As for Catherine's father, his body had washed ashore late last night. He was really dead. Catherine could finally let go of her fear. She was free now, and, Dylan supposed, in an odd way so was he.
Catherine slid down the rail, touching her shoulder to his. Her beautiful hair glistened in the late-afternoon sunshine. "Are you ready to go home?"
It was a simple question, but he didn't have an answer. Where was home? Who was he?
He wasn't a Sanders anymore. Jake was only his half brother, not that that made a difference. Jake would always be an important part of his life. But it might not be the same. Dylan hoped it would, but who knew?
Everyone else was dead, both literally and figuratively. His real parents were gone. He still had to come to grips with the fact that he would never ever know them. He doubted he would ever know Julie either. According to a local psychiatrist, she'd had a psychotic breakdown and had retreated into her head. It was possible she might never come out of it. Apparently her mother's mental illness had been well-known on the island, and the woman had spent years on antidepressants before the episode that had driven her off the edge of sanity and filled her with a desire to kill herself and her children to punish her husband—his real father, Thomas Bristow.
He'd read through some of the letters his parents had written to each other back in the days of their affair, and he knew there had been real love between them. It was small compensation, but it was something.
And the man Dylan had called his father was not going to be in his life ever again. He had yet to tell Richard Sanders that he knew the truth. In fact, Dylan wasn't sure if he'd ever have that conversation. It no longer seemed important. He didn't give a damn about Richard anymore. The man was nothing to him now.
It was strange how he'd accumulated a lot of new people in his life and then lost them again. He was basically alone.
But he didn't have to be alone.
He turned his head and gazed into Catherine's blue eyes and saw everything he wanted. His past was gone.
She was his future.
"Whoa," he said with a smile. "I just had a vision."
"Really? What did you see?"
"You and me having incredible sex together—in bed, in the shower, on the kitchen table, on the desk—"
"On the desk," she interrupted. "Whose desk?"
"The one in our study, the one across from your studio, where you paint beautiful pictures of our children."
Her eyes blurred with tears. "Don't tease, Dylan, not about that."
"You saw it, too, didn't you?" He wasn't joking anymore. And neither was she. "We're connected, Catherine. We always will be. You told me a long time ago that two women would enter my life and one would be my salvation. That's you, and I'm not letting you go."
"I'm crazy," she pointed out.
"You're quirky,"
"I'm a vegetarian. You're a junk-food addict."
"You're emotional. I'm logical. What's your point? Don't you see we're a perfect complement, like mustard and ketchup?" He laughed. "Okay, not the best example, but you know what I mean." His voice softened. "You always know what I mean. I never have to explain myself." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm ready to go home, to you, wherever you want to live, the beachside cottage, San Francisco, somewhere new.... I am putting my life in your hands."
"You would trust me with it?" she asked in amazement.
"I would trust you with everything I have. I love you, Catherine. And you may not believe it, but I've never said that to a woman." Because he'd never been able to feel anyone in his heart. But he felt her with every damn beat. She was in the air that he breathed. She was in his head. She was everywhere he wanted to be.
"Oh, Dylan. I never thought anyone would want me forever. You'd better make sure you really want me, because once I'm in I might never leave."
"I really want you, and I never want you to leave."
Her eyes glistened with happiness. "I love you, too, Dylan. I love the way you brought me out of myself, woke me up, challenged me to live. I feel like a new person, someone who is finally free. I think the nightmares are gone now, because my father is dead. He can't hurt anyone else. And I'm no longer connected to him." She paused. "I wish I could have helped those people he killed. I wish I knew now who they were, so I could bring peace to their families, but the visions I had were so cryptic. I never understood them. I never really saw their faces."
"You have to let it go, Catherine. There's nothing you can do."
"I know. You're right," she said with a sigh. "It will be nice to sleep through the night again."
"Hey, that may not happen every night," he told her. "I can certainly think of other things to do in bed besides sleep."
She smiled. "I'll bet you can. Even if those nightmares are gone, I can't promise that I won't experience other psychic visions."
"They're a part of you. I get that. I'm on board."
"Thank you. What I can promise is this—I'll never lie to you, betray you, or walk away from you."
His heart had never felt so full. Nor had he ever been so scared. He wanted to live up to all her expectations. He wanted to make her happy for the rest of her life. He hoped he could do that. "That's all I want," he said. "And I plan to make sure that any dreams you have involve me." He pressed his lips to hers in a long and promising kiss.
Epilogue
Four months later . . .
Dylan waited at the front of the church, Jake by his side.
"You're a lucky man," Jake said, giving him a little nudge with his elbow. "I still can't believe you went and fell in love while I was out of town, not to mention the fact that you almost got yourself killed. And you never called me. That pissed me off."
"You were on your honeymoon." Dylan paused as he looked out at his friends in the church. "But you're right. I am lucky. Lucky to have found Catherine. Lucky she said yes."
"Well, she hasn't officially said yes," Jake pointed out with a grin. "Ever hear of the runaway bride?"
"Catherine is done running," he said confidently. "And so am I."
"The world's best bachelor bites the dust and takes on the old ball and chain," Jake drawled. "Who could have seen this coming? Well, I guess your wife-to-be could have. You should take her to Vegas, see if she has any insights at the blackjack table."
Dylan laughed. "I already tried that. She's lousy at counting cards. But we had a really good time in the suite with the mirrors on the ceiling."
"I'll bet. I like her. She's good for you," Jake said, a more serious note in his voice. "I think Mom would have liked her, too."
"Yeah," Dylan said, his throat tight with emotion. He'd let go of all the anger he'd had against his mother, and he hoped that somewhere she knew he was finally happy.
"Daddy, Daddy, look." Jake's small daughter, Caitlyn, waved to her father from the front row.
Caitlyn was an honorary flower girl, but since she was only two her mother, Sarah, had walked her down the aisle already, letting Caitlyn throw rose petals wherever she wanted. As a result the left half of the aisle was covered in flowers, with nary a one on the right side. Sarah shushed her daughter while her friend Teresa looked on. Teresa, Sarah, and Catherine had been friends in foster care, and Dylan was happy that the three women had found their way back to a close friendship. Teresa had a new man with her today and seemed to be getting ready to make a trip down the aisle herself. Their circle of friends was rapidly expanding.
The priest stepped forward with a smile. "Are we ready?"
Dylan felt a rush of emotion, a surge of adrenaline as he searched for Catherine. For a moment he wondered where she was, and his stomach took a panicked dive, but then he saw her standing at the back of the church. Everything was right with the world.
He loved her so completely that his heart ached. He'd never thought he'd feel so much for a woman, but Catherine wasn't just anyone—she was his friend, his lover, his partner, his everything.
The music began.
Catherine walked slowly down the aisle in a lacy white dress. She carried a simple bouquet of wildflowers in her hand. She hadn't wanted anyone to give her away. She was giving herself away—to him. He'd never felt so honored.
When she reached his side she flashed him one hell of a smile. His breath caught in his chest. God, she was beautiful.
The priest began to speak. Dylan barely heard the words. He couldn't take his eyes off Catherine. When it came time to make his vows he said them slowly and deliberately, knowing that deep down inside Catherine was still that little orphaned girl who was afraid no one would ever want her forever. But he did and he always would.
They kissed and the audience clapped. As they turned to face their friends Dylan whispered, "I had a vision last night."
Catherine's fingers tightened around his. "Really, what was it?"
"That we were going to live happily ever after."
"Well, you know the thing about visions—they always come true." She paused as they began walking down the aisle. "By the way, I think we should trade in my Volkswagen for a family car."
He stopped abruptly. "You saw a child in our future?" he asked, his voice far too loud.
"No. I saw the stick turn pink," she said with a laugh. "We're going to have a baby, Dylan. You and me— we're going to have the family we always wanted." She cast an embarrassed look at the crowd. "I guess I should have told you that in private."
He grinned. "And later I'll probably say I should have done this in private, too." He leaned in and started a kiss that would last for the rest of his life.
* * * THE END * * *