Harvest Moon (26 page)

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Aaron said, blinking through his own tears.

“Nice job, Aaron.”

Still holding his son, Aaron glanced over his shoulder to find Nicolas Benedetti standing several feet away. Putting down his medical bag, Nicolas slipped on a pair of latex gloves.

“Put the baby on his mother’s belly. I’ll take over now.”

Aaron complied, then removed his bloodstained gloves. He sat down on the bed beside Regina, holding her hand while Nicolas cut the umbilical cord and removed the mucous from the baby’s nose and mouth. He wrapped the tiny, shivering boy in a blanket and handed him to Aaron.

“You can clean up your son now, Doctor.”

Cradling the baby to his chest, Aaron took him to the kitchen, placed him on the counter next to the sink, and washed him gently with warm water.

The baby let out a frantic cry when the water touched his face. “Shh, Clayborne Diaz Spencer. This is as bad as it is going to get for a while. Right now I have to clean you up before you meet your mother,” he crooned softly. “You must remember that you always have to look nice for the ladies.”

He ran a finger along the infant’s cheek and instinctively he turned his head in that direction. His son was small, but he was perfect—as perfect as the woman who had carried him.

The smell of burnt coffee beans wafted in through the windows, but Aaron could not think of anything but the woman who could have been lost to him if he hadn’t returned when he did. Walking over to the window, he stared out into the night and whispered a prayer of thanks. A haze lingered, concealing the full moon. A gentle breeze blew in from the ocean, and the sky brightened as a silvery glow illuminated the earth. The moon appeared larger and brighter than at any other time of the year. It was then that he realized it was the night of a harvest moon, as well as his own birthday. His son had arrived in time to help his father celebrate his thirty-eighth birthday.

Lowering his head, he kissed Clayborne on his forehead, then returned to the bedroom, where he would introduce him to his mother.

Aaron returned to the bedroom to find Nicolas kneeling beside Magda, waving a bottle under her nose.

Regina sat up in bed, a gentle smile creasing her battered face as she reached for her son. Aaron sat down on the side of the bed and kissed her bruised mouth.

“Thank you for the birthday present.”

Her eyes widened when she registered what he had said. “You came back early to celebrate your birthday?”

Nodding, he watched Regina guide the baby’s mouth to her breast. After a few misses, he found the nipple and began sucking vigorously.

“Aaron, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come back when you did.”

“If anything
had
happened to you, I probably would spend the rest of my life in jail, because I would’ve done more to Magda than just slap her.”

“She tried to kill me because she thought having me out of the way would make it easier for Elena to marry you.”

He frowned. “I never would’ve married Elena. Why would Magda think I would?”

Regina related what Magda had told her about being Elena’s mother, watching disbelief freeze Aaron’s features. “I wonder if Elena even knows Magda’s her birth mother. I doubt that, because last week Elena announced her engagement to her
futebol
player.”

“So now Magda will go to jail for nothing.”

“No,
Princesa
, it will not be for nothing. She will be charged with attempted murder and arson. Those are pretty serious charges in Brazil.”

The sucking motion stopped and Regina smiled down at her son. His last name might have been Spencer, but his features said he was a Cole.

Her head came up slowly as she gave Aaron a seductive look. “Do you think you can make an honest woman out of me, Aaron Laurence Spencer?”

He leaned closer. “I think I can.”

“When?”

“As soon as you’re better.”

“Better how?” Her gaze was fixed on his sensual mouth.

“As soon as your doctor gives you the okay that you can travel.”

“Where are we going, Darling?”

“Florida,
Princesa
. We’ll have a double ceremony. We’ll have a priest marry us, then baptize the baby.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “It sounds as if we’re going to have quite a party.”

“I’m ready,” he crooned, sealing his pledge with a kiss that promised forever.

P
arris Cole held her grandson, tears filling her green-flecked brown eyes when she watched her husband lead her firstborn down the aisle where Aaron Spencer waited to make her his wife. The tiny baby slept peacefully, unaware of the danger that had threatened his very existence.

Her gaze shifted from the tall man reaching for and grasping her daughter’s hand to the baby who represented another generation of Coles. Clayborne was his mother’s child, from his black curly hair to his delicate features and the twin dimples that were passed down from his Cuban-born great-grandmother.

Parris had to admit that Regina had chosen wisely. Aaron would be a good husband and father. The wedding ceremony ended with the exchange of vows, rings, and kisses. Then Regina, Aaron, and the priest, along with Tyler and Arianna, moved over to the baptismal font.

Rising to her feet, Parris handed Tyler his nephew. Clayborne wailed—his cry joining the voice of the priest intoning the prayer
washing away original sin—then water was poured on his head. His crying continued until Tyler handed him to his mother. At six weeks of age, he had bonded quickly with her.

Martin moved closer to his wife, holding her hand gently. “We will have her for such a short time,” he whispered close to her ear.

Parris saw the shimmer of tears in her husband’s eyes. Regina and Aaron had planned to spend a month in Florida before they flew on to Mexico. They had promised to return to Florida to visit with the Coles at least twice each year: after Aaron harvested his coffee crop, and during the Christmas holidays. It wasn’t much, but she would take it. She would take any time given her from her children.

Regina led Aaron through the formal gardens at her grandparents’ estate, pointing out the differing plants and flowers. She had fed Clayborne, and he now slept in the nursery where many a Cole baby had slept over the years.

Aaron stopped and smiled down at the face of his bride. “Do you know what I was thinking,
Princesa
?”

She arched a naturally curving eyebrow, shaking her head. “No, Aaron. This is not our garden.”

“No one will see us?” he whispered.

“I don’t care.”

“How about a kiss, Mrs. Aaron Spencer?”

“One kiss coming up,” she crooned, putting her arms around his neck.

Six weeks had passed quickly. Magda and her accomplices were in jail, awaiting trial for attempted murder and arson. Sebastião had activated the irrigation system, saving more than half the crop.

She and Aaron would spend a month in Florida, then fly to Mexico to introduce Clayborne to his paternal grandfather. Then they would return to Bahia, to begin to live out their dreams
without demons lurking in the background to thwart their happiness.

Pulling back, Regina glanced around her husband’s broad shoulder. “I don’t think we’re the only ones making out in the garden,” she whispered.

“She looks a little young—”

“Emily!” Regina scolded, startling her twelve-year-old cousin.

Emily Kirkland’s dark green eyes widened in surprise. “Please don’t tell my father,” she pleaded as she approached the newly married couple.

“Who were you with?” Turning, Emily pointed to a tall, handsome young man who strolled casually from behind a wall of hedges.

Regina arched an eyebrow at Matt Sterling’s stepson. “Chris?”

He cleared his throat several times before saying, “I would never touch her, Regina. Her father would kill me.”

Regina gave him a knowing look. “I’m glad you realize that. I think the two of you should go back and join the others before your fathers come looking for you.”

Christopher Delgado extended his hand to Emily Kirkland, who hesitated and then placed her hand in his. Regina and Aaron watched until they disappeared from view.

“Young love,” he said softly.

“Dangerous love,” Regina countered. “His sister is my cousin’s best friend.”

“Is her father your uncle with the silver hair and green eyes?”

“The same.”

“That boy likes living on the edge, doesn’t he?”

“You’ve got that right.”

“Right now I feel like living on the edge, Mrs. Spencer,” he crooned, pulling her deeper into the boxwood garden.

There was only the sound of their laughter before it ended abruptly with the exchange of a passionate kiss.

Hand in hand they returned to the house, smiling at everyone who had come to help them celebrate the harvest of their lives.

* * * * *

Rochelle Alers
has been hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most prolific and popular African American authors of romance and women’s fiction.

With more than sixty titles and nearly two million copies of her novels in print, Ms. Alers is a regular on the Waldenbooks, Borders and Essence bestseller lists, regularly chosen by Black Expressions Book Club, and has been the recipient of numerous awards, including the
Gold Pen Award
, the
Emma Award, Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing
, the
Romantic Times Career Achievement Award
and the
Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award
.

She is a member of the Iota Theta Zeta Chapter of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., and her interests include gourmet cooking and traveling. She has traveled to Europe, and countries in North, South and Central America. Her future travel plans include visits to Hong Kong and New Zealand. Ms. Alers is also in accomplished in knitting, crocheting and needlepoint. She is currently taking instruction in the art of hand quilting. Oliver, a toy Yorkshire terrier has become the newest addition to her family. When he’s not barking at passing school buses, the tiny dog can be found sleeping on her lap while she spends hours in front of the computer. A full-time writer, Ms. Alers lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island.