Happily Ever After (36 page)

Everyone had gathered around them by now, and
every eye remained on Sophie.

“... never have I known women so earthy in
nature,” she continued, louder than before, with an artistic flair of her hand.
“If you experience the carnal joy of one woman’s bosom, you must not think her
the exception because the next will make you yearn to feel her native soil
between your toes forever and run like a savage through the jungles of her
birth. You will nearly forget you are a civilized man and never again wish to
languish in the misery that is Boston.”

Harlan had written that? If so, he was more an
idiot than Jack had ever supposed.

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

“Sophia, I can explain!” Harlan pleaded with her.
“Give me the letter, please!”

She jerked it out of his reach. “Not for all the
Vanderwahl money would I be dragged so soon from this paradise!” she finished
passionately.

“I can explain,” he said again, but his plea fell
on deaf ears.

“Don’t bother!” Sophie said, turning away,
returning to Jack.

Harlan started after her. “Sophia, my darling
princess, I can explain everything!”

She whirled to face him, rounding on him once more.
“Don’t ever again call me that again! I have good news for you, Harlan! You
don’t have to worry about the encumbrances of matrimony! Not with me! Not
ever!”

Jack shook his head, realizing in that instant
that this had, indeed, been her intent the entire time. This moment was what
she had come for.

And he was damned proud of her for standing up for
herself.

“And furthermore, you don’t ever have to leave
this place if you don’t wish to!” she told him, and folded the letter in her
hand, keeping the evidence. “And better yet you never again have to worry an
inkling about Vanderwahl money!” she assured him.

She turned once more, leaving Harlan looking as
though he’d been slapped in the face by his mother. She walked proudly toward
Jack, looking every bit the woman she was, and handed the letter to him.

“It was never your money I cared for!” Harlan lied
without hesitation.

“I love you, too,” she told Jack, ignoring Harlan,
smiling, and then she spun on her heels once more, going back to Harlan, her
demeanor suddenly fierce again.

Jack found himself grinning.

She loved
him.

She’d said so.

“Oh no?” She poked a stunned Harlan in the ribs,
and said, “Every man should have such an understanding fiancée, eh? And a
father-in-law willing to plunk down good money in support of his cause?”

Harlan remained speechless.

“Well, you were right about one thing Harlan
Horatio Penn the third! I am not wasting away! But I won’t be bearing your
children—not in this lifetime!” She poked his chest once more.

“How dare you think to make me wait for you five,
six more years for you to deign to return to me! And how dare you belittle my
interest in your studies! And how dare you suggest that women have no patience
or capacity for learning! And perhaps you couldn’t have chosen better,” she
said in finale, “but I certainly can! And have!” she added with a nod.

And then she turned and left him one last time,
coming toward Jack, her smile radiant.

Jack’s heart swelled with love for her.

And pride.

And joy.

She returned to him with shoulders squared, and a
determined stride, confidence exuding from her person.

“You can’t do this to me!” Harlan railed at her
back. “You can’t choose him over me, Sophia! It’s utterly disgraceful!”

Sophie ignored him.

“What will your father say?”

“I don’t care!” she replied, without turning.

Harlan advanced on them suddenly, his hand raised
and pointing indignantly at the skies, “And don’t think I won’t tell him you’ve
been carrying on with that... that...”

Jack set Sophie aside when she reached him,
entrusting her into Kell’s arms.

Harlan was close at her heels.

“Excuse me an instant,” he told her calmly, and
then hurled a punch at Harlan, catching him completely unawares with his false
sense of security and interminable arrogance. It sent him flying backward once more
onto his rear, adding another bruise to the collection on his face.

Some men never learned.

“What the hell was that for?” Harlan asked him,
outraged, glaring at him.

Jack shrugged and brushed himself off. “For the hell
of it,” he answered glibly, and then turned and took Sophie into his arms.

He kissed her thoroughly, thrusting his hand into
her beautiful hair, reveling in the feel of it between his fingers, soft and
fine. He looked at her with pride in his heart. “Ready to go, flower?”

Sophia nodded, feeling joy as never before.

He shook his head, chiding her. “Why the hell
didn’t you tell me this was what you came for?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and said,
laughing, “Because it wasn’t any of your business, Mr. MacAuley.”

“Saucy wench!” Jack said, and grinned at her. “Is
that any way to speak to your fiancé?”

Sophie ignored Harlan’s lunatic raving. She
laughed softly. “Was that your arrogant way of asking me to marry you, Jack
MacAuley?” She tilted him a coy look, and he teased her lips with his tongue,
biting them softly.

He whispered into her mouth, “I do believe so.”

“Yes,” she said. “Only under one condition...”

“And what might that be?”

“That you let me stay with you... no matter where
you are.”

“It’s a deal,” he agreed, sealing the bargain with
another kiss. “I’ll just have to make you my new partner.”

“Hey!” Kell protested, though his tone was tinged
with laughter.

“We’ll have to discuss the terms in depth,” Sophie
assured him, smiling as she caressed the hair at his nape.

“That’s easy enough,” Jack disclosed. “You can
have anything you want...”

“I already have everything I want,” Sophie said.
“I have you.”

“I’m going to write your father at once, Sophia!”
Harlan threatened as Jack lifted her up and carried her away.

“So am I, Harlan,” Sophie assured him, and she
sighed as Jack kissed her once more. “I think this is where we’re supposed to
sail away into the sunset and live happily ever after,” she proposed.

“How ‘bout we walk into the sunrise instead?”

Sophie laughed and clung to him tighter. “And live
in a little white house by the lake?” he asked her playfully.

She nuzzled against him. “A tent will do just
fine, thank you very much.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Jack declared.

Penn could have every grant he pleased. He could
have the money and the prestige. He could have anything and everything. Jack no
longer cared.

All he wanted was the woman in his arms.

EPILOGUE

Sophie worked by the light of a single lamp. She had
crawled out of bed once Jack had fallen asleep, even though he had forbidden
her to work any longer tonight.

“You’re tired, Sophia,” he’d said. “You can always
finish the drawings tomorrow.”

He didn’t understand. She had to finish them
tonight, before the image blurred in her mind’s eye. It wasn’t work that
compelled her, however. Years ago, she had painted a wedding scene, a perfect
replica of the one her mother had dreamed of... except that the bride and groom
had had no faces. Somehow, it had never dawned on her why she could not depict
them, but now... now she understood with perfect clarity.

She peered back at the bed... they had bought a
bed for the ship and nailed it in place. The hammocks just didn’t have enough
room for the two of them, and she couldn’t imagine sleeping without his arms
wrapped protectively about her. He was so handsome lying in the moonlight, and
she hoped she depicted every perfect feature in her drawing. He was beautiful,
and she loved him fiercely. And she understood now that she had never loved
Harlan at all... that Harlan had never loved her. She understood because never
in her life had she felt such a glowing warmth for another human being. It was
a joy that touched every aspect of her life, like a brilliant ray of sunshine
that penetrated even through the darkest clouds, banishing every shadow.

It was late but she wanted to complete the drawing
before the morning when they would reach port in Belize... to send along with
her letter home. She hoped her mother would see it and understand. And her
father ... she knew he would. As she’d lain in bed with Jack her father’s words
of wisdom had come back to her like a light flipped on in the darkness. While
she’d worried and fretted how he would view her decision to wed Jack she’d remembered
something he’d said to her a night so long ago... a night not so unlike
tonight, when she had labored over one of her pieces. She had been only eight
years old then, but the memory of it was as clear now as though it were
yesterday that he had knelt at her bedside.

“Sometimes it takes a lot more courage,” he’d
said, “to follow your own dreams instead of those of the ones you love.”

Well, she was following her own dreams now, and
she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. And she had so much joy in
her heart that wanted everyone to be as happy as she was!

She finished the painting at last, and stared at
it.

A pristine white gazebo, decorated with pure
snow-white ribbons, sat in stark contrast to the opulent green lawns of her
sprawling family home. Golden rays of sunshine penetrated a vibrant, rich green
canopy of trees, and shone down like the touch of God himself on the couple in
the gazebo. On the horizon, shiny black horses galloped in a distant meadow.
She wondered if her father would understand its significance. She wondered if
he would remember the tale he’d told her. She couldn’t live their lives for
them, or even counsel them in matters she had no right to. But it wasn’t too
late for them. It was never too late as long as there was breath in the body.

Satisfied with the results, she set the painting
aside, lifted the pen, and withdrew a clean sheet of paper from Jack’s desk.

She began to write.

September
12, 1899

Dearest
Mother and Father,

Please
forgive me for having taken so long to write. I do hope your visit abroad was
lovely as ever.

You will be
quite relieved to know I did not murder Harlan, after all. In fact, I have much
to thank him for. And oh, I got married, though not to Harlan, I’m pleased to
say. I will explain everything in detail when I return to Boston—as soon
as Jack and I complete the current expedition.

It was a
lovely ceremony held in a quaint chapel in Mexico and presided over in Spanish
by a native priest. Now Mother, don’t fret because despite that I didn’t understand
a word he said, Jack speaks the language quite eloquently, and he was sweet
enough to translate everything. You will adore him, I assure you, as I do, and
we promise to get married all over again when we return. You may, in fact,
begin decorating the lawn, just as you so often described to me.

In the
meantime, I know you are happy for me because I am deliriously so!

In case you
are not... Mother, a very wise man once told me that happily ever after isn’t
something someone can give, not even a mother who loves a daughter so very
much. It’s a place inside your heart. I’ve found that place, Mother.

I truly hope
you’ll understand, and if not, at least forgive me for following my heart. I
love him, Mother, and I am happier than I have ever been. And for the first
time I have found a sense of purpose in my drawings. I am cataloguing Jack’s
artifacts and discoveries, and doing quite well, Jack says. Enclosed you will
find a few of my finest examples, along with a new picture I have just
completed. Enclosed also is a letter written by Harlan as delivered to me by
Jonathon Preston. It will explain much, I believe, and Father will find it of
particular interest.

Papa, I
wonder if you have considered purchasing that horse farm you spoke of so long
ago? It’s never too late. And I do agree, Mother truly has the most lovely
smile...

Sophie lifted her brows after writing that
particular remark. Her mother did, of course, have a lovely smile...
when
she happened to smile... which
wasn’t particularly often.

A slightly crooked smile came to her lips as she
wondered at her own matchmaking. Was it painfully obvious? To her it was,
though her remarks were subtle enough that only her father should take them for
what they were.

“Until we
meet again,”
she signed the letter.
“I remain your loving daughter, Sophia Vanderwahl MacAuley.”

She signed the last of it with as much precision
as she was able, every precious letter fashioned with painstaking love.

Sophia
Vanderwahl MacAuley.

Jack stirred at her back, his timing impeccable.

“Come to bed, flower,” he demanded.

She turned to see that he had lifted his head from
the pillow where they had both lain their heads, peering at her sleepily.

“I can’t sleep without you.”

Sophie laughed softly. “You can too, you rotten cad!
I heard you snoring!”

He managed a throaty chuckle. “Impertinent brat.
Come back to bed. The drawings can wait until tomorrow.”

Sophie smiled at him. “I’m coming, my darling,”
she said, and stood, abandoning her letter on the desk until morning. He was
right, it could wait.