Part 1 (1/2)

Heartache Falls.

Emily March.

ANGER AND DESPAIR swirled inside her, and she blurted out the question. ”Did you sleep well on the couch?”

His shoulders subtly stiffened as he belted his robe. He hung up his wet trunks, then turned and reached again for his coffee. He stared down at the mug and spoke with an apology in his tone. ”No, I didn't. I intended to come up, but then time got away from me. I didn't want to disturb you.”

She clamped her teeth against a sarcastic How considerate of you, dear. She was supposed to be making an effort here. ”What were you working on?”

”Just reading a brief.” He avoided her gaze and drank deeply from his mug, then crossed to the refrigerator. Opening the door, he gazed inside. ”I think I'll have an omelet this morning. Would you like me to make one for you, too?”

Ali froze. Had he really asked that? She couldn't eat eggs; she'd never been able to eat eggs. They gave her a horrible stomachache. Mac darn well knew that.

Hurt sliced through her, a sharp, deep pain that lodged right beneath her breastbone. Ali shut her eyes, s.h.i.+vered, and shriveled. He knew eggs made her ill, but he simply didn't think, not about her, not anymore. She was of no more consequence to Mac Timberlake than the puddles of water he'd left pooled on the laundry room floor.

For Mary Lou.

Sisters, sisters ...

Thanks for going with me to Eternity Springs. Next time, I'll drive over the mountain pa.s.s if we hit a thunderstorm, though I still have dibs on being Louise. You're Thelma.

Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.

-MARK TWAIN.

PROLOGUE.

Byron R. White Federal Courthouse.

Denver, Colorado.

”So help me G.o.d.”

Lowering his right hand, Mackenzie S. Timberlake shook the hand of the chief justice, who had just sworn him in as the newest member of the United States District Court for the District of Colorado.

”Congratulations, Judge Timberlake,” the chief justice said. ”We're glad to have you aboard, Mac.”

”Thank you, sir. I'm honored. I look forward to working with you.”

He turned to his wife, Ali, who held the family Bible against her chest, and they exchanged a quick hug. ”I'm so proud of you, Mac,” she murmured. ”Congratulations.”

”Thanks, honey.” Then, as he turned to face the witnesses in the courtroom-his colleagues, his friends, and especially his family-his heart swelled with emotion as they broke into applause.

This grand and glorious moment was the culmination of a long-cherished dream. It was almost surreal.

His gaze fell on his longtime secretary, Louise, whose maternal smile beamed with pride and approval, then to his former law partners, then to Charles Cavanaugh, his mentor from the very beginnings of his legal career. Charles was also his father-in-law and the only father figure Mac had ever known. Meeting his gaze, Charles nodded once, a regal bow of his head. Pride rose within Mac. Having this man's approval meant the world to him.

Next Mac met the warm gazes of the young adults who were his children. The pride in Stephen's and Chase's eyes made him feel ten feet tall. The hero wors.h.i.+p in Caitlin's rea.s.sured him that even though his little girl was almost all grown up, her daddy was still her prince.

Finally he turned back to Ali. In her eyes, he saw ... everything. Pride, respect, encouragement, admiration, love. Always love. Cla.s.sically beautiful, outrageously generous, and infinitely supportive, for more than twenty years she'd been his wife, his lover, his biggest cheerleader. She was his heart.

I am blessed.

Tradition required that he give a bit of a speech, but Mac kept his remarks short and limited them primarily to expressions of thanks and appreciation to those who had a.s.sisted him along this journey. He accepted handshakes and hugs, verbal jabs and kisses until slowly his guests departed for the reception to be hosted by his father-in-law at the Brown Palace Hotel. As the crowd flowed through the doors and out into the hall, Mac hung back. Once the courtroom had emptied, he paused and turned around.

Mac drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. A courtroom. My courtroom.

He thought back to the day he'd had his first look at a courtroom. Nine years old and scared to death. The public defender smelled of grilled onions. The prosecutor wore gold cuff links with stones that winked in the sunlight beaming through a dusty window. The courtroom was muggy and hot, the air-conditioning system unable to keep up on an August afternoon in southern Oklahoma.

Towering above him, his robe black as midnight and his hair white as snow, was the judge. The judge could make his mother do something. The judge could make sure his mom didn't do something. This was a man who would change Mac's world.

A man who held all the power.

To the nine-year-old boy who'd watched the huge, white-haired man bang his gavel and have his mother handcuffed and marched away, the judge was a G.o.d. In that moment, Mac's life path had been blazed. He wanted that power, that prestige, that authority. He wanted to be a G.o.d.

He wanted to be a judge.

And now, after decades of study and sacrifice, hard work and determination, he'd achieved his goal.

From behind him, Ali spoke. ”Mac? The cab is waiting.”

Turning to look at her, his heart gave a twist and his conscience whispered, But at what cost?

ONE.

Two years later.

In the bedroom she shared with her husband, Ali Timberlake tucked her makeup case neatly into her suitcase, then zipped it shut just as her husband emerged from his closet, a duffel bag in one hand. ”Are you sure about this, honey?” Mac asked, his brow knitted with concern. ”We can still change the plan.”

”Right,” Ali replied, her tone dry. ”And for the rest of my life I'll get to listen to Stephen and Chase talk about the one that got away.”

”Hey, we can go fis.h.i.+ng in Alaska another-”

Ali interrupted. ”No, it's okay. I'm glad you're getting to go. It's a minor miracle that your schedule and those of the boys meshed this time. If Caitlin wanted you with her, that would be different, but she's flexing her wings and feeling independent and ready to take on Vanderbilt University.”

Her lips twisted as she added, ”Frankly, I'm not sure she really wants me to go with her to Nashville. We haven't exactly been getting along very well lately.”