The Lost and Found (42 page)

Josiah had dinner pretty much done by the time I stepped from the bathroom. He’d lit candles and opened the big bay window to allow the cool evening breeze to flow in. He’d made a chicken soup, taking my sore ribs into account. After dinner he soothingly brushed my hair then gave me a foot massage.

I was lost in thought for a while, having withdrawn into my head — standing in front of Josiah’s bathroom mirror earlier I’d gotten my first glimpse of what I looked like, what my body looked like. There was nothing beautiful about it. I was damaged, wounded. And I didn’t know how Josiah would react. Would he be repulsed? Would he be afraid to touch me? To kiss me?

Josiah patiently waited for me to sort through all the thoughts in my mind. He allowed me time, gave me peace and patience. After several minutes of silence, he reached over and tenderly grazed my nose. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” I tried to smile at him.

Josiah searched my eyes carefully, then after a minute or two he reached for me, pulling me carefully, gently toward him, lifting me into his arms, and standing up. He carried me to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. Then he carefully stood me in front of the mirror. He wrapped his arms gently around me, brushed my hair aside, and kissed the side of my neck then traced his finger lightly over each and every bruise on my face — and there were several.

Josiah lifted my shirt a little to view my abdomen; it was bruised as well. Large fingerprint marks marred the surface of my skin. Then he carefully pulled the collar of my tank down to view the top of my chest, which was also bruised and marked with Rob’s fingernails. I tried to keep the trembling at bay, but I was unable to control the tears. Josiah then turned me to face him.

“Crimson,
stop
. I see that look in your eyes.
You
are perfect. Beautiful. Brave. Rob may have marked your body, but those marks will fade in time. If I could take them away I would. In a heartbeat.” He kissed each bruise on my face, and then moved to my throat. Tenderly he touched each and every visible mark on my body. And with each touch, he said, “You are beautiful. You are perfect. His marks will fade — and he was not the last one to touch you —
I was
. And I’ve covered these marks with my own hands. Hands that love you, Crimson, hands that worship you. And these hands will never hurt you.”

His words were a healing balm. I was able to reject the idea that I was somehow damaged goods, that Josiah might no longer want me, and see a glimpse of the woman he claimed me to be. He sparked my courage. He filled me with light, with hope, with acceptance, with love. I felt a little like a snake as it sheds its skin, sluffing off the old and dead to reveal the new. I took a slow breath and held it for as long as I could before the pain became too much and I let it out again. What he’d said to me had allowed me to release the dread and shame I felt over how I looked and what had happened to me. I was able to shed it like the cold dead skin of the memory that it was now.

Josiah took me by the hand and led me back to the couch. “I’m sure you have internal bruising that I can’t reach with my hands, so let my words touch them — don’t let Rob hurt you any more than he already has. Don’t give him that power. Don’t be afraid to face this ranch, or the barn. Don’t let him steal your peace and joy away.”

I leaned into his embrace and buried my face in his chest and just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, letting it soothe me, letting it heal me. Last night I’d felt like I was on the edge of another precipice, just teetering there, trying to stay alive. I’d come so far this last year with everything that had happened that I wasn’t sure how I’d survive this, too. Then Josiah had been there. Strong and capable. He’d held me together when I’d been unable to hold myself, when I’d begun to unravel.

And now, here, in the peaceful silence of his loft room, Josiah was once again calling me back from the edge, keeping me safe. He faced each and every fear I had and he helped me to conquer them. He took what was ugly in my life and he somehow made it beautiful. Made me feel beautiful. Made me feel complete and whole. I wasn’t sure just how he managed it, but Josiah had that gift. His words gave me the will to live, not just to survive, but to really live.

Gently he cupped my face, bringing my mouth up to his. Carefully, so he wouldn’t hurt me, he kissed my bruised lips, letting his linger over mine. “I
love
you, Crimson,” he breathed into me, igniting me, and fanning the flames between us, bringing me to life.

I’d been so lost before, but Josiah had found me.

Gracie

ETHAN WAS ADJUSTING HIS
dark red bowtie again; he shrugged his shoulders and shifted his feet, uncomfortable in his tux, uncomfortable in front of the crowd of guests. He just had to be patient for a little while longer, and then he could move. Gracie glanced to her left and saw Josiah doing the same. She couldn’t help but grin at their antics. Josiah was nervous, waiting for his bride, needing to see her. Music played softly in the background — The Dixie Cups and
Chapel of Love
. Sage had wanted a Fifties-themed wedding. And that’s what she’d gotten.

The ranch yard had been transformed in preparation for the ceremony; chairs were set up and deep red and grey bows adorned the aisle. She heard Josiah take a deep breath, hold it, then slowly let it out, trying to settle his nerves. The song would be ending soon and that would be Sage’s cue to walk down the aisle to her future husband. Josiah had asked Ethan to be his best man and Ethan had readily accepted. A few moments ago he’d walked Gracie down the aisle and they’d taken their places as Josiah and Sage’s only attendants. Now they were just waiting for Billy to bring Sage out the back door.

They’d stuck to tradition, Josiah and Sage had, not seeing each other before the vows. The song finished playing; a moment’s pause and then the familiar Bridal Chorus began. Everyone stood up and faced the back of the house in expectation. The door opened and Billy stepped out — he looked good in a tux — Gracie was impressed.

Sage was beautiful. Radiant. Her dress was a close replica of one she’d found from a magazine clipping that her mother had saved for a wedding she’d never had. The dress was a light, golden ivory color, with lace sleeves over a sweetheart bodice. It had a full skirt that stopped at Sage’s calves. She carried red roses. Her veil was short, just coming to her waist, as was custom for the period. Gracie couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes, thinking of Sage’s parents, and of Sage and all that she’d overcome to be here today. Gracie knew Terri would be so proud of her daughter.

Just then Gracie heard a long, deep breath being sucked in; it suddenly choked off. She glanced over at Josiah and was a little shocked to see tears silently streaming down his face. Josiah — the tough guy — was crying. Gracie didn’t blame him — it was an emotional moment — no doubt about it.

Gracie didn’t think there was a dry eye in the house as Billy gave his granddaughter away in marriage — something he’d never been able to do with his only daughter, Terri. And as she stood there and watched her best friend say her vows, Gracie couldn’t help but think just how right the world was.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife — you may kiss your bride,” the pastor stated a few moments later.

Josiah took another deep breath then lifted Sage’s veil. Tenderly he cupped her face, his thumb lightly grazing her lip. Gracie watched as he leaned down and kissed Sage. She was sure Josiah had meant to keep the kiss chaste, but kissing was a thing with them, a weakness, and suddenly he was dragging her against him, their mouths moving urgently together.

“Oh crap,” Gracie muttered, hoping they’d pull it together and remember they had an audience. But no, no they didn’t. Gracie stepped up to them, tapped Josiah on the shoulder and said, “Hello? We’re all still here. Watching you.” When that only produced a growling response from Josiah, Gracie tried another tactic. “Sage? Sweetie? You’re ruining your makeup. Come on you two, come up for air already.”

“I’m going to go eat your cake, Sage. I swear I am,” she tried again.

This time Sage pulled back a little. And as oxygen began to filter back through their brains they became aware of the loud snickering from the audience. Sage hid her head against Josiah’s chest in embarrassment.

Gracie chuckled and said, “Oh no, no more of that. Come on. I’m hungry, and we all want cake. And besides, in about three hours you can do that and more to your little hearts’ content.”

That more than anything got Josiah’s attention. He squared his shoulders and led Sage back down the aisle to thunderous applause and a bright and happy future.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“I’m a reader, a writer, a woman in love with her man.”

A child of divorce and abuse, E. L. Irwin found escape in reading and writing, and through the school of hard-knocks, learned to be a fighter. She’s a self-described romantic-rebel who wears her heart on her sleeve and tends to shoot from the hip on subjects that matter. She enjoys riding horses, wearing heels, shooting her XD.40, tattoos, and of course, a good book and hot coffee.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I’M SO THANKFUL
… to Blue Tulip for publishing me and allowing me to tell stories, to my family for putting up with me when I write, to my BETA’s for all your thoughts and input, to my friends for your support, to Kirsten for making me look good, to Dr. Rettig for making me feel good, to my Lord Jesus for guiding me down this road.

ALSO FROM BLUE TULIP PUBLISHING

BY MEGAN BAILEY

There Are No Vampires in this Book

BY J.M. CHALKER

Bound

BY ELISE FABER

Phoenix Rising

Dark Phoenix

From Ashes

BY STEPHANIE FOURNET

Butterfly Ginger

BY MARK FREDERICKSON & MELORA PINEDA

The Emerald Key

BY JENNIFER RAE GRAVELY

Drown

Rivers

BY E.L. IRWIN

Out of the Blue

The Lost and Found

BY J.F. JENKINS

The Dark Hour

BY AM JOHNSON

Still Life

Still Water

Still Surviving

BY A.M. KURYLAK

Just a Bump

BY KRISTEN LUCIANI

Nothing Ventured

BY KELLY MARTIN

Betraying Ever After

The Beast of Ravenston

BY NADINE MILLARD

An Unlikely Duchess

Seeking Scandal

The Mysterious Miss Channing

Highway Revenge

BY MYA O’MALLEY

Wasted Time

A Tale as Old as Time

BY LINDA OAKS

Chasing Rainbows

Finding Forever

BY C.C. RAVANERA

Dreamweavers

BY GINA SEVANI

Beautifully Damaged

BY ANGELA SCHROEDER

The Second Life of Magnolia Mae

Jade

BY K.S. SMITH & MEGAN C. SMITH

Hourglass

Hourglass Squared

Hourglass Cubed

BY MEGAN C. SMITH

Expired Regrets

Secret Regrets

BY CARRIE THOMAS

Hooked

BY RACHEL VAN DYKEN

Upon a Midnight Dream

Whispered Music

The Wolf's Pursuit

When Ash Falls

The Ugly Duckling Debutante

The Seduction of Sebastian St. James

An Unlikely Alliance

The Redemption of Lord Rawlings

The Devil Duke Takes a Bride

Savage Winter

Every Girl Does It

Divine Uprising

BY KRISTIN VAYDEN

To Refuse a Rake

Surviving Scotland

Living London

Redeeming the Deception of Grace

Knight of the Highlander

The Only Reason for the London Season

What the Duke Wants

To Tempt an Earl

The Forsaken Love of a Lord

A Tempting Ruin

A Night Like No Other

BY JOE WALKER

Blood Bonds

BY KELLIE WALLACE

Her Sweetest Downfall

BY C. MERCEDES WILSON

Hawthorne Cole

Secret Dreams

BY K.D. WOOD

Unwilling

Unloved

BOX SET — MULTIPLE AUTHORS

Forbidden

Hurt

Frost: A Rendezvous Collection

A Christmas Seduction