She was tied in the chair, unable to move. Whitcomb was approaching her with smiling menace. She saw blood on his hands and realized Charles was lying behind him on the floor, dead. As she grew steadily more terrified, she heard him speak: "You're next, Martha," he said calmly. "Make it easy on yourself. Don't fight me…"

Martha woke with a gasp. Sitting up in bed, she realized where she was: surrounded by moving boxes in a not-yet-familiar bedroom, with Aaron lying next to her. She sat, shivering, with her face in her hands; then she felt him stir and hold out his arms. She crawled into them, letting his presence calm her racing heartbeat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally, still shaking.

"Don't be sorry." He rubbed her back comfortingly and kissed her forehead. "I just wish I could make these dreams go away."

"I wish you could too. This is the third time this week." Overcome with emotion, she buried her face in his chest and started to sob. Aaron held her, stroking her hair; a few minutes later she calmed down. "I'm a wreck," she muttered. "I thought I was getting better, but I guess I'm not."

"Why should you say that?" Aaron demanded. "What you've been through would stress anyone out. Dr. Young told you that. It's going to take time, that's all."

"She did say that. It's just hard for me to believe that I'm not to blame for this somehow."

And we both know that's Charles' legacy, Aaron thought bitterly. He had noticed before that under stress Martha reverted to the nervous, brittle person she had been when she was married to Charles Logan. It was easy for her to view herself as unbalanced and weak, and it worried Aaron to see her like this. He sighed and framed his next question carefully: "Martha, would you want to think about rescheduling the wedding?"

She had begun to wipe his chest dry with the sheet. At first she seemed not to have heard him, but then she looked up. "I… no. I don't. Do you?"

"No. I just want to make sure this isn't all too much for you. The move, the funeral, planning a wedding—" he shrugged, letting his sentence trail off.

"Getting kidnapped…" she finished dryly. "I'm fine, Aaron. Really. Angie's doing most of the planning, anyway. All I have to do is tell her what kind of flowers I want and show up for the dress fitting. Bill and Ann are doing the barbecue, so I don't even have to worry about a reception. This has got to be the most pain-free wedding in history." She kissed him. "Besides, I don't want to wait any longer. I want to get married now. It's time for us to start over." In the darkened bedroom she could not see his face, but she could sense his love and concern. She felt a stab of guilt, knowing how worried he had to be to consider canceling the wedding, and put her arms around him. "Make love to me, Aaron. I just want to be with you and forget everything else." She kissed his mouth and as much of his face as she could reach.

Ever since Charles' death Martha's emotions had been fluctuating wildly. Like a compass needle without direction, she shifted from rage when she remembered his betrayal to pity when she thought of him lying dead and alone in the library. The funeral had been an ordeal in itself. Charles' brother George, whom she had never liked, declined any responsibility for the arrangements and was happy to let Martha take over. Aaron had objected, but Martha was firm: "I just want it over with, Aaron, and George isn't capable of doing anything." She had decided to hold a private service in the California church where she and Charles had been married, thinking it would be the most appropriate place, but she had not anticipated the agonizing memories that assaulted her from the moment the service began. Martha was already jittery due to the presence of the media clustered across the street, and the funeral became an endurance contest for her rather than a chance to say goodbye. Aaron's presence was her anchor and she clutched his hand throughout the service. Crying silently, she scattered Charles' ashes at sea the next day as Aaron watched, wondering what was going through her mind.

Martha's emotional exhaustion made it easy for her to wonder if she had been to blame for Charles' murder. On the one occasion she had voiced her doubts to Aaron he had told her in no uncertain terms that she was not responsible for what had happened. "Your instincts were right. Charles was the only one who could help us break the conspiracy; we tried every other lead but we kept coming up against dead ends. If you've got to blame someone other than Charles for what happened to him, put the blame on me, not yourself. I wanted to find these people just as much as you did."

"Blame you? Of course not!"

He had smiled. "Then don't blame yourself, Martha." The subject was closed, but she could not shake herself free of guilt. She became more anxious and restless by the day. Dr. Young reversed the taper of Martha's medication dosage, increasing it back to what it had been immediately after the terrorist attacks, but even with increasing the frequency of her appointments Martha's symptoms were slow to improve. She had been shielded from most of the publicity associated with Logan's murder since Hal Gardiner, at Aaron's request, had agreed to withhold the details of the kidnapping from the news media. Despite these interventions her panic attacks continued, alarming Angie as well as Aaron. Soon Martha's resolve to quit cigarettes broke and she started smoking again; worse yet, Aaron had an uneasy feeling that she was drinking more as well.

Her appetite disappeared to the point that Neil Roston had chided her at the last dress fitting: "My dear, promise me you'll make an effort. I can't take the dress in any further without destroying the design, but more important, you really aren't looking that well." Martha had forced a smile in response: "I understand, Neil. I promise to be good. I don't want to lose any more weight either." Finally, hoping that a change of surroundings would calm Martha's anxiety, Aaron suggested that they leave for Texas sooner than they had planned; after a short discussion, Martha agreed.

On their arrival the Pierces were shocked by the change in Martha's appearance. "She's as thin as a rail, Bill," Ann whispered. With Aaron's approval, Angie quickly took them aside to explain the details of the ordeal Martha had been through. Ann and Barbara were stunned to hear what had happened, and promised not to bring up the topic with either Aaron or Martha. "They really don't want to think about it if they can help it," Angie explained.

Late that afternoon as he was leaving for the stables Bill Pierce passed Martha pacing and smoking on the patio. Concerned, he stopped and looked at her, searching for something to say. "You look like you're at a little bit of a loose end," he managed uncomfortably.

"I know, Bill." She glanced at her cigarette and gave him a guilty smile. "I haven't been doing that well lately, and I know Aaron's worried about me. I just can't seem to pull myself together after everything that's happened."

Her jumpiness somehow reminded Bill of Candy. This thought inspired him to suggest: "Why don't you come out to the stables with me? When I'm upset about something, going out there seems to work. It helps me think."

"That sounds great. Let me just go tell Aaron." A few minutes later, followed by Agent Mitchell, they headed toward the stables in Bill's pickup. Once there Martha wandered into the tack room, noting the bridles and other gear piled there awaiting cleaning.

"I've been meaning to get to those, but it's been a little busy," Bill muttered apologetically.

Martha suddenly realized that her fingers were itching to do something. Hoping to stave off the craving for another cigarette, she volunteered: "If you show me where the saddle soap is, I'll start on these." She began taking the bridles apart and scrubbing them as Bill fed the horses. A sudden clatter of hooves and a muffled oath drew her attention.

"Sorry, Martha. It's Candy. I knew she was high-strung when I bought her, but I just can't get her to settle down. Seems like every little thing sets her off."

Martha gave a wry smile. "I know the feeling." She walked over to the stall, leaned on the door and began to talk to Candy in a soothing tone. After a moment Candy pricked her ears forward and moved toward the door, allowing Martha to stroke her neck.

"She needs a brushing, but she hates it when I do it," Bill said, observing that Martha was getting on well with the mare. "Want to try?"

"Sure." Bill led Candy into a larger box, handed the brushes to Martha and stood back to watch as Martha began grooming her, never stopping her gentle talk to the mare. A few minutes later Aaron walked in quietly and joined Bill in watching Martha's work. "How's it going?" he asked in an undertone.

"Going great," Bill answered, grinning. "She handles Candy better than I do."

It took forty-five minutes for Martha to finish grooming Candy, but she had a look of accomplishment as she led the mare back to her stall. "My arms!" she laughed, holding an aching tricep. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow."

That night Martha slept better then she had for weeks. Pleased with the success of his suggestion, Bill gave Martha a standing invitation to accompany him to the stables daily. Often his sons came with them, curious to get to know their prospective aunt better. Candy's disposition improved markedly with her attention and Martha became absorbed in the everyday routine of the ranch. She confided their retirement plans to Bill, who was delighted at the prospect of them returning to Texas, and they began to discuss the local real estate market. "You don't want anything too big now," he cautioned. "I'll look around for you. I know some people who might be interested in selling in the next few years."

Relieved of her concerns about Martha, Angie was happy to encourage her to spend as much time at the stables as possible. She spent most of her time catching up with Ann and Barbara and finalizing the plans for the wedding, but it soon became clear to her that Barbara had problems of her own. She was not as outgoing as usual and her normally amusing observations about their neighbors were now tinged with sarcasm. One afternoon she surprised Angie by losing her temper with the church's wedding coordinator, a humorless woman in her seventies who felt the only proper color choice for weddings was pink. As they left the church Angie gave her a puzzled look: "Barb, is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Angie. Really." Barbara sighed. "I just need to learn a little more patience with Mary Sue, that's all."

Noticing that Ann was careful to say nothing, Angie left the subject for the moment. Once Barbara had been dropped off in town she asked bluntly: "Ann, what's going on? I've never seen Barb lose her temper like that."

Ann took her eyes from the road a moment and nodded. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Barbara, but she's been a little depressed lately. She started dating again and it hasn't worked out that well."

Angie frowned. "Matt's been dead, what, three years now?"

"A little longer than that. After the first year we started to encourage Barb to go out, but she wouldn't hear of it. She kept saying she wasn't ready to think about dating. Matt was a good guy, but it's time she started socializing more, and the kids need a father. We couldn't change her mind until she saw how happy Aaron was with Martha. After the last time you all were here, she said to me: I want that. And then she met a guy posted at Fort Bliss that she really liked and it seemed like things were going fine. Until we found out he was dating Diane, too."

"You're kidding. Both of them?"

"Yep, both. Neither one of them knew about the other."

Angie started to grin. "Sorry, but it actually sounds kind of funny to me. What happened?"

"Barbara overreacted. She said she never wanted to see the guy again. Diane wasn't too happy about it either, but she kept on dating him. From what I hear these days it sounds like she's really whipped him into shape. It's as much as his life's worth to step out on her now." Ann chuckled.

"I'm sure," Angie said dryly. "What do you bet Diane winds up marrying him?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, Barbara won't admit this but her ego took a hit. I told her she couldn't expect a perfect romance the first crack out of the box, but…" Ann shrugged. "She hasn't dated anybody since."

"That's too bad." Angie looked sympathetic. "There's nobody in town she's interested in?"

"There's this one guy Bill knows fairly well. He's an accountant, divorced. His daughter is in the same grade as Barbara's daughter, they get along and he seems really nice. We're trying not to push her. I told her that just because Matt was in the Army it doesn't mean she has to date exclusively Army guys."

"I spent more than twenty years in the Army, Ann. Trust me, they're not all husband material by a long shot."

At her first opportunity Angie told Martha of Barbara's dilemma, thinking it would help pull her out of her depression. She was right; Martha was struck by Angie's news. "I was so lucky I had Aaron," she commented thoughtfully. "I can't imagine what it would have been like to try to date again. I've heard enough about that from Jane. She had a lot of dating disasters after her divorce." Over the next several days Angie was pleased to see Martha spending more time with Barbara and her children, trying to cheer her up.

Nathan arrived a few days before the wedding, greeting his father and soon-to-be stepmother with hugs. "Good to see you, Dad. Em, how are you? Getting wedding nerves?" he asked teasingly.

"Not a bit. I don't think I've been this relaxed in ages," she retorted cheerfully. "Your aunts and Angie won't let me do a thing, so I've been helping your Uncle Bill with the horses and learning how to run the ranch. It's great fun."

"I have no idea what's supposed to happen during the wedding, Em. Can you fill me in? The only thing I know is I'm a groomsman. I suppose I'll have to go get fitted for my tuxedo tomorrow," Nathan added with a grimace. "I hate those things."

Martha explained that a barbecue at the ranch would follow the ceremony. "You can get out of your tux as soon as the wedding's over," she reassured him. "I imagine everybody will be wearing jeans. Comfortable clothes, anyway."

Nathan's eyes lit up. "Did you get a band?"

"Yes, we did. Your Aunt Barbara took care of that."

"I hope you can two-step, Em. That's kind of the standard dance around here."

"I don't know the two-step," Martha confessed. "It's a good thing you mentioned it, Nathan. I would never have thought of that."

"Let me show you." Nathan jumped up and switched on the radio. "It's easy, I promise." He turned up the music and led Martha to the center of the room.

"Okay, Em. Here we go." He demonstrated the step slowly, then started to dance in time with the music. "Keep going this way. Left, right, left. That's it," he instructed as they slowly made the circuit of the room. Drawn by the sound of the radio, Aaron looked in and smiled as he watched his son dance with Martha, who was giggling and trying to concentrate on the steps: On impulse, he walked over and tapped Nate on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"

"Be my guest." Nathan stepped back and watched with satisfaction as Aaron took Martha around the room and then noticed Jennifer standing in the doorway. He smiled and held out his hand. "C'mon, Jen."

Jennifer's face lit up as she took her cousin's hand and started to dance. On the other side of the room, Martha sighed and relaxed into Aaron's arms. "We haven't danced since Christmas," she whispered.

"I know. We should do this more often."

"When we're on our honeymoon, I want to dance with you every night." She snuggled her head into Aaron's shoulder. "By the way, where are we going?"

Aaron chuckled. "I thought you'd never ask. Do you want it to be a surprise, or should I tell you now?"

"Well, considering we'll be there in three days I think this qualifies as a surprise, don't you? C'mon. I'll be really, really nice to you if you tell me," she added teasingly.

Aaron capitulated instantly. "Mexico. We're going to Mexico. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful. Where exactly?"

"It's a little place on the Gulf of California, quiet, wonderful beach, has its own pool and the food's supposed to be great."

Martha's expression suddenly turned from delighted to apprehensive. "But Aaron, I didn't bring my passport."

"Got it. Angie got it for me from your desk."

"You are wonderful." Martha hugged him. "Can I have another dance lesson tomorrow?"

Time sped by and soon it was the day before the wedding. The wedding rehearsal was simple and straightforward, but as Martha stood next to Aaron in the church she felt her heart beginning to pound. Maybe I am getting wedding nerves after all, she thought, but she knew the butterflies in her stomach came from joy, not panic. Aaron looked over at her and took her hand. "Excited?" he whispered. All she could do was grin and nod her head. He waited until the minister had turned away to talk to Angie and gave her a quick kiss.

Aaron's phone rang as they were leaving the church. After a brief conversation, he hung up and turned to Martha. "They're here. We're going to pick them up at the motel." Mike, Jane, and Jon Cardona and his wife had just finished checking in when they arrived. As they headed for their rooms, luggage in hand, Martha ran to the window.

"What is it, Martha?"

"I want to see something." Suddenly she gave a gasp of excitement. "They're sharing a room, Aaron! Mike and Jane are in the same room!"

"Martha, do we really need to know that?" Aaron looked slightly scandalized at her curiosity.

"I introduced them, remember? You'd better believe I want to know."

Dinner was served at a long table on the patio, which Nathan and Aaron had set up earlier in the day as preparation for the barbecue. During a pause in the conversation near the end of the meal, Aaron cleared his throat and stood up.

"I'd like to thank everyone who traveled here to be with us tonight. As you know, Martha and I chose to have a small wedding and we really appreciate your presence. It means a lot to us." He paused for a moment and then continued.

"I wanted to share with all of you just how happy I am… I want to tell you how Martha has changed my life. If anyone had told me two years ago that this day would ever come – that I could find someone I care so much about and who cares about me – I would never have believed it. I would have been afraid to hope that it could be true. I would have told you that my destiny was never to marry again and that I was happy that way. It would have been a lie, but that's what I would have said.

"We went through the worst day of our lives together, and it changed everything. After it was over we had a lot to recover from – Martha more than me." He touched her shoulder for a moment. "But we had each other, we knew we could depend on each other, and from that experience came everything that's happened since. Without her support I would not have stayed in the Service. I wouldn't have the job I have today. More important, I could never have trusted anyone again. I love her more than I thought I could love anyone, I rely on her absolutely, and I know it will always be that way. So if you will join me now, I'd like to give a toast to Martha."

As he raised his glass, the entire table stood. "To Martha!" they chorused, and drank.

Frantically blotting her eyes with her napkin, Martha found herself unable to say anything for a moment until she saw the emotion on Gertrude's face. She gave Aaron a watery smile, stood next to him and took his hand.

"I wish I could say everything that I want to say, but I know I'll never get through it without breaking down. So I'll just say that Aaron means everything to me. What he told you is true; we've been a team ever since that day. But I never thought I would be lucky enough to have him for a husband. And I never thought I would be lucky enough to have you for a family," she finished, her voice wavering. "You made me well again. I want you all to know that."

Tearfully, Barbara stood and hugged her, followed by Jennifer, Ann and Bill and Nate and, finally, Gertrude. "I know you're the right wife for Aaron, Martha," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're marrying him."

The next morning in the bustle of getting ready to head for the church Barbara heard a knock at the door; opening it, she blinked at the tall man standing on the doorstep. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"This is the home of Agent Pierce, yes? Aaron Pierce?"

"He's staying here, yes. I'm his sister."

The man bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you. May I speak to him for a moment? I have come from Washington to deliver a wedding gift. My name is Ivan Kryukov. I worked with your brother in Moscow."