Sunday, September 29, 9:00 A.M.
The sun had been up for hours by the time they gathered around the big mosaic breakfast table at the Jericho ranch, but even without the sunrise, the view of the Sangre de Cristo Range still stole Faith’s breath.
“Luke”—Faith gently rubbed his arm, all healed at last—“this was a wonderful idea to bring Tommy for a day at the ranch—thank you.” With her free hand, she reached over and petted the wiggly puppy in Tommy’s arms. Luke had selected a beautiful spotted girl as a gift for his mother—the one Tommy called Chicita, meaning little Chica.
Each and every one of Chica’s seven puppies had been born healthy. Practically a miracle, according to Dr. Culpepper. Faith smiled and dotted the corner of her mouth with a fine linen napkin. They were all due for something good, and the puppies were a wonderful portent of a bright future. Her eyes slid once more to Chicita, whose small body was currently stretched to the max as she stood on her hind legs in Tommy’s lap, madly licking his face.
Fleetingly, she thought of the empty spot beside her bed where Chica had slept such a short time ago. She cast her gaze to her lap. Ridiculous. She was hardly the type of person to begrudge another the joy of a pet. Chicita had been the only puppy not spoken for, and Luke had been right to claim her for his mother.
The rich aroma of baked apples preceded Rose Jericho as she entered the breakfast room, carrying yet another silver platter piled high with warm pastries. She took a place on the other side of Tommy, broke off a corner of an apple Danish, and held it out in her open palm for Chicita.
“Don’t spoil her, Mother,” Luke said.
“I’ll do as I please. She’s my puppy.” Rose winked at Tommy, who looked positively hypnotized by the pastries. She forked a Danish onto Tommy’s empty plate. If Faith wasn’t mistaken, this would make his fourth pastry, and he’d just finished a whopping portion of bacon and eggs.
“My son thinks this puppy is going to keep me too busy to look for another husband.” Rose broke off another bit of Danish for Chicita. “But what he doesn’t realize is that the dog park is a great place to meet single men. Maybe we could walk our dogs together sometime, Tommy, find you a nice young lady.”
Tommy’s cheeks, puffed with pastries, flushed. His throat worked in a swallow, then he sputtered. “I don’t need a nice young lady. I’ve got Chica.” Chicita yapped happily at the sound of her mother’s name.
Taking the puppy in her arms, Rose said, “When you finish your Danish, Tommy, we can check out the horses, maybe go for a ride.”
“You mean ride a horse?” He threw down his napkin and raised his hands in the air in an all-done gesture.
“I certainly do. The lovebirds can mind Chicita for me.” She passed the puppy to Luke. “Careful, she might need to piddle soon.”
Ten minutes later, Tommy and Rose had wandered off to find the horses, and Luke and Faith were wandering in the opposite direction, taking Chicita to piddle.
The puppy bounded through the tall green grasses, an occasional yap letting them know she was nearby. With the sky the same clear blue as those famed Jericho eyes, the fresh smell of hay and wildflowers permeating the air, and Luke by her side, Faith couldn’t imagine wanting more than what she had right here, right now. The day was perfect, and she understood why Gran Cielo meant so much to Luke. She stopped and dropped his hand. “Luke, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
“What a coincidence, I’ve been meaning to tell you something, too. All right if I go first?” He pulled her against him and ran his hands down her back. “See that puppy over there?”
As usual Luke hadn’t waited for permission to go first. She didn’t know why he’d bothered to ask. “Chicita? Of course I see her. Your point? Because I have something important to say.”
“Me, too. Chicita is yours.” He threw his arms around her, crushed her to his chest, and lifted her off the ground.
Her heart raced, not just because Chicita was hers, but because Luke had seen the way she’d looked at those puppies and taken matters into his own hands. “You’ve been paying attention again.” She laughed, and he set her feet on the ground, but she didn’t let go of his neck. “I love you, Luke Jericho.”
And then his lips were gliding over hers. The sun warmed her back as they kissed, and his hand slipped down to her bottom. She molded herself against him. Being in love with Luke didn’t frighten her. Yes, he made her heart beat too fast, but for all the right reasons. She took her time, tasting him with her tongue, caressing his muscular arms, then his buttocks with her hands, enjoying the moment, enjoying the man with every fiber of her being. Finally, she broke the kiss.
“I love you, too, Clancy.” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “I wanted to be the first to say it, but I guess you beat me to it.”
“I guess I did.” She didn’t hide the boastful tone in her voice.
By now, Chicita was yapping at something up ahead. Hand in hand, they made their way toward her as she chased an imaginary object up a hill. “What about your mom?” Faith asked. “She seemed really keen on getting a puppy.”
“Oh, she’s still getting a puppy. She’s actually the ‘neighbor kid’ who claimed Chico. As you might’ve guessed, she prefers boys.”
Faith smiled and touched his lips. “Thank you, Luke . . . for everything.”
“I’m glad you finally came to your senses and figured out how lucky you are to have me.”
She shoved his shoulder, and he shoved her back. Then they crested the hill.
In the meadow below stood a small house. Faith stopped short, her body stiffening. She shaded her eyes for a better look. “Is that the casita where Dante and Sylvia lived?”
He nodded. “What’s left of it anyway. The police took an ax to the floor and walls, looking for evidence.”
Faith grabbed Luke’s hand and turned to him. “I’m so sorry about Dante. I mean I can’t be sorry that he’s gone. But I know how much you wanted to put your family back together.”
He shook his head. “That’s just it. I had the wrong idea about family the whole time. Dante wasn’t really a brother to me. I was chasing an abstract ideal that doesn’t exist—the perfect family.”
She didn’t understand, but she knew he’d explain.
“Family isn’t defined strictly by blood, Clancy. Look at you and Danny. And Faith, you’re more family to me than Dante ever was—I never even knew him.” He looked out over the horizon and up at the sky, then back at her. “In a way I have put my family together again. I feel like I’ve gotten my father back. After so many years of hating him for what he did to Dante, I found out he was actually protecting my mother and me.”
Faith knew the police had found Dante’s journal in the casita. She shivered, as she thought of what it contained—the location of Sister Bernadette’s body, and of a dozen others—prostitutes Dante had killed on his own while Scourge was obsessing over the Donovans. Had there been something more, something she didn’t know about?
Luke ran his hands briskly over her arms. “I waited to tell you the last piece because I didn’t want to spoil our happiness, but there was something else in Dante’s journal. Even as a child, he loved to draw and paint. Anyway, he sketched page after page, depicting me, my mother, and my father.” He paused. “Even his own mother. In those drawings, Dante had mutilated us in just about every manner possible. One day, Sylvia found the pictures. She found other things, too. Dante had tortured animals and buried them in her garden. According to Dante’s journal, the night Sylvia died, she’d drunk herself into near oblivion and showed the whole thing to my father—the drawings, the animal graves. Later that night, she got in her car and drove off a cliff. In his journal, Dante talks about how excited he felt thinking about her car going over that cliff.”
Her hand went to her throat. “So your father really did send Dante away to try and straighten him out. That’s why he sent him to Catholic school, hoping the nuns could turn him around.”
“And to protect our family.” Luke put his arm around her. “The thing is, Dad knew both my mother and I hated him for his cruelty to Dante. But he never told us about the drawings. Dad was more concerned with whether or not we felt safe than with whether or not we were angry with him. My father was far from perfect, Faith, but he loved me the only way he knew how. I can’t find it in myself to hate him any longer. But I do hate that damn casita.” He put his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the ranch. “I’ve got a special team coming out here later today. I love Gran Cielo, and I won’t allow that casita to scar this beautiful land. I’m tired of trying to fix my father’s mistakes.”
He’d been dealing with his father’s legacy his whole life. She held her breath, waiting for his confirmation of what she’d been hoping he’d do.
“I’m burning the casita to the ground. I don’t intend to let the past define me, not anymore.”
Then he bent, feathered his lips softly over her forehead, and her chest opened, making room for his affection, welcoming his touch. While he’d been trying to rewrite his past to bring his family together, she’d been running from hers. As she contemplated his words, her fingers went to her necklace.
His gaze traveled to her throat and lingered a moment before lifting. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that. I’m not the jealous sort or anything, but it is a heart, and you do wear it all the time . . .”
She let go of the necklace and took his hand. “Half a heart, and it’s not what you’re thinking. Grace gave it to me—just before she married Danny. She said it was to help me remember that no matter where our futures led, we would always be part of the same family, part of the same heart.”
“And you still wear it.”
“Yes, I always have, even during the bad times.” Her chest tightened, but she didn’t care, she welcomed the ache the same way she welcomed Luke’s comfort. “Grace always wore hers, too.”
“How wonderful, to have a sister like that.” His voice had grown low and hushed.
Looking up, she watched as a bank of clouds drifted away, and the sun brightened the hilltops to a breathtaking green. “It is,” she said, entwining her fingers with his. “It really is.”