Summer Rain (Lightning Strikes Book 3)

by Barbara Freethy

  A shiver ran down her spine at her sister's words. "Mamich always spoke like she was delivering the last line in a tragic play. She was living in a tiny village in Mexico at the time of her death. How could she possibly know anything?" As she finished speaking, thunder rumbled through the air, sending another shiver down her spine.

  "I feel like you just woke someone up," Katherine murmured, an uneasy gleam in her blue eyes.

  She frowned at her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Katherine was a doctor, a woman of science. "Woke up who?"

  "I don't know—angry lightning spirits?"

  "Come on, Katherine. I know you don't believe in any of this."

  "I didn't believe before I went to Mexico with Jake, but that trip and meeting your great-grandmother changed my perspective. Things happened there that I can't explain, and they all seem to be tied to lightning."

  "Okay, enough," she said firmly. "We are not going to talk about all that now. Today is for you and Michael, Alicia. It's to celebrate your love and your promise to stay together for the rest of your lives. Let's concentrate on that. The unanswered questions have to wait. I want you to have a happy day."

  "Fine," Alicia said. "I will shut up for now. But when I get back from my honeymoon, and I'm finally done with all this wedding mania, we are going to talk again."

  "Deal."

  "It's time," her mother announced from the doorway, interrupting their conversation. "Is everyone ready?" As Joanna Monroe walked into the room, her gaze fell on her youngest daughter and her eyes grew teary. "Oh, Alicia, you look so pretty."

  "Don't cry, Mom," Alicia said warningly. "Or I'm going to start."

  "Me, too," Dani said with a little sniff. She wasn't usually sentimental, but today she felt overwhelmed with emotion.

  "I'll try not to cry, but I make no promises," her mother said, dabbing at her eyes. "The limo is downstairs. It's time to go."

  * * *

  An hour later, Dani watched Alicia and Michael exchange their vows. The look of love on both of their faces was so powerful and intense that Dani felt a huge tug on her heart. She also saw Jake and Katherine exchanging the same kind of adoring looks from across the aisle. Her siblings were on their way to forming their own families.

  She was happy for them, but she felt a little alone, a little wistful. Which was silly, because she had a great life. She just needed to get through the reception, and tomorrow's ribbon-cutting, and then she could be on her way back to her life in DC.

  After the ceremony, as Michael and Alicia paused for photos on the steps of the church, Jake caught up with her in between pictures of the entire bridal party.

  "How are you, Dani?" he asked. "I haven't had a chance to talk to you since you got here."

  "It's been a whirlwind," she replied. "It looks like you and Katherine are doing well."

  He grinned. "Better than well. She's the love of my life."

  "I think I always knew that. Even in high school, you two had a special kind of something. I'm glad you found your way back to each other."

  "With a little help from some lightning," he said dryly.

  She sighed. "You're not going to start in on me, too, are you? It wasn't so long ago that you were on my side, and we both thought Alicia was crazy."

  "Good point. Now I'm as crazy as she is." He paused, his humor dimming. "I just want you to be careful, Dani. I don't think this is over. And I feel like you're going to be the one to finish it. That makes me worry."

  Nervous goose bumps ran down her bare arms. "I don't know what it is."

  "Neither do I. So watch your back."

  "Dani, Jake," Alicia called, waving them over. "We want one more family shot."

  "Coming," she said, following her brother up the steps.

  As they posed together, she was once again very aware of her father's absence.

  In the distance, she could hear the buzzing of a small airplane, another reminder of Wyatt Monroe, the man who had spent so much of his life up in the sky.

  The clouds parted for just a moment, a sliver of blue shining through. She hoped that was a good sign. But as quickly as it had come, it disappeared.

  Maybe Jake was right. Maybe the storm wasn't over yet.

  Two

  "It looks good. They'll never forget her now," Patrick Kane told his father, Harris Kane, as they surveyed the newly-landscaped children's playground and park.

  The placard at the entrance of the park commemorated his mother, Jackie Kane. His mom had been a congresswoman and a tireless advocate for the poor in her years as a public servant. It had been her dream to turn what had once been a drug and violence-riddled park into a place where children could play safely, where mothers could watch their kids without being afraid of who was watching them. That dream was coming true today, and he couldn't quite believe it. Ever since his mother's death eight years ago, his father had worked on the idea of creating something lasting in her honor, and today it was done.

  As he glanced at his father, he saw the stress in his dad's blue eyes. Since becoming a widow, his father's hair had gone from salt-and-pepper to gray and finally to white as he passed his sixty-sixth year. Building this playground and park had kept his dad going through the grief and anger, giving him something positive to think about in the wake of the tragic accident that had taken Jackie's life along with four others. Patrick just hoped that the culmination of his father's vision to honor his mother would be fulfilling for him, and that he wouldn't suffer a huge let-down when it was over.

  "I hope the rain holds off," Harris continued, looking up at the sky. "I thought the storm would pass last night, but there is thunder and lightning in tonight's forecast, too. If we have to cancel this—"

  "We won't. The rain isn't expected for another hour or two. And you know it won't last long. It's summer in Texas. It will shower, and then it will be done."

  "I hope you're right. I want this to be perfect."

  He hoped he was right, too, but while it was a little before four in the afternoon, it was dark as night, huge black storm clouds blocking out the sun. It wasn't cold, though. The temperature was in the low eighties, and he was sweating through the dress shirt and tie he'd put on for the occasion.

  His father's gaze turned back to him. "I want to thank you, Patrick. This project has taken up a lot of my time over the years, and perhaps there were occasions when I didn't give you as much attention as I should have."

  "Not at all, Dad. I wanted this as much as you did. It was Mom's dream, and you made it happen." He'd been twenty-two years old when his mom had died. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago, and sometimes it felt like yesterday. "I just wish she could have done it herself."

  "We all do, son," Harris said with a heavy sigh. "But it was God's will."

  "Was it?" The question came out before he could stop it, and he mentally kicked himself as he saw the change come over his father's expression.

  "Patrick, we've talked about this—"

  "And I'm sorry I brought it up today," he said, quickly backpedaling. "But the more research I do on the events of that day, the more I wonder if we really know the truth about the plane crash."

  "It was an accident, Patrick. Do you really think law enforcement didn't do everything they could to find out what was behind the crash that took the lives of a US congresswoman, a US senator, two staffers and a pilot? You just have to accept that some tragedies are unexplainable accidents. I know it's difficult. I've gone over the same kinds of questions in my head. And I've wasted a lot of time doing that. I don't want to see you make the same mistake, and frankly, I don't understand why you're suddenly so interested. It's been eight years. What's changed?"

  He couldn't tell his father what had triggered his renewed interest in the crash, not unless he knew it was true, because the last thing he wanted to do was paint his mother as someone other than the saint everyone believed she'd been, including himself. But since he'd reached out to some of the family members of the people killed in the crash to invite them to
the ceremony, he'd heard some comments that made him uneasy. He'd always followed his instincts, especially when it came to mysteries. It was what made him a good investigative journalist.

  But this wasn't just a story; this was his mother's life and her legacy, and he was conflicted about how far he wanted to go. He just knew he wasn't quite ready to put all his questions away.

  Seeing his father's speculative gaze, he realized his dad was still waiting for an answer. "You're right, today is not the day to discuss the past. I want this afternoon to be only about Mom."

  "Good. Your mother wouldn't like you stirring up trouble."

  He wasn't so sure about that. While his father hated conflict, his mother had never shied away from a fight. He just hoped her courage to do battle wasn't why she'd lost her life.

  "There's Jill," his dad said, waving his hand toward the parking lots. "Let's say hello."

  He followed his father down the path. His mother's younger sister, Jill Conroy, a short, curvy brunette who looked a lot like his mom, gave him a hug. Next to her was his uncle Wallace, a tall, thin man with bookish glasses that always seem to slide down his nose, and on the other side was his cousin Marcus, who'd inherited his brown hair and stocky, football player physique from his mother's side of the family. Marcus was a year younger than him and since they were both only children, they'd been more like brothers than cousins.

  "How's it going?" Marcus asked, as their parents moved away to greet friends and relatives.

  "Good. It looks like we will have a big crowd for the opening."

  The small parking lot was now lined with cars, and the streets surrounding the park were also showing heavy traffic, with more people walking in from the surrounding neighborhood. In an area that was not known for its beauty, the two-acre park with its children's playground, basketball court, and newly planted rose garden was an oasis of beauty in an otherwise blighted block of crowded, dingy apartment buildings and run-down homes.

  "The park looks great," Marcus said. "Your mother would be happy."

  "I think so, too. Hopefully, it will stay the way it looks now."

  "You and your dad have done all you can; the rest is up to the community."

  "Yeah, I know." His gaze moved to a very tall man dressed in a black suit. A former NBA player, Congressman Davis Parker had taken his mother's congressional seat after her death, and he had been very supportive of his father's efforts to build the park.

  "Is that Davis Parker?" Marcus murmured, a note of awe in his voice.

  Patrick smiled. "I suppose you want to meet him."

  "Hell, yes, I want to meet him. He took the Lakers to two NBA finals."

  "About fifteen years ago."

  "Still, he's a legend. Introduce me."

  "After the ceremony," he said, as Davis and his father joined the mayor.

  "Fine, but don't forget."

  "I doubt you'll let me."

  "Have you talked to him about the plane crash?" Marcus asked.

  "He's been unavailable. Same with Senator Dillon. No one wants to talk to me."

  "I can't imagine why," Marcus said dryly. "You just shook up the entire pharmaceutical industry with your book about counterfeit drugs. Your story has singlehandedly launched about three dozen lawsuits and sent at least six people to jail."

  "I hit a home run with that one," he acknowledged. "But the only people who should be nervous around me are people who have something to hide."

  His cousin shook his head, giving him a worried look. "I know I can't tell you what to do…"

  "But you're still going to try."

  "There are a lot of controversies that could serve as the subject of your next article or book. Digging into your mom's crash is going to be painful, and who knows what you'll find out? You've already heard one disturbing comment about your mother. Do you really want to hear more?"

  "Maybe I just want to know if it's true," he said evenly. "If it's not, I want to make sure that her reputation stays intact."

  "You should just leave it alone. Don't let one rumor change the way you think about her. Let her rest in peace."

  "You sound like my father, but the truth is I think my mother would want me to go after the truth. She always told me to trust my gut. She said that's what she did. So far, my gut hasn't let me down. If there's something to know, I want to know what it is."

  "Fine. I'm too smart to argue with someone as stubborn as you."

  "You argue in court every single day with people far more stubborn than me."

  "Yeah, but they're attorneys. I know what makes them tick—how to find their weakness. You are not that easy." Marcus paused, his gaze moving toward the sidewalk. "Whoa, who do we have here?"

  Patrick's gut tightened as he saw the beautiful blonde walking toward the park. An intense attraction immediately ran through him. The woman was like a beacon of sunlight on a dark day, her blonde hair shiny in the dim light as it swirled in waves around her face and shoulders. Wearing a form-fitting black skirt, a silky blue blouse, and high heels, she walked with confidence and purpose, the kind of woman who knew how to get attention without looking like she was trying. She literally stole his breath away.

  The woman paused, and her gaze suddenly met his. Even from a dozen feet away, he could feel the heat of her look, and his chest grew tight. He felt a little like he'd been sucker-punched. He couldn't remember the last time he felt such an incredibly strong pull to a woman.

  And then she looked away from him as Congressman Parker approached her and gave her a friendly hug.

  So she knew the congressman. That was interesting. Parker was married with three kids, and had at least ten years on this woman…not that that meant anything. They could be involved—or not. He shouldn't care one way or the other.

  "Patrick?"

  Marcus's voice drew his attention back to him. "What?"

  "Who's the woman?"

  "I have no idea. She could be anyone."

  "Maybe you should find out."

  "Why?"

  Marcus laughed. "Because I haven't seen that kind of yearning look on your face since you asked Amy Rogers to the prom."

  "I have no particular look on my face," he denied.

  "She's hot. You should go talk to her."

  He wanted to talk to her, not just because she was beautiful and sexy and really intriguing, but also because she knew Congressman Parker. Unfortunately, his father was waving him over. "That will have to wait. It's show time."

  * * *

  The ceremony was more personal and touching than Dani had expected. She'd thought it would be a simple ribbon cutting, a few short speeches by community leaders and that would be that, but Harris Kane, a handsome and eloquent man, spoke at length about his wife Jackie, her love of family and friends, and her devotion to the people in her community and the state of Texas.

  The stories about Jackie's life were inspiring. Like Jackie, Dani wanted a political career. It wasn't going to be enough for her to be someone's staffer; she wanted to be more. And it wasn't just the title of congresswoman or senator that she wanted, although that would be great; it was the idea of being able to do something that mattered. She wanted to make a difference in the world, the way Jackie Kane had made a difference.

  When Harris finished speaking, his son Patrick stepped behind the podium.

  Her stomach clenched as she realized Patrick Kane was the man she'd caught staring at her when she first arrived. She'd felt his gaze on her even before their eyes had met. And the look that had passed between them had been unsettling—intense, deep, a little dark—as if some important, meaningful moment had just occurred. But that was a crazy thought.

  Patrick was a very attractive man. He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and an athletic grace. His dark hair was thick and wavy, and his compelling brown eyes demanded attention. He spoke in a smooth, husky male tone that made her nerves tingle and thoughts of hearing that voice in the dark of the night, his lips inches away from hers, sent an unexpected wa
ve of desire through her.

  She wanted to look away. In fact, there was a part of her that felt like she should walk away, get as far from this unsettling feeling as she could.

  She had a plan for her life, one that was all about career goals and milestones. It had taken her a long time to get to DC. She wasn't going to let anyone or anything distract her.

  She blew out a breath, wishing for a cool breeze, something to wash away the heat, but the humidity, the threatening clouds, showed her no mercy. She just had to hope that Patrick's speech would end soon.

  In the meantime, she forced herself to look away from him, her gaze moving to her hands, where she'd been subconsciously playing with the gold ring on her finger—the wedding band that had belonged to her great-grandmother, the ring she'd worn at Alicia's insistence, the piece of jewelry she couldn't seem to take off. Last night, the band had felt too small for her finger. She'd tugged at it, but it hadn't budged, so she'd left it alone. Now, the ring seemed looser, moving easily around her finger, feeling almost as if it could slip off at any moment.

  Why, oh why, had her great-grandmother given her the most personal piece of jewelry she owned? And why had Mamich thought that it would bring her strength that she would need one day? Just more superstitious mumbo-jumbo, she told herself. Alicia and even Jake might be convinced that her great-grandmother had been imbued with some sacred magical powers from her Mayan ancestors, but she just couldn't go there. She didn't believe in magic or the universe or fate. Those just seemed like too-easy explanations for random events or chance meetings.

  Life was made up of coincidences. They didn't always have to mean anything.

  The crowd broke into applause, and she looked up, realizing that Patrick's speech was over. Congressman Parker said a few words and then turned the microphone over to the mayor, who also spoke. Finally, the ribbon in front of the park entrance was cut. A crowd of children ran immediately into the playground, followed more slowly by their parents.