Crime and Passion (16 page)

“Heroes,” he echoed, as if mulling the concept over. “Does this mean I’m going to have to go out and slay a dragon every so often?”

Amusement danced in her eyes. “Or at the very least a lizard.”

“But I like lizards,” he protested. “So does Alex.” He’d found that out about the boy. Something else they had in common. Each day with them under his father’s roof had proved to be a revelation.

Clay had no idea how he’d managed to get so damn lucky. He’d blown it all those years ago, and now he was getting a second chance to make things right. Permanently.

“Okay,” she said, surrendering, “don’t slay it, just capture it.” And then the humor left her eyes. She should have told him about Alex a long time ago. Maybe all of this would have been spared them. And Alex would have had a real father these five years.

As if reading her expression, he took her into his arms.

The last brick in the wall that had surrounded her heart broke in two. “Oh, God, Clay, I’ve been such an idiot.”

He kissed her hair, breathing in the scent. So grateful to be able to hold her like this. He could have lost her today. Forever. And so many things would have been left unsaid. “Yeah, me, too.”

She sniffed, trying to hold back the tears. Not doing a very good job of it. “How is it our son turned out so well?”

He felt her words warm against his shoulder as she spoke. The warmth spread, filling his heart. He held her closer. “Must be recessive genes.”

Ilene drew her head back to look at him. “I love you, Clay Cavanaugh. I always have.”

He knew that. It no longer frightened him. Now it was his strength. “The feeling is mutual.” Then, because the words couldn’t be kept back any longer, he said, “I love you.”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged, giving her the only explanation that seemed plausible right now. “That idiot thing we were just talking about.” And then he smiled. “But don’t worry. I’ve got the rest of my life to make up for it.”

“I’m not worried.”

It was the last thing she said before he kissed her.

Epilogue

I
t was late.

Andrew switched on the light in his den and closed the door behind him. Everyone had finally settled in. After they’d brought Ilene and Alex back with them, Clay had gathered everyone at the house and made the announcement. He’d told them all that Alex was his son. And that soon Ilene would be his wife.

A lot of joy today, Andrew thought, smiling. There’d been a lot to celebrate, and if there was one thing the Cavanaughs knew how to do, it was celebrate. The last of them had finally cleared out at eleven.

The house was quiet now.

Andrew sat down at his desk. The desk where he’d spent hours at a time poring over his notes, trying to find one shred of evidence, one fact, however slim, that he could use to support what he always believed in his heart to be true. That Rose was alive.

He had it now.

Here, carefully wrapped in a plastic bag, tagged as evidence but important to no one but him, he had proof. Proof that she hadn’t been trapped in her car when it sank to the bottom of its watery grave. Proof that she’d managed to get out on her own, that she hadn’t been swept away by the current.

He placed in on his desk and looked through the plastic at the worn, cracked leather. He’d given this to Rose, filled with the pictures of their children. The pictures were still there. As was her license.

He’d kept the news of this discovery to himself, at least for now. He hadn’t wanted to spoil Clay’s news tonight, hadn’t wanted to cast a shadow on the party that followed.

He knew what they all thought, that he’d become obsessed with this, with finding Rose. But it wasn’t an obsession, it was a belief, a very firm belief. If Rose had been dead, something inside of him would have been, too, something would have shattered.

But it hadn’t, it wasn’t.

He was intact. The emptiness that was there was because he missed her, not because he grieved over her lost life.

If she was dead, he would know.

“You’ve got a lot to live for, Rose. Now more than ever. And I’m going to bring you home,” he promised the woman in the photograph.

Quietly he set the frame down again. Rising, Andrew placed the wrapped wallet back in his pocket, then turned off the light.

Before going up the stairs, he checked the front porch light, making sure it was on, just the way he did every night.

The light was left on to guide Rose up the steps in case she came home tonight.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-6850-4

CRIME AND PASSION

Copyright © 2003 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

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