Epilogue
“HELICOPTERS are on their way. One’s bringing the police. They’ll medevac you to the mainland.”
“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
Kirby walked to the bed, lifted Brian’s wrist to check his pulse yet again. “Too bad. You’re not in any position to argue with your doctor.”
“What are they going to do there that you haven’t already done?”
“A great deal more than my emergency patch job.” She checked his bandages, pleased that there was no fresh bleeding. “You’ll have a couple of pretty nurses, some dandy drugs, and in a few days you’ll be on your feet and back home.”
He considered. “How pretty are the nurses?”
“I’m sure they’re—” Her voice broke, and though she turned away quickly, he saw the tears spring to her eyes.
“Hey, I was only kidding.” He fumbled for her hand. “I won’t even look at them.”
“I’m sorry. I thought I had it under control.” She turned back, sliding to her knees to drop her head on the side of the bed. “I was so scared. So scared. You were bleeding so badly. Your pulse was just slipping away under my hands.”
“But you didn’t let it.” He stroked her hair. “You brought me back, stayed with me. And look at you.” He nudged until she lifted her face. “You haven’t had any sleep.”
“I’ll sleep later.” She pressed her lips to his hand over and over. “I’ll sleep for days.”
“You could pull some strings, share my hospital room.”
“Maybe.”
“Then you could come back here, share my room while I’m recuperating.”
“I suppose I could.”
“Then when I’m recovered, you could just share the rest of my life.”
She knuckled a tear away. “If that’s a proposal, you’re supposed to be the one on your knees.”
“But you’re such an aggressive woman.”
“You’re right.” She turned her cheek into his hand. “And since I feel at least somewhat responsible that you have a rest of your life, it seems only right that I share it with you.”
* * *
“THE gardens are ruined.” Jo looked down at the sodden, beaten blooms drowning in mud. “It’ll take weeks to clean them out, save what can be saved and start again.”
“Is that what you want to do?” Nathan asked her. “Save what can be saved and start again?”
She glanced over. The bandage Kirby had applied to his temple was shockingly white against his skin. His eyes were deeply shadowed, still exhausted.
She wrapped her arms around herself, turned in a slow circle. The sun was radiant, the air stunningly fresh. She could see the wreckage—the toppled trees, the broken pottery that had been the little fountain, the now roofless smokehouse. Branches and leaves and glass littered the patio.
Above them, Giff and Lexy worked on prying off the protective plywood, and opening the windows to the light. She saw her father and Kate at the edge of the trees, then with wonder and amazed joy, saw him drape an arm around Kate’s shoulders.
“Yes, I’d like that. I’d like to stay a while longer, help them put things back. It won’t be exactly as it was. But it might be better.”
She shielded her eyes with the flat of her hand to block the sun and see him clearly. “Brian asked to see you.”
“I went in to see him before I came out. We put things back. They might not be the same.” He smiled a little. “But they might be better.”
“And you spoke with my father.”
“Yeah. He’s very glad his children are safe.” He slid his hands into his pockets. He hadn’t touched her since the night before, when Kate had whisked her off for a hot bath, whiskey-soaked tea, and bed. “He thinks it took courage for me to kill my brother.”
“It took courage for you to save my life.”
“It had nothing to do with courage.” He walked away from her, down the muddy path. “I didn’t feel anything when I pulled the trigger. He was already gone for me. It was nothing but a relief to end it.”
“Don’t tell me it didn’t take courage. You were hurt, in every way it’s possible to be hurt.
And you fought your way through it, and through that storm for me.
You faced what no one should ever have to face and did what no one should ever have to do.
When the police get here, I’m going to tell them you’re a hero. ”
She laid a hand on his arm. “I owe you my life, the lives of my family, and the memory of my mother.”
“He was still my father. He was still my brother.” His eyes were dark with the truth of that as he looked down at her. “I can’t change that.”
“No, you can’t. And now they’re gone.” She glanced up, hearing the distant whirr of the helicopter. She wanted it said and settled before the ugliness came back. Before the police got there, with their questions, their investigations. “You said you loved me.”
“I do, more than anything.”
“Isn’t that what you’d call a foundation? I’d think a man with your talents would be good at seeing what needs to be dug under, what can be rebuilt, what has to be reinforced to make it stand. Do you want to save what can be saved, Nathan, and start over?”
“I do.” He took a step toward her. “More than anything.”
She looked back at him, held out a hand. “Then why don’t we get started on the rest of our lives?”