"You're not going to stand trial," Gabe said.

"You see, he'd do everything he could to make it easier for me. He's a very powerful and determined man." She added simply, "And he loves me."

"That's become abundantly clear to me," Pilsner said dryly. "Perhaps the marriage wasn't as contrived as I first thought, but it doesn't change anything. The crime still exists."

"I'll pay for it. I'll serve my probation in Sedikhan. I'll stay here for the next five years, and at the end of that time, if you don't agree I'm worthy of being an American citizen, I'll come back to the U.S. and give myself into your custody."

"No!" Gabe said.

"Is it a deal?" she asked Pilsner.

"It appears to be an arrangement slanted in my favor," he said cautiously. "All I have to do is wait."

"No, you also have to be fair. You have to keep an eagle eye on me, and if I make a false step, you give me a black mark. If I do something you like, you give me a gold star." She paused.

"And if you think I can contribute, if you think I'm worthy, maybe you'll let me come home."

"It's not likely."

"Is it a deal?"

"I have nothing to lose." There was a hint of sympathy in his expression as he added, "And you have everything to lose."

"So did those people back in 1776. Sometimes it's worth the risk if the prize is big enough." She turned and walked toward the door. "Come on, Gabe, I have to start gathering gold stars."

"Mrs. Falkner."

She turned to see Pilsner staring at her with a frown furrowing his high brow. "This is very difficult for me. I don't believe it's possible for you to convince me. One exception opens the floodgates. I can't set a precedent."

"Sure you can. Read your history books. America thrives on setting precedents." She opened the door. "And on second chances. That's the reason the Pilgrims came to Plymouth, and look what it says on the Statue of Liberty. That's all I'm asking." She smiled tremulously at him. "A second chance."

She didn't wait for an answer.

"You meant it, didn't you?" Gabe asked as he walked with her down the hall. "You intend togive yourself up if he doesn't come through."

"Yes, one way or another we're going home." She tucked her arm in his. "Even if it means you have to visit me every Sunday in the hoosegow on the Hudson."

"It's a big risk. He's one tough customer. It's always hard to deal with people who think they're in the right."

"We'll just have to prove him wrong. He's already made one mistake. He said I was risking everything." She smiled lovingly up at him. "You're everything. I've tried my darnedest, but you're too stubborn to let me lose you."

"You bet I am."

"We'll, since I have everything, I just need the proper setting to put it in."

EPILOGUE

"Ronnie! Where the devil are you?"

"In the kitchen," she called. "And stop shouting. I'm trying to get this blasted cake to rise."

Gabe came into the kitchen. "You're cooking?" he asked warily.

"Last week I interviewed the chef at that four-star restaurant in Marasef and he said anyone could cook if they concentrate. He says he uses meditation to enhance his creations."

"And that makes the cake rise?"

"Well, I figured it couldn't hurt."

"Do I have to eat it?" he asked uneasily.

"It would be supportive." She peered through the glass oven door. "It's not doing anything. Why are you home early? I thought you said you were lunching with the sheikh."


"I got a call at the office and I canceled it." He paused. "The call was from Pilsner."

She tensed, her glance flying to the calendar on the wall. "I've got another eight months. He can't change my deadline."

Gabe nodded solemnly. "He's doing it. He says it's a foolish waste of time to continue with this campaign of yours. He wants me to personally escort you to Miami for trial."

"What?"

"Got you!" Gabe laughed and picked her up and whirled her in a circle. "No way."

Excitement soared through her. "I'm going to murder you. What did he really say?"

"He just got the news about the Emmy they gave you on the story about illegal aliens. He said the story was slanted and overly sentimental."

That didn't sound promising. "It was the truth and darned good investigative reporting."

"He's tired of receiving reports on your charity work with UNICEF."

"They're embarrassing to me, too, but how else can you get gold stars?"

"He said having to handle those thousands of petitions from people asking that you receive amnesty and be made a citizen was causing his entire staff to threaten to quit."

"Gabe!"

"He said you're the most persistent woman on the face of the earth. I agreed with him. He also said you're a nag without equal in the-"

"Tell me," she interrupted.

"He said if he didn't give in, he was sure you'd discover the cure for all known killer diseases plaguing mankind just to make him look bad."

She held her breath. "And?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet jeweler's box. "He said to be sure and give you this."

"He sent me a present?"

"Well, it's really from me."

She opened the box. An exquisite pearl choker with channel-set rubies and sapphires glittered on a bed of black velvet.

I thought the theme was fitting for a Star-Spangled Bride.

I'll give you the matching necklace when you become a citizen.

The words Gabe had spoken when he had given her the red, white, and blue earrings on their wedding day five years ago came back to her now.

She looked up eagerly from the necklace and the answer was in his face.

He said the words anyway. "We're going home, love."

Iris Johansen

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