Chapter 19 - Whispers of Grace
Six months later, spring returned to Chicago with an explosion of emerald green and blooming magnolias.
The fortress in the woods had been transformed. The ten-foot iron barricades remained for privacy, but the perimeter sentries were gone, replaced by sprawling gardens of white lilies of the valley, stone walking paths, and a wooden gazebo overlooking the sparkling blue waters of Lake Michigan.
The dark slate walls of the great house had been brightened by open glass skylights, filling the rooms with warm sunlight and the laughter of family.
On a warm Saturday afternoon in May, the grand terrace was filled with the people who mattered most. My mother, fully recovered and glowing with health, was helping Clara arrange floral centerpieces on the cedar tables. My father was standing near the stone hearth with Miller, discussing the construction of the new Clara Hayes Women’s Rehabilitation Center in downtown Chicago, which was being funded entirely by our newly merged philanthropic trust.
I stood near the edge of the stone balustrade, feeling the gentle lake breeze ruffle the hem of my sunflower-yellow sundress. My hands rested instinctively over my abdomen, where a subtle, beautiful curve had begun to show over the past several weeks.
A pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped gently around my waist from behind. Rhys pulled me flush against his chest, burying his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. He wore a simple white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his skin sun-kissed and relaxed, the scars across his back now silvery badges of honor that no longer carried any pain.
"You've been smiling at the water for twenty minutes," he murmured, his voice rich and full of that intoxicating warmth that still sent shivers down my spine.
"I was thinking about how quiet the world is when you aren't running from monsters," I replied, turning in his arms to wrap my hands around his neck.
Rhys looked down at me, his slate-gray eyes glowing with a reverence that took my breath away every single day of my life. He reached down, his large, calloused palm sliding over my stomach, resting gently over the new life growing beneath my heart.
"Did Elena confirm it this morning?" he asked, his voice suddenly dropping into a breathless, tender whisper.
"She did," I laughed softly, tears of pure joy glistening in my eyes. "She said the heartbeat is strong and fast. And she says our baby is due in December."
Rhys closed his eyes for a moment, an emotion so profound and overwhelming washing over his rugged features that his throat hitched. When he opened his eyes, they were shining with unshed tears. He knelt before me on the stone terrace, right there in front of the lake, in front of our family, and pressed a reverent, lingering kiss against my stomach.
"Hello, little one," he whispered against my dress. "You will never know the cold. You will never know the dark. Your mother and I have made sure of that."
Clara and my mother looked over from the tables, their faces lighting up with gasps of delight as they realized what was happening. My mother clutched her hands to her heart, weeping tears of pure, unadulterated happiness, while Clara ran over to throw her arms around both of us.
Rhys stood up, lifting me effortlessly into his arms, spinning me around in the warm spring sunshine while our family cheered and applauded.
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"I love you, Isadora," he spoke against my lips, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand solemn oaths. "More than this city. More than my own life. Forever."
"I love you, Rhys Calder," I answered, burying my fingers in his dark hair as his mouth met mine in a kiss that tasted of freedom, sunshine, and a promise that would never be broken.
