Page 87 of Winter Longing
“Remember that one time? When I told you that I couldn’t promise you anything?” He whispered. “Nothing lasting?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up.
Ailsa grinned, recalling several previous conversations that had begun the same way. “Aye, I do recall,” she said, remembering her previous response as well.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he continued, as he had on more than one occasion.
“Have ye now?” She feigned surprise but kept to the script they’d made up months ago.
“Yeah, I think I like it here,” he said. “In fact, I’m sure I’m in love with this time period.”
“Only the time period?” She wondered.
“Well not only the time period,” he admitted, rising above her on his elbows. “I love Torr Cinnteag. I love most of its people. I do not love war, but I do love those pork pies Cook makes.”
“Hm,” she murmured, her eyes gleaming, crinkled at the corner with her smile. “Ye are a lucky man. So much love.”
“I know, right?” He kissed her nose. “Oh, also, there’s this woman....” He kissed her lips.
“Mm.”
“I really love her.”
“She’s a verra lucky woman.”
Cole went still and met her gaze. “I’m the lucky one.” He went off-script then. “I love you, Ailsa. Wherever—and whenever—I am, I will love you.”
She laid her palm against his cheek, warm and steady. “Ditto,” she whispered, using a phrase he’d taught her, her lips curving in a smile.
He bent his head and captured her lips in a slow and satisfying kiss.
Their child stirred against his hip, a gentle reminder of the future they were building together. Whatever trials lay ahead, Cole knew one thing with absolute certainty: this was his place, his time, and his love.
***
The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed faintly, but Rosie paid them no mind. She pushed her cart down the aisle mechanically, her thoughts far away. She thought she might or should go back to Scotland again. Her daily phone calls to the Scottish investigator in charge of Cole and Tank’s disappearance seemed to yield less results than when she was standing directly in front of him or sitting across from him with his desk between them. She’d been three times to Scotland in the last year, hadpushed Detective Sargeant Butler to search more, to question more—to do more to find Cole. Not to say the man and his team weren’t doing anything at all, but since Cole and Tank hadn’t been found, clearly enough wasn’t being done. Rosie refused to believe that Cole and Tank had simply vanished off the face of the earth. He was there, in Scotland, somewhere—she knew he was. They just needed to find him.
Life without Cole had become a hollow routine, her once-bright spirit dimmed by the weight of his absence. Sure, she had plenty of friends and commitments to keep her busy, and her church and those sweet guys at the firehouse had helped her to keep her sanity—and to keep fighting to find Cole—but she lived with constant, gnawing worry over Cole. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of him, worrying about his fate.
She was reaching for a box of cereal when it hit her—a sudden, inexplicable warmth that radiated from her chest outward. It stopped her in her tracks, her arm arrested in motion. It wasn’t a memory or a ghostly echo; it washim.She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.Cole is at peace.
Tears sprang to her eyes, not of sorrow but of release.
Cole?
She jerked her hand back and looked around. The cereal aisle was empty except for her.
Had she just imagined that? That sweeping warmth that had so profoundly filled her with peace.
She stood still again, waiting for it to pass.
But it did not.
I’m all right, Rosie.
Dropping her face to her chest, Rosie let the tears fall. They heated her nose and cheeks and shook her shoulders, the weight of her relief so intense.
I’m all right, Rosie.
