Page 114 of The Promise
She glanced over at her two companions, wondering if they had found peace. She touched the silver of her locket, Loralee's locket, and thought of the love it embodied, of Loralee, Zach and Mary.
Her hand tightened around the ring, a symbol for Duncan and Rose's love, and suddenly she knew that love was the magic. It was the one thing that Owen Prescott couldn't destroy. No matter how many lies he told or how many lives he took. The love would live on.
Forever.
Loralee was right. The future was an unwritten page, and the only thing standing in her way was her own fear. Fear had kept her locked inside herself, unwilling to give life—to give love—a chance. It had trapped her in the tunnel, almost taking her life.
Michael's love had carried her safely out of the dark, but now it was up to her to take it the rest of the way. The decision washers. It had been all along. She had to believe in Michael, to believe in their love. In the end, if she'd let it, love truly would conquer all.
And suddenly, in the darkness of the cavern, in the flickering light of her candle, with two witnesses who'd long ago joined the ranks of the angels, Cara realized that no matter what tomorrow brought—past, present or future—her place was with Michael.
Always and forever.
She stumbled to her feet, heart pounding, praying that her epiphany hadn't come too late, that her fears hadn't contributed to Owen winning the day. With trembling hands, she felt along the rough hewn walls of the shaft, trying to find handholds, a way to climb out.
She had to reach Michael, to stop Owen from hurting him. She pushed up off of the floor of the mine shaft, her fingers jammed into a crevice, her other hand groping for purchase. She managed to climb a foot or so, before her hand met nothing but roughly shorn rock. Nothing to hang onto. She tried to cling to the wall, but her arms were too tired and she couldn't support herself.
With a cry of frustration, she let go, dropping back to the floor, the grinning skeletons a testament to her failure. She fought for control, but her nerves were shot. Michael was up there somewhere, alone with a madman. And there was nothing she could do.
Nothing at all.
"Cara?"A voice filtered down through the dark, and Cara's grief-numbed brain struggled to respond. "Cara?" It called again, its tone insistent, urgent.
Cara blinked, trying to focus, her brain finally clicking into gear. Michael. The voice belonged to Michael. Adrenaline surged on the wings of hope, and she scrambled to her feet, wincing as her weight hit the injured ankle, her eyes locked on the light shining from the top of the shaft. "I'm here. Michael, I'm here."
"Are you hurt?" The concern in Michael's voice carried down to her, washing through her, rejuvenating her.
"I'm fine. It's just… Is Owen there?"
"He's dead." The words drifted down to her and she felt a rush of relief.
"Cara?" Michael's voice was gentle. "I'm going for the rope. I'll be right back. Hang on, sweetheart."
The light disappeared and she settled back onto the floor of the shaft, leaning back against the hard wall. Everything was going to be all right. Owen Prescott was dead.
Michael was safe. It was finally over.
"Just a few more feet,"Michael called.
Cara could see his face now. It was strained from the effort of pulling her out, but it had never looked so wonderful. With one last tug, she was up and over, arms pulling her onto the rocky floor of the tunnel. She rolled onto her back, gasping for breath, and smiled up at the three pairs of eyes staring down at her. Loralee, Patrick and Michael. All present and accounted for.
She sat up slowly and began to fumble with the knotted rope around her waist, her hands shaking too badly to accomplish much of anything. Michael knelt beside her, his hands covering hers. "I'll do it."
With something approaching reverence, he untied the knot and slid the rope away, his hands leaving a trail of fire wherethey touched. With a groan, he pulled her forward, settling her on his lap, his lips taking possession of hers. She opened her mouth, drinking in the taste of him, knowing she would never be able to get enough of him.
"Uh hmm." Patrick cleared his throat loudly. "Not to interrupt, but I think we ought to think about getting out of here." As if in echo of the sentiment, the mine walls began to rumble ominously, the noise crescendoing and then dying away. "All the shooting has made things a bit unstable." Patrick pointed at a timber that had cracked. Dirt was trickling from the ceiling.
Cara scrambled to her feet, reaching into the pocket of her jeans. "Wait a minute. You need to see this." She handed Rose's ring to Michael. He stood up and held it to the light.
"My God, was this—" He looked down into the dark shaft.
"Yes, I… I took it off her finger, I figured she'd want you to have it." What had seemed right in the dark of the mineshaft, suddenly felt really wrong in the flickering light of the tunnel.
Michael handed the ring to his brother and pulled Cara into his arms. "You did the right thing. She can rest now."
"Is she alone down there?" Loralee's question was low, almost unintelligible.
Cara broke away from Michael and reached for her great grandmother's hand. "No. Zach was there, too. At least I'm assuming it's Zach."
