moon with her dark hair and white gown blowing in a soft wind. He couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking the woman he loved.
“Daddy, I want the painting,” Emma said, excited.
“I want the painting too,” he replied and raised his hand at the next bid.
The bidding went back and forth and around the table. Jack, Jenna, Elizabeth, and Sam were all making sure he paid big for the painting and the things he’d done to Marti. Petty revenge, but he deserved it. They finally relented and he got the painting for an astronomical three hundred thousand dollars. He’d have paid any price to get it regardless of the fact the money was going to the foundation.
Shelly sat beside him fuming over everyone clamoring to get the painting. As the night went on and Cameron continued to ignore her, she got even angrier. He didn’t care. Not anymore. Trying to do the right thing blinded him to the truth. He’d never let that happen again. He had a lot of making up to do, but he held fast to the promise in Marti’s note. I’ll always love you. All he needed to know to get her back. As long as they shared this kind of love, they could overcome anything, even his temporary insanity.
Chapter Forty-Eight
* * *
HE SPENT THE night alone in his room making plans, deciding what to do and how he was going to do it.
Emma stayed with Elizabeth and Sam. He went into her empty room in the early morning, dawn breaking the new day, and looked at the room Marti had painted for Emma. Truly spectacular. The fact that she’d done all of it, every detailed wall, was an amazing feat. She was a world-class artist.
He lay down on Emma’s bed and looked up at the starry sky she’d painted and the image of Emma’s mother looking down on him.
His heart and soul became quiet and he stared at her image. Silently, his heart spoke to her, telling her he was sorry she’d died. He told her about Emma and how well she was growing up. He remembered stories about Emma and told Caroline how sorry he was she missed the chance to see their little girl grow. He told Caroline about Marti and how he’d screwed things up so terribly he might have lost the mother he knew Caroline would have wished for Emma. He promised to make things right and their daughter would smile again.
He lay there for a long time cleansing his soul. He’d spent so much time being angry at Caroline for dying, leaving him and Emma, he hadn’t grieved her properly. He hadn’t put all his hopes and wishes for them aside. He did now and felt a weight lift as he lay there on his daughter’s bed.
He went down the hall to confront Shelly. Before he got to her room, he went into Marti’s. It smelled like her. Fresh. Flowery. Inviting and calming. Whenever he smelled her, something deep inside him sighed and relaxed.
The empty, perfectly made bed reminded him how she’d collapsed in exhaustion the night she’d shown Emma her new room. Pregnant then, it explained her dizziness and fatigue. She hadn’t said anything. He’d made it next to impossible for her to tell him.
Hairbrush and lipstick and a bottle of perfume sat atop her dresser. He picked it up. French. He wondered if she’d gotten it on her world trip. He opened a drawer and found her nightgowns. He didn’t even know what she wore to bed. Silk. They would probably skim her thighs. Some had lace, others plainer. All of them would look great on her, and she’d look great when he took them off her.
He opened the door, connecting the other room, the room she’d been working in the night she’d told him she was pregnant. She’d been hurt the next day on the stairs, and he’d left her alone in the hospital.
He rubbed the back of his neck and wondered how he’d ever make this up to her. She could have lost their baby. She must have been so scared and all he’d done was yell at her. She’d understand, know he was just upset because he’d thought she’d lost the baby.
He took a deep breath and glanced around her workroom. A simple desk with a laptop computer. She had a phone and fax machine set up. What amazed him were all the folders and files on the desk. It looked like she