Heartache Falls Part 10

Mac kissed her palm again, and then the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, as he stared deeply into her eyes. "I love you, Alison Mich.e.l.le Cavanaugh. I love your strength and your compa.s.sion and your wisdom. I love your heart. I love your beauty, inside and out." His lips twitched as he added, "G.o.d knows I love your body."

"Oh, Mac." Ali melted at both his words and the emotions s.h.i.+ning in his eyes. "I love you, too."

His expression grew both serious and intense as he rolled up onto his knees. Keeping hold of her hand with his left hand, he reached into his pants pocket with his right.

Ali's breath caught and her heart began to pound as he knelt on one knee before her. "Ali, be my wife, my lover, my lucky charm." He pulled a lovely diamond solitaire from his pocket and said, "Ali, will you marry me?"

When she said yes, Mac Timberlake got lucky in a field of clover high in the Colorado Rockies-in every sense of the word.

In Nic Callahan's house in Eternity Springs more than two decades later, Ali Timberlake fingered the little shamrock and sighed. "Mac used to give me shamrocks. It was kind of our special symbol. He talked my maid of honor into putting that there so it would be next to my heart when we said our wedding vows." She paused a moment, then added, "I haven't thought of shamrocks in a very long time."

"Perhaps you should think about that while you're working on our next quilt." Celeste patted her arm, then handed her a pair of scissors and addressed the group. "I'd like to suggest for our next wedding gown quilt that we use the pattern called Hopes and Wishes."

"That's a lovely choice," LaNelle said.

Hopes and Wishes and shamrocks. Ali slipped the point of the scissors into the seam at the waist. Definitely something to think about.

The Patchwork Angels meeting continued, drawing Ali into the pleasure of friends.h.i.+p, and it wasn't until the meeting broke up and Lori Reese approached her with a question that returned her thoughts to topics less pleasant. "Ali? Could I talk to you for a few minutes? About Chase?"

"Sure, honey," she said, though she swallowed a sigh. She was having enough love-life trouble of her own. She really didn't want to get tangled up in the romantic foibles of her children. Yet she knew that was exactly what she had to deal with now. "I drove over tonight since I had so much to carry. Want to go for a ride with me?"

"In the Beamer? Of course! Can we put the top down?"

"It's definitely a ragtop evening." Ali waited while Lori spoke with her mother, explaining the plan. Lori had dated Ali's son Chase during the two summers he'd spent in Eternity Springs working on the Double R Ranch. Last fall when Chase returned to Colorado University and Lori went away to college in Texas, the two agreed to date other people. From what she'd observed and Sarah had shared, both kids were okay with the arrangement. This summer Chase had an interns.h.i.+p out of state, so he wouldn't be spending his break in Eternity Springs. She hoped Lori wasn't brokenhearted. She adored Lori, but she already had enough heartache on her plate.

On the way out to the car, she tossed Lori the keys. "Will you drive?"

"Woo-hoo!" the teenager said. "Okay if I take the scenic route?"

"Sounds great."

Ali decided to let the girl take the conversational lead, so she settled back into the leather seat, rested her head against the headrest, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the evening air as Lori made the drive around Hummingbird Lake. She relaxed and was feeling quite content because Lori kept the conversation to innocuous subjects such as Ali's car, Sarah's latest hairstyle, and the contest taking place at the Mocha Moose to pick the birth date of Sage Rafferty's first child-never mind the fact that Sage wasn't pregnant.

It wasn't until Lori pulled the car to a stop in front of her own house that she broached Chase's name. "So, Ali, about Chase."

Ali stifled a groan. Just barely.

"He asked me to remind you that you thought the intervention you guys had with Sage a while back was a good idea." Lori grinned, stepped out of the car, and finger-waved. "Bye."

"Wait!" Ali called after her. "What are you talking about?"

"See you tomorrow, Ali. Thanks for letting me drive your smokin' car." The young woman all but ran into her house to escape any further inquisition.

Yet as Ali drove back toward the carriage house, she knew what she would find. Her maternal instinct on high alert, she parked her car in the Angel's Rest garage and walked toward the carriage house.

"Surprise!"

The sound of Chase's voice was no big shock. Hearing both Stephen's and Caitlin's voices stopped her in her tracks. An intervention? This is bound to be fun, she thought wryly.

Nevertheless, she opened her arms and said with complete sincerity, "My babies! I am so happy to see you."

EIGHT.

Mac drew down the zipper of his judicial robe as he walked into his office at the end of a long work day. He was tired both in body and in spirit. As the trial had dragged on, he'd realized he didn't like celebrity lawyers any more than he liked celebrity ballplayers. He didn't like celebrity trials, and he absolutely didn't like the paparazzi and tabloid reporters who apparently didn't believe in the word no.

Nor did he like going home to an empty house.

He hung his robe on the wall tree, then loosened his tie and walked past the large cherry worktable piled with his books. He sank into his leather office chair just as a knock sounded on his door. "Come in."

The door opened and Mac's clerk, Mike Reed, entered with Gus. Mac eyed the dog and felt a little of his tension ease. "Hey, boy. Did the vet get you fixed up?"

Mike released the leash, and the dog slowly ambled over to Mac-a stark contrast to his ordinary dash and bound-then plopped down at his feet. "Gus has a respiratory infection. I have medicine. He's good for tonight, so start it in the morning." Setting two blue plastic prescription bottles down on Mac's desk, he added, "Doc says he should be just as good as new next week, but if he's not, bring him back."

Mac scratched his pet behind his ears. "Thanks for taking him for me, Mike. Not exactly in the job description, I know."

"Hey, my dogs are my children. I'm glad to help. Poor boy was downright pitiful." Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he said, "I saw Louise headed out the front door. She said we're done for the day?"

"Yes." Mac picked up one of the prescription bottles to read the label. "I think we all need a night off to recharge. Go do something fun and relaxing, then show up here ready to work at eight."

"Yes, sir!"

Once his clerk had departed, Mac discarded all his judicial demeanor and sat on the floor beside his sick dog. Gus put his head on Mac's thigh, and Mac allowed his head to clear as he stroked his ailing dog's soft fur. "I was worried about you, boy."

He'd been worried and just a little bit annoyed, to be honest. He'd been in a bind this morning when he realized Gus was sick and needed to see the vet, and he'd hated asking for help. Up until now, Ali had always been there to take the dogs to the vet, the kids to the doctor, the cars to the shop. It was a pain to try to do everything that everyday living involved in addition to overseeing the Sandberg case. It would have been a lot more convenient for him if she'd waited to have her meltdown until this case was over.

Regarding meltdowns, he wondered how many times Caitlin had called him today. Not a day went by that she didn't phone at least three times. He loved his daughter. She was the light of his life. But for crying out loud, the girl needed to cut the cord. She definitely needed to learn that he didn't want to hear an endless litany of wonderful about this new hairy-legged boy she was dating.

Mac eyed the center drawer of his desk, where he kept his cell phone during court, and made a silent bet with himself. Ten. He'd have ten phone messages or more from his children and at least fifteen texts. He knew they worried about him. He understood they thought they needed to check on him every day-even though he'd told them checking in once a week or so would be plenty. Frankly, they were wearing him down.

Mac scratched Gus behind the ears, then said, "Okay, boy. I might as well just get it over with, don't you think?"

He opened the drawer, pulled out his phone, thumbed it on, and checked his missed calls and messages. "Stephen, Caitlin, Caitlin, Chase ..." Mac's voice trailed off as he began to count.

Chase had called three times, but he'd sent seventeen text messages. That wasn't like Chase. He pulled up the first text message: Dad, call me. The second message: Dad, call ASAP. The third: Dad, pls call.

Mac's heart began to pound and he rose to his feet. Dear Lord, what had happened? Was he hurt? Bleeding? Had he done something stupid? He immediately dialed Chase's number, and as he waited for the call to go through, he told himself that his son wasn't dead-dead people didn't text. Nor did people having major surgery. Nor was Chase in jail, since no one had taken his phone away.

As the phone rang, Mac thought desperately, Please, Lord, let n.o.body have died.

"h.e.l.lo? Dad?"

"Chase, are you all right?"

"Dad. Thank G.o.d you called."

Mac gripped the back of his office chair hard. "What's wrong, son?"

"Hold on. I can't talk here. Let me get outside."

Mac heard music playing in the background, then the loud squeak of springs and the bang of a door. Screen door, he figured. Seconds later, the background noise faded and his son said, "Dad, you have to do something about Mom."

Oh. With that, his fear for his child faded and he tensed with dread, sensing he'd rather not have this conversation. He delayed it by asking, "Where are you?"

"Eternity Springs."

"What? I thought you were in D.C. Don't you start your interns.h.i.+p this week?"

"I was there. I came back. Family emergency."

Mac closed his eyes. Oh, great. "Okay, then. What's the emergency? Why all the texts?"

Chase explained how he, his brother, and his sister had traveled to Eternity Springs to try to talk some sense into their mother. You guys should have asked me before you went to the effort. I could have told you that was a waste of time.

Chase said, "I thought we made some progress. She did seem to listen and what she said rea.s.sured us. Stephen and Caitlin had an earlier flight than I did, so they took off early. I went to visit with Lori, then breezed by the Bristlecone before I left town. Did you know there was a fire at the restaurant? They're repairing and replacing, and right now she's painting the walls in the kitchen."

"Your mother is painting?"

"Yep. And not by herself. Some guy is helping her. Dad, she's making a fool of herself."

Guardedly he asked, "How so?"

"It's unusually hot today, granted, and the Bristlecone doesn't have a working air conditioner, but Mom is wearing shorts and a tank top. He doesn't have a s.h.i.+rt on. In my opinion, Dad, it's way too cozy. As I walked into the restaurant a little while ago they were throwing movie quotes at each other. Mom was saying, " 'I'm alive. Maggie the cat is alive.' "

As his son continued to talk, Mac's gaze settled on the baseball displayed on a shelf of his office bookcases that held personal mementos. He recalled the first time he'd heard Ali recite those lines.

He'd glanced around for Ali as he stepped down from the team bus to a cheering crowd of students and supporters of the Fighting Irish as the team arrived home from the regionals, where they'd defeated Michigan to advance to the College World Series. The baseball he'd hit to score the winning run was tucked carefully into his backpack-he wanted to show it to her and share the biggest sports-related moment of his life. Not spying her, he frowned. Ali almost always met the team bus. What could she be ... oh. The play. Ali was starring in an off-campus production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. The first performance was tonight.

Mac checked his watch. Ten after seven. Well, he'd be a little late but he knew she would like him to be there. She'd been stoically supportive when the tournament schedule was released and they realized he'd probably not make it home tonight. However, thanks to some awesome pitching on both sides, the game had moved more quickly than anyone had antic.i.p.ated, and here he was. Slipping through the crowd, he mentally reviewed the contents of his wallet and decided that this time he'd splurge on a cab ride.

He entered the theater in time to see Ali, playing Maggie the Cat, strip down to her slip, and then he lost himself in the power of her performance. Her talent floored him. Her raw s.e.xuality seduced him. When the play ended with Maggie and Brick sharing a pa.s.sionate kiss, jealousy and a bone-deep desire to claim her for his own washed through him.

He waited for her in the alley outside the stage door, leaning back against the red brick wall, his arms crossed over his chest. When she exited the building laughing with a pair of girlfriends, he pushed away from the wall and stood with his legs spread, his hips flexed forward. He locked his gaze on her but didn't say a word.

Her friend noticed him first and stopped abruptly. Ali turned her head and upon seeing him, her eyes rounded and her smile slowly died. "Mac. You're back!"

Now he let his arms drop to his sides and he advanced slowly toward her. "Uh-huh."

She licked her lips. "Did you get to see any of the play?"

"Oh, yeah, Ali-cat."

His blood ran hot and thick, fueled by her performance on the stage and his own on the diamond, and he s.h.i.+fted his direction, cutting her from the herd just as slickly as any cowboy on the clock.

"Um ...," one of the girls said. "We'll, uh, catch you later, Ali."

"Did you win?" Ali asked, a little bit breathless, her stare locked on his.

"Oh, yeah." He moved forward, backing her up against the theater's wall, his hands and forearms flat against the bricks, pinning her with his hips. "Oh, yeah."

Then he kissed her, a hard, desperate crush of his lips against hers that told her without words of his dark and hungry desire. Ali melted bonelessly against him, moaning into his mouth. Her surrender only further stoked the fires of his need.

He released her mouth in order to draw a breath, and his lips skimmed over her face to that sensitive spot on her neck just below her ears that always made her s.h.i.+ver. He nipped her with his teeth and murmured, "I want you, Ali. I want you so d.a.m.ned much."

In a thready, whisper of a voice, she said, "Okay."

Mac froze. He lifted his head and met her gaze. "What did you say?"

"I said okay. I want you, too, Mac. I'm ready."

He sucked in a breath. Ali was a virgin, and they'd been taking it slow. As much as he wanted her, as badly as he hurt, he understood the importance of the step they contemplated. "Are you sure, honey? I'm not trying to pressure you."

She smiled and wiggled her hips against him. "What do you call that if not pressure?"

Mac groaned. "Agony."

Now, she laughed. "I'm sure, Mac. I knew when I saw you here tonight that the time was finally right. I feel on top of the world. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"I love you, too, Ali," Mac replied, meaning it, surprising himself. It wasn't the first time he'd told her he loved her. She wasn't the first girl to whom he'd said those three big words, but this time, for the first time, he actually meant it. And it wasn't because she'd just agreed to sleep with him, either. "You're special. You're really, really special."

Then he stepped away from her, took her hand, and raised it to his lips and kissed it. "This is shaping up to be the best day of my life."

More than two decades later, as Mac sat in his office and tried to focus on his son's monologue, he realized that particular day had been first of many best days of his life.

And Ali had been part of each and every one of them.

"So, Dad, you are going to do something about it, right? I'm telling you, she's vulnerable. The sheriff is a stud and he's not married. And let's face it, for a woman her age, Mom is hot."

The sheriff. Mac's stomach took a sickening roll. "Zach Turner is helping her paint the restaurant?"

"Yes. Weren't you listening to me, Dad?"

Great. Just great.

Mac grimaced and ma.s.saged his forehead with his fingers. He decided he'd heard all he wanted to hear on this subject. "I'll deal with your mom. You don't need to worry. Now, tell me about your interns.h.i.+p."

Chase's sigh communicated his displeasure, but he knew his father well enough not to argue. He talked about the job with the Department of the Interior, the apartment he shared with three other interns, and the stultifying heat of the nation's capital in summer. He ended with another sigh and the statement, "Too many people there. I miss the mountains. Still, change can be good."

Mac eyed Gus, who lay sprawled in a sunny spot in front of the window. "Yes, change can be good."

Then, as his gaze moved back to the shelf and what he'd always called the "home-run baseball," he added, "Sometimes, though, you learn that the status quo was better."