The Gift: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  Dearest friends and family,

  The summer of 2013 was a momentous one for me and sadly not for good reasons. As a result, for the first time in my life, I have become aware of my own mortality. And once aware of that, I decided to plan for it. I selected an attorney and she prepared a will for me. I want to make sure my assets are handled as I would wish them to be.

  But as we worked on that, I realized there were some things I wanted to tell all of you. That’s why I am writing this letter. Even as I write it, I know the chances are very good that in a few years, I will write another one and tear this one up. And after that I may write another, and another, and another. Life evolves, and I expect my thoughts, and the contents of my will, will evolve with it.

  I want you all to know that I love you. I suspect my family may question that. We haven’t always seen eye to eye. Still, know that regardless of any angry words or hard feelings that have come between us in the past, I do love you.

  Also I want you all to know I spent a lot of time in reflection about what I wanted to put in my will—specifically how I wanted to divide my assets. This was not done lightly or under any undue influence. My attorney can attest to the hours of thought and discussion that went into it. Please be assured that these are my wishes and mine alone.

  Finally, there are some things I wanted to tell each of you—just in case I never get the chance. To that end, I’ve written private letters that my attorney will give you shortly. I ask one thing, please read your private letters before my attorney reveals the contents of my will.

  With all my love,

  Cassie

  Anne looked up from the letter. “Before we go on are there any questions?”

  “Can we just have the letters,” snapped Cassie’s father.

  Anne sighed. “Yes, certainly.” She removed three sealed letters from the file, handing one to the Calloways, one to the Hatchers, and one to Mike.

  ~ * ~

  Sanford Calloway was not a patient man and he’d had about enough of Cassandra’s theatrics. He ripped open the letter and held it so Alexandra could read it too.

  July 30, 2013

  Dear Mother and Father,

  I don’t expect you’ll ever actually read this letter. But accidents and illnesses happen. So if you are reading this, I did predecease you and, as I said in my other letter, there are a few things I need to say.

  I know I have been a disappointment to you and that makes me sad. But I’m not a disappointment to me, so I cannot apologize for who I am. I don’t regret the choices I’ve made, but I am sorry you were distressed by them.

  By the date on this letter, you can see that my most recent transgression occurred just a little over two weeks ago. I arrived home, before Sloan’s coming-out party, with a shorn head. You all assumed that I had done this for some spiteful reason. But no one actually asked why and no one would listen when I tried to explain. As this seems to be the straw that broke the Calloway family’s back, I doubt I ever will have the opportunity to do it in person.

  But first, I have to take a little step back and tell you something else. Within weeks of starting my freshman year in college, I met a wonderful man. And within weeks of that, I knew I loved him. He was smart and funny and kind and everything I wanted in a partner. I kept him a secret for almost three years. I wanted to be able to share him with you. I loved him so very much. But I worried that you would scare him off. In fairness, you had done it before.

  Tom was too important to me to risk that. He was my soulmate, my heart beat with his. At least it did until June 20, 2013. Tom had lymphoma. He had been in remission about three years, but it came back last spring, and he needed a bone marrow transplant. The chemo was rough. One day, when he was feeling particularly bad, I decided to shave my head for him. I donated my hair to charity and I told him my shiny bald head was like a neon sign telling him I loved him. He died two weeks later and my heart was shattered.

  So, no, when I decided to shave my head, Sloan’s coming-out party was not foremost in my mind. It was not a calculated act to hurt or embarrass you. It was because I loved Tom with everything in me, and in those dark days, I never wanted him to forget that.

  Truthfully, if I had remembered Sloan’s party, I wouldn’t have done anything different. But not because I wanted to hurt any of you. I did what I did out of love, not spite.

  Right after Tom died, I wanted to tell you both. I had kept him a secret but losing him hurt so damn much I needed you. However, things were hectic leading up to the party and it wasn’t something I could just blurt out in a brief phone call, or leave as a voicemail. I decided it would be best to tell you about it all when I got home.

  That didn’t work out, but it didn’t matter. In the end, I knew I had made my choices and I had to live with them.

  So, if you are wondering who the Hatchers are, they are Tom’s parents. When Tom and I started dating, they welcomed me into their family and treated me like a daughter. They are very dear to me.

  Anyway, I’ll just close this by saying that I do love you and I hope you won’t remember me as the belligerent fuck-up I seemed to be in July.

  With love,

  Cassandra

  Sanford Calloway simply stared at the letter. Cassandra had a boyfriend, she was in love, she suffered a terrible loss, and no one knew it. How could no one know it? Christ, she’d had a security detail until right after Sloan’s party. He looked at his wife and saw his own bewilderment reflected in her expression.

  “How did this happen?” she asked.

  He had no answer.

  ~ * ~

  Jack Hatcher took the letter in trembling hands. Tears were already spilling down Nina’s cheeks. He took a deep breath and opened it.

  July 14, 2013

  Dear Mom and Dad Hatcher,

  I don’t expect you’ll ever actually read this letter. Still, as Tom was fond of saying, shit happens. And if you are reading it, I hope I’ve actually had the chance to tell you these things in person. But just in case some sort of shit happens before I have that opportunity, I want to tell you now.

  First, I want to thank you for the gift of your son. He was the smart, funny, loving, compassionate man I fell in love with because of the way you raised him. His fondest memories were of time spent with his family. And his family was one of the greatest gifts he gave me.

  You accepted me for exactly who I was, simply because that was who Tom loved. You became my home. My soft place to land. I will never be able to adequately express how much that meant to me. And when we lost Tom, a small, very insecure part of me worried that I had lost you too. It didn’t take long to know I hadn’t and for that I am profoundly grateful.

  I expect by now you have learned about the part of my life I hid from you. Tom knew—it would have been hard not to. Please believe that the only reason I hid it from you was because I didn’t want to be defined by people’s expectations of Cassandra Wren Calloway. And when I was with you, I was just Cassie Wren. The only other person I’ve ever wanted to be was Cassie Hatcher.

  While I’m making confessions, I have one more. I know you were confused by why you didn’t receive bills for the substantial portion of Tom’s care that wasn’t covered by your insurance. Well, the reason is, I paid them. I was going to tell you eventually—or that’s what I kept telling myself. But telling you, meant telling you how I could afford to do that. And telling you how I could afford to do that meant telling you my real identity. However, that was something I just wasn’t ready for yet.

  So, please forgive me for not telling you all of this sooner. And please remember me with love, as Tom’s girl, Cassie Wren.

  Finally, the gift I’m giving you is from my heart. Keep it, use it, give it away, it’s yours.

  I love you both so dearly—

  Cassie

  Jack could barely read the last words for the tears swimming in his eyes. He reached for Nina and she buried her face against his chest and cried.

  ~ * ~

 
As Mike took his letter from Cassie’s lawyer, he was exceedingly glad he’d asked Jean to come with him. He didn’t want to face this alone. Now she sat, holding his hand, tears standing in her eyes. Jean knew and loved Cassie too, even though Mike knew her better. He looked at the letter for a moment. He had lived every day since Cassie’s death with such a huge ache in his heart he was barely able to function. He and Jean had never been able to have children. Over the years young employees came and went, and Mike had tried to treat them all the way he’d want a child of his treated. But when Cassie walked into his life, he knew she was different.

  Until after she died, he’d thought she was alone in the world. She’d never mentioned any family—now he knew why. He and Jean had sort of taken her under their wings and she became the daughter they never had. He remembered the day Cassie brought Tom to Hooked for the first time. She wanted Mike to meet him. Mike had told him, “I love Cassie like a daughter. Her happiness is very important to me, and if I ever hear that anyone has hurt her…well, I don’t mind going back to prison.”

  It had scared the snot out of Tom until he realized Mike was joking. Sort of.

  Jean squeezed his hand. “Go ahead, Mike.”

  He nodded and opened the letter.

  July 21, 2013

  Dear Mike,

  As much as I hope you never get this letter, I also don’t want to live in a world without Mike Roberts.

  So this is what I want you to know.

  I love you.

  There’s nothing else to say. I have loved you from the first day I met you. And every single day since then, I’ve known that if I needed an ear to listen to me, a shoulder to cry on, or if I just wanted a hug, all I had to do was run downstairs. Frankly, I don’t know how I could have gotten through Tom’s death without you.

  You are the salt of the earth. You are the embodiment of unconditional love. I am so very fortunate to have had you in my life.

  Please take care of yourself, and Jean. I love her too, by the way. My little gift to you is nothing compared to what the two of you have given me. I only hope it will make both of your lives easier.

  So I’m just going to say it one more time.

  I love you.

  Cassie

  ~ * ~

  Anne looked around the room. Everyone had finished reading their letters and either sat in stunned silence or wept. She waited until they’d all had an opportunity to process the contents. “Well, now that you’ve had the chance to read the messages Cassie left for you, there is nothing else to do but to inform you of the contents of her will. Mr. and Mrs. Hatcher and Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, I know you’ve probably only recently learned that Cassie was Sanford and Alexandria Calloway’s daughter. But what you may not be aware of is that Cassie was wealthy in her own right. She had a sizable trust fund that was left to her by her grandfather, Wren. And by sizable I mean in excess of twenty-five million.”

  While the Hatchers and the Roberts looked stunned, Cassie’s parents appeared impatient.

  Sanford Calloway said, “For the love of God, just get on with it.”

  Anne nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Hatcher, Cassie has left one third of her estate to you. Mr. Roberts, she has left one third of her estate to you. And she wishes for the remaining third of her estate to fund lymphoma research.”

  Anne was not surprised by the shocked expressions on every face.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Calloway, Cassie wanted to be sure you knew that she did not intend this to be a slight in any way. She knew that even if her entire estate went to you, it would simply be a drop in the bucket. Whereas, it can make a substantial difference in the lives of her friends who meant so very much to her.”

  “Well, she could have given it to Sloan,” said Mrs. Calloway angrily. “After all it was money left to her by my father.”

  “Mrs. Calloway, I understand your father left both of them substantial trust funds. And considering that Sloan is now your sole heir, the Calloway fortune will be hers someday too. Cassie wanted her gift to make a difference.”

  Chapter 23

  Cassie thought the week between the betrothal and the last day left on the pocket watch had felt like an eternity. But the three weeks they had to wait for the wedding was worse. With nothing to worry about anymore, her thoughts were filled with Tavish. She loved him with everything in her. More than that, her sexual desire was almost uncontrollable.

  She and Tom had slept together for the last time in May, just before his chemo started. She hadn’t had sex in over five months. In fairness, she hadn’t really thought about it for most of that time. But once she fell in love with Tavish and learned who he really was, it seemed to be the only thing on her mind.

  They had decided, out of respect for his parents and medieval norms, to wait until after the wedding to do anything more than hold hands, share a chaste kiss or, if a private moment presented itself, share a few not so chaste kisses. That last bit was probably where she’d made her mistake. Every time she found herself alone with him, in his arms, his lips on hers, she wanted more. Hot and bothered didn’t begin to describe it.

  Evidently it was no easier on him. After a stolen moment in the stable, he sighed and rested his head against hers. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this. It’s torture to hold ye so close and have to stop with a kiss.”

  “Ye’re the one who pulled me into this empty stall.”

  He chuckled, “Aye, I did. And in truth, I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to. If all I can have is a kiss and a cuddle, I’ll take it.”

  She could only agree. As October drew to a close, and wedding guests began to arrive, there were fewer and fewer opportunities to be alone with him. Coll arrived with a large party of Morrisons about a week before the wedding. After that more guests arrived daily.

  Laird and Lady Matheson, with their youngest son, Robbie, and a contingent of guardsmen were the next to arrive. Then representatives from Clan MacInnes, Clan MacQuarrie and Clan MacDougall and of course Clan MacLean, all allies of the Ranalds, arrived. Nearer the end of the week, representatives from the Morrisons’ strongest allies, the Macauleys and the MacLeods arrived.

  Laird MacLeod was represented by his son Andrew, Andrew’s new wife, Anna, and his six-year-old son David. Traveling with the MacLeods was Claire’s youngest brother, Darach.

  When Cassie, saw Darach, she knew instantly who he was and not only because of the family resemblance. While he was a younger, skinnier version of Coll, the flood of memories, clearer and stronger than any she’d ever had, suggested that he was very dear to Claire.

  As soon as he reached her, he lifted her in his arms and spun her around. “Claire, it’s wonderful to see ye. I’ve missed ye so much.”

  Cassie could confidently say, “I’ve missed ye too, Darach.”

  After Tavish and his parents also greeted the new arrivals, they were shown to their lodgings. Cassie wanted a few minutes alone with Darach, so she offered to show him to the bedchamber he would share with Coll.

  When they reached the room, and no longer had an audience, Darach asked, “Are ye happy, Claire? Do ye want this wedding? If ye don’t—”

  “Nay, Darach, ye needn’t worry. I’m very happy.”

  He looked relieved. “That’s good. Because if ye weren’t, I’d...I’d…”

  She smiled. “Ye’d go nose to nose with Coll?”

  “Aye, I would. For ye, I would.”

  “I love ye, Darach.”

  “I love ye too, Claire. Da was wrong to send us away so young. But ye had it worse. Life with the MacLeods was probably a good sight better than it would have been with Gavinia as our mother.”

  Cassie laughed. “I’m certain life at the abbey was. I didn’t want to leave, but I’m really glad Coll insisted. Honestly, Darach, I love Tavish and everyone here at castle Ranald.”

  He nodded, but a furrow marred his brow. “I love it at Curacridhe too. But Coll wants me to end my training with the MacLeods early. Maybe even next year. He says he can finish my training. I
don’t want to do that. In fact, for years I’ve hoped Laird MacLeod would let me stay on after my training—perhaps make me a guardsman.”

  Cassie sighed. Claire would have understood that desire better than anyone and probably would have approved. But Cassie couldn’t. She remembered the early conversations with Coll, when he’d visited at Michaelmas. He was young, inexperienced and had, in his own words, inherited a disaster.

  “Darach, I understand not wanting to leave the MacLeods. I suspect, like the abbey was for me, ye consider Curacridhe yer home and the MacLeods yer family.”

  “Aye, I do.” The stubborn set of his jaw suggested that he wasn’t prepared to be talked out of that. But she had to try.

  “Darach, before ye make any decision, I want ye to consider something. What Gavinia did to us wasn’t fair.”

  “Nay, it wasn’t,” he said vehemently.

  “But ye said it yerself, we were both better served by her actions than we would have been in her household.”

  “But, Claire—”

  “Nay, hear me out. Ye also know Coll was a lad away at training himself. And while he hasn’t said it to me, I suspect he wasn’t terribly happy at having to leave the Macauleys.”

  “Aye, he said as much to me before Da died.”

  “But he did return home, because the Morrisons needed him. And furthermore it wasn’t the clan that turned their backs on us. They had no more choice in what happened than you, or I, or even Coll did. Darach, they are our clan. Coll is our brother—he needs us. I understand Fearchar made quite a mess of things in the short time he was laird.”

  “Oh, he did. Ye don’t know the half of it.”

  “And now Coll, who is only twenty-three and barely out of training himself, has the sole responsibility of leading and protecting the Morrisons. He needs this alliance with the Ranalds as well as the one he is forging with the MacLeans. While I’m certain ye could convince Laird MacLeod to keep ye on, I’m equally as sure that he’ll understand yer brother needs ye and will continue to be a strong ally, once ye return to Lewis.”