Vanish in Plain Sight (23 page)

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t relive it.”

“I want to. I want to remember how you caught me. Held me. You said…” She let that trail away, not sure he’d want to be reminded of those words.

“I said I’d never let you go.” His fingers caressed her cheek, and there was a steady glow in his eyes. “I meant it. I love you, Marisa. You were right about me. I was trying to keep from being responsible for anyone, ever again.”

“You don’t have to…”

He smiled and echoed her words. “I want to. When I knew he had you, I realized just how stupid I was. Nothing in this world could have kept me from getting to you. Not even myself.”

A tear spilled over onto her cheek, and he wiped it away.

“Well?” he said. “I told you I love you. Are you just going to leave me hanging here?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” The tendency to tears vanished. Her mother was still gone, but she no longer had to wonder what had happened, and the hole in her heart was nearly healed. It just required one more step of faith on her part. “I love you, Link Morgan. And I will never let you go.”

Apparently they were the right words, because the sun seemed to come up in his face. He bent to kiss her, and then they didn’t need any words at all.

L
INK STOOD AGAINST
the back porch railing at the house that had once belonged to Allen Morgan, watching the crowd that milled around the yard for the auction. They’d lucked out with the weather—mid-November could be miserable, but it was a clear, chilly day, perfect for the stand some of Marisa’s Amish cousins had set up to sell hot chocolate and funnel cakes to the auction-goers.

Trey came over and stood next to him, surveying the men who’d gathered around the contents of the barn. The harrows and plows might be a little rusted, but someone would find a use for them.

“Any regrets?” Trey said, lifting an eyebrow in his direction.

“About selling this place? None at all. I’m glad to be rid of it, and a new young family taking up residence will be just the thing to chase out all the unhappy memories.”

He’d been fortunate to find a buyer quickly once the renovations were finished. He’d thought the publicity might scare people off, but just the opposite had been true. After the remnants of furnishings
and equipment had been sold at auction today, there would be nothing to tie the Morgan family to this place.

“You may be right about that. Mom said it was a happy house once, before Allen moved in. It can be again.”

His mother had been right about a lot of things. And Marisa had, as well. He had been on the road to turning out like Uncle Allen, letting his fears dictate his future and failing to understand how good his relationship with his brother could be.

“Too bad we’ll never know the truth about the extent of Allen’s involvement,” Trey said.

“Maybe that’s just as well.”

He’d been frustrated for Marisa’s sake that she’d never know the details about how her mother died. But she knew the important thing, after all—that her mother had never wanted to leave her.

As for the rest, they could pretty well imagine how it must have happened. Connelly surprising her, probably when she was getting ready to meet her cousin. A quarrel, a blow, blood on the suitcase and an unconscious, maybe dying woman on his hands. Connelly had panicked, stuffed the suitcase behind the half-finished wall to hide it and then taken Barbara away.

He glanced toward the food stand, where Ephraim was unloading a wagon filled with bottles of apple cider. Once he’d recovered, Ephraim had finally told the secret he’d held for so long. He had come to the
house to deliver William’s message, and he’d seen Connelly. He’d consistently broken down at that point, but it seemed clear in context that he’d seen Connelly putting Barbara’s body in the trunk of his car.

“Looks like Ephraim’s doing all right.” Trey was apparently following the direction of his thoughts. “I’m glad it didn’t come to a trial. I’d have hated to see him put on the stand.”

Link nodded. “Marisa has built a nice relationship with him. He’s still pretty leery of me, but I’ll keep trying.”

“That’s right. Got to stay on the good side of the in-laws,” Trey said, grinning a little. “Here comes Marisa with some spiced cider for you, so I’ll leave you two alone.”

He strolled off, waving to Marisa as he went. She handed Link a steaming cup and looked after him. “Where’s your brother off to?”

“He’s being tactful. Leaving us alone.”

She smiled, leaning against the porch next to him, her shoulder touching his arm. “That is tactful.”

“Surprising for my family, I know. They so seldom leave anyone alone.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You shouldn’t talk about your boss that way.”

“Trey’s not exactly my boss, as he’s been reminding me ever since I took over the construction business. We’re partners.” He slid his arm around her. “Like you and me.”

“Not quite, I hope.”

“No, not quite.” He glanced down at her left hand, never tiring of seeing his ring there. The pearl and diamond ring had belonged to his great-grandmother, and she insisted she loved that far more than anything new. “Sure I can’t talk you into getting married any sooner than April?”

Her low laugh held a world of confidence in his love. “I think we can wait, for your mother’s sake. She already has one wedding to deal with next month.”

He’d never understand the fuss women made over weddings, but if it made Marisa and his mother happy, he was all for it. Besides, by then the house he was building for them would be finished, and they could move right in. It was on a great piece of land down the road from Marisa’s cousin William and his family, with a small woodlot and a trout stream that Russ was already enjoying.

“I almost forgot.” Marisa dug into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This came in the mail, and your mother thought you might want to see it right away.”

He flipped it over, saw the address and the foreign stamps, and his heart seemed to stop. He felt again the scorching heat of an Afghanistan summer, squinted against the unforgiving sun.

He ripped it open and scanned the note that was enclosed, and then read it again to be sure he understood.

“Link?” Marisa put her hand on his. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, I guess it’s something right. It’s from the headmaster of that school. He thought I should know that the villagers found the courage to rebuild. He enclosed a picture.” He showed it to her—a simple building, with a double row of smiling kids lined up in front. “He translates the sign for me. It says the school is dedicated to the brave friends who died trying to rebuild it.”

The picture blurred before his eyes, and instead he saw the faces of those who died that day.

Marisa squeezed his hand, and he blinked, coming back to the here and now, to the woman he loved standing beside him and the new life they were about to begin.

“Something good came out of all the bad things that happened to both of us,” she said softly. “I don’t think we can balance one against the other.”

“No. But we can let it remind us to live every day without regrets.” He drew her a bit closer. “That’s good enough for anyone.”