“The music’s starting.” Even now, so many months after he’d returned to them, Luke’s voice still had the power to send joy streaming through her veins.
These days he couldn’t stand dark rooms or closed spaces. Loud noises made him cringe. He’d gone back to work at the mill at least, and he was keeping things afloat, as he’d always done, without regard to his own well-being. Neva wanted so much for him to be happy. He had a lot of healing left to do, and he’d never be the man he had been before. Too many old scars and bad memories.
But he looked handsome in his tuxedo, and he stood ready, offering his arm. With a tremulous smile, she took it. Her brother walked her down the aisle in time to the music. She didn’t have a ridiculous train, so the attendants followed behind. They stopped at the gazebo and Luke offered her hand to Zeke.
Neva barely heard the words the minister spoke, too lost in eyes bluer than the sky and twice as beautiful. Finally, he would be hers in the judgment of the whole world, and she could prove how proud she was of him. Not that there had been any doubt for months. But she wanted this. Hell, they needed this.
In a couple of months, the wedding dress probably wouldn’t fit anymore.
The ceremony itself passed in a blur. She spoke her vows and he repeated his with excessive care. Neva alone knew how terrified he was of signing his name on the marriage certificate. It was the one place he might trip up, so with her help, he’d practiced a scrawl beforehand. Doctors did it all the time.
At last the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
And what a kiss; Neva heard tell afterward that a lady in the front row fainted after the first forty seconds and had to be revived with smelling salts. She wouldn’t know, of course, too busy enjoying the heat and magic of Zeke’s mouth. He kissed her without pretense of civilization: his mouth said to hers—and the world—
this woman is mine.
Eventually, people pulled them apart because Lillian’s photographer was too important and artistic to be kept waiting by the mundane happiness of the bride and groom. But she wouldn’t allow that to ruin her wedding day. Instead she laughed and ran along the grass, hand in hand with Zeke.
My husband.
It thrilled her just thinking the words, and his grandmother’s ring caught the light. Once, as a young woman, Martha Noble had worn this ring and experienced the same joy. Such connections mattered.
Zeke’s family stopped them. Aunt Sid gave her a hug and then stood back, admiring her dress with tears shining in her eyes. “I’m just that proud. Couldn’t love this boy more if he was my own. Welcome to the family, honey.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Auntie Sid to you. Next week, I’ll stop by the farm and show you how to make the ambrosia salad Zeke loves so well.”
Behind her, Zeke shook his head frantically; apparently he didn’t like the dish, but he was too kind to say so. That sort of thing was common in families—when people cared—and Neva had never felt more connected than this moment with the sun shining down and the sweet smell of flowers on the wind.
Uncle Lew pumped Zeke’s hand. He’d done away with chew for the day, and his sons wore their best suits. To Neva’s surprise, one of them—she could never remember who was Wil and who was Jeff—mumbled an apology while staring at his Sunday shoes.
“I spoke out of turn,” the man said. “And I got what was coming to me. No hard feelings?”
She raised her brows at Zeke, who merely offered an inscrutable half smile. Her husband accepted the proffered hand and shook, though she could tell he didn’t like it. Even his family made him uncomfortable. Only she could stroke him all over, and watch as he arched and purred like a powerful cat beneath her hands. There was a delicious power in that knowledge.
She posed and smiled for the next hour, along with everyone else, and then it was time for the toasts and wedding cake. Emil gave an unexpectedly romantic one; during his days in Harper Creek, he’d lost some of his cold, forbidding edge.
“When I see these two together, I am reminded that all things are possible, that we can find beauty in the most unexpected of places, and that if we cling fast to it, that lovely seed flowers into something steadfast and rare. To Zeke and Neva.” Emil raised his glass, and she smiled at him, wondering if he knew what he’d done.
When he started his term as sheriff, he was going to be beating the ladies off with a stick. From what Neva could tell, Emmylou Fish already had her eye on him, and that sure would be fun to watch.
Seeing Julie’s cousin gave the day a bittersweet flavor. She wished her best friend could’ve been here. She wanted her; she missed her, and that ache would never go away. But even that sorrow couldn’t linger long. Not today. Not in the sunshine, with little girls romping on the lawn in lace dresses, ribbons streaming from their hair. Too much beauty.
When Zeke raised the wineglass to her lips, she shook her head and whispered, “None for me.” While pretending to drink.
It took him a moment to work it out. “You—we—”
“Haven’t been to the doctor, but I’m pretty sure. I think it was when you pounced on me in the stockroom at the clinic. If it’s a girl, I’d like to name her Julia.”
Heedless of what anyone might think, he knelt right then and pressed his ear to her stomach. To anyone else, it looked like a knight paying homage to his lady, and a little
awww
rippled through the crowd. But she knew what he was doing. Only with ears like his would that be possible. When his gaze met hers, his eyes shone like dusky sapphires. Tears, though they didn’t fall. Zeke wouldn’t let them.
“What else could you possibly give me?” he asked, each word pushed through a throat that sounded thick to her ears.
“Everything,” she answered.
And then she did.
Turn the page for a special preview of
Ava Gray’s next novel
SKIN DIVE
Coming July 2011
from Berkley Sensation!
NINE MONTHS AGO ABOVE THE EXETER FACILITY, VIRGINIA
Taye prayed his
nerves didn’t show; he had a whole elevator full of people counting on him to make the right decisions. Insane when you thought about it. He suspected he’d never been in charge of anything before. He bore all the signs of a man who had never amounted to much; he knew in his bones nobody was looking for him.
Not so long ago, Gillie had asked him,
Do you remember who you are? Do you have a family?
He’d answered,
Only bits and pieces. I think I might have a family out there, but I’m not positive. I’m pretty sure they’d given up on me, long before I was taken.
Which made it even crazier that these people were all looking to him to guide them out of this mess.
But hell, I got us this far.
As the lift rose, the sound of distant explosions carried from the facility below, even through all the metal and concrete. Down there, the workers were dying.
Because of me.
That probably made him a monster by most people’s reckoning, but to his view, those who could cash a paycheck without trying to stop what had been done to Gillie—well, they deserved the big boom. The floor heated beneath his feet, and he could well imagine the wall of flames shooting up the shaft toward the car. There were only two stops, top and bottom, and the metal box rocked as it climbed.
Come on, just a little higher. Systems, don’t shut down just yet.
At last, the doors swished open, swamping him in a wave of crushing relief. Promise kept. Gillie glanced his way, seeking direction. She had to be scared shitless, but damned if she would show it. There was a word for a girl like her—indomitable.
Now let’s see, where the hell are we?
Four walls of textured metal. No visible door. But since the place had been built from panels—
“Start looking for a latch or a hidden exit,” the dark-haired woman said.
Took the words right out of my mouth.
The woman who had given the instruction seemed different than everyone else, less tentative, less damaged. She couldn’t have been there very long, or she would carry fear in her face. Instead, she only appeared determined, as if this sojourn had proven a minor inconvenience.
Rowan didn’t have a chance to work on her, thanks to me.
He took visceral satisfaction in that.
Eager for freedom, the others spread out; Silas found the panel after a brief search. The big orderly flipped it open, and Taye called the juice from his own body—precious little left now—to pop the electronic lock. Sizzle and spark, just like underground. When the door swung open, the scent of musty grain wafted in. Tentatively, they moved as a group, peering into the next room.
It wasn’t what he’d expected. No barbed wire, no high-tech perimeter. There were no guards he’d have to fry. It was almost . . . anticlimactic. This outer room was lined with straw and held the remnants of an old harvest. That was all.
“Looks like a farm,” a man with a faint Southern drawl said.
He was a little taller than Taye, but he wasn’t quite as pale, which meant he hadn’t been incarcerated long. The blond woman, on the other hand—Rowan must’ve had her for a while because she was damn near wrecked. And that was everyone: Gillie, himself, Silas, the Southern man, the confident brunette, and the broken blonde.
“We need to get out of here. Right now. Rowan could be arriving any minute.” Fear made Gillie’s words ring sharp and staccato with urgency.
That triggered a stampede, though nobody pushed or shoved. Silas hit the door first, and it wasn’t locked, swinging open to reveal daylight. Taye shaded his eyes, unable to speak for the pleasure of it. Even though it hurt his eyes a little, the fresh wind on his face felt amazing. It was late spring, he guessed, by the color and size of the foliage, so the weather was on their side, at least. Given all their disadvantages, they needed the break. Or it might be early summer, if weather patterns had changed while he was underground.
Taye gazed out over the furrowed fields, breathing in the verdant air. It was sweet and clean, hints of manure and compost, but no chemicals. No pine-scented cleaner. That antiseptic smell haunted him. Flashes still hit him from the time before, when his brain was scrambled, and he remembered screaming as they dumped some solution on him from the ceiling; Rowan aspired to complete dehumanization of his subjects, and in most cases, he had succeeded.
Beside him, Gillie trembled from head to toe. This had to be fucking overwhelming for her. He remembered how she had said,
I want to see the sun again, Taye.
That was when he’d known he’d do anything to make that dream come true, anything at all. And here they were.
He touched her on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We made it.”
“What now?” the man with the drawl asked.
“We should split up.” The black-haired woman spoke decisively. “Looking like this, if we stick together, we’ll be caught fast.”
Mental hospital pajamas, no shoes, no money, crazy eyes? No question. They’ll round us up and put us on the first short bus they find.
“She’s right,” Silas agreed.
Gillie managed a grin. “Before we split up, should we all agree to meet at the top of the Empire State Building in five years?”
And that was so Gillie. Lighten the mood, refusing to show fear. She might be quaking inside, worried how the hell they’d manage, but nobody would ever know it. The girl would spit in death’s eye, and if he understood her past, she had done it more than once.
While the others gaped in astonishment, Silas gave a slow nod. “I’d like that. Five years—to the day.”
The thin, blond woman spoke for the first time. “If I’m alive, I’ll come. But for now, it’s time to get moving.”
A murmur of good-byes followed. Taye didn’t take long about it, and he didn’t ask Gillie if she wanted his company, either. He laced his fingers through hers and gave a tug.
With a final backward glance at the silo, she followed him across the field. He pushed north, avoiding the highway, because they would certainly attract attention from passing cars. People in their right minds didn’t go for a hike barefoot in thin cotton pajamas.
They’d been walking for a while—impossible to say how long—when he glimpsed a white house set well away from the road in the middle of sprawling fields. Farmhouse. He didn’t see any cars in the gravel drive, but there was a detached garage, so it was impossible to be sure.
“Let’s go check it out.”
“Why?” she asked.
He read the anxiety in her expression. Though she tried to hide it, she was more than a little freaked. She hadn’t been outdoors in twelve years, and it would be dark soon. Compounding that, they had no money, no food, and no shelter, and she had to rely on him for safety; that would worry anyone with a lick of sense. Shit, it worried him.
“We’re not gonna knock on the door and ask for help, if that’s what you’re fretting about. But we can’t travel like this, either.”
She merely nodded. He pretended confidence, striding toward the house. The gravel drive bit into the soles of his feet as he crossed to peer into a garage window. No cars. That ought to mean nobody was around. Setting Gillie on watch, he broke in through the back and stole food, drink, and clothing.
As he came back out carrying a plastic bag, she called, “I hear a car coming.”
In tandem, they raced across the property toward the fields: once they put some distance behind them, they paused to change clothes. His were too loose and short; hers looked like they’d previously belonged to an old woman. It didn’t matter. At least the shoes worked, more or less, and socks made up the difference.
By then, it was getting on toward nightfall, but they pressed on. He could only think of getting out of Virginia. To the north lay safety and freedom. Or maybe he was conflating old history classes about the Underground Railroad with personal motivation. Strange he could remember those kinds of facts, but nothing about the man he had been. That was more than a trifle unsettling.