Beautifully Damaged (43 page)

He grinned before his mouth found mine.

My uncle called and asked if Trace and I would join him for dinner. I was surprised he was in Manhattan since he hadn't told me he was coming. The place he selected was a small eatery in Midtown and when Trace and I entered we saw that my uncle wasn't alone. We made our way through the tables and as soon as my uncle saw us he stood, his guest following him.

"Ember, Trace, thanks so much for coming."

"Any time, Uncle Josh, you know that."

"Ember, Trace, I would like to introduce you to Vincent Gowan."

I recognized the name immediately as my eyes moved to my uncle's guest. He was middle-aged, late forties, but he was still wide in the shoulders and narrow in the hips. His black hair was gray at the temples and there were a few lines around his eyes but outside of that, the man could pass for ten years younger. There was a warmth to his smile and a sincerity in his eyes and I found, on first impression, that I really liked Vincent Gowan.

We sat and placed our orders and then my uncle glanced over at me before his eyes settled on Trace.

"Vincent is the detective that investigated your parents' deaths, Trace. Ember had some questions and asked that I look into it and when I tracked down Vincent he shared with me a story that I knew he needed to share with you."

Trace and I both looked at Vincent, who I noticed was looking specifically at Trace, and then he shared his tale.

"About twenty years ago, I was a rookie on the force in Bellville, Ohio. I responded to a domestic-disturbance call and that was when I met Victoria. She was terrified and the huge black bruises on her jaw and cheek explained why. Like most abused women, she didn't want to talk and wanted me gone but every time the neighbors called in a complaint, I responded with the hopes that at some point Victoria would grow comfortable enough with me to ask for help. She didn't though, not once in the dozens of times that I was called to her house."

"One night, months later, she called me and asked me to help her children. She feared for them: feared what her husband would do to them. It was a difficult situation since she had never pressed charges against the man so trying to remove his children without any legal ground was close to impossible."

"I didn't know about Amanda Walsh and what she was trying to do until after she died. Victoria felt responsible for Amanda's death and she was terrified of what would become of her and her children if she went against her husband -- so much so that she stayed."

"No further calls were made and the times that I would drive by the house to check on Victoria, I'd see her sometimes in the garden and she looked peaceful, almost serene, so I assumed everything worked out. That was a mistake, a rookie mistake, since abusers don't just stop but it was naive hope that allowed me to believe in the impossible."

"It was six years later when I actually got the call. I drove to the house and immediately knew something terrible had happened but when I heard the whole of it, I was compelled to help. The Bellville police force is very small and I wasn't much more than a rookie so the inconsistencies in my report were chalked up as inexperience. Without any hard evidence, the case eventually went cold. Most cold cases are never solved and that was what I wanted -- for this case to never be solved. I had seen her husband's handiwork and when she shared with me his sick interest in his children, I couldn't condemn her since I would have done exactly the same in her shoes."

"What the hell are you saying?" Trace demanded as his jaw clenched hard with his anger.

Vincent leaned closer before he whispered, "That night, thirteen years ago, it wasn't Victoria Michaels who died it was Darlene Moore."

My eyes flew to Trace's who was completely immobile. I reached for his hand, which was icy cold, and held it in my own as the full meaning of Vincent's words settled over me. Darlene Moore was dead which meant the woman we met, the one we believed to be Darlene Moore, was really Trace's mom alive and well. My heart went out to him and though I knew he was currently in shock, his mother was alive, and his mother did care. She did love them and in the end sacrificed her own life to save those of her children.

"I learned in the years that followed that Darlene killed Amanda to protect Douglas and vowed to Victoria that she would do the same to Victoria's children if Victoria ever told anyone. It was then that Darlene upped the dosage that Douglas had already been feeding Victoria, keeping her in a near comatose state, but even in that condition she found the strength to fight for you -- knew that you were both in danger. She didn't help you that night because she wanted you out of the house. She wanted you away and safe so that she could do what she knew she had to in order to ensure that you were both safe once and for all. The bodies were as gruesome as they were because I hadn't wanted anyone to be able to identify the female victim. And, yes, I knowingly aided and abetted but Darlene Moore was a murderer and Douglas Stanwyck was an animal. Legally I crossed a line but morally I didn't. I called in a favor with a doctor-friend to help with Victoria's withdrawal and he said it was nothing short of a medical miracle that for someone who had been drugged for as long as she had been that she wasn't brain-fried."

Trace, who had remained completely frozen, suddenly stood and reached his hand down to me.

"I would like to go see my mom. Would you please come with me?"

I stood and took his hand. "Absolutely."

I drove my uncle's car, since Trace really wasn't up to driving, and when we arrived at the bar in Ramsey I turned to him.

"Do you want me to stay here?"

"No, please come in with me."

Five minutes passed but Trace made no move to leave the car so I turned in my seat to face him.

"Tell me what you're thinking?"

He was silent for a minute, and I didn't think he was going to answer, and then he offered very softly, "There's so much going on in my head but the only thing I can seem to focus on is that my mom is alive."

He turned then as tears filled his eyes.

"She's not just alive, Trace, but she fought for you and was the one who ultimately saved you."

He moved then, with such speed, to pull me across the gear shift into his arms and when he spoke his voice was hoarse from unshed tears. "No, Ember, she made sure that Chelsea and I were safe but it was you, Ember, who saved me."

I felt my own tears stinging my eyes and not just because of the conviction in his tone but also from the magnitude of his love for me that was burning in his eyes. He wrapped my face in his hands as his lips lingered just over mine. "Never, ever forget that."

I walked with Trace into the bar and as soon as we stepped over the threshold, I spotted Victoria. It took her only a moment to turn and when she did, her expression said it all. Trace had yet to let go of my hand and, when he started to walk, I realized that he wanted me to come with him. We met her halfway and I watched as mother and son were reunited after over a decade of separation. I couldn't help the tears that fell freely down my face when Trace moved without speaking a word and wrapped his strong arms around the delicate frame of his mother. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around him, both of them crying. Trace reached for my arm and pulled me towards them as they both included me in the hug and there we stood for quite some time.

The day before my wedding, I was in my room getting ready for the rehearsal dinner as my thoughts drifted back to the reunion between Chelsea and Victoria. After our near Guinness record-breaking group-hug, Trace and I sat with Victoria for almost five hours talking. It had been heartbreaking to witness the pain in Victoria's eyes as Trace recounted the events leading up to the accident and Chelsea's condition. Like mother like son, Victoria blamed herself while fervently telling Trace that he was not at fault. None of it mattered when the two women actually met and though thirteen years had passed, the bond between mother and daughter was still there. In the two weeks since, the three of them had gotten to know each other and had become a family reconnected.

There was also the moment when my dad and uncle got to meet the woman who, among many things, avenged my mother's death. Needless to say, the three of them came to be like Manny, Moe and Jack. In Fishtown, among our families' close circle of friends, Victoria Michaels was a local hero and with none of the Moore family in the area any longer, her secret identity was safe.

With all that was happening, I decided to wait until after the wedding to give my gift to Trace but I found myself to be almost as excited for that as I had been for the actual ceremony.

"Ember, come down here."

My dad sounded odd so I hurried down the stairs to find him, my uncle, Trace, Lucien, Rafe and Trent standing in the living room looking at the television.

"What's wrong?"

Trace looked up and his eyes moved from my head to my toes and back again. He clearly liked my hot-pink bandage gown as a wicked smile curved his lips.

"Nice."

I threw him a saucy smile as he moved to pull me to him so he could get his hands on me, roaming in a manner that was not appropriate in front of his soon-to-be father-in-law.

"Stop it, you wicked man," I whispered.

"Make me," he growled before he bit my ear.

I blushed, he laughed, and then my father's voice pulled both of our attentions.

"An ethics committee has been convened to review the case files on two of the Carmichaels, the judge and the DA."

"I wonder what prompted that?" I asked.

Lucien's voice was so very soft when he said, "It's only the beginning. The Carmichael empire is going to crumble. I won't stop until they're all ruined." I turned to Lucien just as Trace placed his hand on Lucien's shoulder. "We won't stop."

"Damn straight," My Dad and Uncle Josh said in unison.

The sun was shining and the chapel was filled. I stood in the small room designated for the bride as I studied myself in the full-length mirror. My gown of white was of embellished lace on tulle with a sweetheart neckline, halter straps, and fitted bodice with a flared skirt. My hair was twisted up and I wore a cathedral-length veil trimmed in beads. The only jewelry I wore were the earrings from my dad and Trace's ring.

Kelly, Chelsea, and Victoria had been in earlier to help me dress but now I stood alone thinking about Trace and our journey together. Though it wasn't a particularly long one, it was certainly a very colorful one. To imagine living a day without him, I couldn't. From the very beginning he appeared like some kind of mystical hero and I was lost to him. Maybe it was fate or destiny or maybe it was just two unlucky souls finally getting a bit of luck.

The soft knock at the door pulled me from my reflection as I called for my dad to enter. He pushed open the door and a big smile spread over his face.

"Ah, Emmie girl, you look exquisite."

I spoke the words that had previously only been spoken in my heart. "I wish mom was here."

He moved to me as he reached for my hands to hold in his own. "She is Ember. She is here with us and I know that she's smiling as she watches us. Her baby girl is getting married to a man who is very worthy of her, the man who grew from the child for whom she died trying to save. Life works in mysterious ways, Ember, and the secret is to not think too hard on the why of it or the how, and to not mourn what is no longer, but to appreciate what is and to live: live hard and love hard. Your mom would want that for you, both of you."

I kissed my dad as tears filled my eyes.

"Your name will change today but you will always be my little girl."

"...and you will always be my daddy."

He wiped at his eyes before reaching for my hand and pulling it through his arm. "...let's go get you married."

The chapel was small with wooden pews lining the sides. The long, center aisle reached from the back of the church down through the nave and standing on the altar next to the priest was Trace. As soon as my dad and I stepped through the doors, Trace and I locked eyes and as I approached the altar, I saw tears in his and knew that he would see the same in mine. The entire service flew by and before I knew it, the priest had announced us husband and wife. Trace's hands framed my face as he lowered his head so that our lips were almost touching and then he whispered, "My beautiful wife."

"My beautiful husband."

And then he kissed me.

I have been Mrs. Trace Montgomery for three weeks, two days, nine hours and seven minutes and am deliriously happy. Thanksgiving is coming up and Trace and I are having everyone over. Trace, Chelsea and I are doing all of the cooking and this year, it will be eighteen for dinner including Hank, Dougie, Jimmy and Jerry. Well, actually it will be nineteen since I am playing matchmaker; there was something in the way that Vincent spoke of Victoria and I sensed there could be something between them.

Trace invited Charles and Vivian to Thanksgiving. I remember the day when Victoria walked into Charles' office; the man actually cried. Who knew that there really was a heart beating in his chest. I still don't like him and I know that Trace doesn't either. The man knew what was happening to Trace and Chelsea when they were kids and he chose to stay quiet. There was nothing he'd ever be able to do to make up for failing them so stunningly. He will never be welcomed into our family but he will be part of our lives and we are going to need his help with Dane.

Lucien is picking us up in a few minutes so I can give Trace his wedding gift. He gave me mine while we were honeymooning in Marblehead and I broke down when he did. He worked with Lucien and they created a chain of shelters for battered women and children. They named these safe havens, these beacons of hope,
Mandy
.

Down the hall in the office, Trace is standing by the window looking outside. I wonder what he is thinking about.

"Trace?"

He turns and a smile spreads over his face which is always a treat to see. He comes from around the desk and walks to me and pulls me into his arms.