Submerged (32 page)

He listened to her slow steady breaths. In…out…in…out. The sound of life.

He closed his eyes.

This time, no haunting images visited him. He was free from tormented memories of the past. Free of the bloodsucking, energy draining weight of guilt that had submerged his life so completely. It was as if he had broken the surface and could now
, finally, breathe.

And for the first time in over six years, Marcus slept.

Epilogue

Edson, Alberta – Friday, July 19, 2013 – 7:30 PM

There was a knock at Marcus's front door.

Arizona let out a bark and a whimper.

"Arizona," Marcus warned. "I expect you to behave like the lady you are." The dog cocked her head to one side as if considering his words.

He
sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders as if preparing for battle. He walked to the door, opened it and his voice left him as he gazed at the ethereal image on his doorstep. Strands of blond hair were swept up by a light breeze, then fluttered to Rebecca's shoulders.

They
'd been dating for a month now, each time in Edmonton, in public places. At first they'd gotten together for coffee. Then lunch. They talked about everything—Rebecca's husband and their looming divorce, the pending court case against Walter Kingston, and life with Jane and Ryan.

Marcus had
been more than a little surprised at the warm welcome he and Rebecca received at Jane and Ryan's memorial, especially after he stood up in front of the family and told them about his addiction. He found forgiveness there, something he hadn't expected.

"
Hi," he said, dazed.

There was an awkward
pause, before she said, "Are you going to let me in?"

"
Of course." Wanting to kick himself, Marcus pushed the door open and ushered her inside. "Sorry. It's been a long time since I…since I've…you know."

Rebecca raised a brow.
"What? Cooked dinner?"

"
Had someone over. On a date."

"
Is that what this is?" Her blue eyes were luminescent.

He
laughed. "We do have problems defining that word, don't we?"

"
I'm starved." She took his arm. "Lead the way."

Arizona whined
.

"This is Arizona," he said. "The other female in my life."

"Hey, Arizona," Rebecca said, pulling a rawhide stick from her pocket. "I have a treat for you."

Arizona pushed her nose under Rebecca
's hand, a silent demand for attention. Funny thing was, Arizona didn't normally do this with strangers.

The
meal Marcus had prepared turned out perfectly. Marinated steaks grilled on the barbecue, pan-fried jumbo shrimp in Cajun spices, butter and lemon juice for dipping, and a Caesar salad. For dessert, he'd cheated though. He'd picked up a raspberry custard pie from the deli.

After dinner, they relaxed
on the couch in the living room. Sipping a non-alcohol Saskatoon berry wine, they talked about their dreams and goals. Rebecca shared her excitement about starting her own business—a bed and breakfast somewhere in Alberta. He shared his thoughts of finding something different, something challenging but less stressful. But he still had doubts about his future.

"Do you believe someone like me can find redemption
?" he asked.

"
Yes."

Her words caused his armor to shatter. Could it be true?

"Have you found peace with Wesley? With your marriage?"

She nodded.
"He left me a long time ago. In spirit, anyway."

"
Wesley didn't value what he had. I will."

"
I know."

In that moment Marcus knew exactly what he wanted for his future. Rebecca. He wanted the whole package—Ella and Colton too. The thought made his heart leap.

"Come with me," he said, tugging on her hand. "I have something to show you."

"
What?"

"
You'll see." He went to the closet and took out her jacket. "It's a little cool outside."

"
We're going for a walk?"

Arizona let out a bark.

"Uh-oh," he said, grinning. "You said the magic word."

He leashed Arizona and
they headed outside.

"
This way," he said. "Last house on the left."

She
gave a nervous laugh. "Sounds ominous."

They strolled arm in arm until they got to the end of the road.

"What's down there?" she asked, eyeing the woods.

"
A ravine with a creek. It's quite pretty in the daylight. Not too safe at night though. Teens hang out there, smoking, doing drugs—unless I kick them out. I've been trying to clean up the riffraff."

"
Does that tempt you—the drugs?"

"
Some days."

She watched him
with great intensity. "You're a very honest man, Marcus."

"
I'm getting there."

"
So what's this surprise you're talking about?"

He pointed to the Victorian house with the lush gardens.
"What do you think?"

"
It's beautiful. Very well kept. Charming." She faced him, still looking unsure. "Do you know the owner?"

"
I did. Mrs. Landry died a few weeks ago. The house is for sale. What comes to mind when you look at it?"

She smiled.
"That's easy. It's close to the highway, but near a ravine. It would make a perfect bed and breakfast."

"
That's what I was thinking."

He stared into her eyes, caught up in the churning emotions he saw there. Happiness. Excitement. Doubt.

"I don't know, Marcus…"

"
I do." He grabbed her hands and kissed them. "For the first time in a long time, I know exactly what I want."

They st
ood in silence, too afraid to speak. Too scared they'd ruin the moment―and all the possibilities.

"Don't you think we're rushing things?" she asked.

"Do you?"

"Strangel
y…no." She lifted her face and he kissed her.

"I saw Jane and Ryan a few nights ago," he said. "In my dreams."

She hugged him tight. "Was it terrible?"

"No. They came to say
good-bye. She said they're both at peace now and want the same for me."

"
Marcus?" Rebecca said in a hesitant voice. "There's something I haven't told you. About Jane."

"What?"

"Right before Tracey Whitaker visited my hospital room, I heard a woman's voice. She was comforting me, telling me to stay calm. That same voice visited me when Walter came to my house and tried to kill me."

"You think it was Jane?" he said.

"Who else could it be? You said you keep seeing her, so why would it be so weird if I
heard
her?"

He didn't know what to say.

They strolled back to his house in quiet reflection. Instead of going inside, he led her around to the backyard. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

Inside, he
retrieved the wooden box from its hiding place. Then he headed outside, where he opened the box and showed her its contents. The drugs, the needle. His shame, his guilt. The latter two poured from the box, invisible yet potent.

"It's time for me to let go of this," he said.

He set the box in the fire pit. Removing a lighter from his pocket, he lit the kindling beneath the box and they stood a few feet away, watching it smolder, sizzle and burn.

"I spent a long time hiding from the truth," he said. "I was good at that. Hiding things.
Submerging myself in guilt."

Rebecca took his hand. "You
never have to hide from me."

He kissed her again,
pondering the complexity of fate. In his search to find Rebecca and her children, she had found him. And now the world opened to him with all its infinite possibilities.

~ * ~

If you enjoyed this book, please consider writing a short review and posting it on Amazon, Goodreads and/or Barnes and Noble. Reviews are very helpful to other readers and are greatly appreciated by authors, especially me. When you post a review, drop me an email and let me know and I may feature part of it on my blog/site. Thank you. ~ Cheryl

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And now here's an excerpt from Cheryl's international bestselling thriller, CHILDREN OF THE FOG…

prologue

May 14
th
, 2007

She was ready to die.

She sat at the kitchen table, a half empty bottle of Philip's precious red wine in one hand, a loaded gun in the other. Staring at the foreign chunk of metal, she willed it to vanish. But it didn't.

Sadie checked the gun and noted the single bullet.

"One's all you need."

If she did it right.

She placed the gun on the table and glanced at a pewter-framed photograph that hung off-kilter above the mantle of the fireplace. It was illuminated by a vanilla-scented candle, one of many that threw flickering shadows over the rough wood walls of the log cabin.

Sam's sweet face stared back at her, smiling.

Alive.

From where she sat, she could see the small chip in his right front tooth, the result of an impatient father raising the training wheels too early. But there was no point in blaming Philip—not when they'd both lost so much.

Not when it's all my fault.

Her gaze swept over the mantle. There were three objects on it besides the candle. Two envelopes, one addressed to Leah and one to Philip, and the portfolio case that contained the illustrations and manuscript on disc for Sam's book.

She had finished it, just like she had promised.

"And promises can't be broken. Right, Sam?"

A single tear burned a path down her cheek.

Sam was gone.

What reason do I have for living now?

She gulped back the last pungent mouthful of Cabernet and dropped the empty bottle. It rolled under the chair, unbroken, rocking on the hardwood floor. Then all was silent, except the antique grandfather clock in the far corner. Its ticking reminded her of the clown's shoe. The one with the tack in it.

Tick, tick, tick…

The clock belched out an ominous gong.

It was almost midnight.

Almost time.

She drew an infinity symbol in the dust on the table.

∞

"Sadie and Sam. For all eternity."

Gong…

She swallowed hard as tears flooded her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, baby. I tried to. God, I tried. Forgive me, Sam." Her words ended in a gut-wrenching moan.

Something scraped the window beside her.

She
pressed her face to the frosted glass, then jerked back with a gasp. "Go away!"

They stood motionless—six children that drifted from the swirling miasma of night air, haunting her nights and every waking moment. Surrounded by the moonlit fog, they began to chant.
"One fine day, in the middle of the night…"

"You're not real," she whispered.

"Two dead boys got up to fight."

A small, pale hand splayed against the exterior of the window. Below it, droplets of condensation slid like tears down the glass.

She reached out, matching her hand to the child's. Shivering, she pulled away. "You don't exist."

The clock continued its morbid countdown.

As the alcohol and drug potpourri kicked in, the room began to spin and her stomach heaved. She inhaled deeply. She couldn't afford to get sick. Sam was waiting for her.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm ready."

Gong…

Without hesitation, she raised the gun to her temple.

"Don't!" the children shrieked.

She pressed the gun against her flesh. The tip of the barrel was cold. Like her hands, her feet...her heart.

A sob erupted from the back of her throat.

The clock let out a final gong.
Then it was deathly silent.

It was midnight.

Her eyes found Sam's face again.

"Happy Mother's Day, Sadie."

She took a steadying breath, pushed the gun hard against her skin and clamped her eyes shut.

"Mommy's coming, Sam."

She squeezed the trigger.