.”
“You did.”
“Then why aren’t you put?”
“Because I want to come with you.”
“Woman, you are the most pigheaded—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look, my knees are bruised, my stockings are ruined and my girdle is killing me and my strapless dress is no longer modest. Can we move it along?”
“Taking the dress thing into consideration, I could be persuaded to stay…”
“Move it,” she commanded.
With a grin, Ian began to crawl, muttering all the while about stubborn women. Jerkily, Juliet teetered along on her hands and knees behind him until they reached the end of the corridor. There, they found another, identical alcove with a vent leading to another room.
“Where does this vent go?”
“Into the ballroom.”
“What do you see?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“No one.”
“No one?”
“Empty.”
“…empty?”
Ian turned to stare at her.
“Would you stop?”
“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”
“As far as I can tell, people have left the ballroom. I can only guess that they have been moved to some other quadrant of the house.”
“It’s really quiet.”
“Yeah. Let’s keep moving. Maybe there is something around the corner.”
Juliet fell in behind him until Ian abruptly stopped and bent back to peer into her face.
“What’s wrong? Why did you stop? Bats? Please, tell me, it’s not bats.”
“No. My shoelace. You are on my shoelace. Would you—”
“Get off your shoelace?”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Oh.”
Ian leaned ever closer and his breath stirred the hair at the side of her face. “Would you go out to dinner with me when this is all over? To, you know, celebrate being alive and everything.”
“If we’re still alive, sure.” She could sense his grin.
“How do you feel about Florence?”
“Italy?”
“I’m partial to Italian food.”
“Then I’ll make us a lasagna. Costco. Ten bucks. They’re really good. You don’t have to fly me around, and spend a bunch of money to impress me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m already impressed.”
“Me, too,” he whispered. “Me, too.”
Chapter 4
“Listen,” Ian said.
From rooms beyond the ballroom, they could hear the workings of the Chekagovians tearing the place apart and herding people into smaller rooms. Muffled conversation between at least a half-dozen men rose and fell.
“I think they have stationed guards at all the entrances to the ballroom.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t go out there. At least not now.”
“Me, too.”
Juliet rested her chin on his shoulder as she peered through the vent. “We don’t have a phone and there are guards at the doors. Any ideas?”
Ian bunched his shoulders. “I’m stumped.” The flashlight’s beam illuminated the crawl space’s walls and ceiling. The plywood catwalk did not continue on around the corner. “We seem to have reached the end of the road here.”
“Mmm. What should we do now?”
“Wait until they move away from the doors, I guess. Then maybe I can sneak out unobserved. I don’t know just yet. I have to think. Let’s go.” He gestured for her to return to the coats.
Juliet groaned as she wobbled about-face and led the way back. “I sure hope this mess doesn’t take too much longer. I was on my way to the bathroom when Liza dragged me over to meet you.”
“Possibly saved your life,” he said. “You gonna be okay?”
“Just trying not to think about waterfalls. And oceans. And rain showers. And,” she battled back her emotions, “you know, my little sister. This is the first day of the rest of her life, and now this. Some wedding night, huh?”
“Not the kind I have planned for when I get married, I’ll tell you that,” Ian said as they crawled into their places among the coats. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Juliet settled into his lap and after he draped them in several coats, he circled her waist with his arms.
“What do you have planned?” she murmured.
“Well, I haven’t actually planned it yet, but I can tell you it would be just me. And my wife. And a bed. That’s about it. Location wouldn’t really matter.”
“Ah.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes, cheering some at this interesting thought. “Sounds like fun.”
“That, I could guarantee.”
Juliet let loose with a little snort of laughter.
“What?”
“You are just so cocky.”
“Not cocky. Confident.”
“Whatever.”
She snuggled more firmly against him, already familiar with his scent. And his feel. And the steady, comforting beat of his heart. They fit together very nicely, dovetailing plane to curve as if they had been created just for the purpose of holding each other.
“What do you have in your purse?”
“Why?”
“Just wondered if you had anything besides pepper spray or brass knuckles as weapons. I don’t suppose you’re toting a machine gun?”
“Sorry. Not at this reception.”
“How about a fresh phone battery?”
“Nope.”
“A steak dinner?”
“Noooo, but…let me see.” Juliet found her purse against the wall and sitting up, emptied its contents into her lap.
Ian pointed the flashlight’s beam as they explored. Lipstick, comb, compact, a mangled chocolate protein bar, wallet, keys, identification. Ian held up her driver’s license.
“Hmm…let’s see.”
She tried to grab it back. “Gimme that! You’re not supposed to look at personal stuff like that until I’ve known you for at least two more hours!”
“Why not? Says here that you are five foot six. Is that true? You look taller.”
“Heels.”
“Oh. How about this one-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound part here?” He was clearly skeptical.
“So, I lied. All women do.” She huffed at his audacity.
“Why would you want people to think you weigh more than you do?”
She swallowed. “…More?”
“You couldn’t be more than a hundred pounds, soaking wet.”
“Are you trying to get on my good side?”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re prettier in real life.” He squinted at the license, and then at her. Your birthday is in January? The eleventh, I see.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll have to celebrate when we get out of here.”
“Oh, we’ll celebrate all right.”
“We’ve been in here for over an hour.”
“Seems like a lifetime,” Ian announced in a hushed voice. “I still can’t believe we heard singing Christmas carols. I wonder if they were trying to send a message to the police.”
“I just hope they don’t get themselves in trouble. But it hasn’t been that bad being stuck in here with you, all things considered. Could be worse.”
“Oh, yeah. Other than the circumstances, it’s been a swell first date.” She could make out his grin in the dim glow of the flashlight.
“So, all together there are five in your family?”
“Mm-hum.” Juliet nodded. “How many in yours?”
“Only four. My sister and me, and my mom and dad.”
“Everyone still alive?”
“So far.”
Juliet sighed heavily. “Yeah.”
“You’re the old maid,” Juliet gloated. They’d found a small deck of playing cards in a pocket of one of the coats they’d grabbed.
“I beg your pardon? I’m the old bachelor.”
“Why does that sound so much more glamorous than old maid?”
“Being an old bachelor is not all sunglasses and autographs. Sometimes I’m actually bored. And lonely.”
“Oh, poor baby.”
“You say that like you don’t believe me.”
“A handsome guy like you? I’d think you had women all over you, all the time.”
“You certainly didn’t seem all that impressed when we first met.”
“I said you were handsome. I didn’t say personable.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh, come on. Admit it, you came across like a mackerel on ice.”
“Keep sweet-talking me like that and I’ll ravage you here and now.”
Juliet giggled. “Holy mackerel.”
Ian chuckled, then whispered, “I came across that way because I didn’t want you to know that I found you attractive.”
Juliet poked his ribs with her elbow.
“It’s true. You must have noticed I couldn’t stop staring.”
“I thought it was because I had toilet paper clinging to my shoe, or something stuck in my teeth.”
Ian laughed.
“So. Fess up. Do you have women all over the place?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve been too busy building my business to concentrate on building relationships. My sister is always harping on me to get married and settle down. Have a few kids. Never really seemed that important to me, until…now.”
“Now?” Juliet touched her tongue to her lips. “Uh, why now?”
“I don’t know.” Ian rocked her a bit, then rested his chin at the top of her head and attempted a bit of levity. “Life and death situations always put me in a reflective frame of mind. This makes me realize that my priorities might not be in the right order.”
“Yeah.” Deep in thought, Juliet tore open the wrapper on the diet bar from her purse and offered Ian a bite.
“No thanks. I’ll just wait for them to kill me, thank you anyway.”
“What are you talking about? These are good. Chocolate and soy protein powder. Delicious and good for you.”
“Gack.”
Juliet shrugged and bit the end off her bar. “Anyway, I know what you mean about reexamining your life. For years now, my career has been everything to me. But ever since Samantha began talking about her own wedding, I’ve had an…I don’t know…a yearning, for lack of a better word…it’s silly.”
“No it’s not. I know what you mean, though I’d never have admitted that until just now.”
“You ever come close to getting married before?”
“Twice.”
“What happened?”
“Well, the first time, I was seven. I fell madly in love with Alexa ‘Hotlips’ Madison in the first grade. She used to chase me around the playground, and when she caught me, she’d pick me up and shake me till my teeth rattled and then kiss me senseless. What a woman. She was about a head taller than I was and we were inseparable. We lost our teeth together, scraped our knees together, traded lunches and played house. I called her toots, which she loved, and she called me honey. We pinkie swore we would marry when we were grown up or in the sixth grade.”
“What happened?”
“She moved. I was heartbroken. Took me a week to get over her.”
“A whole week?”
“I’ve matured.”
“So, tell me about your second time.”
“I was in college. This time, I knew it was for real. For life. Her name was Liv.” Ian paused, then continued, “which was ironic, as she contracted leukemia right after college and died three days before we were supposed to be married.”
“How awful!”
“Yeah.”
They didn’t speak for a reflective moment.
“What about you?” he finally asked.
“Me? Well, yes, I was in love several times. At one time or another, I was in love with all The New Kids on the Block.”
“You come from a big neighborhood?”
Juliet laughed in spite of the dire situation going on somewhere beyond the walls. “No, silly, that old band, not the neighbors. Surely you heard of the New Kids?”
“Uh, I was more into grunge as a kid. Although, you could take the fact that I just bought another Sinatra CD as a sign that I’m getting old.”
“I love Sinatra. And Tony Bennett.”
“Mmm. Back then, they knew how to sing.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, that was a very evasive answer, Miss Cosgrove. Who were you really in love with?”
“Well, if we’re going back to first grade, then it had to be Johnny Loika. Second grade was Jeff Roth. Third grade was Brett Canova. Fourth grade was Deuce Marion. Fifth grade was Marty Oui, ooo, that man could allemande left in square dance class. In sixth grade, it was Phillip Leopold…”
“You were kind of fickle, huh?”
“Yeah, but I’ve matured.”
“Ever been engaged?”
“Yes.”
“Married?”
“Other than to my work, no.”
“What happened to the fiancé?”
“Hmm. How can I put this without seeming like a bitter harridan? He was a cheating, lying, thieving jerk, and those were his good qualities.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re not him. At first I thought you were, but you’re not. Parker would have used me as a shield, when the shooting started.”
“You ever think you’ll get married?”
“You know, even though I sound like…”
“A bitter harridan?”
“Shut up.” She reached up and gave his cheek a playful smack. “Anyway, it’s funny, but earlier, when I was watching Samantha take her vows with Jesse, I knew that they had the kind of love that would sustain them through anything. It’s a really pure, perfect love. I envy them that. I think if I ever found my soulmate, I’d want to hang on to that. So, yes. My answer is yes. What about you?”
“Same.”
“I wonder what’s taking the cops so long to bust in here?” Ian was growing impatient.
Juliet shrugged. “We could probably hear a lot more if this place wasn’t so well insulated.”
“No doubt. So.” Ian shifted his position so that he could better see into Juliet’s face. “How many kids do you want?”
“Hmmm… Three, I think. One of each.”
“Ha, ha. What will you name them?”
“Well, if it’s a girl, Beulah-Frenealla. And if it’s a boy, Boceefus-Bob.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Oh? What say would you have in the matter?”
“I could not, in good conscience, let you scar your children for life.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“William, after my grandfather. And, Liv.”
“So, I’m naming my kids after your grandfather and an old girlfriend? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, but can you sing the theme song at the end of the show?”
“Wasn’t it the same thing?”
“Sheyeah—” Juliet snorted “—not.”
“Okay, Miss know-it-all thang, you sing it.”
“‘No phones, no lights, no motorcars, not a single luxury, like Robinson Crusoe, it’s primitive as can be.’”
“Kind of like this place.”
“Yeah. Where’s the Professor when you need him?”
Silence reigned as they resurfaced to reality.
They’d been here for ages, and still the confusion raged off in the distance.
Juliet’s tongue clicked as she expelled a nervous sigh.
Ian drummed his fingers.
The walls seemed to close in. Suddenly, it seemed stuffy. As if there wasn’t enough air.
Ian couldn’t stand the waiting any longer. “I think it might be time to go check on our party crashers.”
“What do you mean, ‘go check’? You’re not leaving?”
“I can’t stay in here forever.”
“Why not?”
“If I can escape, I could get the police access to the cameras positioned throughout the house.”
“No! That’s stupid. Stay here with me. We still haven’t sung the theme to Mister Ed yet.”
Gently, Ian stroked her arms. “I know. But there will be plenty of time to do that later. Right now, there are people in this house waiting for help. And frankly, none seems to be coming. I have an idea, but you’ll need to stay here and wait for me.”
“And what if I don’t want to.”
Ian raked his hands through his hair. “Woman, really, you vex me.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Somehow, coming from you, I don’t mind. Listen. I don’t want to leave either. But someone has to do something. It may as well be me. At least I have some training in security measures and—”
“Jesse works for the NSA, let him do it! He’s the expert!”
“He’s also most likely a hostage, which is why we need to make a move. Soon. Before too much more time passes. Before the eye of the storm blows over.”
“But I haven’t told you what kind of house I want, yet. And about the station wagon, and the car-pooling and the after-school sports. I have a lot of priorities that still need sorting. Why don’t you stay and help me do that, before you go out there.” She circled his biceps with her arms and pressed her cheek to the strength she felt there.
Ian kissed the top of her head. “You want a Federal-style minimansion in Virginia. To go with your minimansion, you need a minivan. Seven passenger. For all the kids, dogs and groceries. I’ll help you with the car-pooling and coaching the after-school sports.”
“You will, why?”
“Because it will be my responsibility, as their father.”
“Is this a proposal?”
“Why not? We’ll have the wedding here, hopefully sans party crashers.”
“When?”
“Well, since I’ve turned gray in the past several hours and neither of us is getting any younger, I vote for next Christmas. That should give us plenty of time to convince everyone that you’re not pregnant, throw a wedding together and pick names for our first two offspring.”
“Okay. It’s a date. So, in order to do this, you can’t go out there and get yourself killed.”
“I promise. I promise you, and I promise our children.” He nuzzled her neck and growled like Arnold, “I’ll be back.”
Unable to stand the tension, Juliet broke down and cried.
Ian kissed her cheeks, tasting the salty tracks of her tears. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” he whispered.
“No.” She wiped her face on his shirt. “But I do believe in loathe at first sight, but they say those emotions are very closely related.”
“Did you loathe me at first sight?” Ian was wounded.
“Yes. I thought you were a boob.”
“And now?”
“I think I love you, you boob. You know,” she hiccupped, “as much as I can love you, given we’ve known each other for only a night.”
“Yes, but what a night. More emotion-packed than some folk’s lifetime. So…you love me.”
“What’s not to love?”
He gave his shoulders an I-dunno.
They both laughed to belie the seriousness of the situation. And the conversation.
“Are you sure I can’t go with you? I think I’ll go crazy, sitting in here by myself.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“If I can get into the kitchen, I think I can get out the back door and to the patio unnoticed, if I time it right. The door is only about ten yards from that vent. This time, you are not to follow me. Understand?”
Juliet didn’t answer.
“Juliet, if you do, you could get us both killed.”
“Okay,” she murmured brokenly. Her lower lip quivered and she clung to Ian, even as she gave him permission to go.
With a groan, Ian gathered her into his arms and they shared one last kiss.
Juliet ran her fingers along the stubble of his jaw. “Do you believe in heaven?”
“Yes.”
“They say it’s like falling in love, only a zillion times better. And without the anxiety.”
“Wow. It sounds wonderful. But, you know, don’t go there. Not just yet, I mean. Wait for me. When we’re old. Reeeeeeallly old. Let’s do it then. After Boceefus has made us great-grandparents.”
“You got a date.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “But if something does happen, I’ll meet you just outside the pearly gates, and we’ll go in together.”
“Okay.” Juliet whispered.
“Later.”
And he was gone.
The waiting was killing Juliet. She’d only been alone for about five minutes at the most, but it was truly the longest five minutes of her life. She crouched at the vent, snuggled in Ian’s jacket, breathing in his scent and straining to hear.
Nothing.
Where in the world was he?
She should go after him.
What if he needed help?
At least he had the brass knuckles and the pepper spray. That was something. But would it be enough?
She pressed her ear to the vent and listened to the silence, until a shot had her muffling a scream into the sleeve of a mink coat. This was no champagne cork.
Unfortunately, she knew the difference.
Chapter 5
It was just after 2:00 a.m. on Christmas day.
Just after Ian left, there had been gunfire and a lot of shouting but surprisingly enough—given that she was a screamer—Juliet had managed to stay remarkably calm.
She knew in her heart that Ian had escaped.
He’d promised he would. He’d promised on their children’s future, which in other circumstances, would have seemed absurd, but not now.
Not on Christmas day.
From the relative safety of her nest, Juliet squinted at shadows in the rafters that she was sure must be hanging bats. Or perhaps they were simply roofing trusses, but it was hard to tell in this light. No matter. Very soon, help would be on the way. She had every reason to believe. And the shots? Simply a warning, she’d deduced. No doubt, when those gun-wielding blowhards had discovered he’d gotten away they’d fired off some shots to scare him, but then—a slow grin crept across her lips—they didn’t know what they were dealing with in Ian Rafferty. Ian didn’t scare easily, Juliet thought as she remembered the granite set of his jaw.
He was tough. Resourceful. Strong. If anyone could get away, Ian could.
Right now, she pictured him discussing everything that had happened with the authorities. Any minute now, this rebel faction would be taken into custody and all of the hostages, herself included, would be set free.
It would simply be a matter of moments. Perhaps…longer.
She glanced at her watch.
Time was sure dragging. There had to be something wrong with her watch. Holding her wrist to her ear, she listened to the steady ticking. But the hands didn’t seem to be moving. Odd. She sighed. Maybe the battery was dying. Hours ago, she’d polished off the last of the protein bar and her stomach growled. She should have eaten more at the reception. But she was trying to trim off a few pounds, as usual, and had passed up a delicious prime rib buffet in favor of a blasted veggie plate.
Her mouth watered and she could fairly smell the prime rib. She wondered what the Chekagovian men had done with that because it was better than thinking about the bathroom. Oh, the bathroom.
The bathroom.
The bathroom.
Cinched tightly at her waist, her girdle wasn’t helping matters, but she was afraid to remove it, for fear the bad guys would discover her. A girdle around the ankles would make it impossible to run. She burrowed farther into the nest of coats and again, silently thanked Ian for thinking to make this place comfortable. At least under this downy pile she could hide from the bats that she was sure were eyeballing her neck.
A wide, shuddering yawn racked her body.
She was tired. It had been a long day. And last night, she’d stayed up till all hours gabbing with Samantha about the wedding. And marriage. And love.
She wished she’d known then what she knew now. That conversation would have been a lot more meaningful. At least for her.
Juliet jolted awake. Fumbling under the coats she found her watch and illuminated its dial. 2:45 a.m.
How on earth had she let herself fall asleep? She berated herself even as she stretched and tried to recall the fleeting remnants of a most wonderful, sexy dream of Ian.
What had she missed while she was asleep? she wondered and gave her face a vigorous rub with her palms. Was it over? Could she leave now? Hunger rumbled in her stomach and her bladder had been pushed to the limits of the Dutch Boy’s dike. Maybe she should just crawl out of the crawl space and into the closet. She could listen very carefully before she slipped into the bathroom…on the other hand, being shot at by foreign rebels while perched on the potty was low on her list of glamorous demises. Even if it was for her country.
She picked at a hangnail till it bled, then stuck her finger in her mouth. Surely, she’d slept through the rescue and it was time to go.
Then again, Ian told her to stay put until he came to get her. He had been very serious about that. Pushing the furs and coats aside, Juliet crawled to the vent and pressed her ear against the louvered metal. It was eerily quiet. Off, beyond the ballroom, there was the low rumble of men’s voices. But whose?
Since she couldn’t be sure, she decided it best to wait for Ian. He wouldn’t forget her. Of that, she was certain.
Back to the coats she crawled and sat, legs crossed.
Under her breath, she hummed the theme to Mister Ed.
He wouldn’t forget.
Unless he got really busy saving people’s lives.
Of course, of course.
Maybe he was comforting people. That would take time.
She rummaged around for the Old Maid cards and dealt them out in the dim light of her key ring’s flashlight. She’d play for Ian, as he was certainly out there, helping to arrest the bad guys. There was a lot to do that would keep a guy busy.
After she’d tied Ian, two games-all, another glance at her watch told Juliet that only ten lousy minutes had passed.
Where was he?
Soon, the sun would rise in the east and it would be morning. For pity’s sake, Santa could have arrived and rescued her by now.
The early mornings of Christmas past played in her mind. There, she could see herself and Samantha and her baby brother, Max, as children, all getting up before dawn—about this time in fact—and tearing into the presents. Then, they’d have their traditional Christmas brunch, honey-cured ham, cranberry sauce, and freshly baked sourdough bread with tons of creamy butter, fresh fruit and coffee. Hot, steaming coffee. Umm.
Man, she was really hungry.
Plumping a coat, she fashioned a pillow and lay back down. Perhaps sleep would help pass the time. That way, she could dream. Of Ian. Of her childhood.
Of her and Ian’s children.
Little Willie and what’shername.
Really—Juliet tugged a fluffy hood up over her head and tied the strings under her chin—it was so cold without Ian’s body warmth. So scary, without his confident strength. So lonely without his distracting conversation. It was quite amazing how much she missed him and how she’d never formed so many deep emotions toward a person in such a short time.
Drifting off on the sea of her confusion, she slept fitfully until some noises inside her closet had her wide-awake, heart pounding and wondering if the terrorists were back. She peered through the blackness.
Ian. Ian. Ian. Where was Ian?
It was just after 3:00 a.m.
Frozen, she sat burrowed under the coats and listened.
Men were speaking just outside the vent.
In English!
Like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon, she threw back the coats, tugged her dress up under her armpits and smoothed back the static in her hair. She knew she must look a fright and hated that Ian would see her this way. But surely it was nothing that a few moments in the powder room couldn’t restore to rights.
“She’s somewhere in here, back behind a vent in the corner.” Juliet heard someone say.
“Yes, yes, here I am.” Bursting with joy, she scrambled to the vent and began tearing away the bats of insulation and chunks of wood they’d used to seal the area off. “In here,” she cried.
Out in the closet, the light flipped on and there were sounds of men clearing the rubble to make a path.
When the vent finally popped open, Juliet blinked into the brightness, her smile a mile wide. Ian was back, just as he’d promised.
“Juliet?”
“Yes,” she breathed, as the silhouette against the bright light came into focus.
“Are you all right?” the voice asked. A deep male voice that—oddly enough—did not belong to Ian.
Juliet blinked, trying to reconcile this new turn of events. “Uh, yes?” She poked her head out of the vent and her heart skipped a beat as the realization finally dawned that the man standing before her was not Ian, but instead, a man whose name was embroidered on his SWAT team jacket.
Kurt Hoffman.
Not Ian Rafferty.
“Where’s Ian?” she asked Kurt as she eased her body out of the vent hole while at the same time trying to maintain her dignity. “Is Ian here?”
“Here, let me assist you,” Kurt murmured and averted his eyes as he bent to give her a hand.
“Thank you.”
That he wouldn’t meet her eyes, as he led her out of the closet was Juliet’s first clue that something—other than the fact that she was having trouble keeping her top up—was amiss. The moisture suddenly evaporated from her mouth, leaving her tongue stiff and unable to form words. Her heart swelled to twice its size, crowding her stomach and throat, and the backs of her eyes stung with tears.
Where was Ian?
Why wasn’t anyone saying anything?
As Kurt Hoffman led her from the closet, around the corner and into the ballroom proper, Juliet was amazed at the transformation that had taken place. The room, just hours ago teeming with celebrating humanity, was now eerily void of humanity. Broken glass and party debris littered the floor and the beautiful decor had fallen victim to vandals. Areas had been cordoned off with yellow DO NOT CROSS and CRIME SCENE police tape, and the forensics team and a photographer gathered evidence.
Juliet stopped dead in her tracks as she spied a puddle of blood and instinctively knew that it was Ian’s.
“No,” she whispered, then pressed her palm over her mouth as a keening wail built in her gut. “Noooo!” she howled and crumpled into Kurt’s waiting arms.
As Kurt rocked Juliet, he did his best to reassure her with the sketchy knowledge he’d been given.
“It’s true. Ian’s been shot. We don’t know how bad it is, yet. He’s at the District Medical Center headed for surgery. But Juliet, you must know that it was because of his heroic effort several of the SWAT men were able to finally enter the house. And just now, before the anesthesiologist put him under, he regained consciousness and told us where you were. That’s why it’s taken so long to come for you. I’m sorry.”
Blurry-eyed, Juliet stared up at him, and then blinked around the room, trying to digest what she’d just been told.
Ian was alive. That was all that mattered.
Kurt fished a handkerchief from his pocket and, as he led Juliet out of the house, her mother spied her from across the front walk and squealed with relief. Both of her parents, her sister Samantha, still in her wedding gown, and her brother, Max, rushed across the sprawling lawn and enfolded her in a family hug.
“Oh, my darling, sweetheart!” Ellen Cosgrove cried and sniffed as she attempted to run her fingers through Juliet’s tangled hair. “We were so terrified for you. We had no idea where you were…” She crushed Juliet to her ample bosom and blubbered. “Tell her, Walter.”
Her father, never one much for emotion, swiped at an errant tear. “I hear you were held captive behind the staircase?”
“I hid there, yes. With a security man. Ian Rafferty. He’s the one who was shot.”
“How are you, honey?” Samantha asked, and plucked some of the larger cobwebs and dust bunnies from her sister’s hair.
“Fine.” Though it was what her family needed to hear, it was the furthest thing from the truth. In reality, she was dying. She couldn’t believe that Ian may have been snatched away from her just as she’d found him.
Ellen dabbed at the brackish makeup that flowed from her eyes with a tattered tissue and, as Juliet looked into her mother’s fear-ravaged face, she could commiserate. There was nothing more terrifying than wondering and worrying about someone that you cared for. Juliet was learning that firsthand right this very minute.
Awkwardly, her father wrested her away from her mother’s clutches and into his own embrace. “I love you, honey.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Juliet cried into the ruffles of his tuxedo shirt. “I love you, too. All of you.”
“I think we all need some rest,” her mother prescribed.
Taking charge seemed to make her feel a little calmer. “Come with us, darling. Walt, find her wrap. Max, pull the car around. Samantha, darling, you and Jesse get to the hotel. This nightmare is over.”
Seeing how upset Juliet was, Samantha intervened. “Mom, if it’s okay with you, I’d like Juliet to stay with me. Jesse has wisely decided to postpone our honeymoon until this mess is sorted out. And since Jesse still has business here to attend and, since it’s almost morning anyway, I can take her to the hospital.”
“The hospital?” Ellen gasped. “Whatever for?”
“Mom, one of Jesse’s oldest and closest friends, Ian Rafferty, and the man who saved Juliet’s life—not to mention the rest of us—is in surgery right now. I’m sure Juliet would like to check in on him.”
Juliet sent her sister a grateful glance, amazed at the fine, sensitive woman she’d become.
“Oh. Well. Of course.” Ellen nodded, though clearly befuddled by her grown daughters and their plans. “Well, at least come over for Christmas dinner tonight since you and Jesse are postponing your honeymoon.”
“We’ll keep you posted, Mom.”
They bid their goodbyes and again rejoiced that the whole family was intact.
Once they’d arrived at the hospital, Samantha led Juliet, still dazed and confused, to a lobby bath and closed the door behind her, for privacy. Having finally, and blessedly, done her business, Juliet moved to the sink and let her tears flow down the drain with the water. After a good hard cry, she propped her hands on the porcelain and lifted her gaze to the mirror.
There, she stared at her reflection and was amazed to discover that she’d aged at least ten years overnight. Her face was drawn and haggard and there were dark circles under her puffy eyes. The hairdo she’d spent a fortune on arranging was covered with debris. And, it seemed fairly certain that she would be retiring the torn and stained bridesmaid dress for good after today. She dampened a paper towel with icy water and, squeezing it out, pressed it to her face.
When she’d sufficiently regained her faculties, she joined her sister in the lobby. Samantha, who had located Ian’s room led her to the elevator. As the doors hushed closed, Juliet fell against her sister’s shoulder and sobbed, while Samantha, usually the flighty younger sister, stroked her hair and murmured reassurances.
“Ian was shot, wasn’t he?”
Samantha gave her an imperceptible nod, her face filled with tenderness and sorrow.
“Is he—” Juliet couldn’t bring herself to utter the unthinkable.
Samantha lifted and dropped a hand. “We don’t know yet, honey. We only know, it was…bad. We were told to stay in the waiting room on his floor until the surgeon could see us.”
Juliet’s lower lip trembled so that she couldn’t speak.
“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”
“He saved my life, Sam.”
“I know. His gesture was heroic and smart. Without his wits about him, and his bravery, a lot of people might have died. Because he distracted the guards, the SWAT team, who had slipped in through a basement passageway, was able to overtake them.”
Juliet sobbed and great patches of wet slowly grew on Samantha’s already soiled wedding dress. “He read a lot of Tom Clancy.”
“Mmm.” If Samantha didn’t understand the reference, she didn’t let on, but, instead, rocked her sister and held her close.
“Oh, Sam. I’m so sorry about your wedding.”
“Don’t be. Jesse and I are fine. Thankfully, everyone is fine. There was only one injury, and that was…”
“Ian.”
“Ian. Yes.”
The elevator doors opened and the two sisters stepped out.
By 9:00 a.m. that morning, Juliet was still at the hospital, still in her maid-of-honor gown, still wearing Ian’s tuxedo jacket. Though Samantha had encouraged her to run home for a quick, bracing shower and a change of clothes, Juliet had been too anxious to check on Ian’s condition to waste the time. But she made Samantha go home to spend time with her new husband.
Liza had also arrived at the hospital, despite the veritable blizzard conditions that raged outside. Together, they’d settled in a hallway just off the nurse’s station in hard metal chairs with pea-green Naugahyde pads and pretended to look at magazines while they waited for a report on how the surgery had gone.
Though it was early Christmas morning, no one seemed to notice. The Intensive Care Unit was a unique blend of bustling sobriety. Nurses rushed past in squeaking shoes, doctors carried clipboards and candy stripers wore smiles. The P.A. system paged in dulcet tones when a doctor was needed and elevator bells signaled the arrival and departure of visitors conversing in low murmurs. Gurneys, medical trays and wheelchairs were being wheeled in a constant traffic pattern down the black-and-white-checked linoleum floor.
But Juliet barely noticed.
Behind her, in the waiting room, Christmas music was piped in through round speakers in the ceiling panels. A group of men snoozed in front of a television as a ball game blared on ESPN. In a corner a mother and her two children opened a few Christmas gifts.
There was room in there for her to wait, but Juliet preferred to sit in the hallway. That way, she wouldn’t chance missing Ian’s surgeon pass by.
Since being transported to the hospital, Ian had been in surgery for five hours, then moved to recovery. They’d removed a bullet from the base of his spine, but that’s all anyone knew, or was willing to tell her, at this juncture.
It was so frustrating.
The redheaded nurse at the information desk was kind, but clearly tired of dispensing the same prognosis over and over again. Even if Juliet had claimed to be his fiancée, in order to gain a little more news.
Operating on only a few hours of fitful sleep, Juliet was nevertheless wired. Numb. Feeling almost as if she was watching a movie. Tears welled as she remembered the feel of Ian’s lips on her temple. Soothing, soft, sweet. She wanted to do the same for him now.
Liza reached out and patted her leg. “How you holding up, honey?”
Juliet glanced up and down the hall. Anywhere but into Liza’s compassionate eyes. That would be her undoing. “I’m okay.”
Liza, seated in a chair on her left, gave her tongue a skeptical click, but didn’t dispute. “You hungry?”
“No. Not now.”
“When you are, just let me know.”
“Okay.”
To distract, Liza said, “Jesse called Ian’s sister and let her know that he was here.”
Interest piqued, Juliet sat up a tad straighter. “Penelope? Doesn’t she live in Canada?”
“Yes.” Liza nodded. “Just up in Toronto. She’s making arrangements to fly down with her husband as soon as she can rustle up someone to take care of her children.”
Juliet dared a glance at Liza. “Did Penelope call their parents?”
“They are at their place on the French Riviera for the holidays, and so they won’t be able to make it back here as soon as Penelope will, but they are also on their way. Jesse arranged accommodations for them at the Marriott when they arrive. Maybe you should go home to freshen up a bit and get out of that dress. It can’t be comfortable.”
Juliet was suddenly reticent. “I don’t know if I can leave—”
Just then, a short, well-built balding man in his mid-thirties, wearing surgeon’s scrubs strode past them and into the waiting room. “Is there a Ms. Cosgrove here? Ian Rafferty’s fiancée?”
Liza turned to stare at Juliet who stood and rushed the few steps into the waiting room from the hall.
Juliet glanced at the redheaded nurse. “I’m his fiancée, yes.”
“Ah, good. Let’s have a seat, please.” The surgeon led them to a grouping of club chairs in a quiet corner near the window. Elbows to knees, he let a clipboard dangle in one hand as he leaned forward and looked earnestly at Juliet who’d perched in the chair opposite. “He came through the surgery about half an hour ago, and it will be some time before we know for sure, but the prognosis is not good.”
Chapter 6
Juliet’s knees wobbled as she stood beside Ian’s hospital bed and stroked his hair. According to the surgeon, “not good” meant near death. Possibly paralyzed.
Juliet could scarcely believe it.
Ian. So robust. Full of life. Even as he lay unconscious, he was a paragon of strength to her eyes. She drank in every detail now that they were in the bright hospital light. She could see the stubble at his chin, the strength of his jaw, and the heavy fringe of lashes that rested against his cheeks. His broad chest rose and fell with every breath.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he looked just great. Ready to spring out of bed and begin the day. The steady beep of the heart monitor contradicted the seriousness of the situation.
With her fingertips, she smoothed the errant locks of hair that fell across his forehead. A lone tear slipped down her cheek and splashed onto Ian’s. They’d told her she couldn’t stay long. That he needed rest and quiet. She only had a moment or two left to tell him a lifetime’s worth of aspirations. Intentions. Aversions.
He knew so little about her, and she needed him to know.
“Blue,” she murmured. “That’s my favorite color. And I hate turnips. But I love canned peas. I don’t know anything about sports, but I love to go to basketball games and scream until I’m hoarse. I’m very uncoordinated. I was a horrible cheerleader. I had to take my driver’s test four times. I love to sing, but I mangle all the words to most songs. You should also know that I’m a dog person. But cats are cool, too. When I was really little I had a guinea pig. Tiger Lilly. And I killed her. By accident. I left her cage in the…” Juliet’s lip trembled “…sun.
“Good grief. What a boob. Why am I telling you that? That’s a horrible thing to tell a man in your condition. Not that your condition isn’t good,” she backpedaled, just in case he could hear her. “I know you are a fighter. Fight, Ian. Fight. Go. Fight. Win. That’s—” she pressed her fingers to her lips “—from my rather ignominious stint at cheerleading.”
Ian didn’t answer. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t bat an eyelash.
His doctor had said that even if Ian did pull through the next two days, there was a pretty good chance that he might never walk again.
Ian’s plans for a long, busy life flashed through her mind and it struck her how one minute, a man could be standing in a ballroom, enjoying—okay, make that tolerating—a wedding reception and the next, fighting for his life in a hospital bed. How had this happened? Her eyes burned and her throat grew thick.
Just when she’d found her other half.
This.
Brokenly, she murmured to him, hoping to garner some kind of response.
“Ian, you big lug, you have to get better. I wasn’t kidding when I told you that, you know, that I love you. I know—” she sniffed and hiccupped a little laughter for his benefit “—it seems a little premature to make a declaration like that, but it’s true. I love you better than canned peas. Better than dogs. Better than…blue.
“You’re my knight in shining armor. Just like that Asian fairy tale, you saved my life and so now you own me. Or, uh, I own you. Or something. I’ll have to look that up, but anyway, you can’t bail out on me now. I mean, I’ve heard of all kinds of excuses for not having a relationship, but this? Don’t you think this is a bit extreme? You haven’t even given us a chance. Do that please. Give us a chance.”
With the backs of her fingers, she stroked his stubbled cheeks and babbled and blubbered, her resolve to remain strong crumbling with exhaustion and fear.
“We still have to have little William Boceefus and what’shername Beulah. And you…” she pleaded. Eyes, nose and mouth all running simultaneously had her wiping her face with his bed-sheet. “Well, you have to coach all the sports…and drive the car pool… Oh, Ian. Ian. Please, please don’t die….”
The nurse’s gentle hand on her shoulder let her know it was time to go home and get some much-needed sleep.
Juliet went home in a fog. She tossed the cabbie the contents of her wallet and bid him to keep the change, whatever that was. Leaving a string of footprints in the snow, she traversed her way to her door, fumbled with her key and made it to her couch where she flopped like a wet mop.
From where she sat, she could see the message light flashing on her answering machine and her desk, littered with books and manuscripts to read. All so very normal.
And all so very unimportant in the scheme of things.
Slowly, her eyes swept the wall, artfully arranged with framed awards for herself and her authors, newspaper articles regaling her successes, bestseller lists and other celebratory miscellany. Her career had afforded her a luxurious condominium in a trendy D.C. neighborhood. But her beautiful home was as sterile as an issue of House Beautiful. Completely void of the family clutter. Of love.
In a robotic fashion, Juliet hoisted herself off her couch and slogged to her bathroom where she removed her maid of honor dress and tossed it into the wastebasket. After checking the temperature of the shower, she slipped into the alcove and stood under the spray, willing it to wash away the horror of the last twenty-four hours.
But, of course, it didn’t.
Slowly sinking to the tiled floor, she sat and cried, her body heaving with heavy sobs.
Paralyzed.
A bout of sympathetic hypochondria assailed her and she tried to lift her own arms but couldn’t. Guilt filled her belly, nauseating her, making her head swirl. She should have been at his side. Maybe then, the bullet wouldn’t have hit him in the back. Maybe they’d have missed him altogether. If she’d been with him.
Going through the motions on autopilot, Juliet lathered her hair and rinsed away the crawl space grime from her body. After her shower, she dressed in a flannel nightie and fell into bed, where she lay, plagued by the sleeplessness that comes from overexhaustion.
Burrowed deep under her covers, she imagined Ian’s arms around her middle and absently wondered what the world record for falling in love was. And, if these feelings were reciprocated. Her mind strayed to Ian, lying there so helplessly, and wondered—if he lived—how he’d deal with his paralysis.
No matter. She was going to help him.
Together, they could get through anything.
They’d proved that, tonight.
It was dark when Juliet woke that Christmas evening. Disoriented and headachy, she flipped on her bedside lamp and phoned the hospital.
No change in Ian’s condition. The nurse advised her that since he was unconscious, spending Christmas with her family would be advisable.
Juliet disagreed but, since she knew her mother was expecting her, she grabbed a cab and headed to her parents’ D.C. house. They actually resided in Connecticut most of the time and were planning on selling this house now that Samantha had moved out.
She could hardly enjoy the sumptuous fare. A somber pall had descended over the holiday this year and the topic of conversation at the dinner table revolved around the bizarre terrorist incident all evening, completely overshadowing the joyous union of Samantha and Jesse the day before.
And though the newlyweds were still starry-eyed over each other, there were new lines furrowed into their young brows. All evening, everyone merely picked at their food and the gifts under the tree lay forgotten. Various friends and relatives, here in Washington D.C. for Samantha’s wedding, stopped by from time to time and there was much conversation and speculation on yesterday’s incident. Everyone seemed to have a different idea, a different account of what was going on and why.
In the background, the television was tuned to CNN and every time the subject fell upon the recent events, Juliet’s father would aim the remote like a seasoned gunslinger and the anchor’s voice would fairly rattle the windows.
“—Colton wedding reception and reports that George Kartoff, leader of the Chekagovian Freedom Fighters is still missing. Kartoff, the rebel mastermind who escaped with a priceless music box is considered armed and dangerous and most likely still in the United States.
“Kartoff is now on the FBI’s most wanted list in connection with this and other terrorist acts in Chekagovia. Apparently the key to the music box, which bears a wooden carving of the Christmas nativity, is also the key to a secret vault in Chekagovia that contains millions of dollars’ worth of gold bars.
“Helmut Ritka, a Chekagovian diplomat, was targeted by the terrorists—who claimed that Ritka has been ruining the Chekagovian financial infrastructure by siding with Western economic policies. The Chekagovian Freedom Fighters had demanded Ritka as their hostage, along with one million dollars, a private plane and an escort before they would release the wedding party and its guests. Now with his family at an undisclosed location, Ritka is resting comfortably, obviously relieved that the ordeal is over.
“In a related story, Ian Rafferty, millionaire, entrepreneur and well-known philanthropist, was shot in the back during the hostage situation early this morning.”
A picture of Ian flashed on the screen, and Juliet felt her heart stop as the anchor provided an update.
“Preliminary reports from District Medical Center state that Rafferty is in critical condition and facing possible paralysis. Rafferty, a wedding guest of Jesse and Samantha Colton, managed to distract the gunman, allowing entrance for a SWAT team and possibly saving lives.
“In other news, President—”
Walter Cosgrove snapped off the television. “Rafferty is a brave man. Anyone know how he’s really doing?”
Juliet was unable to completely keep the anguish from her response. “No change.”
Everyone exchanged curious looks over her emotional response, but no one said a word.
When family and friends had finally exhausted the topic, it was after midnight and that year’s holiday was now Christmas past. Though it had ended on a far different note than everyone had expected, there was a lot to be thankful for and the family spent a great deal of time counting their blessings.
Samantha and Jesse took Juliet by her condo, and then headed on home to the mansion, where they’d decided to stay with a rather large contingent of the DCPD and members of the FBI.
Juliet again pulled on her flannel nightie and crawled into her bed. She lay there and listened to the silence, accentuated by the snowfall outside and suddenly realized that she lived alone.
Completely alone.
Samantha had Jesse to turn to tonight. Her parents had each other.
Liza had Nick.
And she…had no one.
Not even a cat to greet her and make her feel missed.
All of a sudden, Juliet was lonelier than she’d ever been in her life. She flopped onto her side and stared out the window at the poetic “crest of the moon on the new-fallen snow.” She should have taken her parents up on their offer to spend the night at their house. She lay there for close to an hour when she finally forced herself to realize that sleep would not come softly this night. Reaching into her nightstand, she grabbed the remote and turned on CNN, glad for the company and hoping to catch Ian’s smiling face before she drifted off to sleep.
When she spotted him, she was once again riveted by the story of his heroism. Still, they had no news of his condition, other than the fact that he was in the hospital, recovering from surgery for the removal of a bullet near his spine.
His spine. How awful.
Closing her eyes, Juliet sent up a prayer for his recovery and for the doctors and nurses that were caring for him at this very minute.
What if he died?
What would she do then? He was the one. Of that, she was amazingly sure. How she knew was a mystery, but she knew. Deep in her heart, she felt their connection. It transcended anything logical. It transcended time.
She’d just found him.
And now, she faced losing him.
Juliet lay back on her pillows and pulled her comforter under her chin. As the anchors droned on about the terrorists, Juliet drifted off and finally slept the sleep of the dead.
Later that morning, when the sun streamed through holes in the snow clouds and caused the icicles to drip, drip, drip, and the street to become a slick sheet of danger, Juliet woke, turned off the TV and automatically reached for the phone.
“He’s regained consciousness, but he’s groggy and disoriented. The doctor is cautiously pleased with his progress.”
Somewhat relieved, Juliet got up, got dressed and decided she was going to the hospital to comfort Ian despite the icy conditions on the street. If she had to, she’d find a pickax and cleats and claw her way there.
However, before she could locate her boots, Liza dropped by and shoved a box from the bakery into her hands.
“Whoohoo, it’s not fit for man nor beastie out there!” Shrugging out of her heavy winter coat, Liza grinned and tamped her feet on the mat and clapped her hands together. She draped the dripping garment over a hook by the door and cupping her hands, blew. “Coffee,” she ordered, shivering.
“Coming up.” Juliet moved to the kitchen and Liza followed.
“You weren’t planning on going out in this weather, were you?” Liza demanded.
“You did.”
“Yes, but I’m nuts. You’re the sane one.”
Juliet sighed. “Not anymore.”
Outside the sound of an ambulance rushing to the scene of an accident filtered up from the street. The coffeepot began to perk, sending the aroma of fresh java throughout her home. Juliet opened the warm box and the scent of warm cinnamon rolls greeted her nose.
Making herself at home, Liza rummaged through Juliet’s cupboards for plates and forks and mugs and insisted that Juliet sit down and eat.
“You need to keep up your strength if you are going to be any good for Ian.”
Eager to get to the hospital, Juliet shot a longing look out the window.
“So, you want to tell me what exactly happened in that closet yesterday?”
Juliet turned to face Liza and looked her directly in the eye. “Liza, when did you know you were in love with Nick?”
“In love?” Liza pulled her chin into her neck and stared, openmouthed. “Ohhhh, my!”
“Yeah.”
“Well now…” Liza’s expression grew dreamy. “You know, Nick was my hero. He, in a way, saved my life, too. Or at least my career. He was the only doctor who could treat me and help me sing again. And not just sing, but really…sing, you know? So, I think that even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was in love with him from the very beginning. I think it’s a common occurrence for patients to fall for their physicians, though.”
“I’m glad Ian’s doctor is a short, balding man.”
Liza laughed. “Ahh, humor. That’s a good sign. So. While you were in the closet, you fell in love with our Ian? Tell Aunt Liza everything.”
“Stop.” Juliet laughed at her friend’s comical expression. “You know, it’s the most amazing thing. When I first met Ian, I thought he was a creep.”
“Really? But you two seemed to hit it off right away.”
“Liza, we were fighting like hissing cats.”
“I know. That’s how I knew you liked him.”
“You did?” Juliet scratched her head.
“Elementary, my dear. As in grade school. Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”
Juliet touched her fork to the frosting on her roll, then touched it to her tongue. “I think he noticed a breach in the security system and was suspicious of some men who arrived late and were acting oddly during the party. I didn’t notice any of those men, until he did. But I just thought he was using his work as an excuse to bail out on our conversation.”
With a clatter, Juliet dropped her fork to her plate since she wasn’t using it anyway and added a spoonful of sugar to her coffee.
“But, when the shooting started, he must have anticipated trouble, because he shoved me into a nearby closet. We found a vent in the back that led to a crawl space, and we hid in there for several hours. Liza, it was the longest night of my life. And that was all it took to lose my heart.”
Her eyes misted over and Liza reached out to pat her hand. “Mmm.”
“You know, I thought I knew what love was because of Parker, but I didn’t know diddly.”
“I had a feeling you two would hit it off. I just didn’t know you’d spend a night in the closet together. At least,” Liza joked, “not under these circumstances.”
Juliet’s smile was tremulous. “I’m so scared I’m going to lose him. Just when I found him.”
“I take it he feels the same way about you?”
“I think so. We’re going to have two children. A boy and a girl. He’s going to coach and drive car pool part of the time. We are going to buy a house in the country and I’m still going to work part-time.”
“Oh, my. You two have it bad.” Liza’s smile was wide with happiness and hope. “With those plans under his belt, I don’t see how he can fail to get well.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear.”
“Find your snowshoes and let’s get you to the hospital, to visit the father of your two children.”
Chapter 7
In the cab on the way to the hospital, Liza told Juliet, “Ian’s sister, Penelope, and her husband, Terry, are coming in late tonight and will be staying in a suite at the Marriott since that’s where Nick and I will be all this week and next anyway. You’ll really like his sister. She’s a kick. Spunky. Full of life.”
“Mm. Good. That’s exactly what we need.” Restlessly, Juliet twisted her gloved fingers together. She could get out and walk faster than this stupid cab was creeping down the street. “What about his parents?”
“They’re on their way, too. Their names are Donald and Barbara. Rafferty, of course. You’ll love them. Over the years, our families would vacation together up in Martha’s Vineyard from time to time. Anyway, they’ll be here first thing in the morning on December 27th, which is, uh, let’s see, tomorrow—” Liza glanced at her watch “—yeah, tomorrow, and they’ll check into the hotel, too. You want to come with me to meet them when they get here?”
“If it’s okay, yes.” Juliet pressed the sleeve of her coat to the car’s window and rubbed a little hole in the fog. “They’ll probably want to hear firsthand, about how heroic Ian was during the attack,” she murmured.
“No doubt. Are you sure you’re up for talking about it?”
“Um-hum. I want to help out any way I can. Especially with his family. I feel as if I know all about them already.”
Her grin lopsided with curiosity, Liza turned in her seat and stared at Juliet. “You guys did some pretty intense communicating there in the old closet.”
“Crawl space.”
“Whatever.”
“Yes.” Juliet smiled at Liza. “We…communicated.”
Liza held up her gloved fingers and ticked off items as she spoke. “Family history, future dreams, a house in the country, carpooling, two kids, a dog…so you must have discussed a wedding. When’s the date?”
“Actually we were thinking—”
Liza stared, agog. “I was kidding! You actually have a date?”
Juliet felt the heat stain her cheeks. “Ian mentioned next Christmas day. We’re not getting any younger.”
Liza slapped her thighs so hard, Juliet feared she’d left handprints. Slumping on her side, Liza shook with infectious, joyful laughter.
“What?”
“How idiotically Type-A. You guys are so totally perfect for each other. While terrorists hold you hostage, you mastermind a plan to save the day and at the same time manage to fall in love, and settle on a wedding date.” Liza’s head lolled back and she hooted at the dingy ceiling of the cab, her glee causing the driver to laugh, though Juliet doubted he spoke enough English to understand what he was laughing at.
“Shut!” A giggling Juliet whapped Liza in the arm. “Up!”
Liza insisted that Juliet go on ahead, while she took care of the cabbie. She wanted to go to the maternity ward to check on Lucy and Rand’s baby, who had decided to come in the middle of the hostage crisis. Liza would meet Juliet in the cafeteria at noon for a little lunch and from there, they’d head to the hotel to pick up Liza’s SUV—which Nick was having fitted with snow tires that very morning—and from there, off to the airport to pick up Penelope and Terry.
Juliet nodded over her shoulder and slipped through the glass doors that opened at her approach. As she entered the hospital and got into a blessedly empty elevator, she tried to still her racing pulse. In the small mirror in her purse, she checked her reflection and was surprised to see that she looked a lot calmer than she felt. How was he? Was he better? Worse? Would he be glad to see her? She hoped so, as she couldn’t wait to see him.
A gentle chime signaled the arrival at Ian’s floor, and she took a tentative step out of the elevator.
The antiseptic smell of the halls sent a wave of panic rushing to her head. She’d always hated hospitals. Ever since she lost her grandparents, these smells signaled death, rather than healing. She battled back the panic that bid her to run screaming and forced herself on wobbly legs, to the nurses’ station in the ICU.
A cheery nurse looked up and smiled her greeting.
“Hello, I’m… I’m… I’m here to visit Ian Rafferty?”
“Are you related?”
“Why?” She’d told the nurse and the surgeon yesterday that she was the fiancée because she’d panicked.
The nurse tapped Ian’s name into the computer. “Rafferty. On doctor’s orders, only family can visit in short spans at this point. Infection. Big risk.”
“I’m his…his…his…”
The nurse frowned.
“His fiancée,” Juliet finally managed, figuring that life was too short to quibble about titles. She’d made a rare connection with Ian last night. But if “rare connection” didn’t qualify as family member, then “fiancée” it was.
Brow curved, the nurse glanced at her bare ring finger.
“We just became engaged the other night. Only moments before he was…shot.”
“Oh, dear, how sad. And may I offer my congratulations along with my sympathies.”
“Sympathies?” Juliet’s heart took a nosedive. What sympathies?
“For the proposal, honey, that’s all. Nothing like a bullet to ruin the mood, right?”
“Oh, right.” Juliet brightened. “I’d like to visit him now, if that’s okay.”
“For a few minutes, sure. He’s been moved out of recovery and into his own room.” The nurse gave her directions and pointed down the hall.
As Juliet padded down the broad corridor, her gaze—against her better judgment—strayed with morbid fascination inside the rooms she passed. People were groaning, taking meds, limply watching TV and visiting with loved ones. Some were healing, some crying, some…dying. Feeling the tears prick the backs of her eyes, Juliet forced her gaze straight ahead and trotted the rest of the way to Ian’s room.
When she arrived at his door, she clutched the doorframe and hesitated, peering around the curtain, taking in this experience a bit at a time. Slowly, she inched inside his private room, and making her way to the edge of his hospital bed, she could see that he was still hooked to all manner of solutions and monitors, all quietly beeping and flashing with the rhythms of his life. A rolling breakfast tray sat at his bedside containing an untouched water bottle with a bent straw. Off in the distance, a siren sounded, growing higher in pitch as it approached.
Clutching the bedside rails, Juliet leaned close and studied his face. His eyes were closed and his pallor was ghostly in the early morning light. But he was breathing. That was all that mattered.
Since she knew he needed every bit of rest, she took a seat in a comfortable, reclining chair by the window and, covering herself with an extra blanket, watched Ian until her eyes grew heavy. She’d had such a rough day yesterday. She’d just rest here, till Ian woke.
“Your fiancée has been here for over an hour now,” the nurse who was dressing Ian’s wounds told him as he slowly surfaced to consciousness from the dark abyss in which he’d been floating.
Parched as a stale cracker, he touched his dry and swollen tongue to the roof of his mouth. “My…fiancée?”
With a gentle smile, the nurse pointed to the woman, curled into a ball over in a chair in the corner. “We didn’t have the heart to kick her out,” she whispered, “even though she’s not supposed to be here.”
Ian focused on the golden-brown head, peeping out from under the blanket, her face so sweet in repose. Juliet. The woman who’d filled his dreams since he’d come to this hellhole.
“Do you remember the surgeon talking with you this morning?” the nursed asked.
Fear clutched Ian’s heart. Yes. He remembered hearing in Technicolor detail why he couldn’t feel anything from the waist down. With great effort he swallowed and managed to croak, “Paralysis.”
“Mmm.” The nurse nodded. “But nothing is certain yet. Give the swelling some time to go down. Sometimes, these things reverse themselves. Try to keep your spirits up. Attitude is half the battle.”
Ian grunted. A bullet in the spine gave him a piss-poor attitude.
A half hour later, Ian’s eyes fluttered open from a pain-filled catnap. His agony was only intensified when he glimpsed Juliet hovering at the edge of his bed. The pity radiated from her gaze, and Ian struggled with the fact that he might be seeing a lot of that in the future.
Ian was not one to tolerate sympathy.
He’d always prided himself on being in charge of his destiny. In control. Not needing to depend on another human being for help of any kind.
It could never be. Not now. Not the way he was.
Now, he was useless.
Feeling incredibly sorry for himself, Ian set his mouth in a hard line, tasting the bitter bile of misery as he did so. She was probably here to kiss him off.
To thank him for saving her hide and cutting her losses while she still could. He couldn’t blame her. In fact, he’d give her an out. Cut her loose before things got any stickier between them.
“Hi,” Juliet murmured, her voice soft and breathy like heaven’s spring breezes.
He steeled himself against the yearning he felt to have her come and climb into this bed and lie beside him and distract him from the fear that clawed at his heart.
Without answering, he turned his face to the window and watched the snowfall.
She seemed not to notice and moved to the edge of his bed.
“How are you?”
Now there was a question. How the hell was he? Ian took a deep breath, wondering what to say. When he finally spoke, the words came out far more caustically than he’d intended and he hated the wounded look that flashed in her eyes.
“How am I? I’m great, considering I’m half a man.”
She grasped the stainless steel rails till her knuckles whitened, and whispered, “Ian, you could never be half a man.”
His eyes slid closed as her whispered words brought back so many feelings from the other night.
“Right,” he sighed. “Everything from the belt up works just fine.”
“And soon, the rest of you will, too. You have to have hope.”
“Juliet, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do. Sometimes those things change. And even if they—” she swallowed and Ian could sense her struggling with the idea of being chained to a cripple “—even if they don’t, it wouldn’t matter. I care about you. Not about things beyond our control.”
“You say that now, but what about your future? I’m paralyzed from the waist down! There will be no son. No daughter. No honeymoon. No coaching, no carpool—”
“You don’t know that—”
“—ing, so get that through your head. Now. The sooner, the better for us all.”
“No. Your future is what you make of it.”
“You learn that in cheerleading school?”
“Ian, I’m here for you. Don’t drive me away. Yesterday, we learned that life is precarious at best. Precious. Not to be frittered away because of pride. You were right when you said that we are not getting any younger. Why throw away something magical that flows between us. I know you felt it, too. I know that you and I have the potential to be great together.”
Ian snorted. Like Eve with a shiny, juicy apple, she was tempting him with the promise of a happily ever after. But the sooner they both faced reality, the better. There was no future for them.
He opened his mouth to rebut when he saw the tears that swam in her eyes. Slowly, they ran over her lips and she pulled a full, wet lip between her teeth.
Ian wanted to leap over the rails of this bed, take her in his arms and comfort her. Kiss her tears away. But that was impossible. He’d never walk again, let alone leap. How could he ever be a real husband to her? He couldn’t father her children, and even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to play with them the way a normal dad would.
His stomach roiling, Ian was suddenly sick with sorrow. Grief over the loss of a relationship that he’d only just discovered. And the only way he knew how to deal with it was to send Juliet away.
It was the only fair thing to do. She might not understand now, but in time she would. Juliet needed a husband who could give her all the things she wanted out of life.
And him? Well, he needed to start over again. Like some kind of a helpless child, he needed to learn to do everything from scratch.
He was tempted by her sweetness, but knew that he had to be a jerk in order for her to get on with her life and forget him. They didn’t have that much invested yet.
Yet.
Taking a deep breath, Ian did his best to harden his heart. “Juliet, I want you to forget what happened between us the other night.”
“I know you can’t mean—”
He plowed ahead, ignoring her protestations. “What happened between us was a fluke. A glitch in an otherwise normal day. Caused by that foxhole mentality where everything is accelerated and spiritual.”
“But—”
The hurt in her eyes was killing him more than the bullet he’d taken. “Go. Just go.”
“Ian…”
“Juliet, it’s what I want. Go back to your real life. Be happy. Thank you for caring, but really, I don’t need the hassle. I have enough to worry about without having to take you and your future into consideration.”
With that, fists clenched, molars grinding, he turned his face away and refused to look back. Knowing that he’d hurt her caused more agony than his physical wounds. He could hear the whisper of her coat as she swished out the door.
And out of his life.
The roar of a jet taking off overhead silenced Juliet for a moment and gave her a chance to study Ian’s smiling sister. Juliet was settled in the back seat of Liza’s roomy SUV with Ian’s sister, Penelope. Her husband, Terry, was sitting in the front seat with Liza. Off in the distance, there were the twinkling lights of suburbia. It was dark out and, blessedly, it had stopped snowing.
When the roar died down, Juliet continued her conversation with Ian’s extremely delightful and friendly sister, which was more than she could say for him, but she was trying not to dwell. “How was your flight?”
“A little choppy. I’m a horrible flyer, so Terry’s fingers will be black-and-blue by morning.”
“That’s okay, honey,” Terry said from the front seat. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Penelope reached out and took Juliet’s hand. “So you were the one hiding in the closet with my brother. You must have been terrified.”
Juliet nodded and told her a little about their ordeal. And about how they’d gotten to know each other.
Liza snorted and Penelope, sensing some information packed in the none too subtle snort, asked, “What? Am I missing something?”
“I think Juliet and Ian did a little more than get to know each other.”
Juliet gasped. “Liza, really. You make it sound so…so…”
“Tawdry?” Penelope asked.
“Yes! It wasn’t like that at all. Actually, we discovered we had a lot in common…”
“And?” Liza probed.
With a tiny groan, Juliet rolled her eyes. “And, we discovered that we are very compatible.”
“Aaaand?” Liza sang.
“Would you stop?” Juliet shot a sheepish look at Penelope. “It was sort of a hate at first sight, love at second sight kind of a deal, and Ian…” she touched her lips with her tongue “…Ian sort of proposed—”
Everyone in the car whooped with delight.
Penelope threw herself at Juliet and squeezed her in a bear hug that managed to knock both of their snow hats askew and leave a ruby lip print on Juliet’s cheek. “Ian? In love? Oh, my! You must be very special.”
“Apparently not anymore.”
Penelope sobered. “What happened?”
“I went to visit your brother this morning, and he pretty much told me to go away and stay away. Said he was only half a man.”
“That sounds just like that chowderhead. He always was an altruistic nerd. Probably thinks he’s doing you some kind of big, cosmically correct favor. What a doofus.”
For the first time since she’d left Ian’s side that morning, Juliet laughed. Laughed until she cried. The tension release was wonderful. She could tell already that she liked Penelope. A lot. With or without Ian, she would certainly love to consider this woman a friend.
“Listen to me, Juliet. You need to stick with my brother. He can be such a hardheaded cuss. He does that to keep people at a distance when he’s afraid. And, I suppose, if you put yourself in his shoes right about now, you’d be afraid, too.”
“Terrified.”
“And, you’d probably try to send him away.”
“Probably.”
“But he wouldn’t let you. Because he’s an altruistic nerd. And you shouldn’t let him send you away. Go to him. Plague him. Badger him. Stick to him like glue. This works. I know.” Penelope buffed her nails on the placket of her wool coat. “I used to do it to him all the time. He’d finally get so sick of me, that I’d get my way.”
Juliet giggled. “You guys sound like my family.”
“You have a brother?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Good. Then you know what to do.”
Indeed, Juliet did.
After Penelope and Terry had visited Ian—who was still in an abominable mood—they met with Liza, Nick and Juliet for dinner at a restaurant not far from the hospital. In a private conversation between Juliet and Penelope, Ian’s sister swore that she could tell Ian’s foul temper was a good sign.
“When he thought no one else was listening, he pulled me close and asked me if I’d met you. I told him yes and he wondered what I thought. He was really fishing for information. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t give a rat’s patootie. I know that. He’s my brother. Anyway, I told him you were wonderful and that he should think about going for you. Then he gave me that ‘I’m half a man crap’ and I said, ‘Yeah, you are acting like a child, that’s true.’ Of course, that made him roar like a wounded lion and the nurses drove us out of there.”
“Oh, no!” Juliet pressed her fingertips to her smiling lips.
“Yep. So here’s the deal. He’s got it bad for you, I can tell. His face has this look just like when he was back in college with—”
“Liv?”
“He told you about Liv? He never tells anyone about Liv! Wow. Well, yeah. She was the love of his life. Until now, I think. Anyway, you need to get back into that hospital room first thing tomorrow morning and make like you thought he was hallucinating when he sent you packing.”
Juliet’s head fell back on her shoulders and she laughed, loving Penelope. This woman was so very special.
“What the devil are you two cackling about?” Terry demanded.
“Girl talk, honey. Girl talk.”
Terry groaned. “Poor Ian. Boy don’t stand a chance.”
Nick lifted a glass. “To Ian. And second chances.”
Everybody drank deeply.
Taking Penelope’s advice, Juliet decided to persevere with Ian, in spite of the fact that he’d made it clear he didn’t want her company. Though his words had stung, she knew Penelope was right.
Ian was scared.
And he needed a friend.
So, the next morning, she called her office and told her secretary to let everyone know that she could be reached on her cell phone for the next few days. Business was slow between holidays anyway, so Juliet didn’t expect much interruption. Then, she packed a bag with some reading material, a few snacks and a bottle of water and with a smile and a wave at the friendly nurse at the desk, slipped down the hall toward Ian’s room.
She arrived just in time to see his surgeon enter with a clipboard. She hovered behind the curtain while they conferred.
“—any feeling in the lower extremities yet?” the doctor asked.
“No.” Ian’s voice was dull and without hope.
“Give it time.”
“As if I had anything else to do.”
The doctor chuckled. “True. But I really think your progress is quite remarkable. Vital signs are impressive, the wound is healing nicely, and the swelling is coming down. Frankly two days ago I wouldn’t have believed it. When they wheeled you in, you were one hurt cowboy. Since you’re exceeding my expectations, I’m upgrading your condition.”
“To what? Worthless?”
“To stable.” As the surgeon held up his clipboard, Juliet watched him draw a diagram of the human spine. “Just so you’ll understand where your body’s at—”
Ian harrumphed. The doctor ignored him with good nature.
“The bullet passed through your lower back, missing your spine, but just barely. You were a very lucky man, as the bullet also missed your inferior vena cava and the common iliac vein…very fortunate.”
“I feel lucky.” Ian’s sarcasm caused Juliet to bite back a smile.
“Right now,” the doctor continued without missing a beat, “the swelling is compressing the spinal cord, causing the paralysis. With any luck, there is a chance that you will recover partial, or all of the use of your lower extremities.”
“And there are chances that I won’t.”
“Unfortunately, that’s a chance.” The doctor flipped through the pages on his clipboard. “How’s the pain?”
“On a scale of one to ten, ten being unbearable, I’d give it a solid twenty-one.”
“I’ll go see what we can do to rectify that. In the meantime, try not to worry. I’ve seen some cases just like yours recover beautifully. And those that don’t, given the proper attitude, go on to lead productive, happy lives.”
The doctor clapped the side of the bed with his clipboard and with a last nod at Ian, strode to the door.
Juliet walked in the room just as the doctor was leaving. “Doctor?”
“Oh, hi, yes, you’re the fiancée.”
“Uhh, I’m…” She glanced in Ian’s direction and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Right. Anyway, I was wondering if you could answer a few of my questions.”
The surgeon smiled. “I’ll do my best. Why don’t we go have a seat and perhaps you and Ian can discuss the answers to your questions together, when he…er…cheers up a bit.” The doctor turned and without preamble, pulled two chairs up to the edge of Ian’s bed. He took one and gestured for Juliet to take the other.
Ian ignored her. Treated her as if she wasn’t even in the room. No greeting, not even a glance in her direction. Juliet overlooked his rudeness and took her seat.
“How long until we know if Ian will recover the use of his legs?”
“It depends on many factors, but I’d say within the next few days, we might see the swelling subside and some sensation return.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“Wonderful?” Ian snorted, for the first time acknowledging her presence.
“Ian,” the doctor gently admonished, “you should try to share in your fiancée’s optimism. Attitude is a large percent of the healing process.”
“Fiancée?” Ian asked derisively. “Since when?”
“If I’m going to have two children, I figure they’ll need a father.”
Awkwardly, the doctor looked back and forth between them, and sensing something far deeper than met the eye, stood. “Well, if I’ve answered all your questions—”
“I thought I told you to forget all that.” Ian turned his face away and waved a dismissive hand.
“You did. I’m simply here to vex you.”
“Okay then.” The doctor smiled. “I can see you two have some things to talk about. If you need me, I’ll just be seeing to his pain medication.”
“And don’t take all year,” Ian bellowed after him.
“My, you’re cranky. I think you need a bit of romance to lighten up your days.” Juliet plunked her book bag up on the edge of his bed and withdrew a volume of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and, without ceremony, began to read aloud.
“‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’”
Pulling his pillow up over his head, Ian groaned.
That evening, Juliet went to the Marriott to visit Ian’s sister, while Terry went to pick up their parents at the airport with Liza. She and Penelope had ordered ice-cream sundaes from room service and were busily visiting like a pair of old school chums. Penelope was so personable, Juliet soon felt very comfortable venting about Ian’s boorish behavior. Laughing all the while, Penelope encouraged Juliet to keep getting back in the ring to fight for her man.
“I can’t believe you are reading Pride and Prejudice to Ian. That’s just hysterical.”
Juliet giggled. “I know. He claims he hates romance. He turned his face away and ignored me, but I could tell he was listening.”
“Too funny. Well, he’ll either learn to like it, or he’ll have to get well so that he can get away from you.”
“That’s the plan.”
They giggled together and Juliet set down her dish, the first food she’d managed to polish off in two days. “Penelope, tell me about your children.”
“I have two. A daughter, Brittany, and a son, James.”
“How old are they?”
“Seven and three. Wanna see their pictures?”
“Of course.”
Penelope tossed her a sassy wink. “You might get a little idea of what you and Ian’s kids will look like.”
Juliet hooted. “We’re terrible.”
“Naw. Just tellin’ it like it is. Brother dear is going to have to get used to the idea that he’s met his match. Time to settle down.”
“But, Penelope, what if he doesn’t get better, and he completely rejects me.”
“Honey, he might never get better, but he’ll never completely reject you. He loves you. Love conquers all. Don’t your authors tell you that?”
That evening, as Ian’s parents arrived at the hotel after a quick visit with their grumpy son, Penelope introduced Juliet as a very special friend of Ian’s.
And hers.
Juliet was incredibly touched.
Ian’s mother immediately glommed on to Juliet, clutching her arm and dragging her down next to her on the couch. Barbara Rafferty, an attractive, rather chic woman who draped her well-rounded curves in stylish designer attire, promptly found a photo album in her gargantuan purse and leaned over Juliet’s lap.
“Look, sweetheart, he was such a cute little boy. Everyone everywhere just loved him!”
Obviously having been subjected to this oration more than once, Ian’s sister rolled her eyes.
“Here he is on the first day of school. In those days, the boys wore short pants to private school. Doesn’t he have adorable knees? And here he is with his first fish. Twelve pounds. Donald, you remember that? Donald? You remember that? Don? Honey?” Barbara leaned against Juliet. “He’s not paying attention. He never does. Okay, here’s Ian at the prom.”
“Mom,” Penelope gasped, “c’mon. Don’t show Juliet those geeky pictures of Ian at the prom with Bianca Munson. She’ll run screaming.”
“What? He looks adorable in that light blue tux. What? That was the style! It was!”
On the following day, December 28th, Juliet trekked back to the hospital, intent on forcing Ian to see that she wasn’t going anywhere, and that she loved him, legs or no. She read more Jane Austen to him and though he pretended to be asleep, she could sense him becoming lost in the tale along with her.
“‘Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.’”
With that, Juliet closed the book, thinking that Ian had probably had enough of her voice for one day.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, cranky as a Model T. “You’re gonna just leave off there? What’s going to happen to Elizabeth?”
Ian’s sister and mother hovered in the doorway, watching with twitching lips.
“Are you going to ask nicely?” Juliet asked.
“No.”
Juliet frowned. “You know, Ian, your attitude is terrible. I understand that you are feeling sorry for yourself. Who wouldn’t in your shoes? But you don’t have to treat me like something you stepped in out in the barnyard. I have feelings, too, you know. And I care about you. The fact that some terrorist shot you is not going to change that. So get used to it. Because I’m not going anywhere. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Heels a-clicking, Penelope marched in, as Juliet departed.
“She’s right, brother dear. That girl is a jewel and if you let her go, you are a fool.”
Hands on her hips, Barbara bobbed up over her daughter’s shoulder. “I must agree, Ian, darling. Your sister is not only poetic, she is right. You are a boob.”
With that, they both stormed off in a cloud of indignation.
“She said fool,” he called after his mother. “Not boob,” he muttered under his breath. “Fool.”
Chapter 8
For the next two days, Juliet visited the short-tempered Ian, bringing him games and flowers, and cards and movies. He was still cantankerous and in constant pain, but she doggedly hung in there with him, entertaining him, talking to him about their future when he pretended to be asleep and caring for his every need when the nurses weren’t around.
From the nurses, she learned to dress his wound so that she could take over these duties when he was released. The nursing staff all loved her because she stayed in the background when they were there, but eagerly jumped in to help whenever they needed a hand.
To anyone who would listen, Ian made caustic remarks about the fact that Juliet wouldn’t go away, but everyone could see how unhappy and extra petulant he was when she left for home late each night.
It was about 11:30 p.m. on the third night when Juliet closed her volume of Pride and Prejudice and stretched and yawned. Realizing that she was not only perched on the edge of his bed, but also worming her way back into his cast-iron heart, Juliet wasn’t surprised when Ian turned away and feigned dozing off.
Sliding alongside him on her elbow, she whispered in his ear. “Good night, you big faker. I know you’re not asleep. And I know you love me. And I love you, too.”
As she slipped out of the room, Ian smiled in spite of himself.
Ian’s mother was waiting in the hallway for a quick good-night kiss before heading back to the hotel. When she saw Juliet, she stood and enveloped her in a huge bosomy hug.
“How is our bear today?”
“I think he’s coming along. He’s still not very friendly, but I think he’s beginning to realize that his attitude is not helping anything.”
“Umm-hum. You know, he was like that as a little boy, too. Whenever something would go wrong, he’d act as if he didn’t care, but I could always tell he did.
“One time, he and the boy next door spent a week building a rocket ship in our backyard. They were convinced that this thing was going to take them to outer space. Well, they both ended up in the emergency room with second-degree burns and a bunch of cuts and bruises from the bottle rocket they jammed in the rear end of that rickety old thing… Well, my stars, it’s lucky they weren’t killed.
“And that’s not the first time that boy of mine has nearly gotten himself killed, but that’s not the point. What was my point? Honey, what was I talking about?”
“You were telling me about how Ian used to act like he didn’t care….”
“Oh! Right, right, right, thank you, dear. Yes, well, Ian was devastated that his old rocket was laying in pieces on the ground, but the only way I knew it was by the little quiver in his bottom lip. He told his dad and me that he couldn’t care less and that he knew it wouldn’t fly to begin with, but you know he cared. He had big plans of floating around in space, don’t you know. It was really a cute thing, too bad…”
“Mmm.” Juliet nodded, not sure what was required of her in this conversation.
“Oh!” Barbara’s bracelets jangled as she tried to gather her point. “Well, anyway, what I’m trying to say is, yes, yes, here it comes, oh, right. Don’t believe him. He loves you. I can tell. He has that same look on his face when he looks at you, that he used to have when he’d look at that rocket of his. Pure, unadulterated love. Why the boy is positively goofy. So, you hang in there. If he doesn’t get well—” His mother stopped and pressed her hand to her mouth and battled the tears.
Her arm still around Barbara’s shoulders, Juliet gently patted her back.
“Well, if he doesn’t get well, he’s going to need you more than he knows.”
On New Year’s Eve, Juliet—allowed past visiting hours because it was a holiday—showed up in Ian’s hospital room, dressed to kill. Pushing aside a cart with an eternally beeping monitor, she came to the edge of his bed, lowered the stainless steel guardrail and climbed up next to him. Too stunned to protest, Ian simply stared as she lowered her mouth to his and kissed him hard. When she finally felt him respond, she pulled back and whispered against his mouth. “Ian Rafferty, you might as well give up and let yourself care about me, because I am never leaving.”
“That’s what you said last night, just before you left,” he complained.
“You are such a pain in the neck.” She kissed him again, nuzzling his neck and tugging on his earlobes with her teeth. “I love you. Legs or no, and I want to make a life with you. Our life. To hell with the car pool. Bring on the wheelchair. We’ll make do. And best of all, we’ll be…” she kissed him again “…together.”
Ian sighed and stared at the ceiling. “But what about children? You want lots of children.”
“We can adopt.”
“But what about sports—”
“Shhh!”
“But what about your freedom—”
“Shhh!”
“But what about our honeymoon—”
“Shhh!” She silenced him with a kiss, the same way he did her, back in the closet.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you are the most obstinate—”
“Shhh,” she murmured and kissed him again.
“About the subject of children,” he continued, lipping her lips, kissing her cheek, her jaw and her neck.
Juliet’s sigh was audible. “Talk about obstinate.”
“I don’t…” He swallowed and began again. “I don’t think there will be any problem there.”
Juliet reared back and looked him in the eye. “What do you mean?”
“Kiss me again, and we’ll know for sure.”
She did.
“Okay, check this out.” He pointed down below his beltline.
Juliet gave a reticent peek, and was shocked to find that his toes were moving. Her shriek of joy could be heard all the way down the corridor.
At that moment, the clock struck midnight and Juliet leaned forward for another toe-curling kiss. “Auld lang syne” played over the in-house music system and a nurse dropped in with a bottle of champagne, poured them each a glass and slipped to the next room, leaving them to celebrate in privacy.
Ian lifted a glass. “Marry me?”
“Are you sure it’s not the champagne talking?”
He ran his hand up her arm and closed his fingers around her biceps. “No. Mom was right. I’ve been a fool. I was lucky enough to fall into the closet with my destiny. I’ll take that as a sign from God.”
“Then, yes, I’ll marry you.” Juliet smiled and lifted her own glass to his. “But only if you’ll agree to the ‘for better or worse’ part. Ian, what happened to you could happen to me, or one of our kids. But as long as we have each other, we have a reason to live.”
“Mmm.” Ian tugged her close for a kiss. “Amen. So. Where should we go on our honeymoon?”
“Well, you said scenery didn’t matter as long as you had your wife and a warm bed.”
“And so I recall, yes.”
“Then I know this little place under the stairs where no one will ever find us…”
Ian laughed and pulled her into his arms for another kiss to seal the deal.
Epilogue
One month later, Samantha and Jesse Colton threw an engagement party for Juliet and Ian in the very same ballroom where the couple had met only a month and a half before. Attending were most of the folks who’d attended the wedding, and the air was festive with celebration for more than just the coming nuptials.
After several hours of eating, drinking and making merry, Jesse Colton was finally persuaded to leave his wife’s side and make a toast. A makeshift platform, complete with microphone, had been erected near the fireplace. Samantha—with Ian, who waved at the crowd from his wheelchair—joined Jesse there.
“Ah-hemmmm. Hello? This thing on?” Jesse tapped the mike and, with nods and thumbs-up from the crowd, a hush descended. “Good. Can you hear me in the back? Good. Okay! Welcome, everyone! I’ve been told that as the host, it is my duty to make a little speech.”
The crowd cheered encouragement.
“It’s been a heck of a year, huh?”
Applause thundered and when it died, Jesse continued. “As many of you are now aware, Kurt Hoffman, you all know Kurt? Kurt, wave, buddy. There he is—” Jesse pointed him out “—Kurt helped bring George Kartoff, leader of the Chekagovian Freedom Fighters, to justice.”
Again, cheers and wild applause erupted.
“Good job, man. Kurt and his bride, Julianna, will be leaving from here for their second honeymoon in Mexico. A well-deserved vacation after what they have gone through to catch George Kartoff. Our congratulations.” Jesse nodded at the beaming couple. “Yeah, old George will be spending his golden years behind bars and the music box he stole on Christmas Eve has been recovered and Helmut Ritka will give it to a Chekagovian museum for safekeeping.
“Helmut couldn’t be with us tonight, but his daughter, Eva…” Jesse squinted out over the crowd. “Eva? Oh, there you are, Eva. Eva will also be soon joining the Colton clan as she has consented to make an honest man out of my cousin, Billy. Way to go, buddy.”
More cheering ensued, and Billy and Eva smiled and waved from the middle of the good-natured throng. Jesse waited for the well-wishers to calm before he continued.
“I’d also like to introduce to you the latest member of our family, Noel Colton, born on our wedding night, of all things, to Rand and Lucy Colton. He’s a looker, like his father and when he wakes up—” Jesse pointed to a stroller parked in the corner behind him “—you can stop by and meet him. After you’ve washed your hands. And taken a crash course in baby handling. And been sand-blasted by our sterilization/sanitation crew…”
Lucy glared at him over the laughing crowd.
“And now, to the reason we are all here tonight. I am so pleased…no—” Jesse paused and swallowed, emotions clearly getting the best of him “—make that thrilled, to announce that my sister-in-law Juliet and her fiancé, Ian Rafferty, have set the date for their wedding.”
Jesse motioned for Juliet to join him at the mike. Cheers and whistles greeted her as she stepped forward.
“Hi.” She offered a shy wave at everyone, and then a special nod at Ian’s sister and parents. “Thank you. Thank you. Yes, we’ve set the date, and I’d like Ian—” she had to raise her voice to be heard above the hubbub “—I’d like Ian to tell you when.” She glanced back over her shoulder and the cheering reached a fevered pitch as Ian rose from his wheelchair and slowly approached his intended.
While he waited for the noise to subside, he bent Juliet back and gave her an enthusiastic kiss, which did nothing to quiet the masses.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ian was able to be heard. “Thank you. Thanks so much. Yes, I’m happy to announce that Juliet and I will be tying the knot on New Year’s Eve of this year. You’re all invited. We are holding the wedding here, and, being that I’m in charge of security, we are not anticipating a repeat of last year’s excitement.”
When the laughter had ebbed, Ian held up a glass of champagne and looked out over the crowd with unshed tears brimming in his eyes. They were tears of love. Of thanksgiving. Of belonging, at last. He ran a hand over his face and cast a tremulous smile at his bride-to-be, who was swiping at her cheeks with the back of her wrist.
“To family,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“To family,” Jesse echoed.
“To family,” everyone murmured. And the Colton clan lifted their glasses and drank to the ever-growing ties that bound.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Judy Christenberry, Linda Turner and Carolyn Zane for their contributions to A COLTON FAMILY CHRISTMAS.
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