Full Disclosure (44 page)

She was tired enough she was asleep minutes after her eyes closed. Paul glanced into the den a couple of times until he was certain she was deeply asleep, then quietly retook his seat. He wanted a lifetime of being able to share his home with her.

He touched her hand when the nightmare started, and she jerked awake. “Just a dream,” he said quietly. She ran her hands across her face. The pallor began to fade, even though her eyes still looked bruised. She needed more sleep, but it wouldn't easily come. She blew her breath out, then visibly relaxed. “Something else we're going to have to deal with.”

“Nothing you can do about them. Not much I can do either. You won't have to wake up alone.”

She slid her hand into his. “Worth more than you realize.” She swung around to sit up. “Give me a minute, then let's go to lunch.”

He dropped a kiss on her hair. “I'll go get the movie ads so you can see the funny choices.”

They walked from Falcons to the theater. Paul talked her into ice cream on the way, and she stayed with a vanilla cone, content with her old favorites.

“If I give you power of attorney, would you sell my grandparents' place for me so I don't have to deal with it?”

“You don't want to keep it? It would be a nice place to get away to.”

“If I keep it, I'm going to be feeling like this is your place and that is mine. Unless you want to move to a neutral new place, then all my stuff lands in yours and we have to deal with it.”

“I can handle that for you. What else?”

“Midnight.”

He reached over and took her hand.

“He doesn't deserve a city.”

“You aren't giving up Black. He's too important to everything you are.”

“I'm going to send him on vacation every once in a while. Quinn offered he could come visit for a few weeks. Black loves that ranch. He comes back muddy and tired and happy. Dave's got a nice place with grass, and he wants a dog to guard the cat and the kid. He offered Black could visit. We give the dog a place to be himself a few weeks every other month. He can sleep when he's with us and recuperate.”

Paul smiled. “Okay.”

“You have to give him a morning walk before you go to work. And he complains about being woken up early, so you have to bribe him with food to get him to move.”

“Are you going to fuss if I share my breakfast with him?”

“Given how much he mooches off me, I'll let you get away with it too. I walk him late, and you have to let me go out in the middle of the night and not feel like you have to stay up to walk him with me.”

“You'll carry your side arm.”

“Always do. Fact of the security clearance. I'm required to carry even after I'm retired.”

He waited to see if she had another concern.

“Did we reach the last question?”

“Maybe. Ask me after the movie.”

She enjoyed the movie and the story line. He knew her expressions well enough to recognize it. He took it as a good sign when she slid her hand in his as they left the crowd of the theater behind. “Jackie said she'd keep a table free for us after the movie,” he offered.

“How about your place. You can fix me some hot chocolate.”

He took her home and fixed them both her favorite hot chocolate. He forced himself to relax as she took a seat at the counter and he joined her. She tugged over the glass jar full of ginger snaps. “We're going to have bad days, when the words get hot or icy and the emotions get raw.”

“It's inevitable.”

“I need to know how we're going to handle them.”

“I don't know. You get quiet when you get hurt. I tend to get cool and cautious. It's going to be a problem.”

“We need a standing time on the calendar when we clear the air. I don't want Saturday morning, it's when we can both sleep in, and I don't want it on a Sunday. If it's evening, you're tired. And if it's morning, I'm tired.”

“Fridays at five. You come join me at the office, we can go get dinner, even if it's just a vendor hot dog, and we walk as long as it takes until the concerns are on the table, even if we need more conversations to figure out the answer.”

“Okay.”

“You'll bury the hurt, that's what I worry about. Jackie throws things, you bury them. You'll have to risk talking with me about what's causing the wounds. If you can't find the words, if it's really bad, you write it down for me. It's probably a good idea that you give me a letter every month, good or bad—just put down as much as you can of what's right and what's wrong and what we need to talk about. It's the small things that keep getting larger that will need addressing.”

“Will you tell me what I'm getting wrong with this marriage? I don't want you to settle for who I am rather than ask me to change to be what you need.”

“I won't ambush you with what I want to say, but I'll be honest. There are things both of us will simply have to live with.”

She pulled two ginger snaps from the jar and handed him one. “When could we get married?”

“Next Friday.”

“Do I have to do anything?”

“I've got arranging the license, Harper is handling the place, Dad's got the minister, Marie is bringing you some dresses to consider, and Jackie insisted she's doing the cake. I told Mom you'd walk around a flower shop and help her choose the flowers, but your job is really to keep her from buying everything
she sees. We'll go shopping for rings together. I'm borrowing a place from a friend where we can take Black and enjoy a very long honeymoon. I already told my boss I'm taking six weeks of vacation. I figured if you said no, no one would want to work with me, so I'd need the time either way. What do you think?”

She slid off the stool and wrapped her arms around him. “Could you deal with a rather weepy yes?”

He planted his feet and picked her up. “Yes?”

She settled her hands on either side of his face. “Yes. I would be honored to marry you, Paul Tudor Falcon.” She leaned in to him for a long kiss. He felt a wall of tension that had knotted his stomach fall away, his heart leap in his chest.

His smile matched hers. “You've been talking to my mom.”

“She wanted to add her reasons why I should marry you. She said you were a good man. She said you would protect me, and provide for me, and defend me, and love me, and if I didn't marry you I'd miss out on fifty years of being treasured.” She held his gaze with hers. “I love you. You don't have to worry. I'm slow at decisions, but I won't change my mind once it's made, and I won't look back. Let's get married next Friday.”

The wedding would happen at Paul's parents' home, and no matter how much Ann wanted to get nervous, there was too much laughter to give her time. She stayed at Kate's the night before with Rachel, Vicky, and Lisa joining her there for breakfast. Paul had clearly decided piling on her friends was the right way to get her through the ceremony. Marie brought half a dozen dresses on loan from a designer for her to try, and they spent the morning with lace and trains and beautiful wedding dresses. Ann chose a simple design that she felt she could turn in without tripping. By noon she was walking into Paul's parents' home, where flowers burst from vases lining the tables, and his mom was waiting for her.

“Oh, you look gorgeous,” Karen said and hugged her. “I'm
to take you to the sitting room and ask if you would like a drink or some crackers.”

Ann laughed, but nodded. “I need them both.” The nerves had been building since she had stepped into the car.

She entered the sitting room and carefully sat down, accepted what Karen brought her. And then the door opened behind her, and Paul came in, wonderful in a tux.

“Ladies.” He grinned as he spotted Ann. “Very, very nice. Would you mind giving us the room for a moment, please?” He waited for the ladies to exit and closed the door.

He took a seat beside her and grasped her hand. “You have a few minutes. Lean your head back, close your eyes, and catch your breath. I'm walking you the few steps that constitute the aisle so you don't bolt on me.”

She gratefully did just that. “I can't believe how panicked I feel.”

“I can tell. You're turning very pale. It's a ten-minute ceremony, long enough for you to look devastatingly beautiful, and for Mom to start crying for the joy of it. All you have to do is say I do. Both rings are in my pocket, and I'll make double sure you can't drop mine.”

“Are you nervous?”

“I won't be in about twenty minutes.”

She laughed. “I hope you never regret this, Paul.”

“I love you. With time you'll realize just how deeply I mean that. We're going to have a brief ceremony, cut the cake, and then Vicky is going to help you change, and twenty minutes later we are going to be in the car on the way to the airport. We're taking part of the wedding cake with us. Harper is handling Black and the luggage, and Dave is providing the flight. Once you say I do, it all gets easier from there.”

“Don't let go of my hand.”

“I won't let go.” He squeezed her hand. “You ready?”

“I love you.”

He smiled. “Come marry me.”

T
he borrowed vacation home in Montana was defined by an open vista of land where sunsets and sunrises dominated the horizon without being marred by buildings. Paul was growing comfortable with the silence. They had been here three weeks. Ann returned, carrying a soda they could share, and the swing shifted with her weight. He settled his arms around her, content to hold her. She smelled of horse and hay and dust, for they had spent the morning riding together. The wind was still steady from the west. He collected her hair in one hand and gathered it behind her, and used the opportunity to rub the tension out of her neck. “Any regrets?”

“That extra half hour of the ride is going to catch up with me. My tailbone hurts.”

“Didn't mean the morning.”

She smiled. “I know.” She drank the first part of the soda and companionably offered him the rest. She rested her head against his shoulder. “I used to wonder, what in the world will we do living in each other's space all the time. But now I miss you when you're not there. I don't have any regrets. A few minutes of the morning where it still feels very odd not being alone. But I'm getting more comfortable.”

She wore the ring he had given her. He turned it with his finger
and was reassured just to have it on her hand. “You know how Black follows you around? You get up and leave the room, and a few moments later he'll lumber to his feet and go see where you've gone? He wants to be where you are.”

She lifted her head to look at him.

“You do that with me. Look around to figure out where I just went. It's nice.” He ran a thumb across her blush. “If you ever stop doing that, I'm going to miss it more than I can put into words.”

“I didn't mean to cling so tight.”

“You're not. I like to look around and find you there. I might have to tug you out of a book or a story to get your attention, but you're there. I was tired of being alone. I've had a lifetime of being alone.”

“I need that connection. To reassure myself I'm part of a couple. I still feel single sometimes.”

“Stay as close as you need and want. I mean it when I say I like it.” He set the swing to moving again. “I have a question for you.”

“Okay.”

“I was thinking we should go to New York next week. We can see family and friends and then leave everyone behind and not mention where we are heading from there. I'd like to show you Washington, D.C. You've never been, I like the Smithsonian, and there's a Mexican restaurant Jackie opened years ago that a friend still runs.”

“Whatever you would like is fine with me.”

“You're sure?”

She nodded. “I'm content. Three weeks away does that. You can dump me in the middle of a family party, and I could swim for a while. I'd like to meet everyone.”

He dropped a kiss on her hair. “We'll do that then. There was a message from the director that he'd like to see me when I'm back from vacation. I thought I'd take care of that meeting while we're there.”

“He's going to promote your boss, and he'll want you to take the Chicago office.”

“I know.” He hadn't settled on what he would say if it was offered. “I'm hoping you have an opinion.”

“Lots of people would like you to say yes. If you're the boss, they get continuity and someone who will let them do their job without extra hassle. You'd hate the paperwork and being in the office so much. Do you want to be the FBI director one day? If you do, say yes. If you don't, then suggest another name you know can do the job well. You'll enjoy the challenge whatever you decide.”

“You can pray about that decision with me.”

“I can do that.”

He finished the soda as the porch swing rocked, and he wondered if he had ever spent a more enjoyable few weeks in his life. She felt right, and being married felt right. The stillness stretched to ten minutes between them, and he didn't try to break the silence. He felt content, for the first time in years, that life was finally beginning to fit as is should, and as it would for the future. He was married to someone he loved, who was just right for him. And it was more than he had ever hoped.

She interlaced her fingers with his. “Could I ask you something?”

He angled his head to see her face. “Sure.”

“We need a Friday five p.m. conversation, but I would rather have it while my courage is intact. Could we do that now?”

He could feel himself shift to alert mode and tensed at what she needed to say. He willed himself to relax, to take a deep breath. She wasn't going to give him many opportunities to create a first impression in this marriage, and this was a major had-to-get-it-right moment. He reached across her with a casualness he didn't feel to enclose her in his arms. “Advance the clock to Friday at five and pretend we're on a long walk. What would you like me to hear?”

“You have to stop trying to save me from the nightmares.”

He jolted at the topic and his arms tightened just a fraction around her.

“I'm keeping you awake at night. Just the fear that I might have a nightmare has you watching me, hoping to intervene. You have to stop doing that. You need to let yourself deeply sleep.”

“I'm there. I can wake you up and save you from that last bit of pure terror.”

“If I kick you and wake you up, by all means stop my nightmare. I'm glad when you do. But you're staying half awake trying to anticipate my nightmare. You're tired, and getting more tired every day.” She rested her hand on his.

“When I have a nightmare and it wakes me up, I'll get up and go read for a while and shake it off, just like I've done for the last many years. You can't fix them. You need to let me cope. We're going to be home soon, and you'll be going back to work for a long day, so being up with me isn't a viable option.”

He shifted to see her face. “My presence is making the nightmares worse.”

She bit her lip.

“Don't bother trying to say it's not. I'm not blind, Ann.” She'd been alone so long, slept alone for so many years that her subconscious was sensing his presence as a danger. And given the memories crowding her past, her mind was throwing her back into a fight for her life. She'd jerk awake gasping for breath, fighting to not be sick, her eyes glassy and for an instant full of terror.

“I'm not giving up sharing a bed with you just because part of my mind is still skittish about a guy being near.”

“Well, asking me not to try to help is not a workable answer either.”

She sighed and tried to find words and then went silent.

“What?”

“The fact you're watching me is part of the problem. I know you're watching me.”

He closed his eyes as he felt pain slice inside. His arms tightened,
she flinched, and he forced himself to relax. “Sit still and let me kick myself for a minute,” he whispered, shifting his hold on her. He was watching because her nightmares could be vicious around four a.m., and because he was watching, she was sensing it and tumbling into a fear-driven panic of a nightmare. He couldn't win for trying to help her. He sighed and rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Well, isn't this a nice pickle.”

Her hand curled into his shirt. “I'll get used to you being there, I know I will. But telling my mind that and having it be true are two very different things.”

He kissed her hair. “Not your fault. You want to blame someone for this, direct the emotion where it belongs, to the guy now where he belongs.” He shifted her away to face him on the swing. “There is no way I am going to let you sleep alone, so mark off that option. Give me others.”

“You have to let them happen, let me wake up and talk my mind into not being afraid. And the next night when it happens again, I have to do the same thing, and the night after that, for as long as it takes. When my mind finally grasps I've been here before and it's the same as before, it will calm down. I know the nightmares will calm down. They used to be triggered by a case I was working, by a sight or a smell that would bring back the memories of what happened in that cabin. They weren't rare, but they weren't as frequent as this.”

“Now it's not the MHI job triggering them; it's someone being there when you are asleep. It's my presence you are sensing that is new and dangerous to you.”

She reluctantly nodded.

He realized the next problem. “Our home is going to do the same thing. A new place, new sounds, your mind won't know it is a safe place. You'll have to deal with learning how to sleep there without having a nightmare too.”

“Yes.”

How had he missed this? He had been trying so hard to know her, understand her, and he had absolutely missed this. He had
thought having someone with her would ease the nightmares, not make them worse. “Did you suspect this would happen?”

“I hoped that leaving the MHI would be enough to compensate for the new things I would have to adapt to. I hoped my brain wouldn't register everything different as a threat. That was rather a stupid wish.”

“Don't say that.” He was a contributing factor to the nightmares. He couldn't figure out a way through the problem. “If it's time that helps, it hasn't helped yet.”

“I need you to trust me, Paul. You have to tell yourself to go to sleep and not to worry about me. I promise you, if I need your help, I will wake you up. I promise I will crowd in beside you and hug you hard when I'm back, reassure you I'm okay. And if I'm gone from our bed for a long period of time, you are welcome to come find me. But you can't stay awake trying to protect me. I can't handle you tired, not when I know I'm the cause of it. You have to sleep. I don't want to see you tired and crabby.”

He tried to smile at her choice of crabby. He handled tired with lots of coffee and conserving energy any way he could. He didn't have the energy to even get annoyed when he got truly tired. “This is rather awful, Ann.”

She solemnly nodded.

He settled his arms around her and nodded toward the door of the house. “We're going to go take a nap on the couch. Because we both need it, and I want to figure out if we sleep well together anywhere.”

She half smiled. “Okay.”

“Just okay? No wise insights?”

“I like sleeping with you.”

He picked her up because he was in the mood to carry her. “Do scents trigger nice dreams? The smell of vanilla in the room, or the smell of flowers? There's got to be something that could give you a better chance of dreaming something other than that nightmare.”

“I hadn't thought of that. Maybe.”

“Hold the door.”

She held it open and he maneuvered them inside, waiting for Black.

He settled her on the couch and leaned down to kiss her. “We'll find it. And for the record, that was a very useful Friday-at-five conversation.”

He tugged off her boots, then his, and shifted on the couch so he could stretch out with her. “Give me a guess, how long before you sleep through the night with me without a nightmare.”

“Eight weeks.”

“Yeah?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was hoping we'd be there by Christmas.”

“If I've had a nightmare every night between now and Christmas, you are going to have a problem on your hands. I don't handle being tired. I can fake it okay for a few weeks, but I get snippy and sharp and teary and unreasonable, and you're going to get every bit of it.”

“Snippy?”

“You haven't been miserable until you've been around me when I'm snippy. If I ever get to that point, lock me somewhere alone for a month and let me sleep it off. It's your only hope.”

“Let's hope we never get there.” He nudged her head onto his shoulder. “For right now, just catch a nap with me. We'll see if you can do two hours without a dream.”

Ann was curious about history, and she was a tourist's tourist, wanting to listen to the tour guide, read all the exhibit signs, stand and gawk at things both magnificent and ordinary. She was enjoying Washington, D.C., and Paul was enjoying immensely showing it to her. But he had made a mistake suggesting they come here before heading home. They had left Black with Dave
and Kate, gone to New York, and then come here for a week. They should have returned home.