Authors: Midnight Hour
“Yeah, Mrs. Crutcher, thanks.”
“What about your dog, what was his name? Is he doin’ okay?”
“Kramer, Mrs. Crutcher. She gets out of the hospital on Monday.”
“His bill‘11 probably be as big as yours,” Mrs. Crutcher chortled.
“Yeah, probably.” Tony didn’t sound quite as amused.
“Well, you folks take care.”
“You too, Mrs. Crutcher. Good night.”
11 ‘Night.”
They had reached the stoop now. Grace took Tony’s key from his hand and opened the door. The old woman was still watching as they went inside.
“You’ll never have a stalker,” Grace said with certainty, reaching to turn on the light. “I don’t think anyone could get past Mrs. Crutcher.”
“I wouldn’t want to be the one to try,” Tony agreed. His hand caught Grace’s, keeping it from reaching the switch.
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KAREN ROBARDS
“Tony . .” she protested.
“Grace,” he said, gently mocking, then bent his head to kiss her mouth.
To all her protests that he couldn’t, he replied that he could, and demonstrated it, too. True, he wasn’t up to a lot more than just lying on his back in the middle of the bed, but that proved perfectly satisfactory to theni both. She undressed him, and herself, and then aniused herself by teasing him until he was groaning, and she suddenly didn’t find the activity quite so amusing any more. He had lots of injured parts she tried to be careful of, but in the end the passion that flared betwe,m them was so hot and fierce that she forgot all about his damaged state, and rode him until the world exploded. Then she collapsed on top of him, gasping and replete.
At that he groaned, in a different timbre from the lewd noises he’d been making just moments before, a’nd winced palpably. RecaUed to a sense of his disabilities, she immediately rolled off him.
“Oh, Tony, I’m sorry!” She reached for the bedside lamp. Switching it on, she looked at him contritely. “Are you all right?”
“I think you broke my few remaining whole ribs and he said, then started laughing at the horrified look on her face. “I’m fine. You just came down on a tender spot, is all.”
“We shouldn’t have she began, consciencestricken.
“Yes, we should have. In fact, if you give me a nnnute, we’re probably going to do it again. And again. And …”
THE MIDNIGHT HOUR
451
“Oh no we’re not.” Grace rolled off the bed, and stood, arnis; akimbo, looking down at him severely. He was still her handsome Tony, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, and long of leg, but the white bandage circling his head and rib cage, plus the massive contusions that marred almost his whole right side, made him look like a refugee from a horror movie. “If you could see yourself … You need to rest.”
His eyes moved over her, their quick heating reminding her that she was naked. He reached out, caught her hand, and tugged.
“Tony, no.”
“Just come and he down here beside me for a minute. I won’t do anything, I swear.”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“There’s that paranoid nature of yours again.” “I am not paranoid.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
He tugged at her hand once more, and despite her protests, she allowed herself to be persuaded to stretch out beside him, on his uninjured side, her head on his shoulder, her hand restingjust above the layers of white bandage that circled his rib cage. And then he proved, very thoroughly and once and for all, that she did not have a paranoid nature, that every suspicion she had ever harbored in her life had, in fact, been wellfounded, including the one about his true intentions when he had coaxed her down on the bed.
She would have told him so, too, and very pithily, except when she finally caught her breath enough to yell at him, he distracted her by the simple but un-
KAREN ROBARDS
,haracteristic gesture of raising her hand to his mouth, ind kissing the back of it.
“I love you,” he said then, looking deep into her -yes. “Marry me?”
To shorten what in reality proved to be a very long ind physically tiring answer, she said yes.
It must have been around midnight before they were ,-eady to go. Grace insisted on carrying his duffel bag :)ut to the car, and Tony let her, number one because -iis ribs were really hurting like hell-not that he meant :o adnu’t as much to Grace and number two because ae needed
ust a minute or two a
J lone. He was moving on in his life now, putting the past )ehind him, and he felt just the smallest twinge of guilt ibout that. He would love Rachel forever. She would :)e a part of him for as long as he lived, but he knew -iow that he could be happy again, that life still held ;weetness for him, like surprise packages just waiting to :)e found and unwrapped along the road.
Her picture was already stowed in the duffel bag, so ae did the next best thing and walked out into the warm, breezy night to say good-bye to Rachel in her
1 1 ,arden. Off behind the garage, the gauzy yellow light :)f the street lamp was swarming with bugs as it illumi,-lated the alley. Overhead, a pale quarter moon rode iigh in the sky, surrounded by dozens of tiny stars that D,littered like diamond chips on a field of
, I mi
:)Iue. Closer at hand, the grass and fallen leaves beneath ,iis feet looked almost black. A faint scent wafted -hrough the air.
Roses?
THE MIDNIGHT HOUR
453
Tony frowned, and then his eyes widened as he stared at Rachel’s rose garden. Unless he had completely lost his mind, it was in bloom, in full, glorious bloom, each bush lush with large white blossoms that released their perfume into the night.
In four years, those bushes had not sprouted so much as a bud. And it was late October yet. Warm still, admittedly; Indian summer, yes; but-roses in October?
Tony was not convinced until he was close enough to reach out a hand and touch a velvety flower. Roses. In October.
Tony stood there transfixed, staring at Rachel’s roses, in full bloom now where, only a week before, there had been nothing more than a circular patch of leathery, almost leafless branches and thorns.
A white moth came straight at him, swooping out of the darkness seemingly fi-om nowhere, and he ducked away instinctively as its soft wings brushed his cheek. It felt almost like a caress.
A horn honked from the street. Grace. He had to bring her back here, to show her-no.
If he showed her, maybe she would tell him that she’d had the rosebushes replaced. Maybe she knew why the bushes were bloorming, and there was nothing mysterious about it at all. She’d had them fertilized maybe, and watered. Something.
If that was the case, he didn’t want to know.
This he was going to take as a sign of benediction from the daughter he would love until he died.
Very gently, he plucked a single bloom, inhaling the sweet fragrance before placing it in the pocket of the
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KAREN ROBAPDS
leather bomber jacket he wore. He would press it in a book when he got home.
He smiled faintly to think that Grace’s house was now home.
The horn sounded again.
“I’ve got to go,” he said aloud, to no one in particular.
Then he turned and headed toward the street where Grace waited behind the wheel of her Volvo. Jessica would be home tomorrow, and the thought made Tony feel oddly complete.
His life had come full circle, he thought. He was going home to his girls.
In the darkness behind the house, a small white moth hurtled joyfully upward, this time racing without regrets toward the light.
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FEBRUARY 2000
GHOST NOON
From NEWYORK TIMES bestselling author
Karen Robards
Delacorte Press
KARENROBARDS
is the author of twentv-two historical and
oiitcmporary rommices, including tier most
recent national bestsclici-s Tbe Scnator’s
VVI’fc, Hmrtbreaker, and Minters Moon. She lives in Louisville, Kentucky, with her
111-Isband, and their three sons.