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With this segment of Chapter Fifteen of Repairing the Legacy, we continue the serialization of Repairing the Legacy. This is a rough draft work in progress and may not reflect the final form. Time period: set after the ending of The Martiniere Legacy main trilogy. I’m breaking longer chapters into sections for readability. This is the first part of Chapter Fifteen. There will be four parts to this chapter.

New to the series? Chapter order:

Chapter One, Section One

Return of the Prodigal Son (2 parts)

Conversations and a Dinner (2 parts)

Dancing into Change (2 parts)

Sisterly Compromises (3 parts)

Conspiracies at the Rodeo (3 parts)

Passing the Baton (4 parts)

Research Complications (3 parts)

Chasing After Shadows (3 parts)

Fifth Anniversary Present (3 parts)

Mariah (5 parts)

Shadows, Redux (3 parts)

Accidents Happen (4 parts)

Maternal Memories (4 parts)

A Voice…Weeping for their Children (6 parts)

March, 2073

RUBY

Ruby opened her eyes, waking slowly from a sound sleep. The distant screech of seagulls, coupled with the faint roar of pounding surf, reminded her that they were at the cliff house, though the cloying damp and cold also served as a notice that they were on the coast, not at home at the Double R.

Gabe curled around her, bare flesh to bare flesh, arm thrown over her waist, pressing close. Ruby smiled, remembering last night’s lovemaking. Her husband might be turning seventy-one years old today, and his arousal less frequent, but he still was as passionate as he had been all those years ago when they first became lovers.

Almost forty-three years ago. Thirteen years since we got back together.

In spite of everything they had experienced, a sweet thirteen years, in her opinion.

And she had plans for Gabe’s birthday morning. They had spent a week between Portland and the cliff house, Mike staying in Portland with Justine and Donald as he underwent preliminary tests and prep for his arm cyborging in April. So far, it looked good for being able to replace the bones only, with minimal intrusion and side effects. They would know for certain tonight, when they joined Mike for Gabe’s birthday dinner, along with Justine and Donald.

But the morning at the cliff house was theirs.

Ruby eased carefully out from under Gabe’s arm. He snuffled and turned over, exhaling heavily. She paused, waiting to see if he was waking up. When he settled deeper into the bedding, she rose and pulled on a robe to stave off the worst of the chill, and slid her feet into a pair of slippers. A quick visit to the bathroom, then into the kitchen to take her morning medications. Ruby started coffee, and turned to her first project, mixing her quick-rise biscuits.

Biscuits set to rise, Ruby poured herself some coffee, then made quiche using the last of their dried morels and a homemade frozen pie crust she had left in the freezer after their last trip to the cliff house. Maybe they would be able to get into the woods to harvest more mushrooms this year in a few weeks, and maybe not. Gabe had problems walking very far without either a cane or a walker anymore, and it seemed like every year the mushrooms retreated further and further into the forest, in areas where it was difficult for him to walk.

Might need to think about cultivating some morels. Or just buying some.

Though she hated to give up the morel hunt, traipsing through the woods as the season changed from winter to spring. Finding calypso/ladyslipper orchids. Watching meadows transform from soggy, mushed-down-by-snowbanks dried grasses to the fresh green of spring. That special ox-eye daisy patch she loved, near the shooting range. And stumbling across morels, suddenly spotting a single shy gray-brown-black mushroom, then realizing they were all around her.

But eras changed, and perhaps it was time to let go of mushrooming, as they had done firewood cutting.

On the other hand, Gabe could ride in a crawler while she hunted mushrooms. Maybe it wasn’t time to completely give it up yet.

In any case, she had stashed these remaining morels for just this occasion. Gabe loved them, especially in her quiches, and what better for his birthday than a quiche filled with morels? Even if they were rehydrated dried ones.

Shuffling sounds alerted her and she turned her head to grin at Gabe as she slid the quiche into the oven. He no longer glided silently around the house, but hobbled, unable to silently sneak up on her—or Justine—or any other Family member. But that broad, joyous smile that spread across his face when her eyes met his, and that matching come-hither twinkle in his eyes—no, that hadn’t changed. Like her, he wore a light robe, unbelted, more for keeping the chill off back and shoulders than modesty.

“So what have we here?” He wrapped his arms around her as she straightened up.

“Your birthday breakfast quiche.” She turned within Gabe’s arms. “Quiche, and biscuits are rising. I need to put them in after a bit.”

“Mmm.” He pulled her close for a kiss, soft at first, then more intense. At last he raised his head, smiling at her.

She smiled back and stroked his cheek and temple with her right hand. Age lines on his face, of course, and his once-black hair was now mostly gray and silver, with streaks of black.

“Seventy-one today,” she murmured.

Gabe scowled. “Don’t want to think about the number of birthdays. Getting to be too many of them. Just want to kiss my pretty wife.”

Ruby snorted. “Flatterer. I have stretch marks. Saggy tits. Gray and silver in my hair. Wrinkles.”

His hands slid down her back and wrapped around her butt. “And firm horsewoman’s ass, long legs that go on forever, no droopy skin sag under your arms, and muscled-up legs. You’re still the gorgeous, brilliant, beautiful redheaded rodeo queen who stole my heart and soul. My queen. The queen of my heart.” His dark brown eyes gazed solemnly into hers.

“My love.” As always, he was so warm, bare skin against bare skin. “My wild bronc rider turned corporate leader. The man who believed in my biobot vision. The only man who has ever possessed my heart.”

“And see where it took us.” Gabe exhaled. “Ah, Rubes, the best birthday presents were when you took me back into your life, then remarried me. Best. Ever. For life.” He kissed her forehead as his hands moved back to her waist, his lips brushing little feathery kisses down her cheek. “Thirteen years together again, and far too short. I’m so damn grateful you managed to forgive my stupidity.”

“Are you ever going to stop saying you’re sorry?”

“Never. Not until the day I die. Getting stampeded into divorce because I was so afraid to tell you my real identity was the stupidest choice of my life. I still regret it, and always will.”

Ruby shuddered, a sudden unreasonable sensation of dread and desolation sending chills through her, joined with a vision of a future without Gabe, somehow worse than divorce had been. She buried her head in Gabe’s chest.

Seventy-one. How many more years do we have left?

His hand stroked her hair. “Rubes. What’s wrong?”

“Just—I don’t know, that sensation of someone walking over my grave. Or yours. Something like that.”

“Death will happen someday.” His voice was quiet. “We’ve had some close calls over the years. Together and apart. But we’re both getting up there in age. It’s not like we have forever left to us.”

“It’s not enough.”

“No. It’s not.” Gentle lips on hers again. “But it’s what we have. And on my birthday, as far as I’m concerned, being able to spend another year in the presence of my brilliant, beautiful wife is the best present ever.”

“Good, because besides your breakfast, that’s pretty much what you’re getting this year.”

“I’d take you to bed after breakfast, except last night—” He smirked.

“That was a good time, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. And I look forward to an equally good time celebrating your birthday in October.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said.

But that same premonitionary chill tightened her gut. Ruby clung to Gabe.

It wasn’t so much the prospect of facing the world alone that sent the fear racing through her. After all, she had done just fine by herself after their divorce.

It was the potential absence of Gabe—now and forever—that struck dread into her heart.

May that day be long in coming.

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