The One Safe Place (20 page)

W
HEN SHE WOKE UP
,
she was lying on the couch in the great room. The whole house seemed to be full of people.

But the angel was gone.

She felt strangely unfocused, as if she weren't quite awake or quite asleep. Not quite alive, and yet certainly, thanks to the angel, not dead.

A crowd of men stood over by the fireplace, conferring in very quiet tones.

Sheriff Harry Dunbar was there. And his deputy, too. And Parker Tremaine, who had brought her to Firefly Glen, it seemed like so long ago. Others, too—she couldn't quite make them out. Ward Winters and Granville Frome, in their full, robust white-haired power, were standing by the door, guarding it.

She decided dreamily that the collection of brave men looked a little bit like a posse.

Not that she'd ever seen a posse.

Suddenly she heard Spencer's voice. She turned her head curiously, studied the men a little more closely, and finally found him. He was standing in the middle of the fireplace crowd, still in his Spider-Man paja
mas. His hair stood practically in spikes, and the fire shadows danced over his freckles, making them seem to wriggle as he talked and grinned. Every inch of him was so beautifully, blessedly alive.

He was holding his cell phone like a trophy.

“And then I heard noises and stuff outside, so I called Reed. On my cell phone. I just called him right up, I wasn't even scared or anything.”

She smiled and shut her eyes. What a beautiful sound a little boy's voice could be.

But where was Reed? And Tigger? A darkness moved through her. Did Spencer know about Tigger?

And where…where was Doug Lambert?

She must have slept a long time. Absolutely everything had changed. The grim, frightening night shadows were gone, and so was the hum of fear in the air. The house blazed with lights, and the mood was cheerful, like a party, though everyone talked softly, as if they didn't want to wake her.

A handsome blond man, one of the fireplace group, was laughing. She heard someone call him Griffin.

“I'm telling you, you should have seen Reed,” Griffin said. “It's the state police, right, and the guy says he needs to take Faith's statement immediately. So Reed, who has this Rambo look on his face, he comes up to the cop. He's still got the tranquilizer gun in his hand, and he tells the guy Faith's resting, the statement is going to have to wait. And the guy, who mind you has a
real
gun, takes one look at that
face and says, sure, no problem, pal, tomorrow is fine.”

Everyone laughed, including Spencer.

“Where is Reed?” Faith said.

Half a dozen male faces turned toward her with expressions of varying degrees of surprise and gentle concern. They clearly had thought she was still asleep.

“Where is he?” she said again. She was so strangely tired, and out of this whole jumbled mess, that seemed to be the only question important enough to bother asking.

“Aunt Faith! I thought you'd never wake up!”

Spencer came bounding over.

“Reed shot him with a tranquilizer gun, just like he was a bear. The police took him away, and I saw it. He was out cold, but they put handcuffs on him anyhow.”

Faith smiled. “Hi, sweetie.” She held out her arms, holding back the relieved tears that the sight of Spencer seemed to summon.

The little boy rolled his eyes, but he sat down beside her and rested his head against her breast.

“I love you,” she said. She held him and let the warmth of him sink into her like rain into dry earth.

“I love you, too,” he said with a suspicious quaver in his voice.

“I think you were so brave, and so smart to know you should call Reed.”

He nuzzled more tightly against her. Then he lifted his face and whispered. “I was scared,” he said. “That was really him, wasn't it?”

Faith nodded. She knew what he meant.

“Yes,” she said. “That was him.”

He sighed, as if he were only now beginning to process some of the real implications of this night. Then he glanced over at the posse. “Don't tell them I was scared, okay?”

She lifted her hand and made an
X
on her chest. “Cross my heart,” she said.

The others had been watching and now, as if he knew Spencer was ready to share her, Harry peeled away from the group and came over. He sat on a chair someone had pulled up to the couch.

She smiled. She liked Harry. He was so somber, and so kind.

“Reed's in the clinic,” he said softly. “He's working on your Sheltie.” He seemed to notice her expression, because he reached out and patted her hand. “He'll pull through. Reed is a miracle worker. Besides, though it looked pretty bad, Reed said no vital organs were hit. The little fellow will have a lot of stitches, but he'll be fine in the end.”

Faith let her head fall back against the couch, relieved. Reed was a miracle worker, everyone obviously knew that. And Tigger was a fighter. It would be okay.

“That's right,” Spencer said. “Reed promised.
Tigger will have a lot of stitches, and I'll have to take good care of him. But Reed promised he'll be okay.”

She smiled, and murmured a soft, relieved sound. Now that she was sure, she might go back to sleep. Though she couldn't quite remember exactly what had happened, everything seemed to be under control. And she was so tired….

Suddenly an auburn-haired young woman came over. She sat on the edge of the sofa and looked into Faith's pupils with a small light. She worked around Spencer's little body easily. She was the calmest person Faith had ever seen.

“I'm Heather Cahill,” the woman said with a very sweet, very soothing smile. “Dr. Cahill. I gave you something for the pain. Reed insisted. Apparently you fainted right there at the end. I guess you tumbled down quite a few stairs before Reed could catch you.”

Faith nodded. She didn't remember falling, but she did remember the feel of Reed's arms around her. She would always remember the exquisite relief of being able to relinquish all fear, all pain, even all consciousness, into his strong, waiting arms.

And then, in spite of how much she wanted to stay and find out more, her eyes drifted shut, and, with the warm, soft feeling of Spencer up against her, she felt herself slipping away again.

 

I
T SEEMED
only the blink of an eye later, but it must have been a long time, because when she woke again
a dawn as gold as an autumn elm was shining through the windows.

And Reed was there.

Reed, beautiful, magical Reed, was bending over her, stroking her hair back from her cheek, which she suddenly realized was extremely raw and tender. She must have bumped it very hard.

But Reed would make it better. Reed made every thing better.

The posse was still hanging around, a visible, human symbol of this little town of Firefly Glen's complete and limitless support.

Funny, she thought, that even though many of them still believed her to be just the housekeeper, they rallied around her. She couldn't have felt more important if she'd been one of them for years. She couldn't have felt more valuable if she'd been one of their millionaire elite. Ward and Granville watched that door like twin pillars of the queen's guard.

A queen.

She had felt like a queen once. In Reed's arms. The night Reed had made love to her. That wonderful, healing night…

When she shut her eyes, she could smell Theo's cooking wafting out from the kitchen. She could hear the gentle ripples of conversation, the warm waves of soft laughter. As if they sensed Spencer's need to turn
this nightmare into a happy dream, the people here were still making an admiring fuss over him.

When she'd drifted off to sleep, he must have wandered back to them. Obviously he'd merrily returned to bragging.

The sound of his voice was like music.

But, though the solidarity of these kind people meant a lot, ultimately, for Faith, Reed was the only man in the room.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face, his rugged, handsome face, was so dear to her, it almost made her want to cry. Which was silly, because she was so amazingly happy.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi, yourself,” he said thickly. He bent over her, as if he wanted to cover her with his body, with his protection, with his strength.

She smiled up at him. His hair was shining in the dawn light. He still looked like an angel.

“Thank you so much for coming back,” she said. “He was… It was…” She gave up and simply smiled again. “You saved my life.”

He continued stroking her hair. His hands were slow and rhythmic.

“Thank Spencer,” he said. “If he hadn't used that phone…”

He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. “I don't like to think about how close it was. I almost lost you.”

Yes, they had almost lost each other. She looked at him, remembering how his name had been the last word that blazed through her mind. For that one second, the sorrow at knowing she'd never see him again had been even stronger than her fear.

She put her hand on his arm, absorbing the strong, warm feel of it, the concrete proof that they were both very much alive. And together. That was all that mattered. They were together. Suddenly the entire crazy world was really as simple as that.

“I love you,” she said contentedly.

His hand stilled on her hair. In fact, for a moment it seemed as if the whole room had gone quiet, as if everyone had heard her.

He looked down at her, and his face was strained. For a moment, she was confused, unnerved by a new, completely different, flicker of fear. Maybe she shouldn't have said that. It must be the drugs Dr. Cahill had given her. She suddenly remembered she had vowed not to say that.

But that misguided vow had been made before Doug Lambert came. Before she looked at death and realized how miraculous life really is. Before she saw that love is life, and should never be denied.

So she said it again, more clearly. “I love you, Reed Fairmont.”

The room held its breath.

Finally, with a long, rough sigh that held a thou
sand words, he smiled. It was a smile of such warmth and promise that it brought foolish tears to her eyes.

He took her hand into his. “I love you, too, Faith Constable,” he whispered. With a deep, hungry grace, he bent his head and kissed her fingers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And from the center of the shamelessly eavesdropping posse, a little boy's voice suddenly rang out, crowing with laughter.

“I knew it!” Spencer stomped triumphantly and raised his arms in the eternal male symbol of victory.

“Touchdown!”