You're the One That I Want (32 page)

Handcuffs? He glanced over his shoulder. Casper gave him a sad smile, an inexplicable warmth in his eyes.

“Your Honor, can I say something?” Amelia stepped forward to join Casper at the table.

Owen tried to shrug out of the bailiff’s grip. “Wait; will you
 
—?”

“Who are you?” This from the judge.

“My name is Amelia Christiansen, and I have something
 
—well, Roark actually has something to say about the case.” She flashed a smile at Roark
 
—and clearly she’d grown up because it was the kind of smile that said,
You are my whole world.

Owen knew just what that kind of smile felt like.

“Roark lived here this summer, above the Java Cup, overlooking the municipal parking lot,” Amelia said, turning back to the judge.

“I’m listening.”

Roark stepped up beside Amelia. Nodded to Casper. “Your Honor, when I heard about Casper’s case from Amelia, I realized that I had information pertinent to the court’s findings.” His voice came out in sharpened, aristocratic syllables.

“He’s rich,” Raina said to Owen. “And from Brussels.”

Of course he was.

“Go on,” the judge instructed.

“On the night in question, as Amelia has pointed out, I lived above the coffee shop, which overlooks the municipal parking lot. I heard the row between Mr. Christiansen and Mr. Riggs.”

Oh no. Owen wanted to kill His Highness.

“I saw them push one another.”

Perfect.

“And I saw Mr. Christiansen leave.”

Owen shot a look at Casper, whose mouth hung open.

“That doesn’t account for the time during which Mr. Riggs disappeared.” This from the prosecutor.

“Except Mr. Riggs didn’t leave alone, Your Honor. Shortly after Mr. Christiansen left, I saw Mr. Riggs with a woman. He seemed intoxicated, and she put him in her car. They left together.”

Owen scrambled to untangle the testimony, to fit it into Scotty’s suppositions.

What if that woman was
 
—?

“I appreciate your testimony, Mr. . . .”

“St. John. Roark St. John.”

“Mr. St. John, I’m sure the defense will add your statement into evidence, but we still have no alibi for Mr. Christiansen. And barring testimony from said woman, I am afraid I’m finding
 
—”

“I have that testimony, Your Honor.”

And hallelujah, Owen had just known his faith would be rewarded because Scotty came in the side door, beckoning Signe Netterlund in beside her.

The judge appeared ready to throw them all in cuffs, especially when Owen finally broke free of the bailiff, started toward Scotty. “What took you so long?”

She patted his cheek as she walked by, winking.

Winking?

Then the bailiff had Owen by the arm again. “Come with me
 
—”

“Not on your life!”

But Scotty was right there, edging in between him and the bailiff. “Easy there. He’s still nursing an injury.” She turned to Owen and said, “Go with the man.” But when he shook his head, she put her hands on his face. “Don’t worry. We’ll come and get you when it’s over.”

We.
As in Scotty and his family, who now looked at him, the lot of them, nodding.

They’d come and get him.

So he took a breath and let the bailiff lead him away, into the anteroom, then out to a cruiser, where he climbed into the backseat and soon after found himself taking up residence in Casper’s cell.

Which actually felt about right.

Casper stood frozen as the judge’s words echoed in his head.

Free to go.

Free. To. Go.

He turned, and his eyes landed first on Raina, tears cutting down her cheeks as she rocked Layla. Then on Amelia, who launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck. He returned her hug.

“I can’t believe you came back!”

She practically glowed as she smiled at him, then glanced at Roark. “He’s the one who insisted. When I told him about our conversation, he remembered that night exactly.”

“Roark. Thank you.” Casper held out his hand, still amazed that the guy who’d once broken Amelia’s heart had landed on the happy end of the story. But maybe the same thing could be said for him as he embraced the members of his family, one after another, working his way to Raina.

Finally, Raina. Her eyes shone. He held her face in his hands, kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said. “But I think you’re going to have to bail Owen out of jail.”

Owen. He still couldn’t believe how his brother had freaked, the words issuing from him turning Casper inside out.

Owen was the hero of the story. Yeah, Casper had trekked across the country to find him, to bring him home to face his mistakes, but Owen, in his too-passionate, impulsive, die-hard way, had saved him by believing in him and convincing Scotty to help, and by his stubborn determination to find the truth and never give up.

Or maybe they’d saved each other. Both prodigals. Both villains. Both heroes.

Signe. Casper searched for her, found her, surprisingly, standing next to Scotty, being embraced by Ingrid.

As usual, his mother’s overlove of everyone had Signe rattled, her face wrecked with tears. “Thank you, Signe,” Casper overheard his mother as he came up to them.

“Yeah. Thank you.” He didn’t know what to do. Hug her? Shake her hand?

“I should have come forward, but I was too afraid and . . . I’m so sorry, Casper.”

He drew her into a quick hug. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I know you cared about Monte.”

She held on a little longer, arms around his neck. When she let go, Scotty led her over to the prosecutor to give a proper statement.

“I suppose Owen will have to spend the night in jail?” Max shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I already talked to the judge. He’s going to levy a fine, and Owen can be released,” Bryce said, walking into their conversation. “Stop by the court offices and pay it, and then go get your crazy brother.”

“Hey!” Casper said. “He’s not crazy. He’s just
 
—”

“Very passionate about what he believes in,” Scotty said, returning. She looked at Casper. “I don’t suppose you’d spring my boyfriend out of jail?” She wore a half smile, hope in her voice.

“I’ll meet you there.” Casper’s smile lingered, and in it, he hoped she saw forgiveness.

He returned to Raina, lifted Layla from her arms. “How about while I’m at the county clerk’s office paying my brother’s fine, I pick up a marriage license?”

“You’re so romantic, Casper Christiansen,” Raina said, grinning.

He wiped a tear from her cheek. “Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He hooked his arm around her waist, headed for the door. His mother caught him with a hand on his arm. “I’m making a little celebration lunch,” she said, her eyes still misty. “Go get your brother and bring him home, will you?”

“It’s what I do.”

Here he was, the outcast once again. Owen sat in the cell, his back to the cold wall, wanting to wince as he sorted through his behavior in court.

He should count himself fortunate that they hadn’t thrown him to the floor, opened his stitches, and dragged him out in chains.

Clearly he needed to learn to curb his emotions.

In fact, if he’d learned to do that from the beginning . . . to curb his passion for hockey, which had led him away from home . . . Maybe that passion wouldn’t have been so terrible if hockey hadn’t become his entire life.

If being someone, proving himself, becoming the best, hadn’t turned into an obsession. Which led to his trying to prove himself off the ice.

And losing everything.

But he hadn’t learned, not even then, still hell-bent on proving that he wasn’t a failure, channeling his grief into dangerous and heartbreaking decisions.

Which only left a trail of disaster.

Owen got up, paced the cell. Wow, how he wanted to be different, wanted to have faith. . . .

Except . . . all this time, every impulse had been about . . . him. His hurts, his wounds, his fears, his hopes.

Until now. Until he’d wanted to step in, take Casper’s punishment. Because he loved Casper more than himself.

Finally.

For us, Jesus stood in front of death and said, “No. You may not have them. They are what I came for, who I want.”

Owen searched for the voice in his memory, found Pastor Dan’s sermon.

He proved this by gathering all us wretched prodigals behind Him and spreading out His hands in our defense and paying for our sins.

Owen sank down on the bench.

God hadn’t just brought Owen home. He’d forced him to take his focus off his wretched self and see a God who hadn’t forsaken him, even when he deserved it.

Even when he’d wanted Him to.

A God who stepped between him and death and said,
No.

Welcome to grace.

Owen sank his head into his hands.
God, I’m so sorry for the wreck I made of my talent, my life. I ask Your forgiveness. Your redemption. Your wholeness. I ask for a future, being Your returned, redeemed son.

He closed his eyes, waited, hearing his heartbeat.

Seeing his mistakes.

Except in the dark quiet of the jail, he felt suddenly as if a hand reached in and pulled from his chest a weight he hadn’t even realized existed.

He leaned his head back on the cement wall. Breathed. Just breathed.

But I warn you, once you embrace Christ, you too become a rule breaker. Because a life committed to God requires us to live uncomfortably. Inconveniently. Accountably. Bravely. Transparently. Vulnerably.

Whatever You ask, God.

Footsteps. Then Kyle opened the door to the cell. “You’re free to go.” He stood back. “By the way, welcome home.”

Owen got up, met his outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

He turned and neatly intercepted Scotty as she ran into his arms, hers going around his neck. “Easy, girl, I’m still
 
—”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, pulled his head down, and kissed him.

A full-on, impulsive, passionate, no-holds-barred, emotional kiss.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, dove into her exuberance, and no, didn’t feel a smidgen of pain.

When she leaned back, her eyes shone. “We did it. Signe confessed everything.”

“Everything? I don’t
 
—”

“The short of it is, Monte attacked her and found himself in the ravine of his own devices. He wasn’t murdered
 
—he was the author of his own demise.”

Her words landed painfully close to his own mistakes.

Thank You, God.
Owen pulled Scotty close, just held on.

“You okay?”

“Very,” he said into her neck, smelling her amazingly smooth skin. He leaned back. “Thank you for not giving up.”

“For having faith?” She winked. “I think . . . I might be starting to, well . . .” She lifted a shoulder. “I used to think faith was for the weak. But I agree it takes strength to have faith, to believe the
crazy thought that God would step in, choose us, want us. That He’s on our side.”

Owen ran his gaze over her face, her smile, trying to catch up to her words. “Yeah, actually, it does.”

She pressed her hands to his chest. “So I think I’m ready to start believing in a happy ending.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She caught his hands, wearing an expectancy on her face.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for you to propose.”

“Uh
 
—” He looked around, not sure. “Right here?”

“And now he turns shy.”

“I’m not shy! Sheesh
 
—”

“Calm down, Eye Patch. I’m just kidding.” She grinned. “C’mon. Your mom’s making lunch. Our family is waiting.”

I
NGRID COULDN’T IMAGINE A MORE PERFECT DAY
to start a new life.

The late-afternoon sun hung just over the tree line, sending a honey-colored glaze across the deck of the Evergreen lodge. A slight wind reaped the piney scent from the trees, stirred the rich loam embedded in the forest across the lake. Water lapped the shoreline in quiet rhythm, and the fragrance of hamburgers on the grill seasoned the Indian summer air.

The perfect wedding reception for Casper and Raina. Small, intimate. The family celebrating today’s after-Sunday-service nuptials.

The timer on the oven beeped, and Ingrid reached for the hot pads, opened the door to retrieve a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.

“Mom!” Eden poked her head through the open sliding-glass door. “Dad wants to know if you want him to light the campfire.”

Ingrid slid the cookies onto a cooling rack. “Yes. By the time we’re finished eating, the coals will be just right for s’mores.”

Eden nodded, then closed the door, but Ingrid heard her shout the answer to John, down by the fire pit.

“I should have made a cake,” Grace said as she stirred the potato salad. “Who gets married without a wedding cake?”

“It was Casper’s choice,” Amelia said, pulling dill pickles from a tall jar. “He said that s’mores with Mom’s cookies were all Owen talked about in the hospital
 
—well, s’mores and pizza. I think it’s his way of saying thank you to Owen.”

Ingrid dropped the cookie sheet into the sink and turned on the water. Steam rose and she stood a moment, letting it hide the moisture in her eyes at the memory of Owen standing up with Casper as his best man, Darek beside them, his hand in Tiger’s.

And on Raina’s side, Grace, Eden, Amelia, and Liza, Raina’s aunt, home in time for the long-awaited wedding.

A simple, just-family wedding, the perfect kind, filled with fulfilled promises, the breath of joy, and the rich expectation of happily ever after. All of it written in the look on Casper’s face as he watched his bride walk down the aisle. It had made Ingrid slide her hand into John’s, give it a squeeze. She’d seen that same deeply overjoyed expression thirty years ago, in the very same church.

Indeed, it seemed as if time might be rewinding with Raina glowing in Ingrid’s hand-me-down wedding dress, holding a bouquet of fresh-picked red and orange chrysanthemums, garnished with mountain ash berries, her hair down, barefoot as she approached her groom. Ingrid found herself holding her breath, knowing just how much they had waiting for them. All of them.

Darek and Ivy, Tiger and Joy, moving into their new house at the resort in a matter of weeks.

Jace and Eden, expecting their first child.

Grace and Max, embracing each precious day with their daughter.

Roark, his eyes only for Amelia as he stood beside John and Ingrid in the pew. And why not, after his closed-door conversation with John last night, where he asked for his blessing on his engagement to Amelia.

And Owen and Scotty. Ingrid could hardly believe that God had not only brought her prodigal back to her arms, but also given her another beautiful daughter. Because she knew exactly what was on her youngest son’s mind when he’d asked for his grandmother’s ring.

Of course he wanted to gift the woman he loved with a family heirloom, entwine her into the legacy of the Christiansens even as they built a life in Alaska. Ingrid couldn’t escape the sense that, with the purchase of Scotty’s fishing boat, God had plans to turn her son not only into a fisherman, but a fisher of men.

“Mrs. Christiansen?”

A hand slid over her shoulder, and Ingrid grabbed a towel, touched it to her face as she turned. Raina stood there, flowers still pinned to her hair, Layla on her hip. “Casper said to put Layla in your room to nap while we’re out on the deck. I hope that’s okay?”

And Ingrid couldn’t help it. She reached out, pulled Raina into her arms. “
Mom
, Raina. You must call me Mom.”

Raina still showed the slightest hesitation to return her hugs. But she’d catch on. Because once you became a Christiansen, you had to get used to being loved large. To belonging to a family that didn’t have it all figured out but weathered life, as Owen said, by holding on to faith.

Ingrid leaned back and kissed Layla’s cherub cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

Grace grabbed the potato salad. “Amelia, bring the paper plates with you, please.”

“I can help,” Roark said from where he leaned against the doorjamb to the den. In the next room, her boys erupted as someone scored in the current football game. Thankfully the Vikings didn’t come on until Monday night or she’d have lost the lot of them to hours of NFL.

“I still don’t understand how you can call this
football
.” Roark lifted the plate of pickles, grabbed the ketchup. He glanced at Amelia and winked as he carried them outside.

Amelia glowed.

Ingrid knew exactly how that felt.

The front door opened, and Tiger flew through. “Nana! We’re here!”

Ivy followed him in, grabbing the door before it could bash another hole in the wall.

“Sorry we’re late. I wanted to pick up the fruit salad.” Ivy put a bowl on the counter. “I suppose Darek and Joy are watching the game?”

“He fed her and put her down in the boys’ room upstairs,” Ingrid said, trying not to let the nostalgia overwhelm her. The next generation, napping all over the house. “Could you tell them dinner is about ready?” She glanced outside to where Owen and Scotty manned the grill, just to confirm.

Oops. Scotty sat on the rail of the deck, her feet on the bench of the table, Owen’s arms around her, neither of them paying a lick of attention to the smoking grill.

“Avert your eyes, Mom,” Grace said. “I’ll attempt a rescue of
the burgers.” She slid the screen door open, and Ingrid hid a smile as she watched Owen jump.

Then John appeared on the deck, raising the lid to the grill, saving the burgers from a charbroil.

Ingrid retrieved the cookies, utensils, and cups and followed Grace outside to finish setting the picnic table. John scooped hamburgers onto a platter. Ivy added her salad to the table, and the boys tromped out from the den. Jace, Max, Darek, Casper, plus little Yulia.

“Sorry, Mom. It’s the Packers-Lions game. We got carried away,” Casper said.

Ingrid held up a hand. “And now it’s time to celebrate.”

Casper slipped his hand into Raina’s.

Eden leaned against Jace, who wrapped his arms around her belly.

Max took his place between Grace and Yulia, holding their hands.

Roark stood behind Amelia, his hands on her shoulders.

Darek’s arm encircled Ivy, the other catching Tiger in a football hold.

And Owen sidled up next to Scotty.

John stood beside Ingrid. “We’re going to pray for dinner. But first . . .”

At his elongated pause, Ingrid looked up. He was staring at her, smiling.

“What?”

“We have a little something for you,” John said. He glanced at Darek. “You ready?”

Darek released Tiger, who ran off the deck, around the house.

“Where’s he going?”

“Just wait, Mom,” Casper said. “You’re always telling us to be patient. Now it’s your turn.”

“Believe me, Son, I know all about patience,” Ingrid said.

Casper grinned, as did Darek. Ingrid found Owen’s gaze on her, something so sweetly vulnerable, sweetly warm in his expression that she pocketed it in her heart.

Patience. Yes, every hour of prayer had come to fruition. Faith answered. Promises kept. Hope fulfilled. At last.

As if reading her thoughts, John leaned down, gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Barking
 
—the high-pitched yips of a puppy.

She turned as Tiger reappeared, running down the walk and onto the porch holding a floppy, wiggly, long-eared, tail-wagging, golden-haired puppy.

“How adorable!” Ingrid knelt down to pet the animal, who was lunging for her now with its puppy tongue. Slobbery kisses landed on her chin, and she laughed. “Tiger, is this your puppy?” She reached up to grab the baby paws and rub its glorious velvety ears. “He’s gotten so big!”

“No, Nana. It’s yours!”

She stilled. “I . . . don’t understand.”

John retrieved the dog, chuckling. “The kids got you a puppy.”

Got her . . . She stood. “What?”

Eden wore a wide smile. Amelia clasped her hands together, her eyes aglow. Grace waggled her eyebrows. The boys all looked at each other, smug. She half expected a round of high fives.

“For me?”

“It’s a sister to Tiger’s puppy. Yulia helped pick her out.”

Ingrid smiled at her newest granddaughter, who caught her lip in her teeth. “She’s beautiful, Yulia.”

Grace kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

“When we picked up Tiger’s puppy, this one was left. No one adopted her, so when the breeder called and asked if we wanted her, I knew she needed a home.” Darek walked over, ran his strong hand over the puppy’s head. “
This
home.”

“I can’t believe you got me a puppy,” Ingrid said, her eyes watering.

“You still have plenty of good mother in you,” Owen said. “And with us out of the house
 
—”

“But not very far away,” Casper interjected.

“At least in spirit,” Owen said, casting a frown at Casper. “We thought you needed a Butterscotch 2.0.”

Oh. Ingrid cupped the puppy’s face in her hands, stared into her chocolate eyes, bright, inquisitive. Exuberant with the joy wriggling through her body.

Exactly how Ingrid felt as she stood on the deck, surrounded by so much.

She pulled the puppy into her arms. The puppy climbed Ingrid, putting floppy paws on her shoulders, her cold nose bumping Ingrid’s chin. “Oh, my, you are friendly,” she said. The puppy slathered her lips and nose with a kiss.

“She loves you already, Mom,” Amelia said, coming over to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know. Maybe . . . Sunshine?”

“Sunny!” Tiger said. “I like it. Hello, Sunny.” He put his face near the puppy’s and earned a lick.

Ingrid pressed her nose into the animal’s fur. Inhaled. “Thank you.” She smiled at her people, the autumn breeze warm on her skin. The watercolor-blue heavens arched overhead, the wind like a song in the trees.

“Let’s pray,” John said. “The burgers are getting cold.” He tucked his arm around Ingrid.

Thank You, indeed.

The ranks closed in, joined hands, and Ingrid breathed in the aroma of home. Puppy breath, hamburgers, the smell of pine in the air, and her entire family chorusing, at the end of John’s quick prayer . . .

Amen.