Dark Water (22 page)

When Silk DeMarco emerged from the family car with Sarah Whitman beside him, there was an audible intake of breath. They knew what she'd done. They knew why she'd done it. And yet they couldn't tear their gazes away from the stricken look on her face.

 

Sarah swayed on her feet as she stopped at the open grave. Tony steadied her, holding her close against his side. After yesterday's ordeal with Moira, the doctor had wanted to sedate her, but she'd refused. There were no drugs that could make her forget the insanity in Moira's eyes as she'd aimed the shotgun in her face, or the way the ax had felt in her hands as it sliced through sinew and skin.

A pastor from the church that Sarah had attended as a child stepped forward. He'd been asked to read one Bible verse over Franklin Whitman's grave, and he'd readily agreed. His voice was strong and steady as he opened his Bible, then looked up.

“We come here today to lay Franklin James Whitman to a long and overdue rest. His daughter, Sarah Whitman, has asked that I read one verse to you all, and one verse only, after which she will depart.”

There were frowns among the people, but no comments, although it was obvious that they were feeling cheated, to have waited all this time in the cold only to learn the burying would be over almost before it began.

The pastor cleared his throat and looked directly at Sarah.

“Miss Whitman, before I begin, I want to apologize to you, on the behalf of every citizen of Marmet, for denying you in your darkest of hours.”

Sarah flinched. She hadn't expected him to say that. She hadn't expected the words that she'd waited so long to hear would draw her throat so tight or make her eyes fill with tears.

Tony felt her shock, then saw her shudder. He leaned down, whispering in her ear.

“Stay strong for me, baby…don't let them see you cry.”

It was exactly what she needed to hear. She took a slow, deep breath and then, ever so slightly, leaned into his strength as the pastor opened his Bible.

“From the New Testament, the Book of Matthew, seventh chapter, first verse. And the Lord said, ‘Judge not, lest ye also be judged.”'

He closed the Bible and looked up. “Remember those words. You are dismissed.”

But nobody moved. They were watching Sarah Whitman take an object from her pocket, then lay it on top of the casket. Only the closest could see that it was a small bunch of keys on a ring that said “Number One Dad.”

Sheriff Gallagher stepped forward, took off his hat and shook Sarah's hand. His deputies followed suit and then moved to their cars. Harmon Weatherly paused in front of Sarah, and when she would have shaken his hand, he lifted hers to his lips and kissed it instead.

Sarah couldn't look at them without crying, so she fixed her gaze on the small ring of keys lying atop the ebony casket instead. And as she stared, a drop of rain fell on her cheek, and then another.

Tony was worried. Sarah was near the breaking point, and he feared if she gave way, she wouldn't be able to stop.

“Sweetheart…”

She jerked as if she'd been slapped, then looked at him as if he was a stranger.

“It's starting to rain,” he said.

The gentleness of his touch as he took her hand steadied the slow but impending hysteria she'd been struggling to deny. She turned toward the crowd. Slowly, slowly, she stared into the faces, seeing Paul Sorenson meet her gaze and then drop his head, watching Annabeth Harold look away—making them see her while denying them all the gift of absolution. She didn't ever want them to forget what their lack of Christian kindness had done.

Then she looked at Tony, letting his love wash over her, cleaning the last of the bitterness from her soul.

“It's over?” she asked, as he led her to the car.

“Yes, baby, it's over. It's time to go home.”

New Orleans, Louisiana

Six months later

“O
oh,
chère…
you better watch out for your man. He's smiling at that Bonet woman,” Michelle said.

The grand opening of Très Silk was in full swing and was, by all accounts, a resounding success, just as Sarah had known it would be. She watched the way Tony was working the crowd, then settled back with a grin as she winked at Lorett's youngest and patted her stomach.

“No way, Michelle, you don't know my man so good, or you wouldn't say what you said. I've got something in here that he'll never let go.” Then she moved her hand from her belly to her heart. “And something in here that won't let me go.”

Michelle leaned against Sarah's shoulder and giggled intimately, as sisters often do, then blew her a kiss and went to rejoin her own husband, Francois, who was attracting far too many female fans for her liking.

The moment Sarah was alone, Tony appeared at her side, as if sensing her solitude. He bent over the chair and lifted her hair, then kissed the curve behind her ear that he loved so much.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” Sarah said, and stood up with a taunting smile on her face. “Aren't you going to ask me to dance?”

Tony swung her into his arms just as the music segued from a rowdy Cajun tune to a slow, sensuous blues melody.

“My Sarah,” Tony whispered, as they danced around the floor.

“Say it again,” Sarah begged.

“My Sarah. My Sarah…always mine.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Tonight is a little bit of paradise, I think.”

“Only a little?” he asked, pretending great disappointment.

Sarah slid her hands beneath the jacket of his tux and leaned back just enough that she could feel his arousal.

“Ah…my beautiful Silk…paradise is relative. Out here, in your club, I share you with everyone…and gladly. But in our home, I share you with none. That's where my paradise lies. With you and the baby we've made.”

Too overcome to speak, Tony pulled her even closer and twirled her across the floor.

Sometimes at night, when the house was in darkness and she lay sleeping in his arms, he still knew the fear of what living without her would be. And then he would remember what had happened, what she'd been forced to endure, and he would get down on his knees and thank God that she had survived.

He swung her under a massive chandelier and then stopped, letting the other couples on the dance floor flow around them.

“Look up, Sarah Jane.”

Sarah tilted her head and smiled. “You were right. It's not too large. In fact, it's magnificent.”

“The lights are for you,” he said softly. “To keep out the dark.”

The smile she was wearing tilted, then died. Sarah tried not to let it happen, but she knew she was going to cry. The moment the tears welled, she looked down, then away.

But Tony wouldn't let her retreat. Not back to that place where he'd seen her go so many times in the past six months.

“Sarah, don't go there anymore. The past is over. From this day forward, we live in the light.”

And then they began to twirl beneath the glitter of the Italian chandelier until Sarah was laughing aloud and hanging on to his arms to steady herself.

He was right. The past was over. The future was them and the baby and the love that they shared.