Chapter 9 - The Castle on the Ridge
Six months later, the great lawn of Casco Ridge was covered in white tents, white linen, and the sound of forty children laughing near the ocean cliffs.
The summer sun warmed the granite terraces, turning the Atlantic into a sheet of glittering sapphire. The scent of roasting lamb, fresh lobster, and sea spray filled the air.
In the center of the lawn, a large volleyball net had been set up.
Malcolm Reeve—wearing a remarkably cheerful Hawaiian shirt over his heavily scarred shoulder—was currently arguing with Jonah over whether the trajectory of Jonah's last serve had violated official international regulation boundaries.
"It was out by three inches, Jonah," Malcolm insisted, holding a cold lemonade.
"Wind shear compensated for the arc, Malcolm," eleven-year-old Jonah countered, adjusting his new wire-rimmed glasses. "Aerodynamically, the ball was ninety percent within the perimeter line. According to maritime law, that constitutes territorial waters."
Nearby, Sylvie sat under a striped umbrella, surrounded by three of her middle school art friends, proudly showing them a portfolio of sketches that had just won her a summer scholarship to the Portland Museum of Art school.
Across the lawn, Declan—now taller, his shoulders filling out, his face healed and open—was patiently showing seven-year-old Peter how to throw a spiral with a football. Peter was laughing, wearing a navy sweater that fit him perfectly, his cheeks tanned and bright with health.
Inside the master suite overlooking the ocean, Fiona stood before the full-length mirror.
Her wedding dress was made of ivory silk, simple, elegant, and cut to perfection, trailing behind her like sea foam. Her dark hair was woven with tiny white baby's breath flowers.
A tiny knock sounded at the door.
Minnie slipped inside, wearing a frilly yellow flower-girl dress that was already slightly stained with strawberry ice cream at the hem. She was holding a massive, pristine bouquet of bright yellow wild dandelions tied together with a thick white satin ribbon.
"Mommy," Minnie announced solemnly. "The scary man is outside. But he has shiny shoes."
Fiona laughed, kneeling down on the carpet despite her silk gown, and pulled her youngest daughter into her arms. "He has shiny shoes, does he?"
"Very shiny," Minnie nodded. "He said if I drop the flowers in the aisle, he's gonna buy me a pony."
"He said what?"
"A spotted one," Minnie added happily.
The door opened wider, and Roger Albani stepped into the room.
He wore a midnight-blue bespoke tuxedo with a black satin shawl collar. His blond hair was neatly styled, his pale eyes bright and clear in the afternoon light. When his gaze fell upon Fiona, he stopped completely in his tracks, the breath catching audibly in his throat.
"Minnie," Roger said without taking his eyes off Fiona. "Go find Declan. Tell him it's time."
"Okay, Daddy Roger!" Minnie chirped, skipping out the door with her yellow dandelions, leaving the door ajar.
Fiona stood up slowly, smoothing the silk over her hips, her eyes dancing with warm amusement. "You promised my five-year-old a pony?"
"I promised her two ponies if she doesn't eat the flowers before the altar," Roger murmured, crossing the room with his long, confident stride.
He stopped in front of her. His hands, large and warm, came up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones with an exquisite, reverent gentleness.
"You look..." Roger swallowed, shaking his head slightly. "I don't have words for what you look like, Fiona. Beautiful doesn't touch it."
"You cleaned up nicely yourself, Mr. Albani," she whispered, leaning into his touch.
Roger looked down at her, his pale eyes filled with a peace that had eluded him for nearly forty years.
"The port authorities finalized the new labor agreements this morning," he said softly. "The docks are clean. Thomas’s memorial foundation has funded twenty engineering scholarships for coastal kids. The past is finished, Fiona."
"And the future?" she asked, her hands resting over his lapels, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart beneath the silk.
"The future," Roger smiled—a real, radiant, devastating smile that transformed his scarred face into something magnificent—"is far too loud."
From the lawn below, the sudden, hilarious crash of a volleyball hitting Jonah’s architectural model echoed through the open windows, followed by Declan's triumphant roar and Sylvie’s theatrical scream of laughter.
Roger looked toward the window, then back at Fiona, his pale eyes glowing with absolute devotion.
"I warned you I was a dangerous man, Fiona Prescott," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were a breath away from hers.
Fiona tilted her chin up, wrapping her arms around his neck, her smile radiant and fearless.
May you like
"And I warned you I had five kids, Roger Albani," she whispered back. "And look who ended up running the house."
Roger laughed—a rich, deep, joyful sound that echoed out over the cliffs and mingled with the roar of the Atlantic surf—and pulled his wife into a kiss that sealed their safe harbor forever.
