Chapter 7 - The Memory of the Rain
The autumn rain returned by nightfall, tapping a soft, rhythmic lullaby against the vast windows of the master suite.
The chaos had finally cleared. The police cars, the attorneys, the federal marshals—all had vanished into the wet darkness. Felice Lancaster was sitting in a county holding cell without bail, charged with extortion, aggravated kidnapping, and evidence tampering. Her father’s political career was disintegrating by the hour across cable news chyrons.
Inside the quiet sanctuary of the manor, however, none of that mattered.
A fire crackled warmly in the massive stone hearth of the master bedroom. Leo was fast asleep in the center of the king-sized bed, surrounded by soft pillows, his breathing deep, steady, and miraculously clear thanks to the advanced intravenous medication administered by the city specialists Duncan had flown in.
Anwen sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gently smoothing Leo’s hair. She had showered; her hair was clean and soft, falling over her shoulders in rich chestnut waves. She wore a soft cream cashmere sweater Duncan had brought her.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
Duncan stood in the doorway, carrying a small silver tray with two cups of herbal tea. He had discarded his tie and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. He looked exhausted, but the hard, impenetrable tension that had defined him for five years had completely dissolved from his face.
"He’s sleeping well," Duncan said softly, placing the tray on the nightstand.
"The doctor said his oxygen levels are back to normal," Anwen whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I haven't heard him breathe this easily since he was a baby."
Duncan sat down beside her on the bed. His presence was warm, grounding, and immense. He looked at his son’s peaceful face for a long time, then turned his gaze to Anwen.
"I remember," Duncan said quietly.
Anwen froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She slowly lifted her eyes to his. "What did you say?"
Duncan reached up, his large, calloused fingers gently cupping her cheek. His touch was so tender, so full of reverence, that a fresh wave of tears spilled over Anwen’s lashes.
"When I was standing in the pool, holding your wages," Duncan said, his voice rough with emotion. "When I saw the sheer terror in your eyes—not for yourself, but for our child—something broke open in my mind."
He leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against hers.
"A small stone cottage in the Swiss Alps," Duncan whispered, his voice trembling. "It was raining. Just like tonight. We had taken the weekend off from the logistics tour. You were making tea on an old gas stove, laughing because the roof was leaking into an enamel pot. You turned around, and you told me you were pregnant."
Anwen let out a small, broken cry, covering her mouth with her trembling hand.
"I bought a ring that afternoon," Duncan continued, tears glistening in his own dark eyes. "A sapphire ring from a small jeweler in Bern. I had it in my coat pocket when we drove down the mountain. When the truck crossed the center line... I reached across the console to shield you. That was the last thing I remembered."
"You remembered," she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. "You remembered me."
Duncan pulled her tightly into his arms, burying his face in her hair, his powerful chest heaving with silent, profound sobs. "I’m sorry, Anwen. God, I’m so sorry. I let them hurt you. I let you scrub the floors of my own home while I walked past you like a blind fool. I will spend the rest of my life making it right. I swear it to you."
"You saved him, Duncan," Anwen cried against his skin. "You jumped into that water. You brought him home. That’s all that matters. That’s all that will ever matter."
From the center of the bed, a tiny rustle interrupted them.
Leo rubbed his eyes, blinking up at the two adults wrapped around each other. "Mommy? Are you crying because you’re sad?"
Duncan pulled back slightly, keeping one arm securely around Anwen’s waist, and extended his other hand to scoop the little boy into the circle of their embrace.
May you like
"No, buddy," Duncan said, his voice thick with joy as he kissed his son’s cheek. "She’s crying because we’re finally home."
***