Night Jasmine (25 page)

“I love Ginny,” he said after a moment. “You don't stop loving someone because they're dead. But it's a memory of love, a love of the past. One that doesn't interfere with or dim the present.” He lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “Or the future.”

He brought her back against his chest, breathing in the sweet, spicy scent of her. “And I love Oliver,” he continued. “The way a father must. I want us to be together, to be a family.” He buried his hands in her hair. “I've put my ghosts behind me, Aimee. I'm a free man with everything to give.”

She relaxed then, curling her arms around him, holding on to him in a way she'd been afraid to before. This time, she knew, he would be there for her. Forever and always. “I love you so much. I thought it was over. I thought—”

“I know.” He stroked her hair. “I'm sorry I hurt you.”

She tilted her head back and met his eyes. “That doesn't matter, not any more. As long as you love me.”

“I do.” He brushed his mouth against hers, lightly, savoring. “I can't promise that there won't be nightmares. I wish I could, but—”

She placed a finger gently against his lips, quieting him. “They're part of life, of being human. And as long as you love me, the nightmares can't touch us.”

“Then they never will again,” he murmured, catching her hands and lacing their fingers. “I can't believe I almost let you slip away.”

Hands still joined, he lowered his mouth to hers. No kiss had ever been so satisfying. So complete. Finally, after all the time that had passed, all the hurt, they would be together. Without ghosts of the past to cloud their future.

After several moments, Hunter broke the contact, breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers. “Damn, I missed you. I was a crazy man. I couldn't eat or sleep. My temper—”

“Mine, too. I thought you weren't coming back.” She laughed. “But Oliver never lost faith in you.”

“Really?” he said, pleased. “I was afraid he'd never forgive me.”

“He was hurt at first. Terribly. But he kept saying an angel told him you'd be back.”

“An angel?” Hunter shook his head, grinning. “Pass that one by me again.”

Aimee rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Mmm…a red-headed angel who visited him in the hospital. He thinks it was Marla. You know, from Small Miracles.”

Hunter drew his eyebrows together. “Now, I really am confused. When did he meet Marla?”

Aimee hesitated, then quickly explained what had happened, how Marla had shown up and convinced her to sell the box. “It was strange, I kept feeling she could read my mind.” Aimee laughed lightly. “And Oliver was certain she'd visited him in the hospital. He's still talking about it.”

“It's not uncommon,” Hunter said. “He'd had a shock, a brush with death. People report all sorts of things after an experience like that.”

“That's what I thought, too.”

Hunter smiled. “As for Marla, I'm not so sure she isn't a brick or two short of a full load. There's just something…different about her.”

“Mmm.” Aimee curved her arms around his waist. “I liked her, though. Something about her made me feel good. Hopeful.”

She met his eyes then, searching. “About the music box, I hope you're not hurt or—”

“I'm not.” He planted another kiss on her mouth. “Marla may be strange, but she was right. Love is the most precious gift of all. And right now, I'd like us to go share it with somebody else.”

Aimee held out her hand. “Let's.”

Joining hands, they went in search of their son.

Epilogue

I
think we should, Hunter.” Aimee threaded through the French Quarter crowds, on her way to Royal Street. “After all, even you said she was responsible for getting us together.”

“
Partly
responsible,” Hunter said, catching up with Aimee. Oliver sat on his shoulders, and he shifted the boy's weight to a more comfortable position. “Besides, couldn't we just send the woman an invitation?”

“Sure.” Aimee laughed. “But we're here now. Let's just stop.”

“No stop,” Oliver announced. “Like horsey ride. Keep going.”

“I'm with you, Tiger. But your
maman,
when she gets an idea in her head…” He clucked his tongue in an imitation of Marie. “Just ask your
Pépàre.
He'll tell you how stubborn she is.”

Aimee laughed again and looked at the business card in her hand, then checked for an address. “Small Miracles should be just up ahead.”

They walked in silence for the moments it took to reach the shop. Aimee stopped in front of the address, her spirits sinking. She gazed at the deserted storefront, then checked the number again. “Is this the place, Hunter? Could the address on the card be wrong?”

Hunter glanced around. “No, this is it. I remember the shop next door.”

“Lady gone,” Oliver said sadly. “No more angel.”

Aimee peered in the shop's window. The interior was empty save for a few dusty-looking fixtures. “It was only a week ago that she showed up in La Fin,” Aimee murmured. “How could she be gone now?”

“You folks looking for Marla?”

Aimee turned. The shopkeeper from the next store over stood in her doorway, lighting a cigarette. “Yes.” Aimee smiled, encouraged. “Do you know where she went?”

“Boston, I think.” The woman shook her head and blew out a long stream of smoke. “I've been in business here on Royal Street thirty-five years. But Marla, she just up and left after a matter of only months. Her business looked brisk, too.” The woman shrugged. “But who knows?”

Aimee sighed. “Thank you for your help anyway.”

“Say…” The shopkeeper narrowed her eyes. “She left something, said I would know who it was for when they called.” The woman shook her head. “She was always doing stuff like that. Strange. Hold on, I'll get it.”

Aimee looked at Hunter. He lifted his shoulders. A moment later the woman hurried back out, a small, cream-colored envelope in her hand. She held it out for Aimee, even as she smiled at a couple of tourists as they headed inside her shop.

“Here you go,” she said hurriedly, obviously anxious to get back inside her store. “I hope you're the ones. If not…” She shrugged as if to say “keep it anyway” and ducked back into her shop.

Aimee watched her go, then carefully ripped open the envelope and pulled out the card. Engraved in gold, it read:

Love, the greatest miracle of all.

Aimee caught her breath and handed the card to Hunter.

He read it and met her eyes, the expression in his incredibly soft. “She's right,” he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. “I know that now.” He held out his hand. “I love you, Aimee Boudreaux.”

Aimee caught his hand, curling her fingers around his, tears of joy stinging her eyes. “And I love you, Hunter Powell.”

Turning, they started for the future. Together.

* * * * *

ISBN: 9781460394113

Night Jasmine

Copyright © 1993 Erica Spindler

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