Nodding, she replied, “I-I see him… it’s like he’s right here… I feel like I can’t breathe… sometimes it’s like…” Her words faded behind her sobs muffled by the cotton of his shirt.

For the longest time, Tony held her tightly under the starry Iowa sky, as she trembled against his chest. Eventually, her cries lessened and the quaking subsided. “Can we go back to bed?” he asked.

Claire nodded.

Once they were settled, she confessed to recurring nightmares. Tony couldn’t imagine. He’d only had his dream that seemed too real once, and she’d been battling these almost nightly. Hugging her, Tony asked, “Do you feel safe right now, here with me?”

Claire nodded against his chest. “I do. Now I do.”

He pleaded, “Then let me help you, please. Don’t try to fight him alone. I told you before that I wanted to kill the bastard myself. Please, Claire, let me help you do that. We’ll kill that memory together. He took too much from you and could have taken much more, from both of us. Together, we won’t let him take any more—not even your sleep. Please let me protect you.”

Her tears once again dampened his t-shirt. “I love you,” she whispered.

He kissed her hair. “I love you, too.” They fell asleep.

Though the nightmares continued, with time their frequency and intensity began to wane, and Claire’s sense of comfort around the estate continued to grow. She began acclimating herself in ways she’d never done when she lived there before. One of her favorite pastimes seemed to be gardening. They had multiple gardens, and Tony often found her outside in the sun, tending to the small plants. It wasn’t that he wanted her to work, yet the pleasure she derived from the activity was obvious. He wondered why she hadn’t done that when they were married. With her hands and knees covered in dirt, and a glow of perspiration, her smile brightened his world. Tony loved how when he’d get home from work, she’d drag him from flowerbed to flowerbed, explaining the different plants and telling him about their sun and moisture requirements. Although the flowers had always been present, without Claire he hadn’t noticed them.

One Saturday afternoon while he was working from home, through his office window Tony saw Claire at the pool. Suddenly, his work paled in importance. He slipped to their room, donned his bathing suit, and joined her in the cool, clear water. Each act, whether gardening or swimming, reinforced Claire’s increased level of comfort. With her hand in his, he noticed the dark evidence of her recent activity under her fingernails and teased, “I think you need a manicure after all of this manual labor.”

Giggling, Claire pulled her hand away. “I wasn’t planning on having anyone look that closely. Besides, I haven’t had a chance to shower yet.”

“Now that sounds intriguing!” He watched as his innuendo turned her expression sultry.

Since Claire’s rejection of his initial proposal, Tony avoided asking directly if she’d marry him. She’d said that if he did, he wouldn’t like her answer; therefore, he’d ease the subject into conversation. Though she’d continued to deflect his persistence—and he fully expected her to do it again—Tony wanted Claire to know that he wouldn’t give up. The warm Saturday afternoon and relaxed setting seemed as good of a time as any. With a mischievous grin, he said, “In the meantime, I know a way to divert people’s attention from your nails.”

While holding his shoulders with her legs wrapped around his torso, Claire glanced toward her left hand. His heart clenched and time stood still at the realization that she hadn’t immediately refuted his comment. Tony watched as her gaze lingered and her lips turned sweetly upward. With the reflection of the sun and water, her emerald eyes sparkled as Claire kissed him and replied, “Well, that shower I’m about to take… perhaps, if you can figure out a way to bring the ring in there, I’d slip it on. I mean—” she mused, “I wouldn’t want it to go down the drain.”

Grasping her growing waist, Tony gently pushed her away. He wanted—no needed—to see her clearly. “Are you finally saying yes, that you’ll be Mrs. Rawlings again?”

If it were possible, her smile grew. Nodding, she lowered her lips to his neck, instigated a growl he couldn’t control, and finally replied, “I’m willing to go from dating to engaged. Can we not rush the married part?”

As Tony took in his fiancée, Catherine’s words of warning tugged at his potential happiness. He didn’t want to be disappointed—he also didn’t want to disappoint. Tony needed to make sure his rules were clear. “There is one condition.”

“Yes?” she asked tentatively.

“I don’t want to have to track this ring down again. Do not sell it, give it away, or leave it any place but on your beautiful finger.” It was one of those undebatable statements.

Through a veil of thick lashes, she smiled and whispered, “I promise.” They sealed the deal with a lingering kiss that took them from the pool to their suite.

Before entering the shower, Tony slipped the diamond on Claire’s finger. “I thought it might be better if you weren’t all slippery,” he said.

Claire stared at the ring for the longest time. When she looked up, she replied, “I loved this ring once, but I need to be honest. I think I love it more today.”

He pulled her close. “I know that I love you more today. You, my dear, have taught me what love truly is—and what it is not.”