Page 75 of Coming Home

The phone slipped from his hands. He didn’t try to retrieve it. Dropping to his knees, he placed his hand on the wound in his shoulder and pressed hard. His other hand took Ainsley’s.

“It’s all right, babe. We’re going to be all right.”

EPILOGUE

PARIS—FIVE MONTHS LATER

Jackson awoke, his shoulder stiff as usual. Ainsley snuggled close to him, her warmth a balm to his body and soul.

He had been lucky. In so many ways.

The gunshot wound he’d suffered had led to soft tissue damage and massive bleeding, though no bone had shattered. Fortunately, Carter had been with Dylan when Jackson called for help and rushed to the bakery. With his EMT experience, Carter had been able to get the massive bleeding under control before the ambulance arrived to take both Jackson and Ainsley to the emergency room. Carter rode with them, giving the EMTs instructions and keeping Jackson calm.

His only concern had been for Ainsley.

Fortunately, the effects of the Rohypnol wore off, leaving her a bit groggy and confused for a day. At least, that’s what Willow had shared with him. He had been in surgery and recovery, unconscious during those hours. By the time he was awake and aware of his surroundings, Ainsley was by his side. She, like many victims of Rohypnol, didn’t recall anything that had happened between her and McGreer that day. It was all a blank. She had lost the entire week leading up to that fatal day, which Jackson thought was a blessing in disguise.

His wife did experience a tremendous amount of guilt, though, allowing Gerard McGreer into their lives. It was Tenley who had convinced Ainsley to go into therapy to work out those issues. She had seen a therapist for three months after the incident and now had come to terms with what had happened.

Jackson wasn’t charged with killing McGreer, or Anthony Abbott, his legal name when he died. It was a clear act of self-defense. While Ainsley had encouraged Jackson to also speak with a therapist, he had no issues to resolve. No anxiety or nightmares. No depression or anger, all normal feelings which could be caused by such a traumatic event. Jackson had done what he needed to do to save his wife’s life.

And he would do it a thousand times over if he had to.

Fortunately, his friends had taken the reins and worked a set of miracles for them. By the time he left the hospital, it was to return to their new, furnished home. Rylie and Gage had done the walkthrough with Pete, approving the work the contractor had done, and Rylie and Willow met the moving van that Monday. When Jackson and Ainsley returned home, it was to a house filled with furniture arranged to their taste. The refrigerator and pantry were stocked. The linen closet filled. Their clothes hung in the closets and were placed in the drawers. Beds were made. And to their surprise, Willow had hung one of her paintings over the fireplace and placed one of Boo’s sculptures in their den.

They didn’t change a thing.

Carter had provided meals for a week, bringing them over hot and fresh. He had also stocked the freezer with another week’s worth, and they ate off that, as well. Jackson did rehab with his shoulder and continued to train with Gage, though their regimen had changed somewhat because of his injury. It continued to morph based upon Jackson’s progress.

He and Ainsley had settled into a routine once more. The bakery had its busiest summer since its opening. His law practice continued to attract new clients. They had even been able to hold Clancy’s birthday at their home on the Fourth of July.

Now, though, they were on their delayed honeymoon.

Jackson had thought from the beginning to bring Ainsley to Paris once tourist season on the Oregon coast ended. He had never been abroad and knew how much the city meant to her. They had left for two weeks in France, some days staying in the city, others taking day trips to places such as Versailles, Mont St. Michel, and Normandy. They had hit all the usual tourist attractions. The Louvre. Notre-Dame and the Eiffel Tower. The opera house and Arc de Triomphe. They had also gone to museums and markets. Out-of-the-way bistros and cafés. He had become a fan of pot au feu and coq au vin, and also desserts such as tarte tatin and mille-feuille, and Ainsley promised to make him both pastries once they returned home.

Today, they would finish up their stay with a tour of the Paris catacombs and a final stroll—with a bit of shopping—along the Champs-Elysees.

Jackson felt his wife begin to stir. Moments later, she pressed a kiss to his chest.

“Good morning, Mr. Martin,” she said sleepily.

“Good morning, Mrs. Martin. And Baby Martin,” he added, not bothering to hide his grin.

He placed his palm against her belly, only now with a slight bulge. She was twelve weeks along today, and they would tell their family and friends of the pregnancy once they returned to the Cove.

“Do you hope for a boy or a girl?” she asked.

“Either.” He grinned. “Maybe it’s both.”

She laughed, a sound that brought joy to him. Jackson kissed her. The kiss heated up, and soon he was making love to the woman who had changed his life for the better. He loved to hear all the sweet noises she made as she came. Most of all, he enjoyed cradling her in his arms when they finished. He had never felt closer to anyone than he did Ainsley in those moments right after they made love together.

“I don’t think it’s twins,” she said. “They don’t run in my family. Do they in yours?”

“Not that I know,” he replied, nuzzling her throat. “I’m just thrilled to be a dad. And your husband. Those are the best roles I’ll ever play.”

“I hope he or she has your athletic ability. And my baking smarts, of course.”

He chuckled. “Now that would be a perfect child. I hope he or she has your blond hair.”

“And your sunny smile. I think I fell in love with your smile even before I fell in love with you,” she told him.

Jackson looked down at his wife. “You make me want to smile all the time.”

He kissed her deeply, knowing their love—and family—would grow in the coming years.

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