Remembrance

by T K Eldridge

  “A lot of vintage clothes,” Emlen replied dryly. “And stuff for a household in the 1980’s. Took the whole lot of it to the thrift store for them to sort and deal with.”

  Cullen nodded and nudged a box with his foot. “This one has a lot of books, but it may have more than just novels in it. I’m hoping anyway.” He reached over and flipped the lid open and yelped, jerking back as Barnabus leaped out of the box and stretched before padding over to sniff at a pickle that had fallen from Cull’s plate.

  Emlen’s laughter filled the room, hand cupped in front of her mouth as she worked to swallow while laughing, tears in her eyes. “I should’ve figured. Cat and boxes go together.”

  Connor was snorting laughter as well, then picked a bite of chicken meat off his plate and held it out. “Here kitty…”

  “His name is Barnabus. He showed up here the day I moved in, and knew just where the cat food was, so I named him,” Emlen replied, wiping her face with a napkin and eyeing Cullen’s glare as he picked salad off his lap and cleaned up the mess from nearly dropping his plate when the cat surprised him.

  “Bet he tastes good with soy sauce,” Cullen muttered, then started to chuckle. “That was funny though. Damned thing nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “No, you’re not cooking my cat,” Emlen retorted and watched the grey tabby head over to Connor and nibble delicately at the offering before ripping it from his fingers and darting under the coffee table. “See? You scared him,” she admonished Cullen, trying to look stern and dissolving into laughter once more.

  Barnabus settled under the table, enjoying his treat and ignoring the humans laughing. Emlen set her plate aside and reached for the box nearest her, pulling it open and starting to take a few of the items out. “This one is books and papers, looks like a couple of my Mom’s journals.” She paused and glanced up at the brothers. “I’d like to ask that if you come across any of her journals or diaries, that I get to see them first?”

  “Of course,” Cullen replied, and Connor nodded, mouth full still. Or again. It was hard to tell.

  As soon as one box was emptied, it became the repository for all things deemed not useful and the coffee table was becoming covered with papers, loose photos, framed photos and journals. “Three…four…five… Wow, Mom wrote a lot,” Emlen murmured, trying to put the journal pile into some semblance of chronological order.

  “My mom keeps journals too,” Cullen offered, not looking up from the book he was flipping through. He went through each book since earlier he’d dropped one and found a few loose photos falling out.

  “Yeah, she has them stacked in file boxes in the closet,” Connor replied. “I tried reading them once. She made sure I never even considered it again. He winced in remembrance and glanced at Cullen.

  “Don’t look at me, I never even tried. I saw you not sitting for a couple of days and didn’t even think about it.” Cullen grinned and set the book aside, reaching for another.

  “Didn’t she leave a couple of boxes of them at your place?” Connor asked.

  “Yeah, they’re up in the attic in a plastic tote bin. I moved them out of the box when I put them up there so they wouldn’t get damaged. And no, I still didn’t look at them.”

  “Such willpower,” Emlen teased before reaching for another box. “About two more boxes and we’re done. The rest of the stuff upstairs is furniture and a few things that I wanted to keep of Mom’s. I took her jewelry to the shop to be cleaned and repaired, but for now, this is all that’s left.”

  The three fell silent as they worked their way through the last bit. After about an hour, Connor leaned back and looked around the room. “I’ll get us some more drinks and then Cull and I can move these wherever you want them, Em.”

  “Those books over there, I want to keep. The rest of the stuff can go. We’ve pulled all of the personal stuff out so it’s just books and magazines left. The papers that have no real value we can throw out. I just didn’t want to risk tossing something important until we’d gone through it.”

  The brothers started settling the ‘to go’ stuff into boxes and sealing them up, carrying them out to Cullen’s truck while Emlen cleared the plates and lunch food, and set out bowls of snacks and fresh drinks that Connor had put on the counter. Sorting the remainder into piles, she settled down with the journals, picking through them until she found the ones that would have been from around the time of her conception. A shiver ran through her and she let out a breath. “Mom? I hope you don’t mind me looking at these. We need answers now more than ever.”

  A faint caress brushed her cheek and she let out a sigh before opening the notebook. It was leather bound with a band that wound around it top to bottom to hold it closed. She took a minute to appreciate her mother’s beautiful script and then started to read. She didn’t even look up when the brothers returned and started on their own piles, getting lost in the story.

  It’s been three days since the gala, and I can’t get him out of my mind. It’s like I finally saw him after knowing him all these years. The way he smiled, the way he moved - it was like I was seeing a stranger. Then he asked me to dance and it was as if we were made for each other. We’re supposed to go out tonight and I’ve nearly emptied my closet, trying to find the right thing to wear. He says to dress to impress, so I will.

  Who knew that the boy I saw every summer, would grow up to be so incredible?

  Emlen let out a breath. “I think I found where she met my father, but she’s not said a name yet.”

  “Oh, wow. Keep reading,” Connor encouraged, turning over another paper from the pile in his lap. “I’ve got a bunch of financial stuff here, but nothing that looks like it’ll help us. I’ll sort it for you to go over later if you want.”

  “Sounds good…” Emlen replied, voice trailing off as she kept reading.

  Cullen watched her face, the play of emotions as she read the pages and nearly forgot to pay attention to his own pile of sorted documents. It took his breath away, how beautiful she was.

  Connor reached over, not even looking at him, and swatted his arm. “Back to work.” he muttered, grinning. “You can stare later.”

  Four months since we danced at the gala. Three months since we ‘danced’ at his apartment and I know now, with certainty, I’m pregnant. I’m afraid to tell him. He’s usually a gentleman and kind with me, but he’s been talking a lot about his dreams and aspirations and I don’t think he sees me as a part of that future.

  I don’t think -I- see me as a part of that future. A politician’s wife? Ending up like my mother and grandmother? That is the last thing I want, nor the kind of life I want for my child.

  Emlen’s breath hitched and she flipped through the pages, skimming quickly.

  It took me two weeks to get up the nerve, or find the right time, whatever excuse you want to use - to tell him about the baby. He was excited at first, then fearful. He’s worried about telling his parents, particularly his father, and their reaction.

  He wants to get married, but I don’t know if that’s what I want. It’s not the late 1800’s but the late 1900’s and a woman doesn’t -have- to be married to have a child anymore.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if he asks.

  Well, at least he wanted me. Em thought to herself as she kept going.

  We’re not going to tell anyone for a bit now. It’s easy enough to hide with loose shirts and dresses, but after Tina’s death, his mom isn’t handling things well at all. She spends her days and nights in a Valium and booze haze.

  Emlen looked up. “Did Judge Jackson have a daughter?”

  Cullen stopped and looked at her in confusion while Connor pulled out his phone and started searching. “Yeah, Valentina. She died when she was nineteen in a drunk driving accident.”

  Em let out a slow breath. “Uncle JC is my grandfather, not my ‘uncle’. John Jackson is my father.”

  “How do you know?” Cullen asked. Connor just watched as Emlen glanced down at the journal in her lap.


  She took a breath and read the last bit to them, then looked up at the brothers. “She was about four months pregnant with me at the time.”

  Connor turned back to his phone and nodded. “That would fit the timeline too. Holy shit, Em…”

  Cullen’s expression shifted to determined and angry. “So, which is it, then? Is the Judge trying to kill you or his son?”

  Emlen’s face paled and she let out a breath. “I’ll keep reading. Right now, he seems to have wanted me - the son that is. Mom was unsure about marrying him if he asked her, about being a politician’s wife. She didn’t want the same kind of life for me that she’d had with her parents.”

  “Your Brewster grandparents weren’t politicians though, right?” Connor asked.

  “No, but they might as well have been. They were high society and counted many politicians and other famous people in their circle. They were in the news and papers all the time. Anything that happened in the family became instant fodder. It’s why they sent me off to boarding school as soon as I was old enough to go to school. If they’d had boarding schools for toddlers, I probably would have been in one then.”

  Cullen jerked to his feet, tossing the papers he’d been going through onto the chair and started pacing. Connor glanced up at his brother, then turned to Emlen. “Emlen, it pisses me off that they treated you like that, and I’m sure that’s part of what has Cull so furious. We’ve talked about it before; how different life would have been if you’d stayed in our house and been our sister.”

  Cullen gave Emlen a wry grin. “Well, that would have made a few things rather awkward now, if we’d been raised siblings, wouldn’t it?”

  A soft chuckle and she nodded. “Creepy if I were attracted to my brother,” Em replied and leaned back. “I probably wouldn’t have the issues I have with relationships and abandonment if I’d been raised with you guys. You’re both good men and I can tell your parents did a good job. I’m curious though, why my father’s name isn’t on my birth certificate and why he never claimed me - or why my mom’s family never gave me to him. They sure as hell didn’t want me. My aunt gave the twins, my cousins, anything they wanted - but I was the one that had to perform to standards in order to get anything. I was a duty, never a pleasure. Luckily, Uncle Jonathan was a kinder man and showed me some love and affection. Well, he did whenever Aunt Corinne wasn’t around.”

  “Cousins?” Connor asked. “Oh…right, the Hale twins. They’re all over the media. Used to be for their antics and mischief, now it’s for who their dating or what club they’ve been seen in. I forgot they were your cousins.”

  “Yeah, we have never been close. They were taught early that I was about the same level as a servant’s child, never to be considered family,” Em told him before opening the book again, her finger having marked the page. “Let me see what more I can learn.”

  Cullen huffed out a breath. “I need some air. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Em glanced up as he headed out to the porch, gaze flicking to Connor. He rose and gave her a wry smile. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t punch something.” He moved to follow his brother. As soon as they stepped out, Emlen started reading once more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Frankie sat in his old Ford van, eyes on the house a few yards away. He’d been watching the lights in the windows, waiting for the girl to go to sleep. He had his thermos of coffee, bag of jerky and a whole pound of sunflower seeds to keep him going, as well as three cans of chewing tobacco. He could sit here all night and planned on it if he had to.

  The boss had been pissed that he’d not taken the girl out yet. It was supposed to have been done over a week ago, but his van had been in the shop part of that time and it was his busy season at the bait hut.

  Frankie’s fingers lifted to lightly touch under his eye. The message sent by the boss had been real clear though. He didn’t care if Frankie lost business or had to bike to do the job. It had to get done - and now. So, here he sat, spit bottle in hand, and eyes on the lights in the windows.

  He sat up and pulled out the binoculars when the two figures walked out on the deck. A low laugh rumbled in his chest as he saw the brothers leaning against the railing. One looked pissed, the other looked not pissed. Frankie wasn’t sure if he was excited or frustrated, the way he bounced a foot on the deck and stood with his arms crossed.

  Didn’t matter much. If he could take out all three at once? The boss would probably give him a damned bonus!

  Shifting in his seat, he glanced behind the passenger’s seat and reached to pull the tarp a little further over the crate sitting there. In it were six bottles of lamp oil with wicks poked through the caps and plastic wrap snugged around them for safety. He probably wouldn’t need that much, but it was better to be safe than sorry with the boss up his ass. Was also why he was using chewing tobacco tonight and not smoking it. He didn’t want to blow his own ass up because he did something stupid.

  Settling back, he spit into the bottle again and looked over at the brothers on the deck. Yep, this was going to be a good night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cullen jerked when Connor came out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Not now, Con. I need to just walk this off a bit.”

  “I get it, but maybe talk it out first? What’s got you all twisted up?”

  “Which part? The fact her family are a bunch of shits? The fact that if it is her father or her grandfather going after her - the chances of us stopping them are slim to none?” Cullen turned to glare at his brother. “Do you really think we could take on a Vice Presidential candidate or a sitting Federal judge and win?”

  “Easily? No,” Connor replied. “But I’d put money on it that the reason they’re going after her now is because of the coming election. Jackson and Bannerman are running a ticket on family values. Having an illegitimate child show up, tied to a wealthy donor family, would cause all kinds of trouble.”

  “Having that child killed and her identity splashed across the media would cause even more trouble, don’t you think?” Cullen snarled.

  “Only if that information got out. It’s looking pretty good that her family knew exactly who her father was and that had a lot to do with why they kept her buried in boarding schools.”

  Cullen slapped a hand against the deck railing and leaned against it, back to his brother as he gazed out at the beach and the water beyond. “They’d never tell, even if the fuckers murdered her. Their reputation and social standing are too important.”

  “Yep. So, we need to get the information out before they do,” Connor replied.

  Now Cullen understood why his brother was so calm. He’d already figured out the best way to play it. “Damn.” He turned and looked at his brother, his smile slowly growing. “You’ve already got the answer.” Stepping up, he pulled Connor into a hug, then slapped his shoulder. “Let’s head inside and see what Emlen says.”

  Connor stopped walking, pulling his brother to a stop. “Wait. Let’s not lay it out for her yet. She’s dealing with a lot of emotional shit right now, reading those journals. We don’t need to spin her emotions any higher until she’s had a chance to process. We’ll just do our part and then see what she wants from there.”

  A nod from Cullen and he let his shoulders relax. “Yeah, you’re right. We don’t need to overwhelm her any more than she is right now.”

  Stepping inside, Cullen went to press a kiss to Emlen’s temple while Connor grabbed the coffee pot and a couple of fresh bottles. “How are you, Emmy?” Cull murmured as she glanced up at the kiss.

  “It’s a lot, but I’m getting a lot of answers.” Em’s hand lifted and she cupped his cheek. “Thanks for asking. I’ll be fine. Really.”

  He turned to kiss the palm of her hand and then dropped down to sit, scooping up the other journals and holding them in his lap. “I’m going to put all of these others in a bag and tuck them in your Rover with the other stuff. Want me to put your laptop in there too?”

  Em nodded and the
n paused, “Take that baggie of photos too. I didn’t get them scanned yet and I don’t want to lose anything.”

  “Got it.” Cull replied and pushed to his feet, gathering everything up and tucking it all in the messenger bag. He turned toward the door when a ‘whoosh’ and a crash had him spinning around.

  Emlen shot to her feet. “What the hell was that?” was all she got out before the smoke detector in the front of the house went off. Another ‘whoosh’ and crash and Connor yelled from the kitchen, running into the room, eyes wide. “Get out of the house! It’s on fire!” He grabbed a box and tossed it out the door onto the porch, not even paying attention to what he was grabbing.

  “Forget that!” Cullen yelled. “Em, grab your phone, let’s go!” He shouldered the bag, grabbed his keys and phone and took her hand, tugging her to the back door. They’d just reached it when another crash had the room behind them exploding into flames.

  Connor grabbed at them and pulled them with him towards the deck, coughing as the smoke billowed out around them. Shoving Emlen’s keys at his brother, Cullen yelled “Get her Rover away from the house!” Connor raced off into the smoke while Emlen stared at the flames in shock, the journal she’d been reading, dangling from her hand.

  Cullen tugged on Em’s arm, pulling her off the porch and away from the rapidly burning house, trying to dial 911 on his phone at the same time. “Fire at Rocky Cove road!” he coughed. “Everyone’s out of the house but it’s going fast!”

  They stumbled down the steps and over to the rocks near the beach, Emlen still seeming in shock as he led her to a spot far enough away to clear the air when he heard a ‘pop’ and suddenly he wasn’t holding her arm any more. Cullen turned just as he heard another pop and felt a searing pain in his leg, dropping to a knee before he saw Emlen lying on the ground, not moving. “SHOOTER!” he shouted before he flattened out and reached for her neck, trying to find a pulse. It was there, but her shirt was wet and sticky and in the flickering firelight it was hard to tell where she’d been hit. “CONNOR! SHOOTER!” he yelled again before reaching for his ankle holster, the pain in his thigh shooting its own kind of flames up his spine.