13. Rachel
13
RACHEL
“ T hank you so much for staying at Winchester Manor Inn.” I followed the grandmother and granddaughter to the edge of the freshly stained front porch. Harris had done an incredible job. The front of the old plantation-style house had never looked so good.
“Your bed-and-breakfast is beautiful,” the grandmother effused, pausing on the sidewalk. “I wish we had more time so I could poke around and soak up its history. We’ll definitely be back.”
My heart grew ten sizes just like the Grinch’s as I stood on the top step and waved them down the drive. It was moments like this that made it all worth it—all the hard work, the mortgage, the drama.
Closing the front door behind me, I glanced at the clock on the foyer’s credenza. Harris should be back in ten minutes. He had switched his therapy appointment to earlier than initially scheduled in hopes I wouldn’t have to spend any time alone in the house, but the grandmother had wanted an early start on their trek back to southwestern Alabama.
Since the shooting, I hadn’t been able to relax. Harris hadn’t either. He’d been like a caged tiger. The police had no new leads and as of last night, they were still looking for both Tammy and Darryl to question.
Clomping up the steps, I debated whether to hop in the shower now or wait for Harris to come home… home . Shit. As much as I reminded myself that he was going back to active duty soon—deploying to God knew where on life-threatening missions—I couldn’t stop picturing him here with me, building a life together. Like a real family. Like someone I could grow old with.
My heart thumped hard. Last night had been like a preview of what could be, all my fondest dreams coming to life. Harris had helped make dinner, then insisted on serving. He’d carried all the food to the buffet table while I sat at the table like an honored guest. He’d poured everyone’s drinks, pulled out everyone’s chairs—mine, the grandmother’s, and the granddaughter’s. He’d anticipated our every need. I hadn’t had to get up once. And, like the ice cream he’d served me for dessert, I had felt my heart melting, my walls tumbling down.
With every minute we spent together, I was falling more in love. I couldn’t stop dreaming about the life we could have, if only he’d stay rather than returning to the service. We could run this place together. He’d proven he could do it. His DIY skills outstripped mine by a mile. I was better at cooking, but he was great with yardwork. And we both had a talent for charming the guests. It could all be so perfect. So beautiful. So right.
What if it wasn’t just our child who took his last name?
Stop it . I physically shook myself.
“You’re dreaming,” I said, aloud. “Next stop after Dreamland is Heartbreak City.” I ducked into the nursery, weaving my way through the pile of baby crap that was growing exponentially. I wasn’t sure how we were going to fit it all in. And before we even tried, we’d have to finish decorating the walls, which meant agreeing on a theme for the room. Cowboys or farm animals? Treasure Island or Toy Story? None of it felt quite right.
I set one hand on my belly. “What do you think? You like pirates? Me neither. I’m pretty mad at them, actually.”
“Sweetheart?” Harris yelled from below. “You okay?”
“I’m upstairs,” I shouted, moving into our bedroom. Our bedroom, God. I was in serious trouble.
Heavy boots pounded up the stairs, then Harris appeared in the doorway, pecs bulging through his shirt. “Thought I heard you up here. Were you talking to someone?”
“Myself,” I said, ducking to hide my blush. When I looked up, I caught Harris drinking in my body, and I took a moment to do the same to him. Muted sunlight caught the red in his hair. He’d let it grow out some, and it was getting shaggy. Beautiful. I loved how he kept putting off shaving it to military standards and secretly hoped he’d wait as long as possible.
Moving closer, he smiled at me. “You weren’t here alone long, were you?”
“Nah.” I pulled fresh panties from the drawer. “How did your appointment go?”
He grimaced. “A nonstop party.” A twinkle appeared in his eye. “Among other things, we may have talked about you. I lobbied for you to have to see him too.” He sauntered closer. “Your insistence on hijacking my mind with your stunning fairy fierceness is cause for concern.”
“You sure you have a mind to hijack?” I shot back, dodging into the bathroom as he pounced to catch me.
“That’s cold, Winchester.” He darted after me and crowded me against the sink. “I wish I could go with you to your doctor’s appointment.”
Smoothing my hands up his pecs, I met his eyes. “I wish you could too. But everything’s fine .” I took his hand in mine and pressed it to my belly. “I’m still getting morning sickness. Google says that’s a good sign.”
“And everything feels good? You’re not dizzy? No fever?”
I pressed a finger to my lips. “Don’t borrow trouble. This is just a precaution, after all we’ve been through, to confirm that everything’s still on track.”
“Any chance we could find out the sex today?”
I laughed. “Sadly, no. That’s a ways off yet.”
“And you’re sure you don’t need me there?”
I shook my head. “Better not. With Mom and Darryl still out there, someone needs to be here to guard the property. I wouldn’t put it past them to show up with a backhoe. Or burn the whole place down, just out of spite.”
Harris pulled me to him and nuzzled my neck. “I’m feeling intensely growly at being left behind. Might need some extra loving to soothe my broken heart.”
“You got that this morning.” I tilted my head to give him easier access. “And I need to shave my legs and other areas. You’ll just be in the way.” My fingers burrowed into his hair, holding him in place.
“Cruel,” he muttered against my skin, then licked a trail up to my ear. “Leaving a man with a raging hard-on and no relief.”
I wrenched away and turned on the shower’s faucets. “Is something wrong with your hand?” Stepping into the spray, I laughed at his muttered curses.
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get home,” I said, poised half-in and half-out of my new CR-V. “But I can’t drive while I’m on the phone.”
“You could put it on speaker.”
“Or you could be patient.”
Harris chuckled, and I did too. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get off the line. But hurry up and get home already. I’m climbing the walls.” Something metal and glass crashed in the background. “Seriously? Goddammit.” More glass tinkled . “You didn’t really like the chandelier in the dining room, right? Great.” He kept going as if I’d answered. “We can now buy a new one.” He blew out a breath. “Please hurry. I can’t concentrate until I know you’re safe.”
Warmth settled inside me, and I clung to the feeling. To have someone waiting at home was a novelty. To have him so worried about me that he couldn’t function was downright breathtaking. And scary as shit, given how up in the air the future seemed to be.
“Well, you’re right—I never liked that chandelier. I’ve had my eye on a new one for weeks.” I didn’t mention that the one I wanted was out of my budget. It looked like I’d be getting it regardless. Stupid inspector, adding the old chandelier’s ancient wiring to his list. I slammed the door shut and buckled my seat belt. “You’ll see me in fifteen minutes.”
“One minute more and you’ll find me tearing up the roads in search of you.”
I hung up, and exactly fourteen minutes later, I pulled into the B blue sandals to go with it. I didn’t have time to curl my hair, but I pinned it back with a barrette decorated with silk flowers. Was it too much, I wondered? He’d never seen me in anything but tank tops and shorts, jeans in the winter. Nothing like this.
I took a deep breath and pushed down my nerves. If we were going to make a go of this, he’d need to love me in anything , ball gown or hospital gown, bikini or bathrobe. I picked my way down the stairs, shaky on my heels, and?—
“Oh, my God. You’re an actual fairy !” Harris darted toward me, but he stopped short. “I want to grab you and kiss you, but I might mess you up.”
“One kiss should be fine.”
Harris grabbed me and dipped me, kissing me deep and long. By the time he let me back up, my head was spinning. I clung to him, laughing, having never felt so wanted. Then we were racing to the CR-V, Harris playing twenty questions, trying to guess our destination.
“You won’t get it,” I said, as I passed the old cannery. “It’s sort of a secret. Locals only.”
Harris made a huffing sound, but he eventually subsided. Soon, I pulled into a wide parking lot.
“There’s nothing here,” Harris said.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” I headed toward the hiking trails. “It’s not far,” I said. “I promise it’ll be worth it.” I led him up a narrow path canopied by trees, dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. Birds chirped, bugs droned, and water burbled.
“I hear something—a creek?” Harris said.
“Through here.” I pulled him down an older trail, dim and overgrown. I could smell the water, running clear and fresh. Then the trees parted, and I could see it as well—the deep, pool topped by low waterfalls, three of them cascading one into another. Harris sighed behind me, soft and full of awe.
“This is your favorite place?”
“In the whole world.”
“But…” He cocked his head, frowning. “Why’d we have to dress up?”
“Because I wanted to,” I said. “I wanted to wear something nice for you.” I winked. “That, and we’re getting lunch after. We ought to look good for that.”
Harris looked about curiously, taking in the scene. He went down to the water’s edge and tested it with his fingers, then pulled off his shoes and socks and let his feet dangle in. “It’s so peaceful,” he said. “Magic, almost.”
I sat next to him and leaned up against him. “I used to make wishes here.”
“And did they come true?”
“Sometimes.” I’d wished for Mom to stop drinking once, when I’d been about ten. It had come true for a month or so—Mom had gotten a DUI. She’d lost her car, copped a huge fine, and started going to AA. That had been a good month, but then Mom had slipped. Relax, she’d said. I can stop if I want to. If that was true, then she hadn’t wanted to, not then, not ever.
“Rachel,” Harris said, his voice low and hushed.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was just?—”
“No, Rachel, look .” He pointed across the water, and my breath caught. There, in a sunbeam, danced a cloud of black wings, dotted with delicate blues and greens.
Fairies, I thought. But, no. These were butterflies, jewel-like black swallowtails. I gazed at them wide-eyed, entranced by the sight. Harris found my hand and twined his fingers with mine.
“I’ve never seen so many in one place.”
The cloud dispersed, came together, and fanned out again. They fluttered close, all around us, and I laughed with delight. I held out my free hand, hardly daring to breathe.
“No way,” whispered Harris.
The butterflies came nearer, flitting so close I felt the breeze from their wings soft on my skin. My vision went blurry, and I blinked back tears—tears of joy and surprise and startled wonder.
“It isn’t this place that’s magical,” Harris said. “It’s you.” He turned to watch the butterflies. Then, he said something that made my heart leap.
“Let’s come here again. All three of us. Every year.”
The butterflies flitted away, and my spirits soared with them. Every year— did that mean he wanted this too? The three of us? A future?
Had my wish come true?