The Mist

Chapter 31

Boston, Massachusetts

6:30 p.m., EDT

August 27

Owen took Abigail’s hand and led her into a large, spacious apartment in the renovated building on the South Boston waterfront that was to be the new headquarters for Fast Rescue. She stood at the tall windows overlooking the harbor. Jeremiah Rush had set aside rooms for everyone at the Whitcomb on Charles Street, and the E.R. doctor had told her to rest. But she’d wanted to come here.

“There are two apartments here that we can choose from,” Owen said, staying close to her, “or we can renovate the house on Beacon Street. I don’t care where we live. I just want to be with you.”

She leaned against him. “We’re lucky. We have each other. We have friends, families…”

Owen seemed to understand what she meant. “Norman Estabrook made his choices, Abigail. So did the men with him.”

She thought of Myles Fletcher coming to her on the yacht that first time and had to fight back tears. Was he safe now? Was he safe ever?

“Abigail…”

“I’m not going to feel sorry for myself over what happened. It wasn’t good, but…” She smiled at this man she loved. “I’m here with you now, and that’s enough. I knew you were there for me. With me. The whole time.”

“I’d have traded places with you in a heartbeat.”

“Maybe things worked out the way they were meant to.” She watched a large yacht sailing out into the harbor. “I was so sick on that damn boat. I tried not to let myself think I might be pregnant. But when Fletcher said it, I knew.”

She felt Owen’s arm tighten around her, but he didn’t speak. The doctor in the E.R. had confirmed that she was pregnant. Four weeks. They’d have a spring baby.

“I loved Chris with all my heart. If he’d lived…” Abigail thought of the man she’d married and lost so long ago. “The memory of him is good. He’ll be a part of my life forever.”

“I know, babe,” Owen said. “I’m glad for that.”

She turned to him. “I love you.”

“Then let’s have a wedding.”

“Will Davenport offered us the use of his house in Scotland. Anytime. Owen, I don’t want to wait another second, never mind months…even days…”

Owen smiled. “Good, because I told Will to cut the grass. We’re coming. I can’t wait any longer, either.”

She touched his mouth with her fingertips. “My cuts and bruises are superficial. I’ll be fine…”

He kissed her on the forehead. “Just being with you is enough.” He held her and smiled again. “Bob’s going to Ireland with his daughters and Keira for Christmas. Telling him he’s invited to a wedding in Scotland -”

“Oh.” Abigail’s face hurt, but it felt good to laugh. “This’ll be fun.”

Will spoke to Josie from the Garrison house on Beacon Hill. Simon was pacing in the near-empty drawing room, periodically pausing to stare at Keira’s sketches of the Dublin windowbox and her Celtic stone angel.

“Did he die a clean death this time?” Josie asked.

“He’s a phoenix, our Myles.”

“Our?”

Silence. She knew now. There was no more doubt.

“I’m still in Ireland,” she said, her voice cracking, “but Arabella and I are having tea upon my return to London. Your baby sister is quite worried about you.”

“Tell her to get her needle and thread ready.”

“You and Lizzie Rush?”

His heart almost stopped, but he said, “Abigail Browning and Owen Garrison are having their wedding at my house in Scotland in a few days.”

“Ah. Well, then.”

Simon obviously couldn’t stand it any longer and took the phone. “Hello, Moneypenny. Any chance you can get me to Ireland? I want to leave in the next ten seconds.”

Will smiled. Knowing Josie Goodwin, she had a plane already waiting at the Boston airport for him.