Songbird(41)

“You almost died. You did die,” Greer said bleakly “He shot you in the chest. You lost an enormous amount of blood and the bullet nicked your lung. Damn lucky it missed your heart.”

“I take it I’m out of the woods now?”

“No,” Taggert clipped out. “There’s still risk of infection, pneumonia and a whole host of other complications. You’re going to be here a good while, and even when you get to go home, it’s going to be a long recovery.”

She sighed. “Guess you two will have to hover, huh.”

“Damn straight,” Greer said.

She squeezed both their hands with as much strength as she possessed, which wasn’t much. “I’m not going anywhere. Promise. I have it on good authority it’s not my time.”

“That’s good since we don’t have any intention of letting you go,” Taggert said gruffly.

“Think you can put up with me for the next fifty years or so?”

“Fifty years is only the beginning, Emmy.” Greer leaned over and brushed his lips over her forehead. “It’s only the beginning.”

Taggert touched the inside of her wrist then lifted her hand to kiss each fingertip. “I’m kind of liking the sound of forever.”

Lightness bubbled even amidst the pain raging through her body. For the first time in a year, her future looked bright and free of the shadows that had haunted her soul.

Her smiled came easier this time and was missing the agony caused by her wounds. She glanced between the two men and saw some of their worry ease.

“I can deal with forever.”

Greer took her lips in a gentle kiss. “We’re going to hold you to that.”

Epilogue

The delighted squeal of four-year-old Macy, as she bolted from the back porch, put matching smiles on her fathers’ faces. Taggert swung her high into the air before settling her atop his shoulders. Her chubby little hands smacked against his cheeks as she held on for dear life.

“Hey, short stuff. Your mama still writing?”

“Uh huh. She’s talking to herself again.”

Taggert looked at the swing on the porch to see Emily hunched over her guitar, pencil between her teeth and a notepad on her lap. It was a pretty funny sight given the advanced stage of her pregnancy and the fact that her lap wasn’t near what it used to be.

He swung Macy down then tossed her into the air to Greer who caught her as she screeched in approval.

“Do it again! Do it again!”

Greer tucked her under one arm and mounted the steps to the porch. Emily looked up and let the pencil fall from her mouth.

“You’re back!”

The welcome in her eyes never failed to turn Taggert’s heart over in a series of somersaults.

“You must be deep in your writing if you couldn’t hear Macy’s squeals. I’m pretty sure they heard her in Canada,” Taggert said.

She smiled at the wiggling bundle in Greer’s grasp. “I’m trying to get this song finished today. Words are coming faster than I can get them down.”

Taggert sat on the swing next to Emily and brushed a kiss across her temple. Then he let his hand slide over the swollen mound of her belly. The baby rolled, causing a ripple in her dress.

“How is the little one today?”

She smiled and her entire face lit up as she covered his hand with her own. “He’s good. He’s been up all afternoon. I’m hoping that means he’s getting his days and nights back in order.”

“God, me too,” Greer muttered. “Would be nice to sleep at night.”

Emily leveled a stare at Greer. “I’m the one he keeps up at night, thank you very much.”

Taggert chuckled. “And you, in turn, keep us up, thank you very much.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry. It’s hell being eight months pregnant. I figure if I must suffer then so should you.”

Greer sat in one of the rockers and plopped Macy into his lap. “You hear that, short stuff? Your mama has a mean streak in her.”

“Daddy mean, Mama nice.”

Both Greer and Taggert jerked their heads up in surprise at that announcement. Emily had the grace to flush. Then she laughed and made a shushing sound at Macy.

“You, my dear, have a big mouth.”

“Ah so Mama has been spreading propaganda,” Greer said with a grin.

“It’s never too early to teach them the way of things,” Emily said primly.

Taggert chuckled and pulled Emily into his side. She let the guitar slide forward and propped the end against her leg. A breeze elicited a shiver from her, and she snuggled a little closer.

He sighed, and it was the sound of a deeply contented man. Life was good. He wasn’t the sort to get all maudlin, but even he had to stop every once in a while and marvel at the gifts he’d been given.

The rapid bump bump against his side had him looking down.

“Active little rascal isn’t he?”

Macy slid from Greer’s lap and crawled onto Taggert’s.

“His name is Sean,” she pronounced.

Emily, Taggert and Greer all shared a bittersweet smile. There had never been any doubt that their son would have Sean’s name. Emily had shared the experience she’d had when she’d hovered between life and death in the hospital as she’d lain recovering from the extensive wounds.