Books by Maggie Shayne (46 page)

And then nothing.

The lake stilled as if nothing had happened, as if a hero did not lie in its cold embrace. Annie stared into the depths, hands over trembling lips. “What if I was wrong?” she whispered. “Oh, God! I have to go in after him!” But Sir George’s old fingers caught her gently by the wrist and held her utterly motionless.

“Wait, sweet Annie. If the lake’s magic can heal him, it will be but a moment. And if it can’t… if it can’t, then this lake will be his grave.”

Annie shook her head. “But… but…”

Sir George stared into the water where Ren had vanished. Annie sobbed, hunched on hands and knees, staring down at the ripples on the surface. Aching, dying inside with every second that passed. It was too long. Too long. He’d drown!

There was an explosion of water then, droplets surging upward and soaking Annie’s face as Ren emerged. His head broke the surface first, chin down, and then he straightened, flinging it upward. Water flew from his golden hair, and Annie cried harder as she heard him draw a deep, gasping breath.

He stood there beside the dock and slowly opened his eyes. Bare-chested, water lapping low around his hips, he met her gaze. “Annie?”

“Ren?” His name was little more than an exhalation. She couldn’t take many more surprises. But God, this was a good one. “Oh, God, Ren!”

He looked down at his flawless skin as if expecting to see the wounds and blood that had covered him only moments ago. Then he gazed back at Annie again and shook his head, lifting his hands palm up as if in wonder.

“It worked,” Sir George said in a relieved sigh. Then he laughed aloud. “By heavens, it worked!”

As Ren stared at him, blinking in shock, Sir George stopped laughing. He bent slowly to pick Ren’s sword up from where it lay on the dock. Then he straightened again. “Your wife’s wisdom, or perhaps the strength of her love, seems to be stronger than even my magic, Ren. You’re no longer a knight in my service. You’re free of your vows to me. Free to live out your days as a mortal man.” He lowered his head. “I’ll miss you, Ren. But perhaps you’ll return to me one day.” George glanced at the sword. “I’ll keep this for you until then.”

Ren opened his mouth, a question in his eyes, but before he could speak, Sir George shimmered and then vanished, taking Ren’s sword with him.

Ren blinked at the spot where Sir George had been, shaking himself. “I don’t… I don’t understand any of this,” he said, and he pulled himself up out of the water and onto the dock. He pressed his palms to his temples, closed his eyes. “I’m no longer a White Knight. But I’m not dead either. And…”

“It’s the lake,” she whispered. “It’s magic, Ren.”

He nodded, met her eyes. “Just like Mother always used to say back when…” His eyes widened, and he gave his head a shake, then just stared at her. “My God, Annie, I remember. I remember everything! It’s as if I’d never been gone!”

Annie slowly shook her head and tried to stifle the tears, without success. She had Ren’s hands in hers. She was drawing him closer to her. He was helping her to her feet, pulling her near. She felt those strong arms come around her, felt her head cradled against his solid chest.

“It’s going to be all right now, Annie. I know it is.”

“Yes.” She nodded, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “I have you back, Ren, and I’m never letting you go again! Not ever!”

His hands cupped her face, tipping it up, and he kissed her, hard and long and deep and endlessly. Then Sara cried, and they parted a little guiltily.

“Your daughter wants her daddy,” Annie whispered.

Ren turned. A robe like the one Annie wore, only bigger, lay over the foot of the cradle. More of Sir George’s magic, she guessed. One last gift from a man who hadn’t lied when he’d claimed to love her husband as she did. She picked the robe up and handed it to her husband. He put it on. Then he bent and scooped little Sara up into his arms.

“An important little lady,” he said softly. “Hard to believe such a mite of a thing will change the world someday.” He lowered his head, kissing the tiny face. “I’ll cherish and protect you always, little Sara.” He lifted his gaze to Annie’s. “And your mommy, too.”

He pressed the baby into Annie’s arms, then scooped her up into his. “Come on, my ladies. You both need rest and a nice warm fire and some major coddling. Mommy’s been through hell today.” He dropped a tender kiss on Annie’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

“I hurt like you wouldn’t believe, I’m exhausted, and I…“ She smiled up at him. ”And I feel better than I ever have in my life. I have you back. I really have you back.“

“Damn right, you do.”

“Oh, Ren, your mother is going to be so happy. But, God, how are we going to explain this?”

He shrugged, carrying her up the steps, crossing the porch. “You told me once that my body—God, it feels odd to say that—was never found. We’ll have to say I was thrown clear and that I’ve been in a hospital somewhere, slowly recovering. And naturally, the second I was able to remember who I was, I made my way right back to my wonderful, beautiful, sexy wife.” He kissed her once more.

“Now that Sir George and his magic are gone…”

“I suspect everyone will see me just the way you do,” he confirmed.

Annie sighed in relief.

He opened the cabin door and carried her inside. But before putting her down, he strode right to the back and looked out the window. Annie followed his gaze out to the gentle waters of Mystic Lake.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Ren squeezed her.

“I love you, Ren,” she told him.

“I love you, too,” he said, and his voice was a bit coarse. “Just one thing, Annie.”

“What?” She looked up, worried at his serious tone, only to see a hint of the old mischief in his eyes.

“Call me Richard.”

Richard eased his wife, baby daughter in her arms, down from the gentle mare’s dappled back, and carried them up to the glass-enclosed porch of his in-laws’ home. Before he was halfway there, Georgette and Ira were gaping at him from the doorway, blinking in disbelief, both at the man they saw, a man they’d believed to be dead, and at the baby, safe and healthy in their daughter’s arms.

“R-Richard?”

“It can’t be…”

He only smiled at them and kept to his path. They stepped aside to let him through, and he carried Annie inside, straight through to the bedroom, knowing exactly where it was. He regretted that he didn’t see his mother, Maria, in her rocker on the porch as he passed. But maybe it would be better to see her later, break it to her gently.

When he pushed open the bedroom door, however, it was to see her sitting in a chair beside the turned-down bed, looking toward the open door as if expecting him.

“Richard?” she asked.

“Yes, Mother,” he said very gently, and his throat tightened so much he couldn’t say more. He stepped inside to ease Annie and the baby into the bed, then turned. “It’s me.”

Her fragile arms encircled his neck when he knelt before her. “I knew you’d come back to us,” she said, and her voice was choked and coarse. “I knew.”

He held the frail woman close, kissed her tear-dampened cheeks, and thought he was the luckiest man alive.

“I don’t understand,” Annie’s mother, Georgette, said, bustling into the room. “How is this possible?”

“I was thrown clear when the truck went through the rails,” Richard explained. “But I was still badly injured. Wandered off in shock and wound up in a hospital with no memory of who I was or what had happened.” He turned to Annie. “But that’s over now. Isn’t it, Annie?”

“It’s all over,” she said. “And he’s never getting away from me again.”

“But where’s Ren?” Ira asked.

Richard met Annie’s sparkling eyes, and they exchanged a secret smile. “He had to leave. Look, you two,” Richard told them, “it’s a long story, and we’ll have all the time in the world later. Right now, why don’t you come and meet your new granddaughter?“

Georgette beamed, hugged Richard’s neck, squashing Maria between them, then turned to gather Sara into her arms and fuss over the baby while Ira stepped up to the telephone to call for an ambulance. Eventually Georgette brought the baby to Maria and gently gave her over to the older woman’s trembling hands.

“Hello, little one,” Maria cooed. She cuddled the baby close. Georgette stood nearby, so Richard stepped away from them to sit on the edge of the bed and pull his wife, whose eyes were still brimming, into his arms.

“I love you, Annie-girl. I never thought I could love you more than I did, but being without you… well, it just showed me I could.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know. We’re so lucky, Richard. To have been given a second chance—and a daughter like Sara in the bar-gain.”

Richard wrapped his arms around her, his precious Annie, the woman who’d refused to let him go. “Thank you, my love,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

It was that magical time between light and darkness. That twilight time when each breeze is a brush stroke that paints the sky a shade darker, when fireflies begin flitting like miniature animated stars, and when fairies are said to scamper through the forest.

The little girl dipped her toes into the edge of the crystalline water, touching the liquid moonlight, rippling its perfection. Then she raced away, ebony pigtails flying, four-year-old giggles ringing through the air. Her parents lounged in the new swing on the back lawn, their watchful eyes always on their daughter. She reached them, crawled up into her daddy’s lap, breathless, still grinning. And though her smile was beautiful, they both saw the depth in her dark eyes. The underlying seriousness. She was called a genius by the experts who’d tested her. But to her parents, she was more than that. She was their little girl. She was their most miraculous blessing. The fruit of their boundless, limitless love.

Richard stroked the length of one silken pigtail lovingly. “What’s making my girl giggle so much?”

“I love it here, Daddy.”

Tiny, chubby arms clung tight to his neck, and he bent to kiss her cherubic cheek. Then she squirmed from his lap to Annie’s, which was not a long trip since their thighs were pressed together. “I don’t want to go home in the morning. Can we stay a little longer, Mommy?”

“Well…”

“Please?” Sara batted dark lashes at her mother, and Annie found it just as hard to say no to her as it had always been.

“We’ll see,” she said, knowing already she would probably give in. Sara didn’t enjoy crowds of other children overly much. Instead, she seemed to prefer the solitude of Mystic Lake.

“Okay.” Sara jumped down, satisfied with that answer for now.

“Hey, slow down a minute,” Richard said, stopping the imp in midflight by catching her tiny hand in his. And for a moment he paused, remembering a time when he’d wondered if he’d ever hold this little hand nestled in his larger one this way. He blinked a few times and cleared his throat.

Annie smiled, knowing exactly the kind of wonder he was feeling. It hit at odd moments. The awe. The gratitude. The overwhelming joy. She’d felt them often.

“What is it, Daddy?” There was an edge of impatience to Sara’s voice. Just a hint.

Richard gave himself a slight shake. “I… just want to know where you’re going in such a hurry.”

Sara looked up at him, bit her lower lip, and dug the toe of one sneaker into the lush grass.

“You what?”

She drew a breath and lifted her dimpled chin. “I just want to play near the water. It’s… different… from other water.”

Richard lifted his brows. “How is it different?”

“You’ll think it’s silly,” she said.

“I won’t, Sara. I promise. You can tell me.”

She looked up at him, dark eyes searching, probing his, and then warming with the love and trust she felt for her father. Her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “I think it’s magic.”

Those dark eyes watched her father’s face, awaiting his reaction. Richard didn’t laugh, or even grin.

His eyes intent, he glanced around. “Really? What makes you think so?”

Assured he believed her, Sara grew more excited. She seemed to consider her answer, her small brows bunching up as she thought about it. “I guess it’s just a feeling I have,” she said slowly.

“Sounds just like the feelings your mommy always had about this place,” he told her, glancing at Annie.

“Mommy thinks so, too?” Sara breathed.

“Sure I do,” Annie said. “You’ll have to ask Gramma Maria to tell you all the stories she told me when I was little, Sara. She knows everything about this lake, you know.”

“Yeah,” Richard said. “And I can tell you a story or two about it myself.”

“Wow,” Sara whispered, eyes round and wide with wonder.

“C’mon,” Richard said, and he held that tiny hand a little tighter. “Let’s go together.”

Sara smiled from ear to ear. And ran off at his side, beaming adoringly at her father as he walked beside her, down to the shore.

Annie watched them go. She stared out toward the water’s edge and dashed a tear from her eyes as she whispered a silent thank-you to Sir George, to the lake, to the universe itself.

The wind hissed through the pines, and she almost thought she heard an ancient voice ringing like a deep bell, breathing a gentle “You’re welcome.”