“Come,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers and tugging her out the back door and into the yard, away from prying eyes. When he got behind the row of stately pines, he backed her against the old oak and kissed her the way he’d been dreaming of doing since the moment he’d left.
She returned the kiss with equal fervor, thank God.
“Are you all right?” he said finally, exhaling heavily as he rested his forehead against hers. “Did you and your family make it through the flood okay?”
“Not entirely,” she admitted, “but not as bad as some. The water level came up to about a foot on the ground floor, but the second floor is still livable. The diner wasn’t affected; Dad’s been working around the clock, providing meals to those displaced. She reached up and traced the pale scars that extended beyond his hairline. She knew that he’d been injured, knew about Fitz, because he’d written her. He had spared her the details, though. “God, Jack, I missed you. Are you okay?”
He captured her hand and kissed her fingers. “I am now.”
The funeral service was nothing more or less than he had expected. Somber men walked past his father’s casket, offering condolences and handshakes. The women sniffled and gave teary-eyed hugs. Through it all, Jack stood tall beside his mother. It hadn’t quite hit him yet, but it would, later.
Death didn’t have the impact it once did; he’d seen too much of it, seen too many good men die for the sake of helping others. His father hadn’t given his life on a battlefield or in a war zone, but he had died a hero nonetheless.
Jack met the family his father had been helping when it happened. They attended the funeral Mass and prayed with the scores of others whose lives Liam had touched in one positive way or another. Jack remained silent and stoic through all of it. He’d always known his father was a damn good man. It was nice that others had recognized that, too, but it changed nothing. Liam was still dead, and Jack had only a few days before he would have to leave his devastated mother and his croie again to return to fulfill the commitment he’d made.
For now, the most important thing was making the most of the time he had. He would grieve later, alone, when he wasn’t surrounded by those he loved. His mother needed him to be strong, and Kathleen, well, Kathleen just needed him.
Her letters, the ones that made it to him, were filled with positive thoughts and tender, heartfelt secrets, but he’d been able to read between the lines. Amongst the tales of ordinary, day-to-day events -—events that he had never truly appreciated before he’d gone away -—was fear. Fear for him. Of what was happening, what he had to face on a daily basis. She needed him to reassure her that, God willing, he would be coming home soon to make good on all of those promises he’d made. And that she was never, ever alone.
“I want you to stay with my mother,” Jack told Kathleen later that night, after the casket had been lowered into the consecrated ground, after the last haunting notes of the bagpipes faded away. They sat beneath the stars in the glider swing, while friends and neighbors gathered inside, drinking whiskey and telling inappropriate stories. The traditional Irish wake may have been altered a bit over the years, but it was still something celebrated in their predominantly Irish community, a way to honor the dead by tempering grief with fond memories.
Snuggled upon his lap, Kathleen cast those emerald eyes upward. He recommitted every silvery-gray fleck, every thick, dark lash to memory.
“She’s all alone now, and I’ve still got some time left. You could move into my room.” Jack had been giving it a lot of thought. It made sense to have the two women he loved together, taking care of each other until he could return and see to it himself. Though they hadn’t yet said their vows, Mary already looked upon Kathleen as a treasured daughter, and Kathleen’s sister still lived at home.
“Are you sure she would want me to?”
“Aye. She loves you, Kathleen. She already thinks of you as her daughter. But she’s too proud to ask.”
“Then I’ll suggest it,” she said, absently stroking his chest. She hadn’t stopped touching him since he’d arrived, not that he was complaining. Each touch was a brand, and a promise. “I’m sure my parents will understand. They know it is only a matter of time before we’re all family.”
Jack kissed the top of her head, breathing in the delicious, light floral scent of her shampoo. “I like the sound of that. Being married to you. Having you in my arms and my bed every night.”
“Do you dream of it, Jack, as I do?”
If she only knew. “Aye. I dream of doing all sorts of wicked, evil things to you, lass.”
She laughed, just as he’d intended. “No more wicked than my visions, I’d wager. You’ve corrupted me, Jack Callaghan. Turned a nice Catholic girl into a hussy consumed with shameful thoughts.”
His lips found hers; they were every bit as hungry and insistent as his. This, being with Kathleen, was the only time the world made sense to him. When she was in his arms, he felt true peace. When he kissed her, he wanted for nothing.
“I don’t want to wait any longer, Jack,” she murmured.
Except maybe that. Never had he wanted anything quite so fiercely, but the past few years had given him a strength and discipline he hadn’t known he was capable of. “I want you, Kathleen, never doubt that. But I want you to have my name first.”
“Then let’s get married,” she pleaded.
“I have to leave again in a few days.”
“We can elope.”
“What about our families?”
“They won’t even have to know. We can keep it a secret. And when you come home, we can have a proper church wedding.”
He was sorely tempted. It sounded wonderful. To elope with his croie, to finally make her his. To join with her in mind and body. But the Church wouldn’t recognize their union, and if something happened before he could make it back and be married by a priest...
“There’s nothing I want more than to make you mine, Kathleen, but ...”
“But what?” she pressed. “We love each other. We want each other. Why wait?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because, I have to go back,” he said, frustrated. “And what if...”
Jack didn’t finish. He couldn’t. He refused to say the words out loud. Thinking them was one thing, but saying them was something else entirely. It made them too real, and the only reality he cared about in that moment was Kathleen in his arms. She was his heart and soul, and he was going to do right by her, no matter what.
Kathleen pulled back as if slapped. Her eyes widened and filled with tears. “What if what, Jack?”
There it was. The fear that she refused to voice aloud for fear that it might come to pass.
After four years, Jack was still every bit as committed to ending his service and returning home for good in one living, breathing piece. But he’d also encountered other men who had been just as committed to do the same. It wasn’t about what he wanted. Conviction was not always enough. The bloodstained terrain that had been his home away from home wasn’t comprised solely of weak-willed men or those with a death wish. He’d seen too many good, strong men die to be naïve enough to believe that heart was all it took to survive.
Yes, he wanted Kathleen more than he’d ever wanted anything, but hopes and prayers were not guarantees. He didn’t want to take the chance that she would be a widow, or, God forbid, that he would leave her to raise a child on her own, a very real possibility if they consummated their vows. He would die for one night in her arms, but he wasn’t willing to let her suffer a lifetime for the same.
“I’m sorry, Kathleen. This will have to be enough until we can do this properly.”
Her eyes met his and flashed. Jack held his breath. For a moment he thought she was going to pull away and leave him, but then she exhaled heavily. “Aye. You have the right of it. But I don’t have to like it.” The tension in her body eased as she melted against him once again. But it didn’t stop her from wiggli
ng her bottom over his arousal. Jack groaned and stilled her hips with his big hands.
“Kathleen...” he breathed in warning.
She gazed into his eyes. “We will wait for that,” she told him. “But you will give me this, Jack...”
Her hand stroked down his chest and over the prominent bulge between them. She rubbed gently, but she might have fisted him and tugged for the effect it had. Jack knew he should stop her, but the fire in her eyes strongly warned against it. She needed this, just as he did. But he’d be damned if it would be here.
“Come,” he commanded, his voice thick. He stood up quickly, taking her hand and tugging her towards the attached garage.
Twenty minutes later they were miles away, parked at a secluded spot overlooking the valley below. The scenic look-out was where they had watched the sun rise together that day so long ago. Jack turned to Kathleen, but just that fast, she was in his arms, kissing him with the same desperation he felt.
“Kathleen...” he managed, breaking away only long enough to catch his breath.
“Hush,” she commanded. Without breaking eye contact, her hand once again travelled between them, but this time she was not content to remain outside his pants. With a flick of fingers and a tug of his zipper, her exquisite fingers were wrapping around him.
Jack hissed and circled her wrist.
“A compromise,” Kathleen pleaded. “That’s all I’m asking. Please, Jack.”
It was impossible to deny her completely when she looked at him like that, not when his own need for an intimate physical connection was so great. He reclined in the seat, then guided her hand, silently submitting to her request. He sucked in a breath at the feel of her soft fingers curling around him. Her emerald eyes glistened as she began to move against him. Jack’s hands went under her skirt, caressing the length of her shapely, smooth legs. When he reached her apex and found her drenched, he moaned.
“What are you doing to me, woman?”
“Loving you,” she whispered without hesitation. “The only way you’ll let me...”
“Kathleen...”
Chapter Six
September 2015
Pine Ridge
“It’s Karen, sweetie, but close enough.”
Jack’s eyes flicked open. It took him a minute to get his bearings. He wasn’t sitting in the back seat of the old Galaxie with Kathleen; he was in the CICU, recovering from a heart attack and bypass surgery.
But it had felt so real. Kathleen’s voice still echoed his head; her warmth still lingered against his chest.
Or maybe that was just the drugs.
He’d heard that near-death experiences could cause a man’s life to flash before his eyes. It seemed that he was getting the extended director’s cut.
The sturdy nurse peered down at a handheld screen device. “On a scale of one to ten, one being negligible and ten being unbearable, what’s your level of pain?”
Level of pain? They were pumping so many drugs into him as it was, it was a wonder he felt anything at all. But he supposed it was better than suffering unnecessarily. There was a time when he’d thought bearing pain made him a stronger man, but lying there, attached to all of those wires and tubes shoved into places that robbed a man of his dignity, he felt anything but strong. And whatever they were mainlining into him made Kathleen come alive again, at least in his dreams. He closed his eyes for a moment and could have sworn he caught a whiff of that light, floral scent that always clung to her hair and skin.
“Five,” he answered.
“Hmm,” she hummed, neither pleased nor displeased by his answer. Her latex-gloved finger tapped the screen. “We’ll see if we can increase the dosage a bit, make you more comfortable. Are you feeling up to a few visitors? We’ve got a standing room only crowd in the family waiting area.”
No, he didn’t want visitors. What he wanted was to close his eyes and see Kathleen again. To apologize, to tell her he was an idiot, and to not waste one precious second doing anything besides loving her. Then he chastised himself for being a selfish bastard and nodded. His kids—– their kids—– were probably worried sick. Lord knew he’d spent enough time in hospital waiting rooms himself to know what that was like.
“Aye,” he exhaled.
“Two visitors at a time, maximum of five minutes to start.”
He nodded again, glad it wouldn’t be more than that. He loved his family, but putting up a strong front was going to require more effort than he felt capable of maintaining for any extended period of time. No matter what, he was still the clan patriarch, and he was going to act accordingly.
Unsurprisingly, it was Jake and Taryn who came in first. Jake was a good lad, a natural born leader. Most people thought his first-born, Kane, would have assumed that role, but Kane didn’t have the people skills that Jake had, relying on the brute force method to get things done. Jake was every bit as tough, but had a way of getting others to follow his lead without resorting to physical coercion (most of the time).
Taryn was Jake’s croie, a strong, spirited delight. He couldn’t have asked for a better women for his serious, intense son. And God bless the lass, despite her glassy eyes, she didn’t show an ounce of pity.
“How are you, Dad?” Jake asked as Taryn leaned over carefully to kiss his cheek.
“Like someone sawed through my chest and started stitching my arteries,” he deadpanned.
Taryn laughed. “Yeah, stupid question, huh. Better get used to it, though. I suspect you’ll be hearing that a lot.”
Too true. “How is the lass?”
“Riley was pretty shaken up, but she’s doing much better now that she knows you’re going to be okay. She has all the kids making you Get Well cards over at Maggie’s.”
He began to chuckle, then thought better of it when the pain in his chest shot from a five to an eight and a half. One of the nurses had warned him about that. No laughing, no coughing. They’d even given him a special pillow to hold over his chest when he felt the need to clear his throat.
“Who is watching the bar?” Jack asked, directing the question to Jake.
“Brian McCain and his dad. They’re having a ball.”
“They’re good men.” Brian McCain was the brother of Shane’s wife, Lacie. Brian had been captured and held prisoner for three years until Shane and the others mobilized and got him and the surviving remainder of his team out and brought them back home. Jack and Brian never talked about it, but he recognized the haunted look in the lad’s eyes sometimes. It was the same one he saw in the mirror sometimes. It was the kind of thing a man had to learn to live with, because it changed something inside of you.
“Yeah, they are. They send their best, and asked me to tell you not to worry. They’ve got everything under control.”
Jack felt better knowing that someone reliable was taking care of the bar. It bore Jake’s name now, but it was and always would be a special place to him.
Jake and Taryn said their see-you-laters, and Kane and Rebecca were the next to come in. Jack gazed up at his firstborn, looking larger than ever from his prone position. The boy had definitely inherited his grandfather’s bear-like stature, but of all of his children, Kane reminded him most of himself: serious, quiet, and intractable.
Kane silently took in everything while his wife, Rebecca, fluffed the pillows and checked the pitcher of ice water by his bedside. Jack knew he was sizing it all up. His eldest son was a man of few words, but everything was right there in his eyes, if one knew what to look for. Jack answered him with a look of his own. Kane blinked, and Jack knew the message had been received.
“Is there anything we can get for you, Dad?” Rebecca asked. Compassion radiated from her eyes as her gentle voice rolled over him, soothing. The woman had spent more than a decade working with humanitarian missions, foregoing her wealthy birthright to live and work in some of the poorest countries of the world. He’d never realized how much she sounded like Kathleen before, but with the echoes of his wife’s voice in his head,
the similarity was uncanny.
Rebecca was yet another example of the perfection of croies. Jack couldn’t imagine any other woman who would complement Kane as well as she did. Just as Kathleen had complemented him.
“Some crossword puzzles,” he replied. “And my reading glasses. Apparently I’m going to be on my arse for a while.”
Rebecca smiled and told him she’d get right on it, then they, too, took their leave. They were followed by Ian and Lexi, Sean and Nicki, Shane and Lacie, and finally, Kieran and Faith. Each of his sons was so different, but he was proud of every one of them. They had all been fortunate in finding their wives, though Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if Kathleen had been nudging things along. He had no doubt she was up in Heaven, looking down on all of them even now, watching over them.
Michael and Maggie were the last to visit. “Aidan sends his best,” Maggie told him. “He wanted to come, but they’ll only allow immediate family in to see you.”
Aidan was not his son by blood, but he had become an integral part of the Callaghan family. Rebecca’s brother and best friend and business partner of Ian’s wife, Lexi, Aidan Harrison was a good man. “Thank him for me, lass.”
“I will. Are they treating you okay?” she asked, fluffing his pillow, then readjusting the covers around his feet. What was it with women and their incessant need to fluff and tuck?
“Aye, lass, they’re treating me fine.”
“Are you warm enough? Do you want another blanket? How about some ice chips?”
Maggie refused to look into his eyes, he noticed. Jack turned to Michael, who gave him a knowing look. It was then that realization dawned. Maggie was barely holding it together. She had an irrational fear of hospitals, and for her to be here at all was a testament to how much she cared for him.
“Maggie, I’m sorry, lass,” he said softly.
Her hands paused, her eyes fixed on the edge of the hospital bed. “You lied,” she sniffed. “You said it was indigestion.”
Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9 Page 4
