As the four of them ate, Holly and Creed were quiet while Cathy and Michael chattered, catching up on all they hadn’t been able to tell each other in the last several months. Michael kept going back to wedding plans, but Cathy’s conversation jumped from the cases they’d taken in his absence to Juliet’s grief and strength after her husband’s death to what had happened today.
When they finished, Holly cleaned up the leftovers, put them in the fridge, and began to hand wash the utensils they’d used. Creed had taken Lily out of her car seat, and he held her now, awe softening his features. “Is it okay if I just hold her while she sleeps?” he asked.
Holly smiled. “Sure, it’s okay.”
“She’s satisfied and content,” he said. “Isn’t it all amazing?”
Holly dried her hands and looked back at him. “Isn’t what amazing?”
“That you can provide exactly the amount of nutrition it takes to satisfy her.”
Holly nodded. “The first few days of her life, Juliet never stopped pointing out to me all the ways God designed mothers so perfectly to nurture their children. Like the whole pregnancy thing. Everything the baby needs to grow and flourish for nine months. The way childbirth releases hormones that set things in motion—everything from a mother’s attachment to her child, to the milk coming in. Did you know that a mother has contractions after birth, when she hears her baby crying? Her body physically responds. Just hearing Lily cry makes my hormones scream out. I can’t stand it until I pick her up.”
Creed hung on every word. She pulled out a barstool and offered it to him. He slipped onto it, swaying slightly with the baby. Holly pulled out another one and sat next to him. She smiled and touched the crown of Lily’s head.
“Did you have a hard pregnancy?” he asked softly.
She shrugged. “It was okay. Had some morning sickness, but that was the least of my worries.”
“Why?”
She breathed a laugh. “I was mostly just horrified at first.”
“So did she kick a lot? Keep you awake nights? My sister didn’t sleep the last two weeks of her pregnancy. She would bite your head off if you spoke to her.”
Holly smiled. “I probably did that too. Yes, she kicked a lot. She likes her space. It was like she was trying to stretch out more room. She weighed seven pounds three ounces. She’s about nine pounds now.”
He looked down at the baby as if considering every ounce. “Was the delivery hard?”
“It was okay. My sisters were there. They would never have let me go through that alone.”
He nodded. “My family’s kind of like that.” He looked at his daughter again, shook his head. Tears welled up in his eyes.
Holly looked away, but her gaze gravitated back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he worked at his mouth, trying to get his voice. “I just . . . I can’t believe I’ve let them down the way I have. Humiliated them. They wanted so much more for me. Believe it or not, they had higher dreams than for me to become a coke dealer.”
“Don’t apologize for feeling bad about that,” she whispered. “I’ve been there. So what was Plan A?”
“For me, or for them?” He wiped his eyes with his thumb and laughed. “They wanted me to be an astrophysicist or the guy who cures cancer. I just wanted to be independent, so I ditched college and moved out. My dad always thought I was good with wood like him, so he tried to get me to go to trade school to be a carpenter. I could have worked for him. Instead I became a waiter, only the tips weren’t enough, probably because I was always getting high instead of working. I didn’t want to work for my dad because I knew what he’d expect of me.”
“You must have made enough to pay rent, right?”
“Not really. That’s when I decided to sell a little coke—just to my friends who were going to buy anyway. It was fast, easy cash. So I sold more and more. But the people I was dealing with started to scare me. I told my supplier I was quitting. I couldn’t handle it anymore, even if I had to move back with my parents. Right after that the drug bust happened. I probably would’ve been there that day if I hadn’t already quit, which is why Miller and his people got suspicious of me. Figured I had unloaded to the DEA.”
“Did you tell the DEA?”
“No, I just wanted out. I wanted to start over. I thought I could until they tried to kill me.”
“Well, my sisters tell me that acknowledging where you went wrong is half the battle. You aren’t in denial about your part in it.”
He met her eyes. “You always make me feel better, Holly.”
Warmth rose to her cheeks. She glanced toward the kitchen door but didn’t see Michael and Cathy. They must have gone outside to the deck.
“You know,” Creed said, “there was a girl in high school I dated a couple times. A girl I really liked. She had this pink stripe in her platinum-blonde hair . . .”
“Like mine used to be.”
“That’s why I was drawn to you. She deigned to go out with me twice, only she threw me over for some dude who played guitar. She told somebody I was boring.”
“Boring? If she could see you now.”
“Yeah. She wound up serving ten years in jail for grand larceny.”
“No way.”
“Last time I saw her mug shot, she didn’t look that attractive. Still had some of the pink stripe, you know, but it didn’t look quite so edgy anymore.” His smile faded. “The stupid things we do when we’re kids. Have I told you about the tattoo on my chest that looks like a bad picture of a phoenix rising out of the ashes? It was the name of my band I had for about six months. Horrible band. The tattoo artist was a friend who swore he knew what he was doing. Came out bad. Now I hate to take off my shirt.”
Holly slipped her shoe off and pulled down her sock. “Here’s my embarrassment.”
He winced. “What is that?”
“It used to be a Chinese phrase, only I didn’t know what it said. Found out later when a Chinese friend read it to me. It’s pretty much the worst obscenity they have in Mandarin. Yep, I had it inked on my body because it looked so interesting. When I found out, I had another tattoo artist black it out. So now I have a thick black line along the side of my foot. Looks like I stepped in tar.”
His eyes met hers again, soft, serious, his laughter fading to a gentle smile. “The girl of my dreams.”
She matched that smile. “You should dream bigger.”
“It’s not the tattoo,” he said. “It’s the confusion. The mistakes.”
“The failures?”
“Not that you did them, but that you see backward so clearly. Like me.”
“Yeah, I do a lot of things backward.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re doing better now. You own a house, right? You support yourself?”
“Yeah, driving a taxi.”
“And working as a private eye. Don’t sell yourself short. That’s pretty impressive.”
She thought about that for a moment. “I guess I’m just not that into impressing anybody anymore. I never thought I’d be able to do something I like so much and get paid for it. Private investigating work seems like something I do just for fun, you know? Maybe soon I can quit driving the cab and live off the PI work, especially now that Michael’s out.”
“And you’re a great mom. A really, really great mom.”
Her smile faded and she felt a knot in her throat, tears gathering in her eyes.
He took her hand, looked down at it. “I want to do better,” he said. “I really do want to start over.”
“It’s not too late,” she whispered.
“I don’t know, Holly. I’ve done some bad things.”
“So have I.”
“Michael told me I could redeem myself. I’m going to try.”
“Are you sure he said you could redeem yourself? Because I’m not sure you can do it yourself,” Holly said. “Michael would tell you that it has nothing to do with you. That redemption comes from what Christ did on the cross. Taking our punishmen
t for all the messes we’ve made. That the blood he shed for us was enough to wash us clean.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Blood washing us clean. Interesting concept.”
“Yeah, but I believe it.” She stopped and thought about how to say it. “It’s like . . . once I trusted that Jesus’ death for me was enough . . . well, then I stopped hating myself and wallowing in guilt, and I started over, like someone who was fresh and clean. Someone who had a shot at life. And God . . . he’s sent me a trail of bread crumbs to guide me, you know? And trust me, I needed a lot of crumbs. I still feel insecure and inferior sometimes, and that guilt pops back up, reminding me what I was.”
Lily started to stir and whimpered a little. Creed handed her to Holly, and she settled back down.
“You think he’d send me some crumbs?” he whispered.
Holly stroked Lily’s back. “I know he would.”
“Do you think God has given up on me?”
She had asked that same question so many times. The familiarity of it filled her eyes with tears. “No, Creed. I used to think he was disgusted with me too, but sometimes he gives things back that we lost. He restores things. And I don’t know . . . I just get the feeling that he’s not mad at me. He wants better for me, and for you. He wants us to know peace. I bet he has big plans for you. He sure does for me.”
“Wow. Big plans. That’s something to get my head around. Sometimes it just feels like the end of the road. Like I’ve used up all those big plans.”
“You haven’t.”
Creed wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb. “You’re a better person than I am.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
Another tear fell, and his own eyes misted. “Holly, I’m sorry for treating you . . . the way I did last year. You’re a really cool person, and I missed out.”
“I even had pink hair and everything.”
More laughter.
Holly shrugged. “I treated myself with disrespect. You were just following my lead.”
He slid off the stool and stroked Lily’s hair. “I don’t want to miss out anymore,” he said. “I know things are complicated . . . with you and Lily . . . my part in her life . . . my legal mess. But I really want to get to know you better.”
Their eyes locked for a long moment, then finally he leaned in and kissed her. Holly closed her eyes, melted at his touch, amazed that it felt so natural, so right . . .
What would her sisters say? Was she being stupid again, or was this a sweet provision that God was granting her? A way to give her daughter the father she hadn’t expected? A way to fill in the blanks of her own broken life?
Was she following more bread crumbs, or straying off the path?
Holly wasn’t sure, but she didn’t pull away.
And when it was time to leave with Cathy, Holly kept it to herself. The kiss left her confused and strangely happy.
CHAPTER 46
He’s going to put a target on your back, you know,” Cathy said as Michael drove to the police department. “I’m just feeling a little nervous.”
“Then we need to catch him, get all this behind us. We’ll get Holly and Juliet and my dad at the office today after we leave the department, and strategize our next moves.”
Cathy couldn’t help the anxiety coursing through her. She had even worried about Michael driving his own car, but he’d been aching to get back behind the wheel. He’d insisted on driving himself, picking up Cathy on the way in. At least he was armed. Early that morning, Max had gone by the safe house to return the rest of Michael’s weapons to him. Now he wore his belt holster and a shin holster, prepared for any encounter with Miller now that the man knew Michael was out. Cathy rejoiced that he’d been reinstated as a functioning, even necessary member of society, but the other part of her—the part who loved him and was weary from this long fight with Miller—dreaded the dangerous confrontations that would make weapons necessary.
“Are you sure Creed will be okay? I don’t like having his escorts know where the house is.”
“I know those two guys, and Max is close to them. We both trust them. Max wouldn’t have sent anyone to escort Creed in who might give away our location. He doesn’t want to lose another brother.”
Cathy hoped he was right. Creed had a few more hours of questioning this morning, and Miller and his men would probably stop at nothing to shut him up.
She saw the police department coming up on their left, but Michael wasn’t slowing. “You missed the turn.”
“Nope,” he said. “I’m not going there yet.”
“Where are we going?”
He grinned. “I was thinking we could apply for our marriage license, since we have a little time before Creed gets here. It’s just a block down the street. We’re practically there already. Later today, we can go shop for that ring.”
Her heaviness lifted, and she smiled. “Yes, let’s get our license. But not the ring. We don’t have time for that. Not today.”
“But what kind of man doesn’t buy his fiancée an engagement ring?”
“One who cares more about the marriage than the diamond. One who’s just gotten out of jail and has a killer to hunt down.”
“All very good points,” he said. “But I’m still getting you a ring.”
“Fine. But later, when we don’t have a murder investigation hanging over our heads.”
He slowed and turned into the courthouse parking lot. “You realize getting the license starts the clock, don’t you? You’ll have to marry me within a certain time frame, whatever it is, or the license will expire.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “I’m ready to start the clock.”
They drove down four buildings and found a space in the parking lot across from Bay County Courthouse. Holding hands, they crossed the street and ran up the steps.
They took selfies as they hurried up the hall to the clerk of court’s office, laughed as they applied for their marriage license. The clerk didn’t seem to appreciate their good moods.
“So we could get married immediately now?” Michael asked as he signed the application.
“Not unless you’re from out of state.”
Cathy frowned, wondering if the clerk hadn’t noticed their local addresses. “We’re residents.”
“Then you have to wait three days after application before you can get married.”
“So residents are penalized?”
“Not a penalty,” the woman said. “Just a requirement. How do you plan to pay?”
Cathy glanced at Michael, amused. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that narrowed her eyes, and she had shaved her eyebrows and drawn them back in in a perpetually startled expression. The stubble of her real eyebrows had begun to grow back in. Her face glistened with perspiration.
“Cash,” Michael said. “Will that be okay?”
“Yes,” the woman said, peering past them toward the door, as if they didn’t warrant a look in the eye.
Michael handed her the cash. “It’s hot in here. I don’t know how you stand it, constantly on your feet when it’s eighty-something degrees in here.”
The woman’s hardness vanished. “The AC has been out all day. They’re trying to get it fixed, but it’s a hundred degrees outside. They should just close the offices if they can’t get it fixed.”
“Well, we appreciate your being open,” he said. “We’ll consider naming our first child after you.”
The woman managed a grin. “You don’t want to do that. My name is Matilda.”
“I like it,” Cathy teased.
Matilda seemed much more pleasant as she gave them a receipt, then printed out the license. As she shoved it into a white envelope, Cathy handed her her phone. “Would you mind taking a picture of us with the license, Matilda?”
“Sure,” she said with a long sigh. She handed them the license and took the camera. Cathy and Michael posed.
They thanked her, and as they turned to leave, she actually sa
id, “Congratulations.”
“I think we won her over,” Cathy said as they stepped into the hallway. “You’re such a charmer.”
“Not an easy task. She made me sweat.”
“And here I thought you were getting cold feet.”
“Fat chance. With the AC out, no wonder she’s in a bad mood.”
“Yeah, glad we’re not getting married outside.”
They stepped out onto the steps of the building, muggy hot air enveloping them. He slowed and kissed her. “We’re one step closer to being Mr. and Mrs. Michael Hogan,” he said. “I like the sound of that. Mrs. Hogan. My wife.”
Cathy had liked the idea of being Mrs. Hogan back when she’d been engaged to Joe, but that seemed like so long ago—decades rather than three years—and it felt as though Michael had always been the love of her life. From the foundation of the world, Juliet would have said in her Bible-quoting way. But it felt true.
He kissed her again, lifted her and spun her around. A week ago she had thought their marriage was months away. Now it could be just days. Gratitude brought tears to her eyes.
He took her hand and they crossed the street toward his car. “Why don’t you start the car remotely,” she asked. “Get that AC going.”
He pulled his key fob out of his pocket. “I will if this thing still works.” He held it up and clicked it to start the car. They heard a deafening pop, then a whoosh. Hot wind blasted them back, the smell of tarry smoke . . .
“Get down!” Michael threw her behind a concrete light pole, pulled her down. Flames and black smoke billowed up from the area where they were parked. “Is that your car?” she shouted.
“I don’t know.”
When the explosion was over, leaving only flames and black, billowing smoke, they got up. Michael took her hand and pulled her farther away, as if he feared another explosion. Heat and smoke hazed around them. They heard the sounds of sirens from the fire department two blocks down. They reached the edge of the parking lot and turned to watch.
“It was your car!” Cathy cried. “Michael, it was a bomb!”
Michael just stood there staring, keenly aware that he could’ve easily been behind the wheel cranking the engine on his own when the explosion went off. That was the intent. He and Cathy were meant to be dead. He looked down at the key fob, still in his hand. Starting the car remotely had saved their lives.