Zach went downstairs quietly the next morning. Voices drifted up the staircase—Julianne and her mother, still talking after seven hours or so.
He walked into the room. Julianne’s face lit up, even as she looked exhausted. She climbed off the sofa and hurried toward him, hugging him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve never had a better Christmas present.” She leaned back, her eyes sparkling, her body pressed against his.
“You’re welcome.” What more was there to say? He knew it was going to change everything between them now. He’d known it before he tracked down her mother, but he’d done it anyway. Because it was the right thing to do. Regrets were ridiculous. She was happy. That was all that mattered.
Monica stood. “I’m going to take a shower.” She gave Zach a curious look as she passed by, as if sensing his hesitation around Julianne now.
“So,” he said, putting his hands on her waist and moving her back. “What are we calling you?”
“What do you want to call me?”
“You don’t have a preference?”
“I never liked Venus. Tricia doesn’t feel…comfortable. Julianne seems to fit.”
“It’s not everyone who gets to choose their name.” He walked to the tree and admired how she’d decorated it, how homey it looked. Long strings of popcorn wound around all the branches.
“Hannah helped,” Julianne said, coming up beside him. “Not with the decorating but stringing the popcorn.” She touched his arm. “What’s wrong, Zach?”
What he had to say could wait. They could have Christmas Day together.
“Nothing. There’s nothing.” He brushed her hair from her face, the face he’d come to enjoy looking at, with its ever-changing moods and ever-present beauty. “Maybe you should take a nap.”
“I couldn’t sleep. But I’ll shower and dress. There are presents to open.”
He nodded. After a moment she stepped away, hesitance and bewilderment on her face.
He headed toward what he called the dungeon, which was just a basement without windows and set up to be a holding cell, including a toilet and sink, just in case. They’d never needed it until now. John Munson would be transported to another location and turned over to the FBI. He’d been out on bail. He’d skipped. Zach hoped Munson would be locked away for a long time, and baby Jacob would be safe, wouldn’t grow up as Julianne had, believing her mother hadn’t wanted her.
Munson’s punishment would depend on how good his lawyer was. Munson could even be out on bail tomorrow. Kidnapping his own child hadn’t been an act of desperation or concern for Jacob’s welfare but an attempt to hurt Jacob’s mother after she’d asked for a divorce.
As it had been with Monica Columbus and her husband, Julianne’s father.
When Zach had tracked down Monica in her kitchenware shop in Newport Beach, not even thirty miles from where Julianne had been living for twenty years, he hadn’t asked two questions of her before he knew the truth of what had happened. He’d been party to many reunion scenes, with most recoveries being resolved in days. Only one case had stretched out more than a year, and that had ended in tragedy.
But the scene with Monica would stay in his memory forever. Seeing her absolute joy and relief that her daughter was alive and well, had reinforced the importance of his work, strengthening his resolve to keep going, no matter how many times he failed. Every rescue seemed more personal now. He wouldn’t forget Julianne’s reaction, either. He’d been privileged to be part of it.
Zach unlocked the basement door. With a roar Munson lunged for Zach, who sidestepped him, grabbed him from behind and shoved him into the wall, locking one arm behind his back.
“Give me a reason,” Zach said in his ear, applying enough pressure to the man that he swore. “Give me one reason.”
Mr. Moody came in carrying breakfast. He said nothing, but he made his point. Don’t be stupid.
“How did you find me?” Zach asked Munson.
At first he thought Munson was going to stay silent, but he finally smiled, maliciously. “My wife called her mother as soon as she heard Jacob had been stolen from me. Even her mother believes Jacob is better off with me. I’ll get him back. I’ll prove she’s an unfit mother.”
Of all the possibilities, Zach hadn’t considered that. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Jacob was better off with his father—
No. Somehow Munson had brainwashed Jacob’s grandmother into thinking he was the good guy, and that it was her daughter who was not a fit mother. It made Zach doubly glad that he’d secured a completely safe hiding place for Jacob and his mother. She’d been told not to contact anyone, but that was after she would’ve made the call to her mother. He needed to find out if she’d called her mother again. She might have to be moved again, and reminded not to make contact.
He was glad to know there wasn’t a flaw in his operations.
But there was another issue, an even bigger one. Munson would talk. The FBI would question, would be required to question him instead of ignore him, as they’d done in the past. An official complaint would change everything.
Would Zach need to find a new base of operations? Or worse, would he be charged himself, as he’d always feared, prepared for? He was especially grateful now that he’d forced Julianne to marry him, protecting her from testifying. But there was Hannah to consider. And the Moodys. And almost everyone else on the Prom. Survivors, warriors, mourners.
By the time Zach returned to the living room, Monica was there enjoying a mug of coffee. Christmas carols played from overhead speakers. The fire crackled in the enormous hearth. A scene straight out of Norman Rockwell, even if a slightly skewed version of one of his home-and-hearth paintings.
Zach took a seat opposite…his mother-in-law, he realized. “Are you going to get in touch with your son now?”
“Not until after his trial. A reunion with him would be much more complicated than the one last night.”
“She’s happy.”
“Blissful, I think, like me.”
“You still plan to leave tonight?”
“I don’t have a choice”
“You’re leaving?” Julianne stood in the wide doorway, anguish in her voice. She’d dressed up for the occasion in a red sweater with white trim at the collar and cuffs, black wool pants, and snowflake earrings.
Monica moved toward her. “I have to open the shop tomorrow morning. There’s huge business the day after Christmas. Returns, exchanges and gift cards to be redeemed.”
“When can you come back?”
Zach heard a bit of panic in her voice, as if she thought that if her mother left, she wouldn’t see her again.
“After the holidays, when things slow down. Honey, I promise we’ll talk every day. I’ll come back as soon as I can get free.”
She hugged Julianne hard. Zach saw her squeeze her eyes shut. A light went out inside him, one she’d brought with her.
A minute later she seemed her old, lively self—or tried to be, anyway. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” she said to Zach. “Not for any reason.”
“Barring natural disaster or enemy sieges, I’ll be here,” he said.
He assumed she had a present for him, something too big to wrap. He wandered to the fireplace, held out his hands to its warmth. He was aware of Monica’s quiet presence and wondered what she was thinking. Because he was afraid he knew the answer, he didn’t ask. Yes, he’d been too distant from Julianne. There was good reason for it.
“You can turn around.”
Hannah stood with Julianne just inside the door. His sister clung to his wife. She seemed to be hyperventilating, but then she smiled.
“I have a present for you,” Hannah said to Zach. “I’m not sure I can walk that far to give it to you.”
Jarred out of his shock, he rushed to her, grabbed her in a hug and held on. She was laughing and crying. Then he hooked an arm around Julianne, bringing her into the embrace. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you.”
“I really did bring you something,” Hannah said, wiping her cheeks. “Here. Open it.”
She shoved a package in his arms. He could tell by the size and shape that it was framed art, but he was unprepared for the subject—Julianne, happy and smiling, the view out the tower window behind her. Although penned in black ink she looked colorful. Full of life.
She looked even happier now, if that was possible. Her eyes sparkled with shimmering tears. Her mouth stretched wide in a grin.
Full of life, he thought again. Life that was being held back and dulled by living on the Prom in such isolation. She’d told him before that she had a plan. He’d never asked what it was.
“It’s beautiful,” he said to Hannah sincerely, while his thoughts flew in all different directions. “You captured her.”
“I did!”
He nodded and smiled.
“Breakfast is ready,” Mrs. Moody said from behind them.
“Are you joining us?” Zach asked his sister, who seemed to have matured and yet was more innocent at the same time.
“I’ll try.”
The Moodys ate with them in the dining room. The discussion turned nostalgic, happy memories of Christmases past, avoidance of anything sad or painful, even though they’d all had their share of that.
Julianne fell asleep at the table, her chin dropping against her chest. Tenderness rose up in him. He moved quickly and quietly to scoop her into his arms.
“What are you doing?” she asked, but put her head on his shoulder.
“It’s time for a nap.”
She yawned. “Okay.”
He didn’t look at the other faces as he left, knowing he would see smiles all around. In their room he laid her on top of the comforter, then pulled the other half over her and tucked her in.
“Don’t let me sleep too long,” she said, her eyes closed.
He kissed her forehead. “A couple hours.”
“Okay. Thank you for finding my mother.”
“Thank you for giving me my sister back.”
She smiled, then she was out cold. He pulled up a chair and watched her, images of the past month running through his head. Her belligerence when she’d first arrived and he’d been slow to introduce himself. Her relentless good cheer. Her independent streak. Her curiosity, even though it had gotten her into trouble now and then. The grateful but embarrassed look on her face when he’d found her and the dogs when she was lost in the rain. Her attempts not to marry him. Her face when she climaxed. Her visible relief last night when he’d come through the door, unharmed. Seeing her break down upon meeting her mother. Her happiness and pride at Hannah leaving her self-imposed prison and joining the family.
Family.
Families loved. Made sacrifices. Held tight. Let go. Endured.
There was no single definition of family. Two could be a family as easily as four or six or eight. The only requirement was an unbreakable bond, whether by blood or choice.
Zach shoved himself up and walked to the window overlooking the land. His land. Not exactly a place to raise a family.
He’d forgotten to use a condom the last time they made love, but what were the chances that one time, one mistake, could result in a pregnancy? Low odds, he thought. He hoped.
He left the room then, knowing what he had to do—Christmas or not.