Coming Up Roses by Catherine Anderson
Zach stopped twirling his wife long enough to laugh and accept the invitation, then he buried his face in the sweet curve of Kate's neck, not giving a damn who might see them. In a distant part of his mind, he heard people yelling the news outside on the street. "Not guilty! They found her not guilty!" The words filled him with an inexpressible joy and a relief so intense he wanted to weep.
People gathered around them. Defler and his assistant. The sheriff and his portly wife. Several married couples whom Zach had never formally met hung back, clearly eager to offer best wishes. "They reached the only possible verdict." "We're mightily pleased things have turned out so well." "That's a precious little girl you two have there. It took a lot of courage, her giving that testimony!"
Zach kept his arms vised around his wife, ignoring the hands that were outstretched toward him. Pleasantries and good manners be damned. Now that he had her clutched close, he never wanted to let her go.
"Sheriff!"
Russell, the deputy, lurched into the courtroom, looking none too steady on his feet. Recognizing the panic in his voice, Zach lifted his head. The deputy jerked off his hat and swiped at his mouth with his shirt sleeve. His eyes had a wild, half-focused look. "I never thought— He must have heard them yelling the verdict out on the street! I heard him raving, but by the time I got back there to him, it was too late."
The sheriff drew his arm from around his wife's waist. "Slow down, Russell. You aren't making any sense.
What's happened?"
"Blakely!" Russell cried. "He hanged himself with his bedsheet!"
Zach heard Kate gasp. A tremor ran through her body. Then she slumped against him. Still stunned by the news, he barely tightened his arm around her shoulders in time to catch her. Her legs folded beneath her. With a detached feeling of disbelief, Zach realized she had keeled over in a dead faint.
* * *
Moonlight bathed the rose garden, gilding the blossoms and serrated leaves with silver. Kate leaned on the wobbly fence and lifted her face to the gentle summer breeze, inhaling the scents of the summer night. A deep sense of peace filled her. Her thoughts turned to Zachariah, and she smiled. They had come full circle since the last time she had stood here in the darkness.
The sound of a door closing drew her gaze to the shadowy front porch, and, as he had once before, the object of her thoughts came to stand on the top step. Wearing only jeans, he cut a fine figure, his broad chest and muscular arms silvered by the moon's soft glow, his tousled hair gleaming nearly blue-black. When he spotted her, he stiffened, then came down the steps with two long-legged strides.
"Kate, honey, if you were coming outside, why didn't you say something? I woke up, and all I had in bed with me was a kid and dog." As he came toward her, he stepped on something with his bare foot. "Jesus H. Christ!"
Tears of joy streamed down Kate's face as she watched him vault over the fence. With the lazy, loose-hipped stride she had come to adore, he moved up beside her and leaned his arms on the fence. When his shoulder brushed hers, her body tingled with awareness. Man and woman. Lovemaking. Because of him, Kate now knew how incredibly sweet and right such things could be.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked huskily.
"I needed to do some thinking," she replied, "and this seemed like the right place." She inclined her head toward the lovely blossoms. "Here, in the rose garden. Good-bye to the old, hello to the new."
He lifted a leathery hand to brush the tears from her cheek with his broad thumb. "Is there anything I can do? I'm a good listener, if nothing else. I know it can't be easy to accept what Ryan did, Katie, but you mustn't blame yourself. He obviously couldn't accept the truth about his brother—or about himself. As heartless as it may sound, maybe he chose the best way. Maybe in death he has finally found some measure of peace."
She smiled at the concern she heard in his voice. "Oh, Zachariah…"
"I'm serious," he insisted. "I don't want you agonizing over this. It can't be good for a woman in your condition."
Recalling his joyous expression earlier when she had told him about her pregnancy, Kate pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "I don't blame myself, and I pray you're right, that Ryan and Joseph have found peace. God knows their lives were nothing but torment, for them and everyone around them."
He heaved a shaky sigh. "As horrendous as they both were in life, I don't think it was by choice. If we can't forgive, at least we can try to understand. Sometimes people's personalities are molded by forces beyond their control."
Kate sighed and nodded. "There's a place within me that will always mourn for Ryan and Joseph, not because of who they were, but because of who they might have been. It seems such a waste, such a terrible, sinful waste. It's frightening to think what power we wield as parents. If not for their father, things could have been so different for them."
He bent his head to catch one of her tears with his lips. "That all happened long before you met Joseph."
"Yes," she agreed, "and that's why I came out here, to put it behind me. As sad as the outcome is, I refuse to waste another day—not even another moment. It's over. And I'm free to go on with my life."
"With me?" he asked gently.
Kate gave a mute nod, not at all embarrassed that another rush of tears welled in her eyes. That felt absolutely wonderful. "Did I ever tell you that Joseph said my happy tears were caused by female hysterics?"
He bent his head to catch another shimmering tear with his lips. "At the risk of repeating myself, Joseph was an idiot. You can cry buckets of happy tears, Katie McGovern, and never hear a word of complaint from me. I've never met a stronger, more resilient woman."
Kate pressed her forehead against his jaw, her chest aching with so much love she couldn't possibly express it.
Very gently, he captured her face between his hands. "Good-bye to the old, hello to the new," he whispered.
"Here in the garden seems like the perfect place to make you a promise I've been meaning to make."
In a choked voice, Kate asked, "Really? And what might that be?"
He feathered his lips lightly over hers. "From here on out, Katie McGovern, everything in your life is coming up roses. No more sadness."
Kate clutched his wrists, went up on her tiptoes, and lost herself in the twinkling hazel of his eyes. His silken lips settled over hers, the contact so sweet, yet filled with sensual promise. He lowered a hand to her waist, then slid his palm downward to press it lightly over her womb. The possessive touch of a lover, the protective gesture of a father. A man capable of giving both kinds of love … fiercely, simultaneously, holding nothing of himself back.
With a sense of wonderment, Kate felt a trace of wetness on his cheek, touched her fingertip to it, and realized it was a tear. When she leaned back to see his face, he made no attempt to hide it. The emotions that rocked him were reflected plainly in his gaze.
Magic, and heroes, and castles made of dreams. Perhaps she believed in them, after all.
* * * * *
Catherine Anderson, Coming Up Roses