Miracle (71 page)

“I’m trying to make everything right! I swear to you, I’m trying.”

“The only mistake … that matters! Don’t do it to us!”

He kissed their son’s head with quick, desperate apology. “I love you. I love your sister. I love your mother. I’ll never let any of you suffer.” He looked at Amy. “Believe me. Give me a chance to prove it.”

She searched his face for a moment, and a look of wonder lit her eyes. Their son made a strong mewling sound. His arms and legs moved, testing the freedom of his new world. Amy’s weak hands fluttered over him, stroking the waxy, wrinkled skin. “I guess he was just waitin’ to hear you say that,” she whispered. “Now he’s glad to be alive.”

Now she and Sebastien shared the wonder. Her pain-glazed eyes had an empyreal glow. “He really is all right, Doc. And his sister will be, too. We’re safe because you came to help us. You saved us.
You saved our lives
. That’s powerful magic. Trust me. You and me together, Doc. We’ve got a future, and so do our babies. Because of you.”

She met his outstretched hand with her own.

Their daughter was born a few minutes later, ruddy and active and bearing a cap of auburn hair very much like Amy’s. Sebastien put her alongside her brother on Amy’s stomach. He bowed his head between them. Amy stroked the side of his face tenderly as he cried. He was finally complete, and the burden was gone. She understood. There were no mistakes here, none at all.

A
my stood quietly for a moment, lifting her face to the spring breeze, gathering her thoughts as she studied the unfurling white blossoms on a dogwood. There was so much to say, and so much that she couldn’t even put into words.
I wish you had been at the wedding. I wish you could see your grandchildren. I wish I knew what you thought of me now. And what you’ll think of me in the future
.

She decided to talk about the easy things. “I got a part in a television show. It films close to home, my home out in California, you know. So I won’t have to be away from the babies or Doc. That’s the way I wanted it. The part—it’s the lead. I’m the star. How about that? Guess I surprised you. Surprised myself.”

She looked down at the orange day lily in her hands, idly turning it while she swallowed bitterness. The lily had come from the old home place. It was both ordinary and beautiful. “I guess I had to work twice as hard as anybody else to get ahead. But maybe I’ve gone twice as far.”

Kneeling, she put the lily beside the grave’s granite headstone. “I’ll never forgive you, but I don’t need to hate you anymore. I can survive
anything
because I know I survived
you.
”

She allowed herself to cry for him, for the anger and pain that had twisted him into such an unhappy human being. Then she stood and shook the fresh earth of the grave from the hem of her dress. “I’ve got a long way to go, Pop. I won’t be coming back here. I don’t owe you anything.”

Her head bent in thought, she turned from the grave and descended the grassy hill toward a paved
drive below. The sound of a car door made her look up. Sebastien stepped from the backseat of their limousine and stood beside the open door, waiting for her, his expression grim as he glanced around the cemetery.

There are no ghosts here
, she told him silently.
And no curses
. He tilted his head and arched a brow at her as if questioning such confidence. She brought her chin up and swung her arms, sashaying down the hill in gentle defiance.
Trust me. See? Ghosts know better than to mess with the two of us as long as we’re together
.

She felt lighter. There would always be bad memories, but those would never be as powerful as the good ones she and he were creating every day. He had become a loving father to his children, the kind of father that neither he nor she had ever had. The love he gave to her and received full in return had made the kind of marriage that would nurture itself more with each year. She had the confidence to walk toward him now with absolute freedom from the memories she had finally buried, buried without reconciliation but also without regret.

She smiled at him as she crossed the remaining few yards, the moment merging the years behind with the years ahead. The wind pushed a cloud in front of the sun. A shadow moved over him, clung to him, and made her catch her breath. There would always be shadows. But then he held out his hands to her, and the darkness slipped away.

A former newspaper editor and multiple award winner for her novels and contemporary romances,
D
EBORAH
S
MITH
lives in the mountains of Georgia, where she is working on her next novel.