Chapter 21

© Copyright 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



Derek had his windows rolled down, letting in the ocean air as he drove toward the station. The streets were still, not empty, but placid, as most people were celebrating Christmas Eve.

Beside him, Amy remained quiet. They’d left Mitch in surgery. Because the risk of infection was high, the doctors were putting in an external device that would hold the bone together until a rod could be inserted. It was an apparatus that, when screwed in, held the bone together from the outside.

It wasn’t considered a risky procedure, but he wouldn’t have thought Amy would leave her friends.

Even if he had been the one to suggest it.

Cars from The Springs restaurant spilled over into the station’s parking lot. The soft strains of holiday carols could be heard, hiding the normally prevailing sound of the ocean.

Derek maneuvered to his marked spot and cut the engine. Beside him, Amy stared forward, still pale, still fighting against the remainder of what had been another fierce panic attack. She’d lashed out against him, against her father, against the nurses who had finally stepped in to calm her. He could still see her, holding her hands against her ears, weeping; unable to breathe, not wanting anyone to touch her.

Panic. No one could really describe it’s core.

He thought back to his first day meeting her, the panic attack she’d had over what he’d thought was a simple traffic violation.

But it wasn’t the ticket. He thought of the way she’d pressed her hands to her ears, blocking out sounds that were only in her mind.

He opened his door, went around and opened hers. She didn’t move.

”Come on.”

She shook her head. “I don’t you around right now.”

”You’re not going to be alone.”

"I won’t be alone," but she unbuckled her seat belt and got out, still bitterly restless. "No one ever leaves me alone."

He shut the door and let out a breath. The antagonism in the first few months of their acquaintance was nothing in comparison to tonight. He followed her to the sand, watched as she stopped and stared down at her boots as if she didn’t quite remember why she had them on.

He started to kneel down before her, but she stepped back. “Stop. Just ... stop.”

He watched as she knelt, fumbled with the laces. She’d held up, seen Mitch into surgery, and stayed with Chloe until Andrea got there. Then she slipped away. Or tried to. Maybe the hospital walls had closed in on her. Maybe the silence had been too much.

She’d nearly shattered.

She stumbled out of her boots, tugged off her socks, and started to walk. She was stiff, walking as if she were being led down the long narrow hall of a block of cells instead of into the wide open wonder of the beach.

She wasn’t free. She wouldn’t be until the past was resolved.

Until her tormentor left her in peace.

Derek followed her at a distance.

”Don’t.”

She stopped, curled her fingers into her palms. He watched her struggle, watched her take a deep breath. The sun, sinking into the ocean, left her in the midst of a rich, golden glow.

”Don’t what?”

She spun around, stopped what she was going to say–whatever she was going to say. Instead, she stared at him, weary and wanting. Whatever she needed, he would have given her, if he could. He just didn’t believe that he could.

Not any more.

He slowly closed the distance between them. Her eyes were dark, prepared for a confrontation he neither wanted nor needed.

But she did. Or seemed to.

“You’re crowding me. I need some space.”

He glanced at the distance between them, at her footsteps in the sand over the five or six feet that separated them.

”You have as much space as you need.” He wondered why he sounded so calm, even as he stepped closer.

”Not with you following me around.”

”I hate to repeat myself,” he reached out, touched her arm, but dropped it when she stared numbly down at it. “But you’re not going to be alone.”

He looked passed her, out into the ocean, and tried to give her room she desired without leaving. It had only been a couple of weeks ago that she’d stared out into the ocean debating whether to let it take her, and she’d turned to him. Asked him to marry her.

The ocean was still there, as large and as dark as ever.

How much more troubled she was tonight.

Ask again, he wanted to say, and I’ll take you away from all of this.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the ability. Maybe it wasn’t even his job, his right.

He bowed his head and lifted up a prayer.

Frustrated, angry, broiling with emotions ... Amy turned and looked toward the ocean, but went no further. When he glanced over, her eyes were fastened on the sky. It was her way to pray ... her way to live ... taking the highest wave, believing, trusting in its power to lift her up, help her fly.

A few couples were mingling in front of The Springs restaurant, standing hand in hand, near the water.

He could hear their laughter. Their happiness. He prayed they would stay away. They didn’t, they headed down, walked passed them, too oblivious in their joy to note the strain that seemed to pulse between him and Amy.

Finally Amy lowered her chin and stared out over the ocean where the sun was nearing it’s final hour. It’s color radiated across the rippling waves. He could see the evidence of tears glistening on her cheeks, reflecting the light from the sun.

”It makes me ill ...” the words came out slow, trembled on her tongue, “to feel ... to remember ... my mom ... Ryan, Jenny ... and Matt ... that no matter how much terror I feel, they felt it, they heard those sounds, knew that ...”

”I could have lost two friends today ... all because someone wanted ...” she hugged her arms around herself, “wants ... retribution, destruction? I don’t know.”

”You’re only doing yourself more harm by blaming yourself. You’re only giving whoever it is more power over you.”

”And I let it all out on you. I’m sorry,” she said and slowly turned back to face him. She reached out with a trembling hand and gently touched his side. “I hurt you. I’m so very sorry I hurt you. I feel so ... sick. So sick that–I still don’t know how to handle it.”

”It’s all right.”

”No it’s not. It’s not all right.” She pivoted back and watched the ocean.

He reached out for her, to put his arms around her from behind, but she stepped away.

”Don’t,” she turned to face him, her eyes full of turbulent emotion. “Can’t you feel it? There’s so much, pressing in. You and me, the past the future ... and there’s someone, out there ...”

Who’d hurt her, her friends.

”I can’t do this right now.”

”What?” he asked carefully.

”See a me and you. I couldn’t even let my dad hold me tonight. Do you realize how long I’ve wanted the chance ... and I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t even accept it from him. I have to learn to accept it from him. My mom would have wanted me to accept it from him.”

”You don’t have to do everything tonight ...”

”I know ... but I can’t. Not yet.”

”All right.”

”It’s too much.” She dropped her eyes, worried over it.

He stepped close, put a hand to her chin, lifted in so she could see his eyes. “What we feel or don’t feel for each other ... if it’s strong, it will last. When you’re ready ...”

Could she feel his hand tremble, he wondered? Did she know how his heart trembled at his own words?

He dropped it, took a step back. The last few weeks with her had been magical. They’d taken a break form the trouble surrounding them. Like a rented boat, it didn’t belong to either of them. The before and the after took precedence.

Hadn’t he been feeling this since she’d headed for the mountains? How could she make the decisions she needed to make about her future with him putting pressure on her?

He thought of the words that had popped into his head earlier that had driven him to prayer. Maybe it wasn’t even his job, his right.

He had to give her room.

”I want to go home,” she sought his eyes, his understanding. “To my dad’s. I want to ... spend Christmas with my dad.”

He glanced at his watch, nodded. “Let me ask John to stay on a little longer. We’ll do whatever you need to do.”

”Derek, I’m sorry. I’ve done a lot to hurt you tonight. I didn’t want to. I don’t want to.”

”Amy ...” he swallowed back the regret. “When you’re ready.”



The hospital waiting room was quiet, so Andrea heard when Eric returned. She opened her eyes and smiled wearily. Though he stripped down to a t-shirt, he still wore his ski pants. “Where’d you go?”

”Needed some air.” He looked around the room, noted Mitch’s father sitting the corner, his head propped against the wall as he dozed. “Where’s Chloe?”

”She went with Mitch’s mom and step-dad to the cafeteria.”

”Then you think you could come with me?”

She glanced around, worried over the fact that Amy might come back ... that Amy might need ... but she was with Derek, Andrea reminded herself. And now Derek was taking on the role of protector in her life.

Had she done that? Had she tried to be Amy’s protector ... as she hadn’t protected Jenny? It was something to think on; as it was something she would have to release. It was quite likely Derek’s turn now, and if not, she had always been God’s.

Take care of her.

She stood, took Eric hand. “What did you have in mind?”

”The one place I could think of in a hospital. It is Christmas Eve.”

”Still?” Andrea glanced down at her watch, surprised to find that it was barely dinnertime. “I suppose we could go over to the candlelight service at church ... I’d like to see Mitch first, though.”

”We’ll go if you want, but I want to give you your present first.”

Her stomach fluttered, but it wasn’t completely with unease. She knew why Eric had moved to California. She knew what he ultimately wanted for Christmas, whether or not he would ask her tonight.

And because she’d been almost sure what her present from him would be, she thought of her own she’d planned to give in response. Well, one of her own. She wouldn’t have settled for just a t-shirt when it was their first Christmas together in California.

It had been Amy’s idea, anyway. Amy... they had been friends for too long, they had been through too much, for her heart not to be divided. She lifted up a prayer for her, then one for Mitch. She pressed her free hand to her head. It was still spinning with the way everything had turned so badly so quickly ...

”My gifts are still in Upper Springs.”

”We’ll go get them.”

Andrea smiled at the ease in which he said it and let him pull her onto the elevator. They didn’t speak again until he was leading her along the first floor hallway. “You can put in a few more days of skiing.”

”Probably. I have to be back in court the day after Christmas.”

”There always next weekend.”

”And the next. I’m sure I could get used to the nearly four hour drive it takes to get there.”

”You spent almost that much time a day on the road in traffic in Boston.”

”Almost,” he stopped before the chapel door. “Will you join me?”

”I think I will,” she stepped inside.

The only light in the room came from behind a stained glass window. Eric reached over, turned on the dimmer lights, just enough to highlight the two rows of pews.

”It’s beautiful.”

Hand in hand they walked to the front of the chapel. The artificial light from the window shimmered color.

It was like being inside a rainbow.

At the alter he turned, took both her hands. She looked up at him, into his eyes. One day soon they would stand like this before their family and friends. Her stomach quivered, but she didn’t feel weak. He wouldn’t let her feel as if she was weak.

”Every Christmas you were gone, the one thing I wanted was you.” He released her hands and turned, picking up his wrapped gift from the pew behind him.

Not one gift, but two. She stared at the small box, obviously the size that would hold a ring box; the other, an ordinary department store dress shirt box.

”I couldn’t wait to ask,” he said, and held up the gifts to her, one in each of his hands, “but I can wait for your answer. Take my gift, one or the other.”



Sitting beside Derek as he drove, Amy could not help but look at him. She didn’t know how to say what she wanted to say. She didn’t know how to fill the awful silence that crawled between them.

Would she ever be able to accept what he offered what he wanted to offer to her?

Love she swallowed against the lump in her throat. Why was his love so hard to endure?

”I need to get some things from Anna’s..." her voice sounded hollow and her brow furrowed as she tried to think. “I need some ... clothes. Something of everything. I have a gift for my dad there.”

Derek turned on his blinker and glanced into the next lane before moving over.

It had been so easy to talk to him, so easy to be with him over the last few weeks. She ran a hand over the goose bumps that had risen on her arm.

”I need to...“

He reached down and picked up his cell phone from where he’d tossed it in the cup holder.

She smiled ruefully, and dialed Andrea’s cell. It rang, but almost immediately switched the voice messaging. She was in the hospital, so it was likely off.

She flipped the phone closed and frowned as she stared out the window. He turned down the street that led to Anna’s house. The other homes on the street were familiar, had become part of her life the last few months, but she didn’t feel as if she was returning home ... not even as Derek turned into he drive.

She got out of the car, walked around and met him at the front. She looked up at him. “I just need...“ The words wouldn’t come. She felt caught, unable to step forward, unable to go back. She’d asked to go to her dad’s, but she should have asked to go back to the hospital. She needed to see Mitch, see Chloe, who should have had her friends around.

She needed to curl up into a ball and surrender to sleep.

Instead, she was caught at an impasse, between fear ... and need.

Derek sighed. “Come here.”

When he reached for her this time, she went limply into his arms. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t feel, she only knew that she couldn’t fight anymore. Her arms hung limply at her side as he held her. She didn’t have the strength to hold on.

To grasp what she wanted...what she thought she wanted.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his heartbeat. A single tear escaped and rolled slowly down, tracing a shimmering path down her cheek.

”We’ll get the number for the hospital, call from here,” Derek gently massaged her scalp, his fingers interwoven in her hair, “but he’s probably fine. He’s probably not out of surgery yet. And Chloe’s with his family. But if you think you need to go back, I’ll take you.”





The light from the stain glass window cast a warm mirage of colors over her skin as Andrea slowly reached out and closed her hand over the smaller box. Her fingers trembled as she unwrapped the shinny silver foil that covered the jeweler’s box.

When she lifted the lid, it was empty, but Eric had knelt down before her. He looked up at her and held the ring between them. “What was in the box is more than a ring ... it’s my hopes and dreams, my love—parts of myself that I didn’t know where alive until I met you. I haven’t hidden what I feel, so you know what I want for Christmas. The choice is still yours. Will you marry me?”

She blinked past the tears and reached out, not for the ring, but for him. She gently ran her fingers through his auburn hair, pushing it back from his face. She traced his jaw line, the gentle stubble of his styled beard. She remembered the day she’d seen him coming down the stairs at her parents’ office. She’d stared up at him, desperate to believe him to be real, so very afraid that he was....

She’d come to find that he was so much more—genuine, so much more alive, then he had been in Boston.

She ran a finger over his lips.

”Oh, Eric,” she murmured softly. “I’m glad you came after me...I’m sorry I ran, sorry I left you without a word, but I’m not sorry for what I’ve found with you in the last few months. There’s no fear, not anymore. My answer’s yes.”

Andrea laughed as he stood and scooped her up in one smooth move, the softened light from the stained glass window dancing around them as he spun her around.

Here was her man, her long time love. Here was someone who had believed in her, enough to follow her across an entire continent; a man who loved her. He slowly lowered her to her feet and she smiled with contentment as she rested her head against his neck, as she breathed him in.

”I love you.”

He grinned as he lifted her hand, slid on the ring. She noticed it for the first time; the magnificent marquis cut. It glimmered in the colored light. How perfectly beautiful, she thought, as she held it up to the light.

She caught he eyes. How absolutely perfect, she thought again, this time thinking of Eric.

He caught his hand and brought it to his lips. “I love you too, you know.”

”What would you have done if I had chosen the other box?”

He let out a short laugh. “I was fairly confident ... But I was afraid you needed that choice ... you needed the chance to wait. I had already sprung my presence on you in the last year. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Do I get to see what’s in the other box?”

”What box?” he laughed and grabbed it from where he’d dropped it on the pew. He handed it to her.

”This is a good deal,” she said as she sat down and tugged off the wrapping. She folded back the tissue paper and picked up the digital camera and the thin travel agency folder.

”Do you remember the time we went up and met my mother in New York?”

She looked up from the tickets. There were three of them.

”You must have said a dozen times that you wished the Amy could see this or that. You wanted a picture with her in the middle of Times Square. One with me wasn’t enough,” he slid his arm around her, along the pew. “It’s for the day after Amy signs her probation papers, a few days before classes start back. She’ll be free to go anywhere. I figured she’d be more likely to take it if it came from me ... especially if there were tickets for you and Chloe to go with her.”

Andrea blinked back the tears and nearly smothered the delighted laugh. “How could you possibly understand her so quickly?”

”How could I not? She’s a sister of your heart.” He drew her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “She’s part of you.”





Lance had been unusually silent since they’d left the hospital. They had gone in his car, as Derek had taken hers to exchange for his own. He hadn’t offered to drop her by her place. He hadn’t asked her inside, but she’d gone.

Anna shut his front door behind her and watched as he walked across the living room to turn on the light. He stood in the center and stared, wearily, at nothing in particular. The room was decorated in cool creams and browns, clean lines, void of personal artifacts save the lone painting of Mallory in her wedding dress that hung on the wall above his chair.

It was hard to talk to him in this room for so many reasons.

When he dropped down on the leather sofa, buried his face in his hands, she walked over, ran a hand over his smooth scalp. He had his own demons, just as Amy had hers. For too long Anna had tried to help him chase them away. She couldn’t.

She looked up and faced the painting of Mallory. Anna didn’t know how to help him–nor did she know how Mallory would have responded, if she would have needed to do anything at all. Lance and Mallory had been so in tune with each other, so absolutely perfect for each other. They’d had each other to lean on, and had trusted in the rock their marriage created.

And was why it had been so devastating that Loraine Thompson tried to push that rock out from under them.

”Lance?”

”I wanted Amy to come home tonight. I wanted to spend Christmas with her. Selfish of me—I stopped letting her celebrate when she needed to. Now she doesn’t come home.”

”It’s not too late, Lance.”

He looked up as her as she ran her hand over his head again, seeking to comfort. She pulled her hand back slightly. “You have tomorrow morning ... and then the rest of your lives–still a good fifty years, I’d say.”

He stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe, couldn’t understand. Then he stood, his eyes never leaving hers. He gently caressed her cheek, so softly, so fleetingly, then let his had slowly fall down her arm, gently caressing on the way down.

He was mixing things up, taking the easy path as he always did. Anna swallowed and forced herself to step back, to wall herself up against him, against his vulnerability before--before she gave in to him again. Before she opened her heart further to him. Tonight, she couldn’t take his attention from Amy.

”We could--or you could fix Christmas dinner over here,” she slowly backed away, putting as much distance between them as she could. His eyes, though weary, watched knowingly. “Surely you have enough in your kitchen to put something together.”

She stopped when she felt the window to her back. Her fingers grasped onto the sill as she stared at him. It had been that lost ... that needy look that had done her in the first time. Amy had been picked up by the cops—his love for Amy, his grief for Mallory, a kaleidoscope of color. He’d looked at her—just looked at her, and she’d succumbed.

How could I not love you?

”You can’t leave it all for me to do alone,” he started across the living room toward her. Her palms started to sweat. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to deal with him. He was too venerable. That made her too weak.

”I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Her voice shook.

”But it’s a family dinner,” he reached around her, caught her hands, brought them between them. “And you’re family.”

”Lance ...”

”You’re part of the Carpenter family, Anna, whether you let me give you my name or not.”

”And be part of your harem? I don’t think so,” she pushed at him. He held on. “Lance ... don’t loose focus. You have your daughter to worry about. It's Amy you should be thinking of.”

He didn’t like to be turned down. He’d never liked for her to turn him down. He was used to winning the game, used to his suave and cool skill being able to wash over whatever the play. He could have just about any woman he wanted ... and he’d proved it to her, time and again.

As the anger lit his eyes, she pushed him away. This time he went. “You’re supposed to be thinking of Amy.” She turned, stared out the window, and watched him in the glass. “And picking a fight with me isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

”Is that what you think this is about?

”It’s the way it is, Lance.”

”Anna ...”

”Some things never change.”

Anna turned, watched Vince come in from the back, and watched the irritation cross Lance’s face. Crisis averted, she thought. He would slide into the familiar steps with Vince and forget all about fixing things with his daughter.

”Vince,” Lance rattled the change in his pocket, briefly glanced at her. “When did you get in?”

Vince looked at Anna. “Before lunchtime. I was home in time for a convenient visit by our fine police department.”

Lance looked at Anna—surprise, distrust—both crossed his features. Both stabbed into her heart. “What?”

Anna glared at Vince. She should have known he would have pulled this, that he would twist it, use it as ammunition between her and Lance. She should have enlightened him sooner.

She should have made the interview official; pulled Vince into the station by his slimy doctor’s ethics and questioned him—and would have, if she’d been sure of herself.

But she didn’t like Vince on a personal level. And the law wasn’t built on personal feuds.

She crossed her arms, firmed up her defenses, and made eye contact with Vince. “Derek and I paid Vince a visit, this afternoon. We had some questions about one of his patients.”

”Can you guess, who Lance?” His laugh was barely perceptible, dripping in hate; a hatred so deep, so ... dark. “I guess not ... You should have. You should have been paying closer attention. I’ve been waiting for this. Waiting a long time.”

Anna stared at the handgun, compact—something that looked more like it had come from a James Bond catalogue then anything she had ever dealt with. It was, she thought, a sleek weapon, but not the gun of choice for someone with experience. Still any weapon, especially at short range, could have deadly impact.

She slowly shifted her hand. If only she could get into her pocket, reach her cell phone.

Vince turned the gun on her. “Stop right there Anna. Let’s just keep your hands visible. You have tricky fingers. You wouldn’t have been able to keep your hands on Lance otherwise.”



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