Upon a Mystic Tide (47 page)

“Yes.” He stared hard into her eyes.

She dropped her gaze, paused. “Maybe, in their own way, your parents leaving you proved just how much they loved you.”

“Bess, are you trying to tell me that you left me because you loved me?” He didn’t dare to believe it. Didn’t dare!

She nodded.

He touched a gentle fingertip to her chin. “You said we’d closed a chapter of our lives. You were right about that.”

“Yes.” She sounded sad, so very sad.

“I want to open another chapter, Bess.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching.

“You said once I solved the case, I wouldn’t need you anymore. But that’s not true. I’ll always need you.”

“Elise—”

He pressed a fingertip over her lips. “Was the mother I never had. I loved her for that, and for loving me. I’ll always love her. This wedge between you and me wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I muddled what mattered most—you. I don’t want to lose you again, Doc. I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

Devotion. Bess saw it in his eyes, heard it in the low, throaty timbre of his voice. She’d been so
 . . .

Sometimes you have to leap upon a mystic tide and have faith the sand will shift and an island will appear.

Her heart started a low, hard beat. Yes. Yes
 . . .
she understood.

Mystic tide.
Speak your heart, confident your beloved will understand.

That’s right, Bess. Go on. You can do it.

Her blood pounded through her veins.

Shifting sand.
Flexibility. Assumptions voiced, truths revealed.

Come on, Bess. Yes! You’re almost there. Come on!

Oh, God. Her heart thumped hard, threatening to beat through the wall of her chest.

An island will appear
 . . .

Bess gasped, “Jonathan, the island! It’s love!”

Ah, Bess. Bess. Finally.

“What?”

“Tony’s message. The island is love. That’s what he meant for us to know.”

Jonathan shook his head. “For me, it was a road map, honey, to solve the case.”

“Yes, it was. But it was also a road map for me
and
you and our relationship.”

“I don’t get it.”

Oh, thank you, Tony.

Anytime.

“For the right fee, I’ll explain it to you, Jonathan.” Bess shrugged. “I’m unemployed, if you’ll recall.”

“How can you joke?”

“Because I’ve figured out the message.” She smiled.

“Will you pay my price? I know how you love agreements.”

“I’ll pay.” His eyes twinkled. “Wait. What’s your price?”

“I’ll tell you
 . . .
later.”

“I don’t know if I like going into a deal with you without knowing the terms, but I do love that sparkle in your eye, so I’ll bite the bullet and go for it.”

“Thank you, darling.” She squeezed his arm. Trust. Sweet trust.

“Okay, so tell me.”

“I can see patience is going to be perpetual for you, too.”

“What?”

“Annual mottoes, darling. Never mind. We’ll discuss that later, too.”

“Bess.”

She wrinkled her nose at his warning tone. “People change during a marriage and, when they do, they’ve got to trust love to sustain them through those changes so they grow closer and not apart.”

Jonathan looked thoughtful, then he smiled. “The island is love.”

“Yes.” She smiled back at him.

Wonderful! Finally! Leap, Bess! Leap!

I am, Tony. Good grief, give me a minute. I’m new at this stuff.

He chuckled.

Men.

“What’s your price?” Jonathan asked.

God, Tony, my heart feels like it’s coming out of my chest. What if he laughs at me?
Lord, I’m nervous. Never mind. Trust love, right? Right. See, I did get it.

Quit stalling.

All right, all right, but if I end up crying, I’m going straight to Miss Hattie on you.

Duly noted.

Bess licked at her lips and looked Jonathan straight in the eye. “My price is the divorce. I don’t want it.”

He blinked, then blinked again. “Because of media reaction in your job?”

“No.”
Oh, Tony. What if he hates me now? What if he doesn’t give a flying fig that I’m crazy about him? I’m so
 . . .
scared.
“Because I loved you
 . . .
then.”

Chicken.

Thanks so much for your support. This is hard, you know. Oh, why don’t you go rattle a chain?

No way. I’ve worked hard for this moment and, by gum, I’m going to see it.

“I know you did, sweetheart.” Jonathan dragged the pad of his thumb along her chin.

If he gives me hell, Tony, I’m going to be so angry. Hurt, too. Hurt? Did I say hurt? I’ll be devastated, is what I’ll be. God, I must be nuts to try this leaping. It’s a wonder anyone survives it.

You’re doing fine. Hold tight. Faith, Bess. Faith.

Faith. Oh, I do love him so, Tony. I really, really do.
“And because I love you now.”

The look in Jonathan’s eyes softened and he stared at her, then groaned from deep in his throat and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in the cay at her neck, and hugged her tightly, rocking back and forth on his feet.
I love you, too, Bess.

Good grief! You heard every word. Tony, how could you!

Um, I think I hear some chains calling me.

Wait! Thank you, Tony.

That goes for me, too.

Anytime. Hold tight to the magic.

Jonathan reared back and looked at her, his eyes shimmering. “I heard, Bess. And I meant what I said. I love you. I don’t want the divorce, I never did. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He kissed her deeply, longingly, lovingly. And by the time he lifted his lips from hers, Bess believed him. He wanted her. He loved her.

He was not ashamed.

He smiled, his eyes tender and bright.

She smiled back, from the heart out.

“Let’s go,” he said, rubbing their noses.

“Where?”

“I made a promise to you. It’s almost sunset.”

She hugged him tightly, her heart so full it was overflowing. “First we’re calling Francine and Bryce and stopping this divorce nonsense.”

“Great idea.” He laughed. “Judge Branson will love it. I’m going to send him a new set of golf clubs for levying that fine on you.”

“What?”

“It got me up here.” He lifted the phone receiver at the desk.

“Add a new putter, too,” her arms around his waist, she squeezed, needing to hold him tight, “from me.”

He frowned and hung up the phone. “It’s out of order again.”

“Fine. We’ll use the one downstairs.”

Laughing and holding hands, they hurried down the stairs together. At the bend, beneath the portraits of Collin and Cecelia, Bess paused, pulling them to a stop. She looked up at the portrait of Cecelia, the healer, and smiled.
Legend says miracles happen here. And they do. I think you must have loved so much that it lingers. That’s the magic here, isn’t it? Love. And, Cecelia, bless you for saving one of those miracles for John and me.

“Honey, why are you crying?”

A flood of peace and, contentment filled her. One such as she’d never known. One she’d forever fail to fully explain, but never fail to appreciate. “I’m happy.” Bess smiled at her husband.

He pecked a kiss to her lips. “Me, too.”

She curled her arms around his neck. “I love you, Jonathan. With all my heart.”

“I love you, too, Doc.” He kissed her long and deep. “I love you, too.”

Miss Hattie heard John and Bess’s
exchange on the stairs and sighed her content. Healed. At peace. “Lovely. Isn’t it lovely, Tony? Just lovely.”

The phone rang. She answered it, and was still on the line with Bryce Richards when Bess and John came into the kitchen. They were smiling, their faces flushed and exuberant. Their joy seeping into her heart, she held up a finger for them to wait, then spoke into the phone. “I’ll have your word, dear, that you’ll come and bring the children. You need a little rest, and they need pampering.”

After listening for a moment, she smiled. “Well, I think the odds of getting them a mother from Macy’s are rather slim, dear.” She laughed softly. “All right, Bryce. We’ll see you then.”

“Bryce?” Jonathan asked.

“Just a moment, dear. Jonathan has a question, I—think.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Hattie. Is that Bryce Richards?”

“Yes, it is.” She held her earring in her hand. “Did you need to speak with him? We’ve finished our chat.”

“Please.”

Miss Hattie passed John the phone, then turned to Bess, who hugged her and whispered close to her ear. “We’re not getting the divorce, Miss Hattie.”

“Of course not, dear.” She smiled, gave Bess’s back a solid pat, and then sat down in her rocker.

“Yes,” John said. “And tell Francine, will you? We’re in a bit of hurry.” Jonathan slid Bess a smile. “We’re going to watch the sun set.”

Bess smiled back at him and the love flowing between them had Miss Hattie pulling her lacy hankie from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes.

Jonathan hung up the phone and folded an arm around Bess’s waist. “We’re not getting a divorce,” he told Miss Hattie.

“Of course not, dear.” The angelic woman smiled then looked at Bess. “Promises are made to be kept.”

A light in Bess’s eye said she was remembering the words Miss Hattie had said to her at the Blue Moon Cafe, when they’d first discussed why Bess still wore John’s ring. Bess nodded, confirming it. “True love
is
always like that, Miss Hattie. You were right about that, too.”

“Speaking of promises,” Jonathan backed away, then clasped hands with Bess, “we’re going out to Little Island to keep one. We’ll be back after dark.”

“Fine.” Miss Hattie sniffled. “I’m going to Millie’s to play cards, but dinner will be warming in the oven.”

“Do you have a bridge group, Miss Hattie?”

“Oh my, no, dear. We play poker. Penny-ante. But please, don’t mention it to Pastor Brown.”

Bess grinned, then explained to Jonathan. “If provoked, the Pastor gets long-winded, and then the mayor nods off during the sermon and snores, and that mortifies his snooty wife, Lydia.”

“I won’t breathe a word,” Jonathan swore.

Laughing, Bess kissed Miss Hattie’s cheek, then Jonathan pecked one to her forehead. “Thank you, Miss Hattie. For everything.”

“Of course, dear.” She shared with them a secret smile. “I keep my promises, too.”

Hattie watched them leave, arms curled around each other’s waists, heads bent together, laughing. Healed. At peace, content, and healed. Lovely . . .