Chapter Thirteen

They were married in the Methodist Church in Jacobsville by Pastor Jake Blair, with a building full of friends of both bride and groom. Eb and his family were in the front row as Cal and Amelia said their vows.

There was a huge reception in the fellowship hall with, sadly, no riot, as lamented by Police Chief Cash Grier, who had warm memories of one when local DA Blake Kemp married his secretary, Violet. Liquor had been allowed, and the ensuing mayhem was remembered with humor by most of the participants. Grier, especially.

They honeymooned in Jamaica, in a hotel in Montego Bay. Their room opened onto the beach, where they took a midnight stroll before finally ending the day in the appropriate manner.

It was like six years ago. Amelia was shy at first, but Cal knew how to cope with that. A few kisses later, she was helping him get the fabric out of the way.

"I never forgot...how it felt," she whispered as his mouth lowered to her breasts.

"Neither did I," he groaned. "Not once. Oh, God, this is so...sweet!"

"Sweet," she moaned, holding on tight as she felt him move between her parted legs. "Sweet!"

He wanted to take ages with her, but it had been a long time between women. "I'm truly sorry," he began to apologize as his movements became insistent.

"You don't need to be sorry," she whispered back, shifting as their positions became suddenly intimate and hectic. "Just...hurry!" she said on a laugh and a groan, all at once.

She closed her eyes as the fever burned high and bright, almost incandescent as it brought waves of pleasure, each one taking them higher and higher, until finally, at the culmination, they both cried out at the intensity of fulfillment.

For a long time they stayed like that, just holding each other as the sound of the waves crashing on the shore became audible.

"Was it that sweet before?" he whispered huskily.

"I'm not sure." Her long leg slid against his. "Can we do it again and make sure it was?"

"With pleasure...!"

They stayed for a week, bringing home memories of moonlit nights and feverish passion interspersed with sightseeing and souvenirs.

The ranch house was laden with food the day they came home, courtesy of neighbors and friends.

Rick Marquez and his wife and daughters, and baby son, came to greet them, along with his mother, Barbara, who owned Barbara's Café, and her friend, the ex-mobster and now policeman Fred Baldwin.

"And if that's not enough, you just let me know," Barbara added, hugging them both before they left.

They surveyed the kitchen table with its huge platters of food.

"We can last until Christmas at least," Cal remarked.

"Maybe New Year's," she seconded.

They laughed and started putting away food.

The captain's new wife fascinated his officers. Every time she visited, she was whisked into the canteen to be quizzed about her former job.

A lot of the questions came from Clancey Banks, who had at one time been Cal's secretary and was still like a young sister to him. Clancey and Amelia got on famously. So did she and Clancey's baby brother, Tad.

Clancey had a new baby boy. She and her husband, Colter, were frequent visitors at Cal's ranch, which gave Amelia a chance to hold the baby. Cal did his share of that, too.

One afternoon, when the Banks had gone home, Amelia sat in Cal's lap on the porch in the rocking chair reminiscing about the baby.

"Babies are nice," he commented.

She smiled. "Yes, and holding Clancey's is good practice for you."

"It is?" he asked, his eyes on one of his prize Santa Gertrudis cattle grazing in the nearby pasture.

She held a plastic stick under his nose.

He looked at it. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

"It's the right color," she said mischievously.

"The right..." His brain clicked. One and one made two. "You're pregnant?" he exclaimed, so loudly that the cow raised her head and stared at him.

"Oh, yes, very pregnant," she said, grinning.

He got up with her in his arms, rocking her, fighting tears. "Miracles," he whispered as he bent to kiss her hungrily. "Everyday miracles."

"Yes," she agreed and nuzzled close. "Love doesn't die. No matter how hard you hit it."

He chuckled. "Truly. But we aren't hitting it anymore."

"Never again." She reached her arms around his neck. "I hope you don't mind that I sometimes remember how much fun it was to blow up stuff before I did it for a living?"

"Not if you don't mind if I occasionally remember how much fun it was to dream about being a mercenary."

"The reality is less fulfilling than the anticipation," she agreed. "Except when it comes to having babies."

He grinned. "I agree wholeheartedly." He kissed her warmly. "I'll love you until I die. And then some."

She searched his black eyes. "And I'll love you until I die. And then some. Aren't we the two luckiest people in the whole world?"

He nodded. He kissed her. "And then some," he teased.