Naomi had just finished wrapping and packing the last of the ginger snap cookies when Hades’ low chuff alerted her that someone was approaching the cabin. Seconds later, the distinctive sound of a small creature zipping in through the dog door made her turn. Persephone launched into the air and Naomi caught her, laughing in joy and welcome as the little dog bathed her chin with love, love, love and dog saliva.
“There’s my sweet girl! Who’d you bring with you?” She blended her senses with Hades, something she did almost without thinking these days, and had the answer to her question. “That would be Martin.”
She walked to the door, still cradling Persephone and smiling when she opened it. The expression on Martin’s face made the smile die instantly. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is Grace hurt?”
Martin shook his head and stepped past her into the cabin. Naomi pulled the door shut and set Persephone down, reaching to grasp Martin’s cold hand. “Are you hurt? Sick? What’s wrong?”
Martin shook his head again and laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. He pulled his hand away and scrubbed both palms over his face. “I never have to worry about how to introduce an issue with you. Before I’m hardly thinking it, you want to know what’s wrong. It’s kind of irritating, to tell you the truth.”
“Well now that you’ve brought it up, you have some irritating habits yourself.” Naomi closed her eyes for a moment, and imagined a large, warm hand smoothing the bristles from her spine. “But that’s a topic for another time. Sit. Talk.”
“Yes ma’am.” Martin’s edges were all still there, but he belied the sarcasm by complying with her first request, at least. He sat down at the table, folding his arms and staring down at them. Naomi watched him for a second, then set about fussing. She always had a kettle warming on the wood-burning stove, so in just a few minutes she had a mug of steaming, fragrant tea in front of him. She sat down across from him with her own mug and waited.
He didn’t make her wait long, nor did he tiptoe around. “The baby with Quinn. Lark. She’s Grace’s daughter, isn’t she?”
Naomi felt a moment of breathlessness, then reached across the table to grasp his wrist, pulling his hand free so she could weave her fingers through his. She sent his heart a warm wave of comfort before she nodded. “Yes.”
He nodded as well, squinting as he gazed at her. Long moments passed before he spoke again. “You knew. She told you.”
“She didn’t volunteer the information. I guessed, when we first found her, back at my old house. When I helped her bathe, I could tell she’d recently had a baby.” Naomi waited, letting him work through this at his own pace. She had known this day would come, and welcomed it, now that it was here.
Martin turned his head to the side. “I saw her the day Piper and Jack and the others left. Went over to say hello to Ignacio, and Quinn was there with her. With Lark. I knew, the instant I saw her.”
He returned his eyes to hers, and they were filled with torment and wonder at the same time. “She looks exactly like Grace did, just the spitting image of her. But it was more than that. I could feel her connection, both to Grace and to me. Naomi.” His voice broke, his eyes suddenly swimming. God, how it twisted her heart to see this strong man’s tears. “Grace is that little girl’s mama! Why aren’t they together? And I’m her grandfather! What am I supposed to do with all that?”
They weren’t Naomi’s questions to answer, and she knew it. “Have you talked to Grace yet?”
“No. Not yet. She’s been avoiding me for days. I think she knows I know.” He breathed for a moment. “Did she ever plan on telling me?”
“I’m not sure. She’s still so fragile, I haven’t pressed her on it.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I kept it from you. She asked me to not say anything. She’s terrified of what you might do, of losing you like she lost the rest of her family.”
Martin wiped at his eyes impatiently, then frowned. “Why is she afraid of what I might do? Does she really think I’m that harsh? Christ, her mom was pregnant with her when we got married. I’m sure Grace did the math on that long ago. I’m not in a position to do any judging.”
He paused. His eyes narrowed, and Naomi saw the instant the terrible knowledge took root. His voice, when he spoke, was pleading. “Isn’t Quinn the father? Or her boyfriend, William?”
Oh, God. This, she hadn’t seen coming. Naomi drew in a deep, steadying breath, and reached for Martin’s other hand. She shook her head, holding his gaze, flooding him with all the comfort she could summon. “No, Martin. Neither one of them.”
He knew, then, and his face went sickly white. “Oh my God. Oh, no. Not that, no.”
Naomi felt his heart stutter, then pound. He slumped forward on the table, burying his face in his folded arms. She scooted around to kneel beside him, rubbing his back in long, soothing strokes. “Just take deep breaths. That’s it.”
She rubbed his back until his pulse slowed, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. She waited, and when he lifted his head again, she took his chin and turned his head so he would meet her gaze. He needed to hear this. “She survived it. She survived, and we’ve got her now, safe and sound.”
She didn’t promise that Grace would be okay, because she didn’t know if it was true. Grace had survived being gang-raped, but she would never be the same. Nor would Piper. Both their daughters had been brutalized, and sometimes, it made Naomi wonder why the whole damn human race hadn’t just died out. What was it all for, if they couldn’t rise up out of the ashes of the old world as better people? What was in the dark hearts of those people that they sought to damage and exploit?
She shook off the bleak thoughts and concentrated on Martin. He looked so much older than he had just a few minutes ago. His eyes gazed at a distant horizon as he assimilated the information, and she knew the moment he went to the place Grace had dreaded. His face smoothed into a cold, hard mask, and every bit of light in his eyes died. This was the face of the Marine, she knew, the face he’d worn for combat. For killing.
He sat up straight and pulled away from her. “I couldn’t understand why she would abandon her own child. Now I know why.” His voice was as cold and controlled as his face. “What Ed’s friend at Bear Creek told us about – it was like that, for her. They raped her, and they would have killed her, if she hadn’t escaped. Those men need to be put down, like the diseased animals they are.”
He turned bloodshot eyes to Naomi. “I shouldn’t have stopped you that day, with Brody. I should have let you kill him where he stood. I should have helped you kill him. And I’m going to kill the men that did this to her, every single one of them.”
Naomi overrode the instinct to soothe and comfort, giving instead some of the hard reality Martin was so fond of dispensing. “That is the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard. And your reaction is exactly why Grace didn’t confide in you.”
Martin’s nostrils flared, and the wave of menace that rolled off him had Naomi stepping backwards before she was even aware of moving. Hades was suddenly there, a low growl rumbling in his chest, crowding his big body between them. Persephone barked sharply, then whined, then barked again, as if trying to get Martin’s attention. He didn’t even seem to notice. His chest heaved, and he bit out words. “How is wanting to defend my daughter selfish?”
“It’s too late to defend her,” she shot back, and he flinched as if she’d slapped him. “She has lost her mother and her brother, and William. She’s estranged from Quinn, when any fool can see how dear they are to each other. Most of all, she longs for that baby girl, but she doesn’t know how to handle what she’s feeling. You’ve seen the way she carries Persephone around, like a baby. Just like you do, when you’re missing little Michael.”
Naomi felt her chin begin to wobble and fought to control it. He didn’t need her tears, her softness or compassion right now. He needed truth. “If you leave her to pursue some sort of vengeance, which could very well get you killed, you will be abandoning your daughter. You’ll be leaving her completely alone in this world. And it will be so much worse than losing everyone else, because you will have chosen to leave her.”
He stared at her, and she could feel his rage as if it was her own, a combination of impotence and anger. He knew she was right. He stood up so fast, the chair he’d been sitting in tipped over to crash on the floor. Again, he didn’t even seem to notice, pacing back and forth in the space beside the table, faster and faster, raking his hands through his hair in ever-increasing agitation.
Naomi stood up and retrieved the axe from where she kept it, just inside the door. Without a word, she handed it to him, then followed him outside to the woodpile.
She sat in one of the Adirondack chairs nearby, Hades beside her, Persephone in her lap, watching as the hard work slowly wore the desperate edges off his fury. He paused to peel off his t-shirt, hardly missing a beat as he tossed it to her. His familiar scent lifted from the damp folds, and Naomi turned her face away, unnerved by the slow, hot curl of desire, the first she’d felt since Scott had died. Of all the timing. She kept her eyes closed after that, unwilling to either act on the feeling or lie to herself about it, listening to the rise and fall of the wind and the steady chunk of Martin’s axe.
He split and stacked an enormous pile of wood before he wound down. Naomi was drowsing by that time, leaning her head back against the chair, Persephone curled up on her chest. She blinked sleepily when Martin retrieved his t-shirt from her lap, and watched as he paused to mop his face with a clean handkerchief before he slid the shirt back on and pulled a chair over to sit beside her. He looked calmer, but his rage was banked only, still simmering just beneath the surface.
“Would it be worse, do you think, knowing exactly what happened? Or is what I’m imagining more terrible?” He asked the questions in a low voice without looking at her.
“I honestly don’t know. Piper didn’t tell me details, but I felt things. When I touched her, sometimes.” She was quiet for a moment. “I try not to think about it.”
“How am I supposed to look at her or talk to her and not think about it? I can’t just pretend it never happened. And I sure as hell can’t pretend I don’t know.”
“No, you can’t. But she would hate it if she saw it in your face every time you looked at her, just like Piper did. Neither one of our girls deserves to be defined by what happened to them. They’re not victims. They’re survivors.”
Martin grunted. “Semantics. Words. They don’t help me. They don’t tell me how to keep it from eating me alive.”
“There’s always more wood to split.” He shot an irritated glance at her, and Naomi reached out to rest her hand on his forearm. “Here’s the thing. If you can’t figure that out, if I can’t, how are our girls going to? We’re the parents. We’ve got to show them the way.”
“Shit.” Martin shut his eyes. “I know you’re right, in my head. I can hear your words and understand the logic of them, but I can’t feel it, here, in my gut.” His hands opened and closed in white-knuckled fists, pressing against his stomach. “All I can feel is how badly I want to hurt them. I want to make them scream before I crush their skulls.”
“I know. I know exactly what you mean.”
He tipped his head back against the chair, staring up at the sky. After a moment, he held his hand out to her, and she curled her fingers with his and squeezed. He squeezed back, then tugged their joined hands to rest over his heart.
“It’s not the baby’s fault, though. Lark isn’t to blame. Grace can’t think that.” He lapsed into silence again, and Naomi didn’t try to fill it, giving him time and quiet to think it through. Finally, he spoke again, his voice stronger, surer. “I want to be a part of that baby’s life, to help raise her. There are two people left on this Earth who share my blood, that I know of. She’s my granddaughter.” He looked at Naomi, and the wonder was back in his eyes. “Lark. It’s a pretty name, don’t you think?”
“It’s a lovely name for a darling, sweet baby.”
His lips curved, a precious moment of real pleasure, real pride. Then he sobered once more. “Grace will come around. She’s a mother now. She’ll learn to love her baby, I’m sure she will.”
For the first time since their conversation began, Naomi felt a chill of trepidation, for both of them. “Martin, you can’t decide that for her. You see Grace when you look at Lark, but you can’t know what Grace sees.”
His jaw set at a stubborn angle. “I’ll help her see. Like you said. I’ll love little Lark, and show Grace the way.”
Naomi smiled, even though Martin, of all people, would see the lie of it. “I hope so. For all of you, I hope so.”
He looked away, his jaw flexing and relaxing for a moment, then returned dark, intense eyes to hers. “You were wrong about one thing, though. Grace wouldn’t be left alone. She would have you.”
Naomi smiled. “She’s stuck with me, whether she likes it or not. Now, do we need to postpone this trip? I was just about to head over to Ignacio’s to get the horses. We can put it off, if you want time to talk to Grace.”
Martin frowned. “Let’s see how it shakes out. Like I said, she’s been avoiding me for all she’s worth. I’ll talk to her tonight, and make the call after that.” He blew out a big breath of air. “I know it’s been quiet since we saw that first helicopter, but my skin’s crawling. We need information, sooner rather than later. And we need to know about the conditions on Rampart Range Road, whether a large group could move on us via that route.”
“Okay.” Naomi hesitated, then went with her gut. “Do you want to come with me to Ignacio’s? You could talk to Quinn. If he’s okay with it, you could introduce yourself to Lark.”
Martin looked down at his hands, and Persephone chose that moment to step delicately from Naomi’s lap over to his. He scooped her little body to his chest and buried his nose in her fur. Then he tucked her against his shoulder and stood up. “I do want to go, but there’s something I need to do first. I’ll meet you back here with the ATV, say in about twenty minutes?”
“Sure.”
As usual, he didn’t say goodbye but just went on his way, Persephone’s perky ears just visible over his shoulder as he strode along. Naomi watched until they disappeared over a rise, then sighed. Heartache loomed dark on the horizon, for everyone involved. In a perfect world, Grace would heal, and open her heart to her daughter. She and Quinn would raise the baby together, whether they did so as friends or as a romantic couple. Martin would help, and Ignacio, and a constellation of others, including Naomi herself. She shook her head. In a perfect world, little Lark wouldn’t exist.
But she did exist, the product of her mother’s suffering and her grandparents’ young love. Who could say what tragedies and accidents, what strokes of fortune, good and bad, went into the creation of a person? She doubted they would ever know who Lark’s father was, but what if that little girl was the finest thing he ever created, in spite of the violence of that creation? There was no way to twist her mind around the complexities of it, to see the balance. Maybe “perfection,” then, lay in trusting that a balance did exist, that life was somehow unfolding as it should, even if she couldn’t see it from her limited perspective. Naomi shook her head again and laughed softly to herself. She was starting to sound like Verity. And that was pretty terrifying.
Hades heaved out of his spot in the shade and ambled over to her, resting his head in her lap and gazing up at her, his back end shifting from side to side as he wagged what little tail he had. Naomi smoothed her hands over his big head, then leaned to scratch his chest, making him rumble happily. He hooked his jaw over her shoulder and squeezed, pressing the side of his head to the side of hers. As always, his version of a hug made her smile, made her chest ache with the joy and warmth of him, wrapped around her heart. Naomi had loved animals all her life, and had enjoyed close bonds with many, but Hades was different. He had become as foundational to her as breath, as the pulse of blood through her veins. She laughed and sat back, ruffling his ears, which made him grin his big, drooly grin.
“You and me, we are peas and carrots. Our relationship, I understand.”
She rose and headed inside. She was packed and ready for their trip, though she couldn’t say she was looking forward to it. Martin had been meaning to travel over Rampart Range Road, the way Quinn and Lark had arrived, and they would combine that scouting mission with a visit to the people at Bear Creek. She and Martin already had an in with the group, so they were the logical people to go. Whether or not they would learn anything about the helicopter they’d seen was questionable. Naomi doubted it, but they had to try.
She had tried and failed to avoid thinking about Grace’s recommendations for their community. The thought of leaving this place rendered her breathless. This had been Scott’s family home. Macy’s fragile bones lay in this soil. And most importantly, Piper would return here when her wandering days were done. Leaving would mean severing the only physical link she had left with her gypsy girl. Naomi’s hands moved automatically through the motions of preparing vegetables and dried venison for a soup she would set to simmer for dinner, even as her mind rubbed over and over the justifications she’d already worn smooth. Valid reasons, all. Except for one thing.
That one thing had come to her in the middle of the night. She had opened her eyes, disturbed perhaps by the movement of an animal outside, or Hades twitching in a dream, but as soon as she had focused on the dimly lit ceiling, a soft voice in her mind had asked a question: What’s best for you, Naomi?
She hadn’t been able to answer that question. Not then. Not now.
A sudden thump beside her made her jump. Ares prowled towards her, looking for a handout and ignoring the “no cats on the counter” rule with arrogant disdain. Naomi hissed and shooed him down, then waited a few minutes before she “accidentally” dropped a sliver of venison on the floor. Hades’ ears shot to full attention, but he’d long since learned to keep his distance from the rangy tomcat. Ares spent as much time out and about as he spent in the cabin these days, and wore the scars of his survival with imperial pride. Only during the worst of the winter snows had Naomi needed to supplement his diet. She stroked along his spine, then moved to give Hades a taste of venison as well. Outside, she heard the sound of the ATV approaching, so she cupped Hades’ chin, met his eyes, and touched his mind with a silent command to “Stay.”
She stepped out of the cabin just as Martin pulled up. He kept the ATV idling, and Naomi narrowed her eyes as she walked towards him, trying to analyze what was different. Not until she caught an unfamiliar scent did she figure it out.
“You shaved?”
“Twice.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw, which usually sported a light stubble. “When Grace and Benji were babies, their mom got me in the habit. I don’t have much of a beard and I’ve gotten lazy about shaving, but I don’t want to whisker burn Lark, if I hold her.”
Naomi looked down and swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the sudden need to cry. Scott had done the same thing when the girls had been tiny, shaving as soon as he’d gotten home from work. Their little heads had always smelled of his aftershave when Naomi put them to bed. She climbed onto the ATV behind Martin and secretly wiped her eyes behind his back. “Let’s go.”
She used the trip to get a handle on her feelings, focusing on the scenery streaming by: the huge, grey boulders in the forest along Rampart Range Road, the slow decay of the deserted buildings in town, the wide-open sky above Highway 24 when they left the city. By the time Martin pulled up at Ignacio’s ranch, she had achieved a measure of control. This wasn’t about her, and no one involved needed her emotions thrown into the mix.
Ignacio appeared in the doorway of the barn, and lifted his hand in welcome. Martin parked and shut off the ATV, and together they walked into the dim, dusty stable. Ignacio had returned to currying Ben, who nickered when he caught sight of Naomi. Shakti stuck her head out of her stall as they walked past, chuffing a hello. Naomi hugged Ignacio first, then leaned into Ben’s shoulder, wrapped her arms around his neck, and shut her eyes. He folded his head around her while she soaked in the warmth of his beautiful, enormous heart. After a moment, Ignacio’s hand landed on her back, light and warm.
“What’s wrong?”
Naomi opened her eyes and smiled at her friend. “Don’t ask Martin that. He’ll accuse you of being ‘annoying.’”
Martin shot her a look which reinforced that very opinion, then turned sober eyes on Ignacio. “Is Quinn around? And Lark?”
It didn’t surprise Naomi a bit when Ignacio understood the implications of Martin’s question immediately. “Go slow and careful with the boy, Martin. He’d die for that little girl, and his deepest fear is that someone will take her away from him.”
“He told you, then? That Lark is Grace’s daughter?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. I have eyes, don’t I? He’s pretty near as defensive about Grace as he is about Lark – won’t tolerate so much as a single word against her. He and the twins have churned around with the town kids about it more than once.”
Martin nodded. “I owe him, then.” His voice strangled thin with emotion. “For taking care of both my girls.”
Ignacio nodded towards the house. “They’re inside. Quinn was going to feed her lunch then put her down for a nap.”
Naomi straightened. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Martin nodded, which surprised her, and held out his hand. When she took it, he squeezed so hard she yelped. He murmured an apology and loosened his grip, and she could feel that his hands were shaking. By the time they reached the door that led to the mudroom and the kitchen beyond, he was sweating. He gestured for her to precede him. Naomi knocked softly, then stepped inside.
Quinn was seated at the kitchen table. Lark was tucked in the crook of his arm, drinking from a bottle, her dark eyes locked on his face as he murmured to her. They had both grown since she’d last seen them, which made her want to cry again. Quinn looked up and smiled when he saw her. Then his eyes flickered behind her, and the smile vanished. He stood up, and the boy vanished as well. In his place, a hard-eyed man stood holding a sleepy baby, all the muscles in his face tensed and tight.
“I won’t let you take her away from me,” Quinn said. “If Grace sent you, you tell her I’m sorry, but it’s too late. Lark is my daughter now.”
Naomi took a deep breath, and spared just a moment to long for the time before, when they could all pretend that this was just a casual visit for a little while, and ease up on Martin’s reason for being here gently, slowly. But, no. All of the social niceties she had so excelled at were useless now, and Quinn, it would appear, could be as direct as Martin. Well, she could be direct, too.
“We don’t want to take her, Quinn, and Grace didn’t send us.” She stepped to the side, and reached back to pull Martin forward. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the baby or made a sound since they had stepped into the room. Naomi turned back to Quinn. “Martin just wants to know his granddaughter and help you in any way he can. She’s some of the only family he has left.”
“She’s the only family I have, period.” Quinn’s arms tightened around the baby, and she started to squirm and fuss. “We don’t need any help.”
Martin’s eyes shifted to Quinn. “Did you know your grandpa when you were a boy, Quinn?”
Quinn flinched, and looked away. “Yes.”
“Did you love him?”
Quinn scowled at the floor, and the boy was back. “That’s not fair,” he muttered.
Naomi tilted her head to the side. “It is fair,” she said gently, insistently. “Martin wants to give his love to Lark, just like your grandpa gave his love to you.” She let that sink in for a moment. “He’s not trying to take anything away from you. He wants to add to the love and support around his granddaughter.”
Quinn shut his eyes, his expression pained. Then he opened his eyes and stared at Martin. “What did Grace tell you?”
“Nothing. But I know, about how Lark was conceived.”
“It’s not her fault!” Quinn burst in before Martin could finish speaking. “And I won’t have people thinking that, do you hear me? Lark didn’t ask to be born. What happened to Grace isn’t a part of her. I won’t let it be!”
Lark’s fussing escalated into fretful crying. Without missing a beat, Quinn shifted the baby to his shoulder, rubbing and swaying in a baby-soothing dance as old as time. He glared at both Martin and Naomi, his expression as fierce as his hands were gentle. “People suspect, you know, about Grace and Lark. You can’t hide something like that, not with the way people have changed. They think I’m the father, that Grace abandoned both of us. For Lark’s sake, they can keep right on thinking that. I won’t have them talking behind her back, calling her ‘bad blood,’ or worse, telling her someday about the ugliness she came from. I’ll die before I’ll let that happen, do you understand me?”
Martin hung his head for a moment. When he lifted it, tears were running freely down his cheeks. He shrugged to wipe them on the shoulders of his shirt, but didn’t try to hide them. “As far as I’m concerned,” he said hoarsely, “I couldn’t ask for a better father for my grandbaby. I can’t promise I’ll never interfere because I’m a man of strong opinions, but I swear to you I will never try to take her away from you.” He held out his hand. “On my honor, I swear it.”
Quinn measured him, the man once again in full possession of his features. Finally, he reached out to clasp Martin’s hand. They shook, hands locked. Then Quinn returned to patting Lark’s back. For long moments, the only sound in the kitchen was the baby’s softly diminishing fussing. Then, Quinn shifted Lark in his big, confident hands and offered her to Martin.
“Would you like to hold her?”
Martin’s face twisted. He took the baby without a word, turning away as he tucked her against his chest. Naomi could see his shoulders shaking, and she turned away to give him some privacy in this intensely intimate moment. She looked up at Quinn.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, his face reddening softly in the dim light of the kitchen, all boy again. “Yeah.” He met Naomi’s eyes, his own eyes troubled. “So Grace never told him? Nothing at all?”
“No.” Naomi paused, searching for words that were both gentle and truthful. “She’s so confused, Quinn. She doesn’t talk about it, but I can feel it. Her instinct is to love Lark, but she can’t separate the baby from what she went through. I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to.”
“I know.” Quinn glanced over his shoulder at Martin and Lark, then lowered his voice for Naomi’s ears only. “We went through so much together, Grace and me. I wanted us to be a family. I wanted her to learn to love me, like she loved William. Like she’d love a husband.” His face flushed red again. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Tenderness for this sweet boy just swamped her. She touched his forearm, fingers light. “But I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to feel that way for any man. Not for a long time, at least.”
“That’s what Ignacio says.” Quinn hung his head. “I didn’t tell him what happened to Grace, but he knows. You know how he just figures stuff out, without you saying anything. He says when a horse has been broke badly, with violence and fear, sometimes it’s damaged forever. Its trust is broken.” Quinn looked down again, and his voice shook. “He says Grace is like that. He says her trust in people was broken, not just her trust in men. No one stepped up to help her when those men were hurting her. Night after night, and not one person even tried.”
“You helped her. She said you saved her life.”
Quinn shrugged. “Only after she got herself away from them. I didn’t rescue her or anything.”
“There are many ways to rescue someone,” Naomi said. She looked over her shoulder at Martin. He was holding Lark in the crook of his arm, and they were gazing at each other, transfixed. “You were there for both Grace and Lark when they desperately needed you, and I know one person, at least, who is very grateful.”
Martin looked up and met her gaze. “Come look at her eyes, Naomi. Have you ever seen such eyes?” He turned to the side as Naomi approached, tilting and tucking his shoulder into her as she leaned close. Together, they gazed down at the baby, who regarded them both with an ancient solemnity. “It’s like she looks right into you. Like she sees into your soul.”
“Hello, Lark,” Naomi greeted her softly. “Bitty baby bean.”
The baby smiled at Naomi’s playful tone, proudly displaying two teeth. Both Naomi and Martin beamed back at her, then smiled at each other. Martin leaned his forehead against Naomi’s for a moment, his dark eyes inches from hers, and Naomi felt the connection between them deepen and wrap around her bones.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “For helping make this happen.”
Then he bent to kiss Lark’s downy head, rubbing his freshly-shaven cheek against the baby’s face. Lark reached up to pat his cheeks, and their eyes locked once more. Watching them fall in love, Naomi went right over the edge of that cliff herself. For both of them.