Heartache Falls Part 1

Heartache Falls.

Emily March.

ANGER AND DESPAIR swirled inside her, and she blurted out the question. "Did you sleep well on the couch?"

His shoulders subtly stiffened as he belted his robe. He hung up his wet trunks, then turned and reached again for his coffee. He stared down at the mug and spoke with an apology in his tone. "No, I didn't. I intended to come up, but then time got away from me. I didn't want to disturb you."

She clamped her teeth against a sarcastic How considerate of you, dear. She was supposed to be making an effort here. "What were you working on?"

"Just reading a brief." He avoided her gaze and drank deeply from his mug, then crossed to the refrigerator. Opening the door, he gazed inside. "I think I'll have an omelet this morning. Would you like me to make one for you, too?"

Ali froze. Had he really asked that? She couldn't eat eggs; she'd never been able to eat eggs. They gave her a horrible stomachache. Mac darn well knew that.

Hurt sliced through her, a sharp, deep pain that lodged right beneath her breastbone. Ali shut her eyes, s.h.i.+vered, and shriveled. He knew eggs made her ill, but he simply didn't think, not about her, not anymore. She was of no more consequence to Mac Timberlake than the puddles of water he'd left pooled on the laundry room floor.

For Mary Lou.

Sisters, sisters ...

Thanks for going with me to Eternity Springs. Next time, I'll drive over the mountain pa.s.s if we hit a thunderstorm, though I still have dibs on being Louise. You're Thelma.

Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.

-MARK TWAIN.

PROLOGUE.

Byron R. White Federal Courthouse.

Denver, Colorado.

"So help me G.o.d."

Lowering his right hand, Mackenzie S. Timberlake shook the hand of the chief justice, who had just sworn him in as the newest member of the United States District Court for the District of Colorado.

"Congratulations, Judge Timberlake," the chief justice said. "We're glad to have you aboard, Mac."

"Thank you, sir. I'm honored. I look forward to working with you."

He turned to his wife, Ali, who held the family Bible against her chest, and they exchanged a quick hug. "I'm so proud of you, Mac," she murmured. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, honey." Then, as he turned to face the witnesses in the courtroom-his colleagues, his friends, and especially his family-his heart swelled with emotion as they broke into applause.

This grand and glorious moment was the culmination of a long-cherished dream. It was almost surreal.

His gaze fell on his longtime secretary, Louise, whose maternal smile beamed with pride and approval, then to his former law partners, then to Charles Cavanaugh, his mentor from the very beginnings of his legal career. Charles was also his father-in-law and the only father figure Mac had ever known. Meeting his gaze, Charles nodded once, a regal bow of his head. Pride rose within Mac. Having this man's approval meant the world to him.

Next Mac met the warm gazes of the young adults who were his children. The pride in Stephen's and Chase's eyes made him feel ten feet tall. The hero wors.h.i.+p in Caitlin's rea.s.sured him that even though his little girl was almost all grown up, her daddy was still her prince.

Finally he turned back to Ali. In her eyes, he saw ... everything. Pride, respect, encouragement, admiration, love. Always love. Cla.s.sically beautiful, outrageously generous, and infinitely supportive, for more than twenty years she'd been his wife, his lover, his biggest cheerleader. She was his heart.

I am blessed.

Tradition required that he give a bit of a speech, but Mac kept his remarks short and limited them primarily to expressions of thanks and appreciation to those who had a.s.sisted him along this journey. He accepted handshakes and hugs, verbal jabs and kisses until slowly his guests departed for the reception to be hosted by his father-in-law at the Brown Palace Hotel. As the crowd flowed through the doors and out into the hall, Mac hung back. Once the courtroom had emptied, he paused and turned around.

Mac drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. A courtroom. My courtroom.

He thought back to the day he'd had his first look at a courtroom. Nine years old and scared to death. The public defender smelled of grilled onions. The prosecutor wore gold cuff links with stones that winked in the sunlight beaming through a dusty window. The courtroom was muggy and hot, the air-conditioning system unable to keep up on an August afternoon in southern Oklahoma.

Towering above him, his robe black as midnight and his hair white as snow, was the judge. The judge could make his mother do something. The judge could make sure his mom didn't do something. This was a man who would change Mac's world.

A man who held all the power.

To the nine-year-old boy who'd watched the huge, white-haired man bang his gavel and have his mother handcuffed and marched away, the judge was a G.o.d. In that moment, Mac's life path had been blazed. He wanted that power, that prestige, that authority. He wanted to be a G.o.d.

He wanted to be a judge.

And now, after decades of study and sacrifice, hard work and determination, he'd achieved his goal.

From behind him, Ali spoke. "Mac? The cab is waiting."

Turning to look at her, his heart gave a twist and his conscience whispered, But at what cost?

ONE.

Two years later.

In the bedroom she shared with her husband, Ali Timberlake tucked her makeup case neatly into her suitcase, then zipped it shut just as her husband emerged from his closet, a duffel bag in one hand. "Are you sure about this, honey?" Mac asked, his brow knitted with concern. "We can still change the plan."

"Right," Ali replied, her tone dry. "And for the rest of my life I'll get to listen to Stephen and Chase talk about the one that got away."

"Hey, we can go fis.h.i.+ng in Alaska another-"

Ali interrupted. "No, it's okay. I'm glad you're getting to go. It's a minor miracle that your schedule and those of the boys meshed this time. If Caitlin wanted you with her, that would be different, but she's flexing her wings and feeling independent and ready to take on Vanderbilt University."

Her lips twisted as she added, "Frankly, I'm not sure she really wants me to go with her to Nashville. We haven't exactly been getting along very well lately."

Her husband tossed his duffel onto their bed, then gave Ali a rueful look. "She did tell me you packed her toothbrush three days ago. She thinks you can't wait for her to go."

"After the way she's been acting lately, can you blame me?"

"Now, sweetheart."

"Oh, I know." Ali shrugged and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "She's emotional. I'm emotional. It's not every day that your youngest child and only daughter goes off to college for the first time."

"Exactly." Mac grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's why I think I should be there. The boys could go to Alaska without me. No reason why they couldn't."

He truly appeared torn, so Ali swallowed her own misgivings and pasted on a smile. "Actually, there is. This is a father-son trip. You can't very well have a father-son trip if the father is a no-show. You went with me and Cait to orientation, and that was the important trip. This will be fun for me and Caitlin. An August road trip. A mother-daughter adventure. We'll do just fine."

He gave her a long, searching look, then nodded. "Okay. If you're sure."

"I'm sure." She smiled with a brightness she didn't feel. "Now I'd better get downstairs and see to breakfast."

"Leave your suitcase. I'll carry it down when I come."

"Thanks."

Ali tried to shake off her melancholy as she made her way downstairs to prepare a meal for her family. She wanted today's breakfast to be extra special since this was Caitlin's big day, the day she flew out of the nest and off to college. It was also the first time in months that the entire family would sit down to a meal together and likely the last meal they'd all share until Thanksgiving.

Throughout the children's lives, Ali had made the family supper a big deal. It was the Timberlake family together time, and everyone was expected to make a real effort to be there. Since Mac had worked at her father's firm while the kids were growing up, she had invoked the boss's daughter privilege in that respect alone. Mac had rarely missed dinner with the family. That had changed since he took the seat on the bench, but by then the crucial years were behind them, the precedent had been set. Their family was stronger because of it.

After today, family meals would be few and far between.

Ali briefly closed her eyes. Don't go there.

She'd have the kids set the table in the dining room and make it a celebration. Maybe even use her mother's china. The kids would complain about having to hand-wash the dishes, but if you didn't go to the trouble to make an occasion an occasion, it became just one more meal in a lifetime of meals.

Mentally she reviewed the contents of her fridge and pantry. Yes, she could do a Hollandaise sauce. She had fresh spinach. If she did eggs Florentine, at least the boys would have one serving of a vegetable today. Fresh berries. She could make pigs in a blanket for Caitlin. They were her favorite.

As she approached her kitchen, the aroma drifting in the air gave her warning. Bacon? Someone was already cooking? Her eyes rounded with surprise. What alternate reality was this?

Ali stepped into the kitchen and halted abruptly. The kitchen table was set with a "Bon Voyage" paper tablecloth. A SpongeBob SquarePants paper centerpiece adorned the center of the table. Paper plates proclaimed "Happy St. Patrick's Day," and helium-filled Mylar balloons that read "Over the Hill" had been tied to the back of each of the chairs.

Each of her three grown children turned to look at her, and Ali desperately wished she had a camera. Stephen, looking like a lawyer already with his neatly trimmed hair, freshly shaved face, and b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt. Chase, the outdoorsman, with his three-day beard and longish hair drawn back and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather lace. And Caitlin, blond and beautiful and br.i.m.m.i.n.g with life, a typical college coed. Ten minutes ago these young adults had been grade-schoolers riding their bikes on the sidewalk. Where had the years gone?

Familiar impish grins spread across their faces, telling Ali that they were tickled pink that they'd surprised her. Some things never change, thank goodness. They'd recognized that this was an important family moment. Something she'd tried too hard to teach them had stuck. Happiness bloomed inside Ali like a springtime flower, and she didn't try to keep the smile off her face as she said, "Caitlin, did your brothers actually cook for you to mark your special day?"

"Sort of," Caitlin replied, glancing at the boys. "But not exactly."

"We are cooking breakfast," Stephen clarified as he removed the last piece of bacon from the frying pan and placed it on a paper towel to drain. He was a younger version of Mac, with his father's dark hair and brown eyes that now sparkled mischievously. "I know it's shocking, and I'm glad we didn't give you a heart attack. At your advanced age, I worried about that."

"Just because you are in law school, young man, doesn't mean I can't still send you to your room," Ali fired back. Her gaze fixed on the table, she asked, "Happy St. Patrick's Day?"

"We shopped the bargain bin at the party store," Chase explained. "G'morning, Mom."

"Good morning, son." She eyed the activity at the stovetop, counter, and kitchen table. Apparently the menu included bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice, Ali's usual yogurt and fruit, and of course Chase's favorite, Froot Loops. "So, who is going to clue me in? What does Cait mean when she says 'sorta'?"

Chase opened his mouth, but Caitlin stopped him with an elbow to his side, then pushed the lever on the toaster and gave Stephen, their eldest, a look that said, Go on.

"We thought it was important to mark the occasion because today is a special day," Stephen said as Mac joined the family in the kitchen. Mac placed his hand on Ali's shoulder while their eldest continued, "The last of your chicks is officially flying from the nest today. It is a special day for Caitlin, and that's why we bought her a princess crown to wear during breakfast. But it's also a special day for you and Dad. We thought it was an appropriate time for the three of us to tell you both how much we love you and how much appreciate all you've done for us."

Oh. Ali brought a hand to her chest. Wow.

Stephen nodded toward Chase, then cracked another egg into a bowl. Ali's middle child flashed his father's grin, then said, "I'll keep my part short because I know you, Mom. You'll start bawling, and we don't want you dribbling snot into your yogurt."

"Cha-a-ase!" Caitlin protested as the toast popped up.

"Well, it's true."

"Yeah, but you don't have to be gross about it. Are you ever gonna grow up?"

"Probably not."

Probably not, Ali silently agreed. Chase had been such a terror, such a daredevil, when he was little. Such a challenge to parent, yet so much fun.

"You are the greatest mom in the world, Mom," he continued. "You've always been there for us, and we always knew we could count on you. I was always proud that you were my mother."

Ali started blinking. She was moments away from bawling. My kids know me so well.

Chase made a sweeping gesture toward Caitlin. Ali's daughter, now a young, idealistic woman, stepped forward. Lacing her fingers, she spoke with solemn sincerity. "You guys gave us a firm, stable foundation on which to build our hopes and dreams. That's something few of my friends had. Actually, none of my friends had the great home and family life we have had. I know that makes me a stronger person, and it makes today easier for me.

"Today is my Independence Day, but it's also your Freedom Day. Especially for you, Mom." Then, with a loving smile, sweet, tender-hearted Caitlin shot the arrow through the very center of Ali's heart. "You're not a stay-at-home mom anymore."

Mac's hand gave her shoulder a rea.s.suring squeeze while Ali stood there bleeding.

"So," Caitlin continued, "the boys and I thought it'd be nice to mark this special day with a special thank-you-a family meal we prepared."

"Besides," Chase piped up, "we knew if we didn't do something first, then you'd go all out and we'd be stuck was.h.i.+ng Grandmother's dishes."

Ali couldn't speak past the lump of emotion in her throat. Mac stepped forward and covered for her. "This is a real nice surprise. How long before it's ready? I'm starved."

Breakfast was delicious, boisterous, and fun. The kids teased one another as usual, and for just a little while Ali could pretend the old days were back. All too soon, however, breakfast was finished, the paper plates relegated to the trash, and the pots and pans washed and stored away. Mac glanced at the clock. "You girls had better hit the road. Kansas City is a long drive."