Double Jeopardy (28 page)

“Could I see your passport and ticket, please?” The official held out his hand and Sera passed over the documents. Things were happening too quickly. She couldn’t figure out what was best to do. Grendel was now lying across her shoes, making it nearly impossible to move.

“Please, Sera.” Ben sounded desperate. “Cut me some slack here, okay? I talked to Vera. I finally realized I was the one who needed to get on with my life.”

“So he’s been two-timing you, huh? You’re better off without him.” By now the Customs man was interested. “C’mon through, miss,” he bellowed. “Let this guy stew in his own juice.”

Ben glared at him. “I happen to love this woman,” he stated. “I’m trying to explain myself here, and you’re not helping.”

“Is he on the level, or has he really messed you up?” When Sera didn’t answer the man turned on Ben. “We have rules in this country, y’know. Two strikes and you’re out, son.”

Sera ignored him, but her face burned, because now everyone nearby was listening. The official might as well have had a megaphone.

“What if there’re no seats on the next flight, Ben? I have to be back at work in the morning.”

“There’re always seats in executive class. I’ll make sure you get on the plane.”

Should she trust him? Sera thought of Maisie and blowing up bridges, and she stuck her hand out for her documents. “Sorry, sir. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take the later flight.”

“I only hope that’s a wise decision,” the Customs man said, and then he relented and grinned at her. “He seems not a bad fellow. We all make mistakes.” He winked at Ben and roared, “Better make it good, son.”

Ben did his best. Within fifteen minutes, he’d managed to get Sera a seat on the eleven o’clock flight. He put her suitcase in a locker, handed over her tickets and key and then led her and Grendel out of the cavernous departures lounge and into the late-afternoon sunlight. He found an empty bench by a bus stop and they sat down.

“I want to explain everything,” Ben began, but she interrupted him.

While he was busy with tickets and baggage, Sera had had time to think. "Ben, I have to tell you what’s been going on today, why my father was calling you.”

Grendel sat on his haunches beside her, his head and one dirty paw in the lap of her cream silk-nub slacks. She stroked him as she related the whole story, being careful to include every sordid detail. She rested her hand on the dog’s warm head, wishing that love was as simple for her as it was for Grendel. “That’s why Papa’s been calling you,” she concluded. “He wants to apologize both to you and to the guy at the hospital. Gemma’s also written you a letter of apology. It’s all over, Ben. So you see, there’s no problem with your career. You’ll still get that job you want so much.”

She held her breath, trying to shield her heart, trying not to hope or believe. He’d retract everything now that his job was secure again. Things would go back to what they had always been for him.

He was holding her hand, and she waited, expecting him to give it an apologetic squeeze and then release it, release her. She waited, steeling herself against the hurt.

Grendel whined and Ben said in a quiet voice, “Do you think you could love me, Sera?”

Nervousness turned to irritation. Why did he have to ask that? She’d been avoiding his gaze, looking down at Grendel, but now she looked full at Ben, knowing that it didn’t matter what she said, because the truth was written in her eyes, on her face, and she was weary of trying to hide it. Even so, she needed courage to voice it.

“I already do.” She gulped. “Love you.”

He expelled a long sigh, and his voice was less than steady. “I’m glad. I’m so glad. Because I love you, too, Sera Cardano. And I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, and I don’t give a damn where we spend it. Vancouver’s okay. California’s nice.” The smile that lit up his face was luminous, filled with joy, triumphant, and it seemed to spread over and through her until there was not the slightest space left in her heart for doubt.

Neither was there space for Grendel as Ben wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him, ignoring the dog’s yelp of protest.

Sera carefully removed Ben’s filthy glasses and clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She’d tell him later on that she didn’t want him to move to California. She’d tell him she’d much rather work with Maisie right here in Vancouver. They could live in his loft, at least until they had babies. Oh, she wanted his babies.

There would always be Gemma to cope with, of course. Things hadn’t appeared too hopeful between Gemma and Jack when they drove away from the airport together; Jack had looked grim and Gemma had looked frantic.

Ben and Aldo would have to shake hands and be friends. And Ben hadn’t even met all her relatives yet; Sera suspected that at least three of her aunts would hit him up for a facelift once he was part of the family.

She’d discuss it all with him, eventually. But right now she couldn’t say a word because she was being thoroughly kissed by the man she intended to many.

EPILOGUE

“It’s going to be a white Christmas, Ben, isn’t that perfect?” Sera was jubilant. The rain that had pelted Vancouver for the past week had miraculously changed to snow just as darkness was falling, and tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

“Is this straight, love?” Ben, perched precariously on a paint ladder, carefully settled the angel on the top of the eight-foot Christmas tree Sera had insisted upon. “Make sure, because I’m not climbing up here again. I don’t fancy the idea of spending Christmas in the ER as a patient.”

“It’s beautiful. Come down and look.”

“Gladly. Gratefully. And I’m hiring someone to dismantle this when Christmas is over.” Ben stepped gingerly down and together they contemplated the glimmering tree.

“You’re right, sweetheart.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “The tree’s absolutely spectacular. Stanley’s gonna flip out when he sees it.”

She’d positioned the immense tree so it reflected in the wall-size mirror. There appeared to be two Christmas trees, ablaze with hundreds of tiny golden lights, and now that it was dark outside, the entire room was also reproduced in the glass of the window wall.

“I think everything’s almost ready. We just need to finish wrapping the presents,” Sera said, casting a critical eye around the main floor of the loft. The soft taupe walls and the rich, darkly exotic rugs set the stage for the groupings of comfortably overstuffed couches and armchairs and low tables, an eclectic mix of old and new that she’d chosen to furnish the huge space.

Green plants flourished in odd comers; pottery bowls on low tables held outsize acorns, and harvest baskets overflowed with holly and colored glass balls. On the walls, Ben’s drawings mingled happily with framed Gauguin prints, and underneath the skylight, situated just where the afternoon light was the best, stood the long worktable she and Ben shared. He painted or sculpted while she constructed the models for her sets. The lifelike busts of Stanley and baby Hannah that he’d finished and cast in bronze as gifts for Greg and Lily sat on the table, waiting to be boxed.

“We’ll put the turkey in the oven as soon as we get up in the morning,” Sera plotted. “I tried it. It fits, but just barely. And there’ll probably be tons of food because everybody’s bringing their specialty. Aunt Teresa’s making cream horns and Uncle Dino’s sure to cook up that awful lentil soup of his. He laces it with so much brandy it’s not safe for the kids to eat.”

Ben grinned, aware that Sera was more than a little nervous about the party they’d planned for Christmas Eve; this was the first time they’d be entertaining formally, and the guest list had quickly grown to astronomical proportions.

After their wedding in mid-September, Sera had elected to spend her honeymoon decorating the loft.

They could go on a trip later, she’d insisted, which made sense, because both she and he were unusually busy with their careers.

Sera was working with Maisie on the challenging sets for a horror movie, and Ben had been invited by the hospital board to supervise the final planning for the burn unit, which would open the following summer. The invitation meant that his sessional appointment as head was almost a certainty.

Sera had been in her element as painters transformed the walls and ceilings of the loft and muscled deliverymen obediently arranged furniture to her specifications.

Ben smiled now at the memory. He and Grendel had done their heroic best to be enthusiastic and supportive about the redecorating, but their apprehension had been all too evident to his wife. She’d lavished affection on them to offset the trauma of it all, a situation they’d taken shameful advantage of. He’d actually been a little sorry when the loft was finished, and he was convinced Grendel felt the same.

“Gemma finally found a wedding dress,” Sera announced, moving away from him to plump up the goose-down cushions on the sofa and straighten an ornament on the tree. “It’s off-white, with Empire styling to hide her big belly.”

They both laughed. Gemma had managed to get pregnant last August, and she was having twins. Ben and Sera had wickedly speculated that it must have happened the very day Jack had driven Sera to the airport. True to her contrary self, Gemma had refused to be hurried into marriage. She’d insisted she wanted a long engagement, and Jack had patiently indulged her, until December arrived and her stomach began to reach monumental proportions. Then he’d firmly set the wedding date for New Year’s Eve. Ben noted that Gemma hadn’t argued.

Ben’s own relationship with Gemma was still uncomfortably strained. Much as he wanted to, he didn’t trust her; he’d still prefer not to be in her company, but Maria stubbornly insisted her daughters and their partners come to family dinners every single week. Ben was trying, but he doubted the time would ever arrive when he’d be able to totally forgive Sera’s sister.

Sera never mentioned it to him, but Ben instinctively knew his feelings about her sister troubled her. Gemma was, after all, her twin.

Aldo, too, had been awkward and uneasy with Ben until the September afternoon when Maria and her daughters were busy preparing for Sera’s wedding, arguing together over flowers and invitations and dresses and food and hairstyles.

In self-defense, Ben and Aldo had taken refuge in front of the television. They watched two soccer matches and somehow drank their way through a large bottle of grappa, lethal homemade Italian liquor. As the grappa dwindled, conversation flowed, and by the time the bottle was empty, they were firm friends. Ben was almost sure the killer hangover he’d suffered the following day was worth it.

Ben put a Christmas music CD on the player and turned out lamps until only the tree lights illuminated the room.

Sera was still fussing over the party. “Do you think we’ve got enough ice?” She was making a list of what needed to be done. “And cranberries, I hope I’ve got enough cranberry sauce.”

Ben took the pad and pen out of her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Forget cranberries. Come and dance with your husband, Mrs. Halsey.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, they moved slowly and sensuously as the music played. The second CD was still Christmas music, but with a more lively rock-and-roll beat.

“You up to this, Doctor?” Sera did some intricate footwork, and Ben spun her out and caught her again. Grendel chose that moment to wake up and come galloping across the room toward them, barking with excitement. He seemed to think he was missing out on some wonderful new game. He tried to insinuate himself between them, and when that didn’t work, he growled and nipped at Ben’s ankles.

“Stop it, Grendel. Go back and lie down.” Ben was perturbed. The dog ignored him, half tripping both of them.

Sera started to giggle helplessly and they collapsed on a couch. "Maybe this is a better idea after all,” Ben murmured, trapping her beneath him and nibbling at her neck. “Have I told you lately that I love you, sweetheart?”

“Not for a couple of hours,” she said, squirming into a more comfortable position beside him. They lay in each other’s arms, looking up at the tree.

He held her against him, aware of her flesh touching his, her warm breath mingling with his own. He’d make hot, sweet love to her tonight, but not quite yet. One of the things he liked about being married was having time. They’d talked it over, and decided to wait a year or so before they had babies. They needed an interval to be alone, to focus only on each other, sharing admiration, understanding, trust, desire...and love, such incredible love.

There wasn’t any need to rush, because their life waited for them, rich and profound, filled with times of joy and, inevitably, as well, Ben suspected, times of sorrow.