Guarding Jeannie

Turning to his two faithful helpers, Reeves motioned them toward him. "She controls these children." He pointed at the four boys and two girls Jeannie had soothed with her touch. "They are useless to us. Take only the child you have with you, and go to your car. Wait for me outside." He looked at Justin, who had found his way to Jeannie and was holding on to her leg. "Take his hand, and bring him with you. And don't try any of your witchcraft on him. If you do, I'll have to destroy him when I destroy you."

"Please, don't—"

"Take his hand! Now!" Reeves screamed.

Jeannie lifted Justin's hand, grasping it firmly, then looked to Reeves for instructions.

Reeves placed his arm around her shoulders. "We'll walk into the hallway and through the school to the back door."

Jeannie nodded her agreement. Danette and her cohort left the room, taking Missy and Amelia Carson with them. Reeves stuck his gun in Jeannie's ribs, motioning her forward. With each step she took, Jeannie prayed. The moment she exited the cafeteria and entered the corridor, she felt Sam Dundee's presence. Dear God, how had he found her? And what was he going to do? Had he called Marta? Had she been unable to hide the truth from him?

Danette and the other woman left the building, Missy and Amelia with them. Halting abruptly halfway down the long central hallway, Reeves squeezed Jeannie's shoulder.

"Wait," he said.

Her breathing quickened. She clasped Justin's hand tightly. Whatever happened, she'd need to move at a moment's notice. If ever she had wished she could run, it was now.

"You and Justin will walk out in front of me," Reeves told her. "Just remember that I'll be right behind you, with a gun aimed at the boy."

Jeannie nodded, swallowed hard, squeezed Justin's hand and walked them toward the back door.

Grab Justin. Drop to the floor and roll into the open classroom on your left. Now! She heard Sam's orders as clearly as if he'd spoken. Not hesitating, she obeyed, grabbing Justin around the waist and throwing them both onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" Reeves fired his gun, but a big hand knocked the weapon upward, and the bullet lodged in the ceiling.

"Don't move a muscle," Sam Dundee said.

With her arms wrapped around Justin, protecting him with her body, Jeannie rolled them directly across the hall. Curling her body into a fetal position as she rolled, she tumbled them through the open classroom door. She caught a glimpse of the female-disguised Reeves, Sam Dundee towering behind him, his Ruger pointed directly at the reverend's head.

With his free hand, Sam jerked Reeves's wig off his head. "Looks like you've been caught in the act."

"Let me go, Dundee, or two innocent children will have to be sacrificed."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam flung the wig to the floor, then thrust his big arm around Reeves's neck, bringing the man's back up against his chest.

"Ask your precious little witch," Reeves said. "She'll tell you. Two of my disciples have potential sacrifices with them, and if I give the order to destroy these children for the greater good of the Righteous Light Church, they'll shoot them."

"Sam?" Jeannie called out to him silently. "Danette Suddath has her daughter, Missy, but I'm not sure she wouldn't harm her. And the other woman has Amelia—"

"All right, Reeves, let's you and me go outside," Sam said. "If what you say is true, I'll exchange you for the children."

Reeves's maniacal laughter reverberated in the hushed stillness of the corridor. "You give me Jeannie, and I'll give you the children."

Sam didn't hesitate before giving his reply. "No deal."

"Jeannie, Dundee is willing to sacrifice the children to save you!" Reeves shouted. "Is that what you want?"

"Sam?" she said aloud.

"Stay where you are. Trust me to handle this," Sam said.

Reeves taunted her. "Jeannie, I won't hesitate to sacrifice the children."

She didn't reply. Sam gave Maynard Reeves a tight jerk, choking him momentarily, then loosed his hold and shoved him toward the back door.

"Don't try to screw around with me, you son of a bitch." Sam growled the words in a low whisper, meaning them to be heard only by Reeves. "No one's life is more important to me than Jeannie's. You got that? You do whatever you have to do, but if you issue an order to kill those children, I won't have any qualms about blowing your head off."

"Jeannie? Answer me, you witch, you seed of the devil!"

Reeves struggled. Sam pressed his muscular arm into Reeve's windpipe, cutting off his oxygen. He ceased struggling and stood perfectly still.

Sam waited in the hallway for a moment, allowing Reeves to listen to the silence. "What's it going to be?" Sam asked. "Do you and two innocent children die, or do I exchange your life for theirs?"

"Let me go, and I'll send the children in when I reach my car."

"No deal." Sam rubbed the Ruger's barrel up and down the side of Reeves's sweaty face.

"State your terms."

"We'll walk outside. You'll tell your disciples to release the children. As soon as they're within touching distance of me, I'll release you."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" Reeves asked.

"You don't. You'll just have to trust me, won't you?"

Sam walked Reeves out into the parking lot behind the school. Danette Suddath and an older woman sat inside a dark blue sedan, two children sandwiched between them in the front seat.

"Tell them to let the children out of the car," Sam said.

"Danette. Nora. Release the children."

Once Danette and Nora saw that their beloved reverend's life was in Sam's hands, they opened the car door and ushered the children out, telling them to go to the man with the gun. Missy clasped Amelia's hand, and the two girls walked toward Sam. The moment the girls came within his grasp, Sam shoved Reeves forward as hard as he could, then grabbed both girls up in his arms. Missy and Amelia clung to him.

Reeves ran toward his Lincoln Continental, parked beside Danette's sedan. He started the engine, shifted the gears and roared out of the parking lot. Danette followed him quickly.

Police sirens screamed in the distance. Sam turned around and walked back toward the Howell School. Jeannie stood in the doorway, her eyes swimming with tears. Sam set the two little girls on their feet and pulled Jeannie into his arms. Within minutes the corridor had filled with children and teachers, all of them crying.

Marta rushed out of her office, dropped to her knees and embraced the children closest to her. "Thank God you didn't believe me, Mr. Dundee. I hope you understand why I couldn't risk telling you the truth when you called."

"You saved us all, Sam." Jeannie wrapped her arms around his neck. "I was so afraid, but I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to Missy or Amelia."

"Don't you ever do something like this again." He covered her mouth with his, claiming her, the kiss one of rejoicing and affirmation.

Chapter 16

« ^ »

Sam had been unsuccessful in persuading Jeannie to allow Marta and the teachers to care for the children. Her compassionate heart would not allow her a moment's concern for herself; her every thought was of the frightened, confused boys and girls who crowded around her, seeking comfort. And she gave them comfort, and so much more, in a way only Jeannie could. One by one, she hugged the children, absorbing their anxieties, freeing them from the trauma they had experienced.

With each child's unburdening, Jeannie grew weaker and weaker. Sam sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her, wanting desperately to give her some of his strength. The moment Marta lifted the last child out of Jeannie's arms, Jeannie turned to Sam, her eyelids drooping and her lips parting on a sigh. She tried to lift her hand to caress his worry-lined face, but she didn't possess enough strength. When she dropped her hand to her side, Sam lifted it, brought it to his lips and kiss her open palm.

"Take care of me, now, Sam." She closed her eyes and fell immediately into a deep sleep.

With Jeannie in his arms, Sam stood and carried her out of the Howell School. Lieutenant Painter met them in the parking lot, halting Sam before he reached the Lexus.

"Is Ms. Alverson all right?"

"She will be after she gets some rest," Sam said.

"I'll need to speak with her as soon as she's able to answer a few questions."

"Give me a call this evening and I'll let you know."

"Tell her that we apprehended Danette Suddath and Nora Dill. And we've put out an all-points bulletin on Maynard Reeves. He finally made a big mistake. We can throw the book at the reverend. He must have lost his mind, taking a school full of disabled children hostage."

"Reeves is obsessed with destroying Jeannie. He's convinced himself and his followers that she really is a witch."

"Tell Ms. Alverson that we'll get Reeves. We've set up roadblocks and are doing an all-out search." Lieutenant Painter glanced down at Jeannie, lying in Sam's arms. "She's for real, isn't she? I mean she actually can take away other people's pain."

"Yeah," Sam said. "She's for real."

He walked away, carrying Jeannie to her car. He opened the door, reclined the seat and laid her down, then closed the door. He got inside, started the engine and drove out into the street. The noonday sun heated the road, creating a shimmering glare. Reaching inside his coat pocket, Sam pulled out his sunglasses and put them on.

She's for real, isn't she? He heard Lieutenant Painter's question echoing in his mind on the drive to Julian's rented cottage. Oh, yeah, Jeannie Alverson was most definitely for real. A real angel of mercy. A real empath who considered it her sacred duty to relieve the suffering of others. A real healer of the human heart.

When they reached the cottage, Sam carried her straight inside to bed. After undressing her, he sat down on the bed and scooted up to rest his back on the headboard, then closed his eyes.

Reeves was out there somewhere, a hunted animal. He would be even more dangerous than before. Now he had nothing to lose. Sam knew what he had to do if the law didn't apprehend Reeves soon.

Reeves had finally crossed the line from mental instability to insanity. Sam had seen it in his eyes. He'd seen that look before, in the eyes of other men, men who had completely lost their hold on reality.

Jeannie moaned in her sleep and turned over, her hands searching. Sam slumped down in the bed, took her in his arms and held her close. Cuddling against him, she returned to a restful sleep. Sam trembled as he held her, the reality of how close he'd come to losing her finally hitting him. He clung to her, stroking her back, dotting tiny kisses over her forehead and cheeks. An ache formed in the pit of his stomach and spread upward, lodging in his throat. Emotions so vast, so forceful that they threatened his sanity consumed him.

Guarding Jeannie was his first priority. Nothing was more important than keeping her safe. Take care of me, now, Sam. Take care of me, now, Sam. Her words replayed over and over in his mind. She had taken care of each one of the forty-five students at the Howell School, depleting her energy, putting her own physical and mental health in jeopardy. And then she had turned to him, trusting him completely, never doubting that she was safe in his hands.

He would take care of her, protect her at all costs, but the one thing from which he could not protect her was her own compassionate heart.

Laying her hand on his chest, she wrapped herself around his big body. Sam drew in a deep breath. How had this happened? How the hell had he allowed himself to become captured by a sweet innocent, by an angel whose tender mercy ruled her life? How could such purity be so sensual, such spirituality be so human, such etherealness be so totally erotic?

Six years ago, when he washed ashore on Le Bijou Bleu, Jeannie had done far more than save his life—she had taken possession of his soul. He had never been able to forget her. The sound of her voice. The feel of her comforting hands. The look in her gentle brown eyes.

He had tried to stop thinking about her, willed himself not to remember the powerful connection that existed between them, but deep inside he'd always known that he could not escape the inevitable. Even his niece Elizabeth, when he stayed with her to recuperate from the nearly fatal gunshot wounds, had sensed he was running away from more than his guilt and remorse over Brock's and Connie's deaths. And Elizabeth, who possessed strong psychic powers, had predicted that Sam would return to Biloxi, and to the woman who had saved his life.

He had not allowed Elizabeth to tell him any more of what she'd seen in his future. He hadn't wanted to know, and he still didn't want to know. He felt unworthy, undeserving of being loved by Jeannie. Didn't she know the kind of man he was, the type of life he'd lived? Of course she knew. She even knew he'd been responsible for the death of his unborn child. And yet she loved him.

* * *

Jeannie slept the day away, waking with a ravenous appetite for both food and Sam. He made slow, tender love to her, and she blossomed under his loving care, seeming to gain strength from their physical joining. Later he prepared hearty salads, serving them with wine and bread. They ate in the garden again, isolated from the world, nestled in their own tiny piece of paradise. After dinner, she asked him about the morning's events, and he told her everything he knew.

"Don't ever run away by yourself again, the way you did this morning," he said. "I died a thousand deaths when I saw you drive off and knew I couldn't stop you."

"How did you figure out where I'd gone? And how did you know Reeves was at the school?"

"I knew something Marta had said must have triggered your actions." Tilting his head to one side, Sam rested his cheek against the top of her head. "When I phoned the school and spoke to Marta, I could tell something was wrong. She was acting strange. I put two and two together and figured Reeves was involved."

"I know it was foolish of me to go alone to the school." She covered his hands, which lay across her stomach, with her own. Would Sam ever have forgiven her, or himself, if Reeves had killed her and, in doing so, destroyed their unborn child? "I couldn't let Maynard Reeves hurt the students. I did what I had to do. Please understand."

"I understand." He hugged her, encompassing her in his embrace, wishing he could absorb her into himself and keep her safe. "You don't have the capacity to put your needs before those of others. You give and give and give, no matter what the cost is to you."

"You would do the same." Tilting her face, she reached up and kissed him, wanting him to look inside himself and see the truth.

"Not me," he said. "I'm not as strong as you are, angel. I don't have your guts. Besides, the powers that be knew I was the last person on earth who should have the ability to heal the suffering of others. I don't even know how to love."

"That's where you're wrong. You have a great capacity to love. But before you can use that wellspring of goodness inside you, you must come to terms with all the negative feelings keeping that love trapped."

"Oh, Jeannie you don't know me."

"I know you better than you know yourself," she said. "I'm a part of your soul, as you are mine."

He had no response to her statement. Intense emotion gripped him, holding him captive. Jeannie saw the best in him, sensing a goodness he could not see. Dear God, was he worthy of the trust she placed in him? Could he be the man she thought he was, the man she expected him to be? Or would he let her down?

* * *

When Lieutenant Painter arrived at eight-thirty that night, he found Sam and Jeannie watching the weather channel on television. The depression that had begun near the Cape Verde Islands, off the coast of Africa, had moved into the Caribbean and was building up speed and intensity. A tropical storm with high winds and heavy rain was expected to hit the islands southeast of the Gulf by early morning.

"Come on in." Sam opened the door and led the lieutenant into the living room. "Jeannie's concerned about the tropical storm headed our way. She has a close friend living on one of the islands in the gulf."

"Yeah, I hear they think this thing has a good chance of turning into a full-fledged hurricane before she hits the coast." Painter nodded at Jeannie when she glanced up from the television and smiled at him.

"Give me just a moment, Lieutenant," Jeannie said. "I'd like to hear the rest of this report from the National Hurricane Center. I've already contacted my friend to make sure he's aware of the storm headed his way, but I want to stay updated on what's happening."

"Sure. I can wait," Painter said.

When the report ended several minutes later, Jeannie switched off the set and turned to the police officer. "Thank you for being so patient. Sam has told me that you arrested Danette Suddath and the other woman."

"Nora Dill. Yes, we arrested them. But members of the Righteous Light Church posted bond for them, and they're out on bail until their trials."

"Missy hasn't been given to her mother, has she?"

"No." Sam walked over and stood behind Jeannie's chair, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Social services will place Missy in a foster home until after her mother's trial," Lieutenant Painter said. "And she'll remain in one if—or should I say when—Danette Suddath is found guilty and sent to prison."

"Y'all haven't found Maynard Reeves, have you?" Jeannie reached up, placing her hand atop Sam's on her shoulder.

"I swear, Ms. Alverson, it's as if the man vanished off the face of the earth." Shrugging, Lieutenant Painter shook his head. "The best we can figure it, he must have left Biloxi by boat. Since his church is headquartered in New Orleans, the authorities there have been alerted. The feds have pretty well taken over this case, but we're working with them."

"Too bad someone in his organization isn't willing to turn him in," Sam said. "It amazes me how gullible some people are."

"None of his followers will betray him." Jeannie patted Sam's hand. "People want to believe in something, in a higher power, and that's why they can sometimes be brainwashed by a charismatic leader like Reverend Reeves. He feeds on their fears and prejudices, teaching them hatred and intolerance."

"I want you to know, Ms. Alverson that we've posted a man at the hospital to guard Dr. Howell, and one at the school to make sure the children are safe. And even though you're well taken care of—" Rufus Painter glanced at Sam "—we're sending a patrol around the block here every hour."

Jeannie clasped Lieutenant Painter's hand. "Thank you for all you've done."

Painter grinned; it was a lopsided, boyish grin. "Yes, ma'am. You're entirely welcome. Just wish we could have done more."

"I believe we have some business to take care of, don't we, Lieutenant?" Jeannie asked.

Hushing, Painter cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am, we do. I've got someone outside ready to take your statement concerning the events at the Howell School this morning."

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Sam moved around to the side of her chair, placing his hand on her arm.

"Yes," she said. "I have to do all that I can to help remove Maynard Reeves from society, to put him away where he can't harm anyone."

After the police left, Jeannie tuned in the weather channel for an update on the tropical storm, then contacted Manton again before she and Sam went to bed.

As they lay together, the room dark and quiet except for the moonlight filtering through the curtains and the hum of traffic a few blocks away on the highway, Sam held Jeannie in his arms.

"Stop worrying," Sam said. "You told me Manton has weathered storms, and even a few hurricanes, on Le Bijou Bleu."

"I know. But I can't help worrying." Jeannie kissed Sam's naked shoulder. "He's assured me the storm shelter is stocked with the basic necessities to last several days."

"Manton will be all right. The man has a sixth sense about things. If the storm hits the island, he'll wait it out in the storm shelter."

"Sam?" She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked down into his blue-gray eyes.

"What is it, angel?" He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, from shoulder to wrist.

"I have an uneasy feeling I can't explain. I'm afraid, Sam. I'm so very, very afraid."

He enclosed her in the strength and safety of his arms, lowering her head to the pillow and kissing her eyelids closed. "Julian suffered a heart attack, the students and staff of the Howell School were held captive, a tropical storm is probably going to hit Le Bijou Bleu while Manton's there alone, and Maynard Reeves is out there somewhere plotting your destruction. I'd say something would be wrong with you if you weren't feeling uneasy and if you weren't scared half out of your mind."

"No, it's more than the obvious things."

With her eyes still closed, she snuggled against Sam, absorbing the warmth and force of his big, powerful body. She had noticed that for weeks now she had been able not only to connect with Sam's thoughts and feelings, but also, in a limited sense, to draw strength from him. She knew he was totally unaware when it happened, that he had no idea the link between them grew stronger, more intricate and complicated, with each contact. Mental. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual.

"Everything is going to be all right," Sam said. "Julian will be home in a few days. The children and teachers at the school are safe now. Manton and Le Bijou Bleu will weather the storm. The authorities will capture Maynard Reeves. And I'll take good care of you."

When his lips touched hers, she responded wholeheartedly. When his body covered hers, she arched upward, encouraging his possession. And when he thrust into her moist heat, she welcomed him, clasping him tightly. They mated in a fast, furious frenzy, sharing their pleasure, then fell into a deep, sated sleep.

* * *

Jeannie woke early. The morning sky was red, warning of bad weather. She got out of bed, slipped into her robe and set her cane on the floor.

"Come back to bed, angel. It's still early." Sam patted her pillow.

"I want to check the weather and contact Manton before the storm hits and blocks our communication."

"All right," Sam said. "You check the weather and get in touch with Manton, and I'll put on some coffee. Or would you rather have tea?"

"Coffee will be fine."

Sam slipped into a pair of trousers and headed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, on his way to the kitchen, he paused in the doorway to the living room. The weather forecaster was predicting that hurricane-force winds would sweep the Gulf Coast by nightfall.

"Get in touch with Manton," Sam said. "Make sure he's all tight, and that he's prepared to take shelter."

"I wish I could shake this uneasy feeling."

"You'll feel better after you've been in touch with Manton."

"I hope so."

Sam filled the coffee machine with bottled water, then spooned the gourmet blend into the filter. His stomach growled, reminding him his dinner salad had been a light repast for a man of his size. Omelets, he thought, ham-and-cheese omelets.

He was turning an enormous omelet over in the skillet when Jeannie came into the kitchen. Smiling, he looked up from his chore. Pale-faced, wide-eyed, she walked over to him and gripped his arm. She swallowed, then bit down on her lower lip.

"What's wrong?" He turned off the stove and grabbed Jeannie's shoulders.

"I can't get a response from Manton. I've been trying for the last ten minutes."

"Maybe the storm has already hit Le Bijou Bleu."

"No, it's not possible. The storm couldn't possibly hit the island before late this afternoon." Tears gathered in her eyes. She squeezed his arm. "Something's wrong. Bad wrong. Manton would not have left the house this morning. He would have brought the dogs and cats inside last night."

"We'll keep trying to contact him."

"If I don't get a response soon, I'm going to the island."

"No, you're not." Sam jerked her into his arms; her cane hit the floor with a resounding thump. "There's a damn hurricane headed this way!"

"Something has happened to Manton. Don't you understand? I have to go to him."

"If anyone goes, I'll go," Sam said. "I'll have Lieutenant Painter send an officer over here to guard you until J.T. or Hawk can fly in from Atlanta. I'll go to Le Bijou Bleu and make sure Manton is all right."

"No. If he's hurt, he'll need me."

"Dammit, Jeannie, you are not going to Le Bijou Bleu, and that's all there is to it!"

Three hours later, Jeannie docked the cruiser, and Sam lifted her onto the pier. Dark storm clouds swirled overhead. An angry wind gusted around them, blowing windrows of sand along the beach. Faint, almost indiscernible raindrops fell from the sky.

Sam carried her up the steps to the top of the hill. The wind whistled through the trees, whipping the branches.

"Stop!" Jeannie raised her voice to fight the howl of the wind. "Manton won't answer me!"

"What?" Sam shouted, knowing damn well they couldn't stay out here in the violent wind much longer.

"I've called to him repeatedly since we docked, and he isn't responding."

Sam lowered his head, putting his mouth near her ear. "Hasn't there ever been a time when you couldn't connect telepathically with him?"

"Never. Not since the first time our minds linked, when I was nine years old." She clutched Sam's shoulder. "He's hurt. I know he's hurt. He'd have to be unconscious not to hear me, not to be able to answer."

"Calm down, angel. We'll find Manton and take care of him. Whatever's wrong, you'll fix it until we can get him back to Biloxi."

Sam rushed toward the house as heavy drops of rain began falling. They were both drenched by the time he stepped up on the veranda. The front door stood wide open. Sam carried Jeannie inside. An eerie quiet filled the rooms, though the fury of the rain and wind blasted the outside of the house, making the walls tremble.

Not one dog welcomed them; not one cat slinked about their legs. Where the hell was Manton? Sam wondered. What could have happened to him? Had he taken ill? Had there been an accident?

Sam set Jeannie down on the sofa in the living room. "I'll go get you a cane. You search downstairs, and I'll search upstairs."

Jeannie nodded her agreement and waited patiently for Sam's return. He brought her cane and helped her to her feet, then cupped her face in his hands.

"Stay in touch with me, angel." He looked deep into her gentle brown eyes.

I love you, Sam Dundee.

Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. My sweet Jeannie. He kissed her on the mouth, quickly, then turned around and walked up the front staircase. Jeannie began her search in the dining room, then moved into the kitchen.

Manton. Please answer me.

She checked the downstairs twice, thoroughly searching every nook and cranny. She spoke to Sam telepathically, letting him know that she hadn't found Manton. He told her that he'd found nothing upstairs. No sign of Manton or his animals.

Was it possible Manton had gone down into the basement? she wondered. Had he already moved into the storm shelter when something had happened to him? Or could he have gone outside, be somewhere out there now, injured and alone?

The old stables at the back of the house! The animals bedded there, and Manton carried food and fresh water out to them every day. Perhaps he'd accidentally fallen and hit his head last night or early this morning.

I'm going out to the old stables behind the house, Jeannie told Sam telepathically. Meet me out there.

Wait for me, he said.

Manton's in the stables, Sam. I know it. I can feel it.

He repeated his telepathic message. Wait for me.

Jeannie's need to find Manton urged her through the house and out onto the back veranda. A row of trees in the backyard arched over in the wind, many of their tops touching the ground. Bending in the wind, a young sapling groaned, then toppled over, its roots lifting and falling, finally tearing loose.

Jeannie fought the wind as she made her way off the veranda. The stable doors hung open, creaking as they slammed open and shut. With the wind stinging her eyes, Jeannie squinted and gripped her cane tightly. The black sky emptied heavy rain onto the earth, and the wind roared a warning. Instinctively Jeannie knew the tropical storm had graduated to a hurricane, and it was only a matter of time until its full force hit Le Bijou Bleu.

She made her way to the stables, slipping inside as one big door swung open. Darkness surrounded her. She felt Manton's presence. He was somewhere nearby, but he was still unconscious.

Suddenly cold, menacing evil surrounded her. For one brief second, she forgot to breathe. Her heart stood still. And in that moment she knew. Sam! her mind screamed. Help me, Sam!

"I've been waiting for you," the voice said.

Jeannie spun around. There in the doorway behind her, the faint light from outside casting shadows across his handsome freckled face, stood Maynard Reeves.

Chapter 17

« ^ »

"So nice of you to come out in this bad weather to meet me." Reeves took a step forward, his toothy, charismatic smile spreading across his face.

Jeannie stepped backward, away from the threatening presence. "I'm not alone. Manton's here, and so is Sam."

"I've already taken care of that stupid giant you call Manton."

"What have you done to him?"

"He's sleeping peacefully, him and his dogs. I used a tranquilizer gun to bring your Manton down. I shot him twice, so he'll sleep a long, long time."

Reeves moved toward her. A flash of lightning struck nearby. Jeannie gasped. Reeves laughed. Shards of light flashed through the open doors and the wide cracks in the rotting wooden walls of the old stables. A shiny 9 mm handgun glistened in Reeves's hand.

"Sam will come out here to find me." Jeannie felt something warm and soft curl around her leg. One of Manton's cats.

"Let him come on out. I want him to find us. The witch's guardian doesn't deserve to live. I'll destroy him first, before I punish you for your evil."

Reeves moved closer and closer. Jeannie backed farther and farther into the darkness, her escape hampered by her inability to maneuver without her cane.

Sam! Sam! Hurry. Please hurry. And be careful. Maynard Reeves has me trapped in the stables.

As she backed away from the approaching madman, Jeannie lost her balance. The raging wind battered the old wooden stables. Lightning zigzagged from heaven to earth. Hard, heavy rain pelted the island. Jeannie fell, landing on her backside, her cane hitting the dirt floor, just out of arm's reach.

Reeves hovered, glaring down at her, his smile wide, showing all his teeth. His eyes glowed in the darkness. Jeannie scooted backward. Her heart hammered, rumbling in her ears like a hundred bass drums. The damp earth stuck to her palms as she used her hands to propel herself backward.

Reeves stomped one big foot down beside her hip. She clenched her teeth. He lowered the other foot, straddling her as he bent over, reached out and seized her. She sucked in air. He jerked her up off the floor. She hit him, her hands flailing against his chest. Reeves grabbed her by her hair, pulling her face against his, so close their noses touched. The more she struggled, the tighter he clasped her hair and the deeper his fingers bit into the gun he held pressed against her back.

Reeves licked her face, from chin to forehead. Jeannie closed her eyes, struggling to make contact with her attacker's inner thoughts and feelings. Anger! Hatred! Passion to possess her power! If only she could hook on to his emotions more firmly, she could begin drawing them from him.

"No!" Reeves screamed, shoving her away from him with such force that she fell backward onto the floor, her fragile body hitting the damp earth with a jarring thud. "You will not use your wicked talents to possess me, witch! I will destroy you, and then God will bless me with your powers."

From her position on the floor, all Jeannie could see was the trembling outline of Reeves's body. Even from several feet away, she could feel his rage. His murderous intent swirled around her, more powerful and far uglier than the raging storm assaulting the island.

The metallic taste of fear coated her tongue. A sour, salty bile rose in her throat.

Stay where you are, Jeannie. Don't move. Don't make a sound. Act as if nothing has changed. Sam cautioned Jeannie telepathically as he entered the stables, his footsteps indiscernible, masked by the storm's fury.

Be careful, Sam. Reeves has a gun.

Reeves held the 9 mm in his shaky hand, aiming it directly at Jeannie. He laughed, the sound hysterical and shrill. "Shooting you would be so easy, but not appropriate for you, Jeannie Alverson, spawn of Satan. No, a witch must burn. You will be a sacrifice to the Lord."

Sam Dundee swooped down on Reeves like a hawk clawing its helpless prey. Grabbing Reeves by the shoulders, Sam lifted him and tossed him into the air. Reeves shrieked as he landed against the wall, his gun sailing out of his hand and disappearing in the darkness.

Stay where you are, Jeannie, Sam told her.

A slash of lightning illuminated the stables momentarily. In a split second, Jeannie saw Sam, his face contorted with rage, his Ruger aimed in Reeves's general direction. He fired a shot. Reeves bellowed. When a second and then a third brilliant explosion of lightning hit the island, she saw it glimmer off Reeves's gun, which lay halfway between Sam and him. Reeves grappled for the gun with one hand while he clutched at his bloody shoulder with the other.

Another shot rang out, then another. She had no idea who was doing the shooting or whether either bullet had hit its target. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she watched while two shadowy figures lunged headlong at each other. She could distinguish which man was which solely from Sam Dundee's massive size. He was a couple of inches taller and much heavier than Maynard Reeves.

The sound of fists hitting flesh reverberated inside the stables. Thuds. Thumps. Knocks. Ragged breathing. Sam Dundee, his back to the outer wall, landed a resounding blow to Reeve's midsection, knocking the breath out of him and laying him out flat on his back.

Sam stood over Reeves, his chest heaving. Jeannie waited for Reeves to stand. He didn't. Another shot rang out. Sam's body jerked from the impact as the bullet ripped through his side. Jeannie screamed.

Reeves lifted his shoulders off the floor, gripping the 9 mm in his trembling hands. "God is on my side! He will help me destroy both the witch and her guardian."

In one quick, practiced move, Sam lifted his leg, pivoted around and slammed his foot into Reeves's hands, plummeting his gun into dark oblivion. Before Reeves had a chance to react, Sam brought his foot around again and knocked his opponent flat on the floor.

The roar of the hurricane force winds shook the stables. The wall directly behind Sam collapsed. Jeannie screamed again. The old timbers fell on top of Sam, knocking him to his knees, then flat on his face, covering his body completely.

The wind roared like a mighty jet plane. Rain poured into the stables, washing over the remains of the toppled outer wall.

"Sam!"

No response.

Sam!

She tried again to contact Sam, but he didn't answer. He had to be unconscious. And with the weight of those heavy old boards crushing his body, he was probably seriously injured. She had to go to him. Help him. Save him.

Lifting herself onto her knees, she felt around the damp dirt floor for her walking stick. Suddenly she saw her cane, lying several feet to her left. Then realization dawned on her. There was light inside the stables, pouring in from outside.

The deafening rumble subsided. The wind stopped. The air became perfectly calm. Jeannie knew enough about tropical storms to know that the island was encased in the eye of the storm, that eerie, calm core in the center of the massive, spiraling clouds and driving rain.

Jeannie crawled on her knees across the stables, clutched her cane and lifted herself up off the floor. She scurried to the pile of heavy boards lying in a heap, completely covering Sam Dundee.

Sam, you're going to be all right. I'll take care of you. I promise.

She had to remove enough of the debris to touch some part of his body, to clasp his hand, to caress his head. Only then could she begin her loving ministrations; only then could she work her magic and save Sam's life. Balancing herself with her cane, she eased down on her knees and laid her cane aside. Finding the intact boards far too heavy to lift, she clawed at the rubble. She saw Sam's hand. She reached for him.

"You're not going to save him!" Maynard Reeves jerked Jeannie off the ground.

She gasped. It couldn't be. Sam had shot Reeves and knocked him unconscious.

Fighting Reeves proved fruitless, but Jeannie fought him all the same. Although he'd been no match for Sam, he was much larger and far stronger than she was. He dragged her out of the stables, through the huge opening made by the wall's collapse. Jeannie hit him repeatedly; he didn't seem to feel her blows.

All the while he tugged her around the house and toward the beach, Jeannie struggled. She could not—would not—allow this monster, who called himself a man of God, to triumph. If he succeeded in getting her off the island, they were both doomed to drown in the storm, and there would be no one to save Sam and Manton. Even if help arrived in a day or two, it might well be too late for these two men she so dearly loved.

Sam. Sam. Oh, my darling, please hear me.

Silence.

Reeves halted at the top of the hill overlooking the far side of the island, where he'd docked his small boat. "I'm taking you straight to the Righteous Light Church, where my disciples are preparing for your sacrifice."

"No!" Jeannie screamed. "Don't you realize we'll be killed if we leave the island?"

"The storm has passed," Reeves said. "God has calmed the seas for my safe passage."

"The storm hasn't passed. We're right in the middle of the eye of the storm. Don't you know what that means?"

"You can't trick me with your lies, witch."

Reeves pulled her into his arms. Jeannie struggled. Threading his fingers through her hair, he cupped her scalp. "When you draw your last breath, the Almighty will bestow your powers on me. He will cleanse them of evil and infuse them with his glory."

Manton. Manton, can you hear me? If only she could rouse Manton. He was in the stables, not far from Sam. If she could make him hear her, she could tell him that Sam needed him. Manton!

Jeannie? Manton asked, their link wavering and fragile because of his grogginess. Jeannie, where are you? Are you all right?

The stable wall fell in on Sam. He's hurt. Maynard Reeves is trying to take me off the island. I need your help. Jeannie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks that Manton was alive and conscious enough for the two of them to communicate. We're in the eye of the storm, and Reeves doesn't realize that we can't sail to the mainland. Sam will die without my help.

You must overpower Reeves, Manton told her.

But how? she asked. I'm not strong enough.

Yes, you are strong enough. Far stronger than you know. Reach inside yourself Draw strength from the depth of your love for Sam, Manton said. Concentrate. Focus all your energy on saving Sam, on saving his life.

Can you help Sam? Jeannie asked. Are you able to move?

Not yet. But soon. The feeling is returning to my body. Be strong, little one.

Reeves licked Jeannie's face. She cringed.

"If you won't listen to me, won't believe what I'm telling you about the storm—" Jeannie looked heavenward, wondering just how long they had before the eye passed and the storm's fury consumed the island once again "—then at least consider the possibility that we'd be safer in my cruiser than in your small boat."

Reeves licked her face again. "I can taste the evil in you, but I can also taste the power. The power that will soon be mine."

"We'll never make it to the mainland alive in your little boat."

"Perhaps you're right about taking your cruiser." Gripping her painfully about the waist, Reeves tugged her in the opposite direction, toward the other side of the island.

Manton?

Yes, Jeannie?

I have to find the strength to stop Reeves and save Sam.

Your love for Sam is your strength. No power on earth is greater.

Jeannie focused on the incredible power surging through her body. She had to overpower Reeves; it was the only way she would be free to go to Sam and save his life. Nothing mattered except saving Sam.

She felt the tightening of her muscles, the hardening of her biceps. She could hardly believe what was happening to her. A few times with Sam, she had realized she was absorbing a small fraction of his strength, but nothing this forceful. Manton had been right. There was no power on earth greater than love.

Jeannie grabbed Maynard Reeves by his shoulders, tightening her hands, lifting him off his feet and away from her. He yelped aloud, fear and amazement bright in his eyes.

"Put me down, you demon-possessed witch!"

Jeannie flung Reeves from her. His body landed on a muddy patch of ground several feet from her. Jeannie slumped to her knees, her crippled legs as weak as ever.

Rising into a sitting position, Reeves glared at her. "I am not afraid to fight the devil, for the Lord—" Reeves lifted his arms toward the sky "—will give me the victory." Reeves stood, his once charismatic, boyish smile twisted into an evil leer.

Raindrops hit Jeannie on the face. The wind whistled through the trees. The eye had passed quickly; the storm would be upon them again in a matter of minutes.

Reeves took a step toward Jeannie. She looked to his left, where a row of palm trees swayed in the wind, bending their heads as if awaiting execution. Lightning crackled in the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder. In the distance, Jeannie heard the storm's deadly roar.

Reeves took another step, and then another. Jeannie scooted backward. Concentrate on saving Sam, on the depth of your love for him, she told herself.

When Reeves was upon her, Jeannie prayed for help. A bolt of lightning hit the enormous old live oak directly behind Reeves, splitting it apart as if it had been hacked in two by a giant ax. Jeannie watched in honor and fascination as one half of the tree uprooted and toppled, crushing Maynard Reeves in its downward path. He screamed once, then fell silent. Blood oozed from his mouth. His sightless eyes stared off into space.

Jeannie's battle with Reeves had ended. A higher power had indeed decided the outcome.

Jeannie crawled toward the unmoving man lying beneath the weight of the severed tree. She placed her fingers on the pulse point in his neck. She sighed. Maynard Reeves was dead.

Sam! She had to get to Sam. In her frustration, she struggled to connect her mind to Manton's. God had granted her one miracle. Would he grant her another?

Help me. Please help me get to Sam before it's too late.

She crawled away from Reeves, knowing there was only one way to reach Sam. She would have to crawl, on her knees, back to the stables. The rain poured down, drenching her. The wind toppled her, facedown, into the saturated grass. She lifted herself and continued crawling across the vast front lawn, away from the ocean and toward the house.

She'd made her way to within twenty feet of the front veranda when she saw an enormous dark form running toward her. Manton! She stopped, the pain in her knees radiating up her thighs and into her body.

She lifted up her arms. Manton hauled her up, pressing her wet body against his.

I'm still groggy from the tranquilizer, Manton told her. I'm weak, and my brain is fuzzy.

I'm so thankful you're all right, she said. Now, please, take me to Sam. I can't lose him.

Manton carried her to the stables, depositing her beside the rubble burying Sam Dundee's big body. Manton cleared the boards off Sam. Jeannie laid both her hands on Sam's back. Tears gathered in her eyes.

Manton picked up a piece of splintered board, laid it over his knee and broke it in half, then handed it to Jeannie.

Use this as a cane. We need to get to the storm shelter. I'll carry Sam.

The wind and rain attacked them mercilessly on their trek from the stables to the house. Completely drenched, their skin bleeding from blowing-sand cuts, they went down the dark flight of stairs leading to the storm shelter in the basement, Manton carrying Sam.

The storm must have damaged the generator, Manton said. We have no power of any kind. Try to find the kerosene lamps and light them. A box of matches will be beside one of the lamps.

Once inside the shelter, Manton and Jeannie felt their way around in the pitch-blackness. The fronts of Manton's calves bumped into the cot. He laid Sam down gently. Jeannie found the matches, struck one to find the kerosene lamp on the table. She removed the globe, lit the wick and turned to seek out the other lamp. Manton took the matches from her, nodding toward Sam.

Jeannie hobbled over to Sam and sat down on the floor. She lifted his hand, encompassing it in hers. Concentrating totally on making the connection, she focused her every thought on entering Sam's body, on linking herself to his injuries.

Manton lit the other lamp. The two sources of light, situated on opposite ends of the room, cast a soft glow that illuminated the entire twelve-by-twelve storm shelter. Walking over to where Jeannie sat on the floor, Manton placed his hands on her shoulders.

Sam is very weak, she said. Rising up on her haunches, she reached out and wiped away the blood trickling down Sam's bruised and cut forehead. She wiped the blood across her skirt. He's bleeding, and his ribs are broken.

I know you want to save him. Manton squeezed her shoulders gently. But you must not endanger your life and your child's. Sam would not want you to sacrifice yourself and the child to save his life.

I cannot—I will not—let him die!

Releasing her shoulders, Manton stepped away from her and sat down in a chair at the table.

Jeannie knelt over Sam, embracing him. The faint pulses of his pain seeped into her body. She moaned as the pain increased, moving gradually out of Sam and into her.

Sam's eyelids fluttered. Still embracing him, Jeannie lifted her head and looked at his pale, blood-smeared face. He opened his eyes.

"Hello," she said.

"Jeannie … don't…" His eyes closed, and he drifted back into a semiconscious state.

She kissed his lips with the utmost tenderness. "Hush, now, my love. You're going to be all right."

His injuries were extensive, and the bleeding was severe and life-threatening. She had to stop the bleeding! He would die if she didn't help him.

The pain doubled her over. She cried out, the sound a harsh plea for endurance. As spasm after spasm of torturous cramps racked her body, Jeannie balled her hands into fists and slid off Sam, down the side of the cot and onto the floor. Her eyes closed. She moaned again and again, biting her lower lip to contain the sound.

Manton jumped up, rushing to her aid, lifting her into his arms. She shivered, once, twice, then opened her eyes. I haven't finished. Carry me back to Sam. I have to help him.

Be careful, Manton cautioned, then complied with her request and set her back down on the floor at Sam's side.

She laid her head on Sam's arm where it rested on the edge of the cot. She lifted his limp hand, brought it to her lips and kissed each finger. Squeezing his hand, she focused again. Sam's injuries became hers, ripping her apart, then dissolving as the pain suffused her body. Tears of agony streamed down her face. Anguished moans rose from her throat.

Exhausted and close to losing consciousness, Jeannie clung to Sam's hand. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"My God, Jeannie, what are you doing?" Lifting his head off the pillow, he glanced at their clasped hands. He jerked his hand away.

She tried to smile, to speak, to tell him that there was nothing she would not do to save his life. Didn't he know that he was her life, that without him she did not want to live?

He heard her words as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud. "You're killing yourself. I want you to stop." Sam looked around for Manton and found him standing a few feet away, his eyes filled with tears as he watched Jeannie's suffering. "Why the hell don't you stop this? Keep her away from me!"

Sam tried to sit up, but weakness overcame him and he fell back on the cot. Jeannie reached for him. He slapped her hand away. "Get away, dammit! If I die, I die, but you're not going to die with me."

"You're already stronger. Your injuries have stopped bleeding." With great effort, she rose up on her knees, her body hovering over his. "When the pain returns and the bleeding starts again, I'll have to help you. To keep you alive. We can't get off Le Bijou Bleu until the storm passes."

"If you take my pain into your body, it will kill you," Sam said. "Don't you think I know that? My God, Jeannie, I don't want you to die for me."

Covering her mouth with her hand, she cried silently, her body trembling with her hushed sobs.

"Promise me," Sam said. "Promise me that you—" his eyelids fluttered, and his voice faltered "—you won't do it again."

"I love you," she said.

"Promise me…" He sank back into a semiconscious state. Jeannie rested, closing her eyes, laying her hand next to his, careful not to touch him. With his injuries temporarily, partially healed, he would sleep, drifting in and out of consciousness. And Jeannie would sleep, restoring her depleted strength, until Sam's pain from his internal wounds returned and the bleeding began again.

Jeannie covered her stomach with the palm of her other hand. Would saving Sam's life cost them their baby? Could she save both father and child?

In the last conscious moments before sleep overcame her, Jeannie pleaded for the strength to endure, and for the blessing of life for Sam, herself and their unborn child.

Chapter 18

« ^ »

Sleepy, exhausted and nearly depleted of her energy, Jeannie held Sam's hand and listened to his uneven breathing. She would have to join with him again. She had no other choice; without her help, Sam would die.

When she called to Manton, he came to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She drew strength from him. Manton's strength was the only thing maintaining her consciousness and enabling her to continue keeping Sam alive. If only Manton possessed the power to share her pain and suffering … but he did not. She, and she alone, had to bear the burden.

When I have finished, Jeannie told Manton, cover me with a blanket and let me rest, but don't move me away from Sam.

I'll take care of you, Manton said. And while you rest, I will go upstairs and try once again to contact the mainland. It's daylight now, and the storm passed hours ago. Perhaps someone can get to the island soon and take you and Sam to the hospital.

Within minutes, Jeannie had made the connection again and began her miracle of healing.

As she withdrew his pain and stopped the bleeding once again, Sam opened his eyes. Jeannie lay in a huddled mass against the cot, writhing in pain. Weak, dizzy and disoriented, Sam struggled over to her.

"Jeannie… Jeannie…"

Drenched in sweat, groaning in agony, Jeannie barely heard Sam calling her name. She tried to respond verbally, but could not, and when she tried to convey her thoughts to him telepathically, she found she lacked the strength.

Sam saw Manton standing over them, and realized the gentle giant was dying inside as he watched Jeannie suffering and knew he could do nothing to alleviate her pain.

Sam reached over and enclosed Jeannie's trembling, pain-racked body in his arms. On some level of consciousness, Jeannie felt Sam's embrace, sensed his concern. He ached with the need to help her, to share her pain, not realizing that the emotional torment he endured was transferred to Jeannie, weakening her all the more. And she could not relate to him what was happening, that his very nearness was creating more pain inside her, draining her of what little strength she had left.

Manton grabbed Sam by the shoulders, pulling him away from Jeannie. Sam hit out at the other man, dazed by the suddenness of his attack. Manton pushed Sam back down on the cot and signed to him. Sam glared up at Manton, wondering what the hell he was trying to tell him.

He watched closely while Manton jabbed his index fingers toward each other repeatedly.

"Hurt?" Sam asked.

Manton nodded, then signed again, thrusting his right index finger under his prone left palm. Sam didn't understand. Manton repeated the procedure.

"Kill," Sam said, realization dawning on him. "Holding her hurts her? Is killing her?"

Manton nodded repeatedly.

"Then do something to help her."

With his hands prone, Manton struck his left index finger with his right index finger. Tears filled his green eyes and streamed down his bronze cheeks.

"You can't." Sam balled his hands into fists.

Sam huddled on the far side of the cot, forcing himself not to touch Jeannie again. While he lay there helpless, watching her endure his pain, he felt as if his life were being drained out of him. He had begged her not to help him, but she hadn't listened. Dammit, why hadn't she listened to him? Why hadn't she done what he'd asked?

He would rather die a thousand times over than see her suffering this way and know he was powerless to help her. Was this his true damnation? Had the guilt and remorse he'd endured for six years been only a preliminary to this final atonement? Was having to watch the woman he loved die by slow degrees his punishment for Brock's and Connie's deaths? For the death of his unborn child?

It wasn't right that Jeannie had to pay for his sins, to suffer because of his crimes. She was innocent, so completely pure and good. This isn't fair, his heart cried. An angel of mercy given no mercy herself.

Sam's angry, savage cry pierced the very gates of heaven.

Minutes dragged by, seeming like hours. Eventually Jeannie fell into a deep sleep. Manton drew the blanket up around her and slipped a pillow under her head. Drained and weak, Sam closed his eyes.

When he awoke, he and Jeannie were alone in the storm shelter. A sudden, sharp pang hit him in the chest. His pain was returning.

Sam heard footsteps on the stairs. J.T. Blackwood swept into the room, Manton following him.

"I've got a float plane waiting to take you back to Biloxi," J.T. said. "The storm missed Biloxi and lost a lot of steam before it hit the Louisiana coast."

"Get Jeannie to the hospital." Sam tried to stand, but swayed on his feet and fell backward onto the cot.

"We'll get you both to the hospital." J.T. glanced down at Jeannie, lying on the floor. "What the hell happened to you two? Did you get caught out in the storm? I don't read sign, so I have no idea what this big fellow's been trying to tell me."

"You carry Jeannie out to the plane," Sam said. "Manton can help me."

Sam watched while J.T. lifted a lifeless Jeannie into his arms. When J.T. walked past Sam, Sam reached out. J.T. stopped. Sam let his hand hover over her face, and died a little inside because he didn't dare touch her.

"A wall fell on me," Sam said. "It should have killed me. I'd be dead now if Jeannie hadn't saved my life."

Manton's cats and dogs, who had followed them out of the stables the evening before, now followed them up from the storm shelter into the house. J.T. stepped around the shards of glass from several blown-out windowpanes and stomped through the water puddles marring the wooden floors.

Outside, the sun shone faintly from behind a mass of clouds. The paint on the north side of the house had been sanded down to the bare wood, and several window shutters lay scattered on the ground. A small section of the roof had blown off, and debris was strewn in every direction. Uprooted trees marred the landscape. Huge sandpiles dotted the beach.

Maynard Reeves's body lay beneath the severed trunk of an old oak tree. Manton stopped abruptly when Sam tugged on his arm.

"Not a very pretty sight," J.T. said. "Looks like lightning struck the tree, splitting it in two. Then half of it fell on the reverend."

"He was out of his mind," Sam said. "He thought if he killed Jeannie, he would somehow gain her empathic abilities. He thought God would give them to him as a gift for destroying a witch."

"Well, it looks like a higher power made a judgment call." J.T. glanced down at Jeannie, lying unconscious in his arms. "I'd say somebody up there was watching out for one of his own."

Every muscle in Sam's body strained toward Jeannie; his need to touch her was overwhelming. "Let's get off this island and take Jeannie to a hospital." A sharp, stabbing ache sliced through Sam's midsection. He doubled over in pain.

"Hang on," J.T. said "The plane's right down here."

He led them down the steps to the beach. Lifting Jeannie up high in his arms, he handed her to the float plane's pilot, then turned to help Manton with Sam. Once Sam was seated and Jeannie rested in Manton's arms, J.T. jumped on board and gave the pilot orders to get them to Biloxi as quickly as possible.

Jeannie did not awaken from her deep sleep on the flight to Biloxi. Sam watched her for any sign of recovery, but she lay in Manton's arms, unmoving, looking like a limp rag doll. If only he could hold her in his arms, kiss those pale lips, stroke her tearstained cheeks. As pain radiated through his own body, Sam felt himself slipping away. He tried to stay conscious, not wanting to sever that last link—visual contact—with Jeannie.

* * *

After surgery, Sam awoke calling for Jeannie. J.T. assured him that everything possible was being done for her, but Sam wanted to see her, needed to know for sure that she was going to be all right. J.T. and an orderly forcibly held Sam down on the bed while a nurse injected him with a sedative.

He awoke again sometime during the night. Glancing around the hospital room, he saw J.T. sitting in a chair, his tan Stetson covering the upper part of his face as he slept.

Jeannie. Where was Jeannie? Was she all right? He had to find her.

Sam took note of the tubes stuck in his body, then dismissed them, sitting up in bed and sliding his feet over the side. Dizziness swirled around inside his head. He took several deep breaths trying to overcome his disorientation. On wobbly legs, he struggled to stand.

J.T. Blackwood clamped his big hand down on Sam's shoulder. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Jeannie." The one word said everything.

"The shape you're in, you can't do her any good," J.T. said. "Stay in bed. The doctors are doing everything they can for her."

"I've got to see her." Sam jerked away from J.T., took three steps and passed out cold.

Sam floated in and out of a drug-induced sleep, realizing that each time he fought them, begging to see Jeannie, they sedated him again. His gut instincts told him something was horribly wrong, but he couldn't fight the sedatives they gave him to keep him calm and allow him to heal.

Three days after his arrival, Sam awoke at midday, his mouth as dry as cotton balls, his eyes gritty and his mind still a bit foggy. Glancing around the room, he saw J.T. first, standing at the foot of his bed. Manton and Julian Howell stood in the open doorway.

"What's going on? Why aren't you with Jeannie?" Sam sat straight up. His head throbbed. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the sudden pain.

Julian Howell approached the side of Sam's bed. "The doctors felt it was necessary to keep you sedated in order to give you a few days to heal." Julian laid his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Every time you woke, you tried to get out of bed and find Jeannie."

"Yeah, I get the picture," Sam slid his legs off the bed, jerked the tubes out of his arms and stood. "I take it that y'all have finally decided to let me see her."

"You couldn't have done anything for her," Julian said. "She's been unconscious since—" Julian swallowed his tears.

"You mean she hasn't woken up yet?" Sam glanced at J.T. "What is it? What are y'all not telling me?"

J.T. exchanged a concerned look with Julian. Sam glanced at Manton. The gentle giant signed to him. He placed his hands on his shoulders, then moved them outward, the action mimicking the smoothing of feathers on the wings.

Angel. One of the first words Jeannie had taught Sam in sign language. His pet name for her.

Sam didn't understand the next word, although Manton repeated it several times, placing his hands palm to palm, then turning both hands over.

"What's he saying about Jeannie?" Sam asked.

"He said, 'Our angel is dying.'" Julian wiped tears from his eyes.

"No, she can't be dying." Sam gripped Julian's thin arm. "I won't let her die!"

J.T. grabbed Sam's shoulder, turning Sam to face him. "The doctors don't know what the hell is wrong. Like Dr. Howell said, she's been unconscious for days. Her vital signs are growing steadily weaker. They've run every test imaginable on her. They can't treat her, because they don't know what's wrong with her."

"I know." Sam tried to pull away from J.T., but his friend held him fast. "Dammit, I know what's wrong with her. I killed her. In saving me, in healing me again and again just to keep me alive, she used up all her energy. She has nothing to build on. She's depleted her life force."

He realized that J.T. might think he'd gone mad, but he knew Julian and Manton would understand. He looked at Julian. "Tell him I'm right."

"It's possible that's what happened." Julian turned from them, burying his face in his hands as his body shook with sobs.

"She's been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last hour," J.T. said. "She keeps calling your name. Over and over."

"Take me to her, J.T. Please."

Sam Dundee never begged, never pleaded. But he was begging now.

Manton shook his head, stepping in front of Sam, signing furiously. Sam reached out, grasping Manton's enormous hands, halting him.

"I know what you're trying to tell me." Sam patted Manton's hands. "But if she's dying, I can't hurt her, can I? And she's calling for me. I need to be with her."

Manton nodded, agreeing with Sam.

Julian Howell, tears coating his face, his voice shaky, turned around and said, "Take him to her, Mr. Blackwood. She wants him with her. She loves him so."

"He needs to be told before he goes to her," J.T. said.

"Yes, of course he does," Julian agreed.

Fear like nothing Sam had ever known invaded his mind and body, trapping the screaming rage inside him. "What haven't you told me?"

J.T. closed his eyes momentarily, blew out his breath, then opened his eyes and looked directly at Sam. "She's pregnant. Four or five weeks pregnant."

Sam's blood chilled. His nerves burned. His muscles knotted painfully. Jeannie was carrying his child. And they were both dying. Because of him. She had sacrificed herself and their child to save his life.

"No!" The word roared from his body like the cry of a dying animal, his pain more than he could bear.

Sam turned, balled his hands into fists and pounded the wall so hard his hands burst through the Sheetrock. Pulling out his hands, he squared his shoulders and faced J.T.

"Let's go," Sam said.

J.T. walked Sam down the hall to Jeannie's room, Manton and Julian following. She rested on the pristine white sheets, her face devoid of color, her eyes closed. Dressed in a hospital gown, she lay perfectly still.

"I want to go in alone," Sam said. "I can make it without any help."

Sam entered her room, leaving the door behind him open. J.T., Manton and Julian hovered in the doorway. Sam walked slowly over to Jeannie and sat down in the chair beside her bed, then lifted her hand and pressed it against his lips.

"I'm here, angel. I'm right here with you," he told her. "Come on, Jeannie, wake up."

Her eyelids fluttered.

"That's it, come on, wake up." Standing, he clasped her hand to his heart.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. A faint smile curved her lips. "Sam."

Holding her hand, he leaned down and kissed her lips, the touch feather-light. "You've got to fight, angel. You can't let go. You have to live. What would I do without you?"

"You … you're … all right?"

"I'm fine." He rubbed the back of her fragile hand across his cheek. "You saved my life again." Tears lodged in Sam's throat.

"I love … you," Jeannie whispered.

"Please, Jeannie, don't die." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he lifted her into his arms, kissing her tenderly on her forehead and cheeks. "I don't want to live without you."

"The baby … she's all right." Jeannie brought Sam's trembling hand down across her stomach. "We need you, Sam. Your little girl and I. You can save us."

"How? Dear God, Jeannie, tell me how!"

"You know how … you know…" Her voice drifted away as she closed her eyes and sank once again into an unnatural sleep.

"I don't know!" Sam shouted. "Tell me! I don't know!" He clasped her to him, holding her against his chest, stroking her back, whispering her name. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. A drop fell on his cheek. He swallowed hard. Another tear fell, then another, and another. Tears flooded his eyes, ran into his mouth, dripped off his chin.

Sam allowed his mind to delve into Jeannie's, seeking a response when he telepathically called her name.

I'm here, Sam. Help me. Save me. Save our baby. Take care of us.

"How?" he asked aloud, then repeated the question silently. How?

You know how.

He held her close, strengthening their physical connection as he kept their mental link intact.

I love you, Jeannie, my angel. I love you. Please don't leave me.

He felt her love invade his mind, conquer his heart and lay claim to his soul. Don't let us go, Sam. Give us your strength. Take away our weakness.

"I'll do anything to save you." Clutching her in his arms, holding her weak, lifeless body against the strength of his, Sam trembled with sorrow, crying from the depths of his soul as he had never cried before in his life. Not even when he was a child and his mother died.

"Please. Please. She's suffered so much for so many people. She gives and gives and asks nothing in return. She's saved my life twice, and shown me the meaning of real love. I can't live without her. If she dies, I die."

J.T. touched Sam on the back. "Come on, Sam. Don't do this. You aren't helping her."

Sam eased Jeannie down on the bed, stood up and turned to J.T. "I would give anything, even my soul, if I could do for her what she's done for so many others. If I could just reach inside and take away her suffering, make her whole again, give her all my strength."

"You're asking for a miracle," J.T. said.

"Yes, I know." Sam shoved J.T. away. "I'm not leaving her. She believes I can save her and our baby." Sam clamped his teeth together, choking on his pain, tears pouring down his face.

Sam fell to his knees beside Jeannie's bed in a mirror image of her vigil at his side in the storm shelter on Le Bijou Bleu. He held her hand.

"I love you. Do you hear me, Jeannie? I love you." Manton and Julian entered the room and stood next to J.T., all three men standing by helplessly. Several nurses stood in the doorway, tears in their eyes.

"Just this once, angel, let someone hurt for you. Let me remove all that suffering inside you. I'm strong enough for both of us, and for our baby. Give me your pain, Jeannie. Do it for us. Do it for … our little girl."

Sam felt the first faint glimmer of pain, a deep, emotional need, and a physical weakness so great that he cried aloud when Jeannie's suffering began slowly draining from her body.

"That's it, angel. Let it all go. Don't be afraid. Our love is more powerful than anything. We can do this. Together."

Her pain swirled around inside him, sharp and jagged, ripping him apart. He moaned in agony. Suddenly he felt her withdrawal.

"Don't, angel. You've suffered far more for me. Love me enough to give me your pain. Please."

She returned to him, allowing him to take more of her suffering into his body and mind and heart. And when the deed was completed, Sam fell to the floor, unconscious, as his soul joined with Jeannie's forever.

Slowly, Jeannie opened her eyes. "Don't touch him. Leave him where he is," she ordered the others.

She eased off the bed, dragging the sheet and blanket with her. She crawled over to Sam, lifting the sheet over them as she put her arms around him.

"Everyone, please leave," she whispered. "He's all right. He just needs rest."

When the nurses tried to enter Jeannie's room, J.T. demanded they leave. "I don't think Jeannie and Sam need any medical assistance right now."

"Mr. Blackwood is right," Julian said. "Jeannie and Sam will be all right. The miracle of love has proven to be more powerful than medical science." Julian gripped Manton's arm, and guided him out the door. The room emptied quickly. J.T. closed the door when he stepped into the hallway.

Jeannie kissed the side of Sam's face, then drew his head into her lap. Placing her hand over her stomach, she smiled, knowing their baby was safe.

Sam's eyelids quivered, and then he opened his eyes slowly. "I'll always take care of you." Lifting his hand, he laid it over hers on her stomach. "Both of you."

"Your love saved us," Jeannie told him.

"Your love saved all three of us," he said, then closed his eyes and drifted off into a restorative sleep. When his limp hand slipped off hers, she grasped it and laid it on her stomach.

"Everything is all right, sweetheart," Jeannie told their unborn child. "Mommy and Daddy are here, and we love you as much as we love each other."

Epilogue

« ^

They married a month later in the small Congregational church on Beach Boulevard. Sam was devastatingly handsome in a gray striped morning suit, and Jeannie angelically lovely in Miriam Howell's ivory satin wedding gown. They honeymooned on Le Bijou Bleu, putting the horrors of Maynard Reeves's madness behind them.

Seven months later, little Miss Samantha Dundee came howling into the world, after having made her mother and father suffer together through ten hours of labor. But once they held their daughter in their anus, they agreed that they just might give her a brother or sister in a few years.

After enduring the torment of the damned, Sam and Jeannie found heaven on earth. They loved deeply and completely, sharing every joy, every sorrow, every pleasure and every pain. He would forever be her elegant savage, and she his angel of mercy.

Sam didn't take their happiness for granted. As he had once guarded Jeannie from a world gone mad, he now guarded Jeannie and Samantha, making it his mission in life to surround them with the shield of his loving protection.

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