Awareness came slowly. Small details filtered through the comfortable, murky darkness—the beeping first, then quiet voices he couldn’t make out. Little by little, consciousness returned, and with it came the bigger details. Why was his throat so raw and why did his body feel so sluggish? As the pieces came together, fragments of memory returned. A helicopter. Paramedics and doctors and nurses. Blood. Pain. Aaron telling him he couldn’t die in his arms like his first wife had. Heather telling him that he couldn’t leave her because she loved him and adored him.
Heather.
He smiled. Or rather, tried to. He didn’t have the energy to do more than make his lips twitch.
He opened his eyes, and when his surroundings came into focus, he was unsurprised but disoriented to find himself in a hospital room hooked up to an IV and various monitors… and what the hell was sticking out the side of his chest? He lifted his head to look but was distracted when he saw Heather with her chair pulled over beside him, her head pillowed on one arm and a paperback copy of The Hunger Games lying beside her with her left hand holding it open. Her cherished face was slackened by sleep, but the faint frown indicated it was a light, fitful respite.
His gaze shifted to the table beside the bed, and this time, he managed a full smile. Rather than the usual flowers and balloons, the table held a stack of new books—all titles he’d been wanting to read.
Too tired to keep his eyes open long, he let them close again and redirected his limited energy to knitting the fragmented memories together. He was able to come up with an incomplete and distorted but comprehensible understanding of what had happened.
His fears had come true. Zach had found him.
And he had survived.
He was a little worse for wear, obviously, but he was alive.
“He should be waking up soon,” an unfamiliar, feminine voice said quietly. “I’m confident he’s past the worst. His pulse is strong, and his blood pressure’s almost back up to normal again after that last transfusion this morning—thank you for donating, by the way.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Aaron replied. “The very least.”
“The chest tube will probably come out tomorrow.”
“Excellent news.”
“Indeed. Everything is looking great, Sheriff Hammond. You and Ms. Brown did an excellent job with that temporary patch. He’s lucky you were there.”
“No, I’m lucky he was there.”
Feeling movement on the bed, Jeremiah opened his eyes.
The surprise widening Heather’s sleepy blue eyes shifted into a startling relief.
“Hey, angel,” she murmured. “Welcome back.”
“Hi, baby girl,” he croaked. “What is wrong with my throat?”
“Look who’s awake,” Aaron remarked, joining Heather at his bedside.
“Your throat and vocal chords will probably be sore for a day or so from the endotracheal tube,” the doctor said. “Frustrating, I’m sure, but perfectly normal.”
The doctor gave him a brief overview the extent of his injuries, but his mind was still too foggy to make sense of even that simple explanation.
With a sympathetic smile, the doctor added, “I’ll give you all the details of your surgery and recovery later, when you’re more lucid and have had time to visit with your family. The most important part is that everything looks great, and I expect you’ll recover fully in no time.”
“Thanks, Doc,” he rasped.
“My pleasure. I’m sure you have a lot of questions to ask your family, but try to rest your voice and let them do the talking.”
Jeremiah nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”
After the doctor left the room, Aaron sat beside him on the bed, careful not to sit on his leg or any of the tubes or wires that seemed to be running everywhere. The older man stared at him for a long time without speaking, and then let his gaze wander over the medical equipment surrounding him. When their gazes met again, Jeremiah was shocked to see tears in Aaron’s eyes.
“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” the sheriff said. “Not even when Erica died. I didn’t have time to be scared then. I had way too much time to be scared yesterday, though.”
“Way too much time,” Heather agreed.
“Almost seven hours from the time you were shot to the time Dr. Cruz came out to tell us you were out of surgery. And I don’t think anyone in that waiting room has ever been as relieved as we all were when she told us she was optimistic you’d survive.”
“And I don’t think any of us slept last night,” Heather remarked. “I didn’t.”
She glanced at Aaron, who shook his head.
Jeremiah tapped Aaron’s watch.
“It’s almost noon,” Aaron replied. “You’ve been out for twenty-four hours.”
He closed his eyes. He’d lost a full rotation of the earth.
“How are you feeling?” Heather asked hesitantly.
“Tired. Out of it.”
“No kidding.” She gave a sniff of laughter. “I meant… how’s the pain?”
He opened his eyes again and frowned. His chest hurt, mostly on the left side, but it was with a strange detachment that he felt it. The doctor undoubtedly had him on some serious pain meds. “Tolerable.”
“Good.”
“Zach?” he asked.
“In jail,” Aaron replied. “Don’t worry about him. Worry about healing.”
“I’m done worrying about Zach.”
“Good. Because he’ll be going away for life. There’s not a jury in this state that will find him not guilty even if he doesn’t enter a guilty plea.” Aaron gripped his shoulder for a moment with bright relief and affection in his eyes. “You up for seeing everyone else?”
“Everyone?”
“Well, Mom, Skye, Henry, and Nick. Dad, Linds, Beth, and Austin are at home with the kids and Murphy, holding down the fort. We didn’t figure the kids needed to be here until we were sure….”
Aaron didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t need to. Jeremiah got the message. Until we were sure you were going to make it.
Clearing his throat, he added, “Curtis and Christina are here, too. Do you want me to send them in a couple at a time or can you handle all of us at once?”
“Maybe all at once,” Jeremiah croaked. “Don’t know how long I can stay awake.”
Nodding, Aaron left him alone with Heather. The room was lit only by the sliver of bright sunlight streaming through the gap between the heavy curtains, but it was plenty bright enough for him to see the dark circles under her eyes and the shifting tides of fear and affection and relief in them.
“Sorry I scared you.”
She nodded in acknowledgement, pinching her lips between her teeth.
He reached for her hand. When he encountered a splint, his brows furrowed. “Your hand?”
Her expression shifted into a devilish grin. “I broke it on your cousin’s face.”
“How bad?”
“His face or my hand?”
He laughed lightly and instantly regretted it.
“Yeah, don’t laugh. Sorry. My hand’s not bad. His face…. Not sure. I broke his nose, though, and the EMTs were pretty sure he had a concussion, but that could’ve happened when you plowed into him—I think he smacked his head on the ground. How much do you remember?”
“Bits and pieces. Not very clear right now.”
“That’s probably for the best.” She shook her head. “That’s a good thing you did. He would’ve killed Aaron. But don’t you ever do anything so stupid like jumping in front of a loaded gun again.”
She held his gaze for a long time without speaking again, and his heart ached as tears filled her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be. I didn’t fully realize until you were lying on the ground in Aaron’s arms with b-blood pouring out of your ch-chest that I don’t want to live without you. I love you, d-dammit.”
He had never wanted to hug someone in his life as badly as he did now. He wished he could wrap her in his arms until the tears stopped and promise her he’d never leave her again.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “You love me?”
“More than that, I adore you. That’s more than love, right?”
He nodded.
“You’re the right man for me, angel, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. How could I not when you bring out the best in me and make me feel wanted and, well, adored just as I am? Who wouldn’t want a man like that?”
Was this the pain meds talking? Surely she hadn’t just said…. “Is this your way of saying you want to marry me?”
She laughed softly. “I guess it is. And with my track record, you ought to know how I feel about that kind of commitment.”
He smiled and fought the laugh that threatened. “Please don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Sorry.”
He searched her eyes for what felt like at least a minute for any sign that she was joking, although his groggy brain couldn’t think of a reason why she would tease him with his wildest dream come true. Hospital bedsides were the place for honest, deeply felt confessions, not light-hearted teasing.
“This is real?”
“This is real, angel.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “You’re something special, and I’d be a fool to ever let you go.”
Aaron returned with the members of the Hammond family who’d made the drive to the hospital—he didn’t even know which one he was at—with Heather’s brother and sister-in-law right behind them, preventing him from asking Heather again if she really meant what she’d said. He would’ve thought nothing could drive that wonderful idea from his head, but with his energy so low, he didn’t have enough to focus on more than one thought at a time, and with Tracie crying over him and Henry wholly serious for once in his life as he expressed his gratitude that Jeremiah had pulled through, his energy was drawn to them. They took turns talking, sensing perhaps that he wasn’t awake enough to process several people talking at once. Tracie tried to apologize for smothering him, but he shook his head and smiled. It was more incredible than he could say to be a part of her family.
Heather was silent while the others talked, but she didn’t let go of his hand.
Curtis didn’t say much other than to add to the chorus of “we’re glad you’re alive”, but he sensed whatever animosity or feelings of ill will Heather’s brother had ever held for him were a thing of the past. There was no condescension or impatience in Curtis’s gaze. Only the same relief that was in everyone else’s. When Jeremiah asked what had changed his mind, he shrugged.
“Heather’s right,” Curtis said. He turned his gaze on his sister. “You’re good for her. That’s all I ever needed to know, and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out. The rest of the family will come around eventually.”
Christina snorted. “After what your mother said to Aaron yesterday, I doubt Heather will give them a chance to.”
“She’s here, too?” Jeremiah asked. “What’d she say?”
“She said Aaron isn’t your brother,” Christina replied. “And he made it quite clear you are.”
“In blood now, too,” Henry muttered, scowling. “Sorry, Heather. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive your mother for that one. Or any of what she said about my little brother.”
“Neither will I,” Heather replied.
The chill in her voice shocked him, and he tried to sit up, but Aaron pressed down on his shoulders. That he was too weak to resist at all sent an instinctive rush of panic shuddering through him.
“Easy, angel,” Heather murmured.
“What happened?”
“What do you think? My mother ran her mouth like she always does… and I’ve had enough. I told her I wanted her and Dad and Brock and Brianna out of my life.”
“Only she wasn’t nearly so polite,” Christina remarked.
“I’m sorry, Heather, I never—”
“Aren’t you the one who told me I shouldn’t put up with their shit?”
He nodded.
“Well, this is the only way that I won’t have to. And that is not your fault in any way, shape, or form. They are poison to me. All right? So let’s not talk about that anymore. Because it stresses me out, and judging by your heart monitor, me being stressed stresses you out, and we all need you to relax and rest and get better. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Two nurses swarmed into the room, alerted by the increase in his heart rate. Everyone fell silent while they checked him over, giving his visitors less than friendly looks. Satisfied he wasn’t in danger, they left the room again, and if he was feeling stronger, he might’ve laughed at the sheepish expressions on nearly every face gathered around him. But his energy was dwindling; sluggishness trickled through him, leaving him ever weaker and making his limbs leaden.
He wanted to stay awake to soak up the love that filled the room because it was more powerful than the pain and exhaustion, and he knew if he could let it seep into him, he’d be healed in no time, but his body slackened with frightening speed, utterly spent.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. His eyelids, too heavy now to hold open, slid closed. “But I’m done. More later?”
“Lots more later,” Tracie replied. She kissed his forehead and brushed her hand back through his hair. “See you again in a little while. I love you, Jeremiah.”
“Love you, too,” he mumbled.
The others expressed similar sentiments, and by the time they had all filed out of the room, he was teetering on the edge of sleep. Only Heather remained; he didn’t need to see her or hear her breathing to know it. He’d recognize her incredible, fiery spirit anywhere without sight or sound or smell or touch or taste. She was in his heart, now and always, and she was what had kept it beating even when death had beckoned.
* * *
After a week in the stuffy hospital, the perfect summer air blowing on his face through the open window of Aaron’s truck was heavenly. Jeremiah had spent most of the ride home from Missoula resting with his eyes closed and his head propped against the headrest—not quite awake but not quite sleeping, either—enamored with the fresh air laden with the warm scents of late summer in the mountains.
He would never take the simple pleasure of this clean, wild air for granted again.
Heather laid her hand on his thigh. “Still doing okay?”
“Not okay. Great. I’m not sure I ever realized how wonderful the air smells up here.”
“It’s pretty amazing. How are you feeling otherwise? The bumps and turns aren’t bugging you too much, are they?”
He opened an eye to locate her left hand and squeezed it. “I’m fine, Heather, really. A little sore, especially the ribs, and tired, but I actually feel pretty good. I promise.”
“All right, Jere,” Aaron said, slowing the truck. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Positive.”
The sheriff turned off the scenic byway onto the dirt road to the allotment cabin, driving far slower than he normally would to avoid jarring Jeremiah on the potholes. He parked in front of the cabin but left the truck running—this wouldn’t take long.
Gingerly, Jeremiah opened the door and stepped outside into the brilliant afternoon. The meadow was as gorgeous and as unspoiled as ever, sprinkled with wildflowers and dotted with Lazy H cattle, and above it, the granite dome of Comet Mountain gleamed against a vivid cobalt sky with only a few patches of tired snow remaining. The cabin sat quietly at the edge of the forest, and he climbed the steps. It was locked and they didn’t have the key, so he could only peer in through the windows. While he’d been in the hospital, the Hammonds had finished clearing his things out of it. He’d worried that seeing the cabin vacant again would somehow reduce the strength of the memories he and Heather had made in it, but they swirled around him with delightfully sweet intensity.
The other thing he’d dreaded—that what had happened here would somehow taint those memories—also proved to be a baseless fear. He still struggled to recall the details of everything that had happened after the bullet had hit him, and maybe that lack of clarity made it possible to survey the scene with a surprising serenity, but he doubted it.
Zach had come here to kill him and Aaron, and he’d failed.
The fear that had gripped him since Zach’s release from prison was gone. Deciding that he would no longer let it control him had significantly reduced it, but it wasn’t until he stepped out onto this porch and saw his cousin walk out of the trees with his gun aimed at Aaron that it had truly vanished. In that moment, love of his brother had shattered it, destroying it once and for all.
Acutely aware of his injuries, he descended the stairs with delicate steps and trod out to the place where he’d tackled Zach. Funny that he hadn’t immediately realized he was shot.
“Jere, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Heather said, still standing beside Aaron’s truck, hugging herself.
“Sure it is. Doc Cruz said I’m fine to take short walks.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“I need to do this,” he replied. “I need to face what happened and reclaim this place.”
Heather and Aaron joined him after that and listened as he described what he remembered, filling in the gaps for him. He especially liked the parts where Heather knocked Zach out and Aaron’s deputy was none-too-gentle loading him in his SUV. Judging by the pallor of their faces and the haunted looks in both their eyes, Jeremiah figured they needed to reclaim this spot even more than he did.
“What happens now?” he asked.
“Zach’s expected to plead guilty at the pre-trial hearing tomorrow morning. You remember me saying I wanted an airtight case against him?”
Jeremiah nodded.
“Well, we’ve got one. For you and for Rogers.”
“I thought Zach was at work when Rogers was killed.”
“His boss has been covering for him this whole time.”
As soon as Aaron said it, Jeremiah nearly slapped his palm to his forehead. How had he not once thought to question the boss’s innocence in all this? Having an employer willing to lie and provide alibis for him would’ve been one of Zach’s top priorities, and he had an incredible talent for charming and manipulating people into doing whatever he wanted them to… and making sure once he had them that they understood what would happen if they didn’t cooperate. “Why didn’t I think he might be?”
“I keep trying to tell you—you’re a good man. You always have been. That goodness is so ingrained in you that you can’t actually see the world the way Zach does, no matter how adept you are at reading his invisible trails.”
He wasn’t quite convinced Aaron was right, so he filed the praise away. “What convinced the boss to talk?”
“The same nine-millimeter Zach shot you with…” Aaron had to pause to clear his throat. “…was the same gun that fired the bullet that killed Rogers, and it belonged to his boss, who, as you can imagine, wasn’t willing to face the death penalty for Zach. Apparently, money and loyalty and fear of retaliation only go so far when one’s life is on the line. Ain’t ballistic forensics great?”
“And the cows?”
“That part’s not quite as airtight as I’d like—we have several witnesses stating that that cross you found in the cabin is in fact Zach’s—but it doesn’t matter. He’ll plead guilty and be sentenced to two life terms to be served consecutively.”
Zach’s words echoed in his mind. I win.
Jeremiah shook his head. “I almost—almost—want to go to his pre-trial hearing. But he knows I’m alive, right?”
“He does. And is none too happy about it.”
“Good. That’s enough then, that he knows he lost.”
Taking Heather’s hand, he pulled her gently against his still-healing left side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Then he grabbed Aaron’s hand and brought him in close, too. They stood like that for a long time, silent, letting the memories of the events of the summer flow through and around them and then… together, they let go. He felt the tension slip from their bodies, and as it did, they all tipped their faces toward the brilliant August sun.
Smiling, Jeremiah said, “See? We all needed this.”
“All right,” Aaron laughed. “You were right again. But if we’re all satisfied that Zach will never haunt us here, we need to get home. Murphy has been absolutely beside himself without you, and Mom and Dad want us all down to the main house. They—we—have a surprise or two for you.”
“A surprise? What is it?”
“That was the lamest attempt at sleuthing out an answer I’ve ever heard.”
“What can I say? I’m wounded.”
“Yeah, that’s only going to work for a few weeks, and then you’re back to work part time on your portable offices. You’ve got orders backing up.”
“I do?”
“Yep. Five now, I think?”
“Wow. You going to help me with them, baby girl?”
“You bet,” Heather replied.
Aaron headed back to his truck, but Jeremiah lingered behind with Heather.
Turning to her, he frowned. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Just… basking in the knowledge of how amazing you are. You almost died right here only a week ago, and yet here you are, smiling and joking like it’s no big deal.”
“It isn’t. I survived, it’s a gorgeous day, the woman I love is right here by my side, and I have my whole life ahead of me to love her the way she deserves to be loved—wholly, adoringly, and unconditionally.”
“I can’t believe it took me so long to see what a rare gem you are,” she murmured. “Better late than never.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. He wanted to kiss her more deeply, but he didn’t dare; that would only make him want more than he could give right now. He was still healing, after all. Without letting go of her hand, he started toward Aaron’s truck.
As Aaron drove down to the main house on the Lazy H, Jeremiah resumed his earlier occupation of appreciating the breeze coming in the open window. The air was so sweet and soft that he chuckled. No wonder Murph likes window surfing.
The thought brought a refreshed longing. Every member of his family had been to Missoula to visit him in the hospital, but he hadn’t seen Murph since he and Aaron had headed up to the allotment cabin to clear it out, and as the week had progressed, he’d missed the Australian shepherd’s companionship more and more until missing him was a worse ache than the healing lung and ribs.
He was mildly surprised to see Curtis and Christina’s car and Ainsley’s SUV parked among the Hammond family’s vehicles. He also spotted Luke Conner’s black Dodge and his parents’ pickup. There was also a 1978 Ford that looked like his truck… but didn’t. Instead of rust-spotted cream and brown, this truck was a flawless gleaming metallic root beer.
“That isn’t…” he started, staring at it.
“Your truck?” Aaron finished for him. “Yes, it is. I’m glad Henry was able to get it back home in time.”
“My truck? Seriously? How’d you know?”
“Heather said you’d talked about having it painted that color.”
“I hope I did okay picking the color,” she said. “I didn’t realize there was more than one shade of root beer paint. The guy at the body shop gave me half a dozen to pick from. This one seemed the most like you.”
“Okay? It’s perfect.” He turned abruptly to her. “Wait. You’ve been in Missoula with me the whole time. When did you…?”
“Before Rogers was killed. We all thought it would be a good birthday present. Because we know how much you love that truck.”
“I do.” He hugged her tightly, uncaring when his chest complained. “Thank you. So much.”
She beamed at him. “Well, go on. I know you want to reunite with her.”
He stumbled out of Aaron’s truck as soon as his brother parked it and wandered over to his own. He let his hand hover over the hood for a moment, inspecting the paint job. It was, as he’d thought upon first glance, flawless. Whoever had done the paint had also finished the bodywork he hadn’t had a chance to get to yet. With Heather’s comment in mind, he slid his hand over the hood, making a show of hugging his truck.
“So, that’s the first surprise,” Aaron remarked. “Come on around back, and we’ll get to the rest.”
With Heather’s arm around his waist, he followed Aaron to the backyard where a banner saying Welcome Home, Jeremiah had been strung between two posts. Tracie had her smoker going full force with June and Beth and Lindsay helping.
Excited whining and barking drew his attention to one of the picnic tables; Murph sat on the table with Austin holding his leash as a precaution. The dog wiggled uncontrollably in his excitement, and Jeremiah let go of Heather to greet his dog.
The leash proved unnecessary; Murph seemed to sense that he wasn’t himself and kept his rear end planted on the table. Jeremiah was glad not to have to bend over to give his dog some long overdue loves. He buried his hands and his face in the dog’s soft, freshly groomed fur and was rewarded with anxious kisses all over every inch of his neck that Murph could reach.
“Damn, I missed you,” he whispered. “Good dog.”
Murph whimpered in reply.
“How bad was he?” Jeremiah asked Austin when Murph finally stopped licking him.
“Bad. But don’t let him fool you. We’ve all been spoiling him in your absence.”
“I’m sure you have been.”
After that, it was time for everyone to greet him and welcome him home. It wasn’t quite a hero’s welcome, as everyone seemed hesitant to talk about what had happened, and he was grateful for that. He was no more a hero than anyone else here; he knew with a certainty that any one of them would’ve done the same thing he had in the same situation. Luke had done the same thing, if he’d heard the correct story of what had happened up at Sawtooth Lake all those years ago.
“Saved by a tree root,” June’s son joked when Jeremiah asked him to clarify. “And I’ll take that concussion over your bullet to the lung any day.”
Next it was Curtis and Christina’s turn. Curtis embraced him lightly. Christina was a bit more enthusiastic, but she was careful not to hurt him.
Jeremiah groaned inwardly. He couldn’t wait to be past that. He didn’t like feeling so fragile, and he was certain that he’d be going stir crazy from sitting around so much by the time he was allowed to return to even part-time work. Thank God for that stack of books everyone had brought him.
“I’m surprised Mom isn’t here trying to crash the party,” Heather said to her brother.
“Don’t count on her doing that anymore,” Curtis replied. “She’s pretty humbled after what you said… and after I refused to be her go between.”
“Oh? Give me the dirt.”
“Not much to tell. She asked me to convince you to talk to her. I told her no.”
She wrapped her arms tightly around her brother’s neck. “Thank you, Curtis. I’m sorry she’s trying to put you in the middle. But I just can’t deal with her anymore. Or Dad or Brock or Brianna.”
“I get it, Sis. I do. You know, at first I thought you were being a little unfair, but I gotta say… it’s been nice to spend time with you and see a side of you I’m not sure I’ve ever really seen.”
“Yeah? What side is that?”
“The happy one.”
Heather looked at Jeremiah and smiled. “I’m definitely happy.”
Tracie, who’d had her hands full with the pulled pork, was the last to welcome him home and also the only one who cried. She tried to fight it, swiping at her eyes, but the tears fell, anyhow. “I’m sorry, Jeremiah. I promised myself I wouldn’t, but I can’t help it. It is just so good to have you home again. I know it’s only been a week, but this family has had a hole in it without you here, and now that you’re back… we’re whole again.”
“You have no idea how much that means to me, Mom.”
“Anyhow, let’s get your surprises out of the way because I’m sure you’re ready for some home-cooked food.”
He almost groaned at the promise of tasting his first bite of something that wasn’t boring hospital food, and it appeared Tracie had gone all out with the barbecue. “Oh, yeah.”
“All right!” she called. “Let’s get some things out of the way so this boy can eat!”
Her declaration was met with cheers and laughter, and Jeremiah soaked it up.
“You’ve already seen your truck, right?”
He nodded and kissed Heather’s cheek.
“The next one is a bit bigger.”
“Bigger than having my truck painted? Is that possible?”
“Wait and see, little brother,” Henry remarked, grinning.
John handed him a hand-drawn map, and it took him a minute to figure out what it was—Aspen Creek Road with Henry’s, Aaron’s, and Nick’s houses marked on it. But there was another spot marked, between Aaron’s and Nick’s homes. He looked up at John.
“What is this?”
“A newly leveled home site,” he replied. “More specifically, the home site where you and Heather will build your house.”
“I can’t.”
“You can and you will. You’re family, Jeremiah. And before you get to thinking we just came up with this after all this happened, we didn’t. Tracie and I have been talking about this for a long time. Ask Nick. He’s the one who picked the spot—right there next to the creek in that little aspen grove.”
Jeremiah knew the spot well—it was his favorite on Aspen Creek Road.
He opened his mouth to thank them, but another thought interrupted. John had said it was for him and Heather. “Hold on a second….”
“I think he’s caught on to us, John,” Heather remarked.
“I didn’t imagine you saying you wanted to marry me. That wasn’t the pain meds talking.”
“No.” She ducked her head shyly. “But I didn’t think you’d remember it.”
“I’d have to be dead to forget it.”
When she and half the people gathered flinched, he offered them a sheepish smile.
“Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
“Hey, it’s good you can joke about it,” Henry remarked.
Aaron nodded. “It just might take some of us a little longer to get to that point.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Jeremiah slipped his arms around Heather. “Anyhow, back to this idea of you wanting to marry me… yes.”
“Yes what?” Heather asked, frowning.
“Yes, I’ll marry you. Though there is an issue of who buys the ring. Since you asked, does that mean I get a pretty sparkly ring to broadcast to the world that I’m taken?”
“Actually, we have a solution,” Tracie said. “Love, would you do the honors?”
Nodding, John disappeared into the house for a moment. When he returned, he held a small box reverently in the palm of his hand. He took Jeremiah’s hand and set the little box in it.
“What’s this?” Jeremiah asked, opening it.
“It’s the ring I proposed to Tracie with.”
He started to say he couldn’t take it, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words. It was too perfect—a square-cut diamond set low in a sturdy yellow-gold band—and he wanted to see it on Heather’s hand too much. He hugged John and Tracie together and thanked them.
“Glad you’re not going to try to argue us out of this, too.”
He shook his head and turned to Heather as he plucked the ring from its cushion. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
She only nodded and held out her hand.
As he slid the ring onto her finger, he marveled at how right it looked. It was sturdy enough to withstand the abuse it was sure to endure in her line of work but unmistakably feminine—just as Heather was. As she kissed him, their friends and family cheered. He tucked his arms around her and rested his forehead against hers.
“Any ideas about when you want to get married?” he asked.
“Next summer—August third. I think it’s a Sunday.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“It’s the one-year anniversary of the day you got shot.”
He lifted a brow at her. “Now who has the morbid sense of humor?”
“It’s not morbid. It’s… making the anniversary of the day you almost died the first day of our life together as husband and wife. Overwriting a horrible memory with a good one. You seem to like connections like that—the quirks of life and fate, as you say. What do you think? Perfect or a horrible idea?”
“Perfect. Now, we’re absolutely sure I haven’t died and gone to heaven?” he asked. “Right? I mean, surely life can’t be this incredible.”
This time, even though it was a terrible joke, she laughed. “I adore you. Getting tired of hearing that yet, angel?”
Grinning against her lips as he kissed her again, he whispered, “I’ll never get tired of hearing it, baby girl.”