by Brenna Lyons
* * *
Charles Colston showed up with the other man in tow. After checking with Matthew, the police officer let them through. Charles shook Matthew’s hand at the door and stepped inside. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “It’s been two weeks and they’re still there.”
“There are less of them every day. That’s good,” Matthew observed as he closed the door behind the two men.
Charles motioned to the other man. “This is Michael Benton, Matt. He’s Samantha Allen’s lawyer. Are Kyla and Joe up to some paper signing?” Charles asked.
Matthew laughed. “Once that cast comes off and her ribs heal completely, they’ll be up to handstands. They’re much happier now that they’re home.”
Charles and Michael smiled and followed him to the dining room. Joe and Kyla were playing Chutes and Ladders with Molly. The trio were laughing and having a great time together.
Kyla looked up as they entered and smiled at Charles. “Hello, Mr. Colston. How goes the fund?” she asked.
“I told you to call me Charles. It’s going fine. We’ve gotten six hundred thousand, more or less, divided by the thirty or so shares is twenty thousand dollars per person.”
Kyla nodded. “Plus what Cole distributed. I think they’ll be all right.” She looked at Charles. “What about the letters?” she asked.
“We turned a load over to Det. Waters. He says most of them are harmless. We figure one in fifty-five gets turned over to the police. Overall, that’s a better than average score for this type of thing, according to Waters. I brought in two bags of letters for you. They’re all either personal questions for you two or letters the volunteers thought were inspirational.”
“Questions? How do they want me to answer them? If it’s even a few dozen, writing letters back to all of them would be...” Kyla waved her hand, at a loss for words.
“Look it over. If it’s too much, maybe our new PR man can help figure something out.”
“PR man?”
“Greg Robbins. He practically begged me to let him help.”
Kyla accepted the bags and set them on the floor next to her chair.
“If you’re up to it, Mr. Benton has some paperwork for you two to complete for the estate. I’ll sit in, in case you need any help.”
Kyla offered Benton her hand, and he shook it gratefully.
“Call me Michael, please.” He shook Joe’s hand next. “You can probably guess that Gram wouldn’t deal with a stiff shirt.”
Kyla laughed heartily at that one. “I should have known.”
For the next hour and a half, Kyla and Joe dealt with a seemingly endless pile of forms. By the end, the young couple found themselves in the enviable position of owning a home with no mortgage, a car with no loans, two hundred thousand dollars in cash, and forty acres of land as newlyweds. The problem was that they each would have traded it all back if they could have Gram back with them and they said as much.
Charles was surprised that Benton came prepared to consolidate the money into a single account if they chose, place the car in joint ownership, move Gram’s things in storage back for Kyla to go through at her leisure, and even apply to change Kyla’s name with social security due to her marriage. Charles had to admit Benton was more organized than he would have been in the same situation, and he mentioned it.
“The files alone with what they could expect to pay in taxes and utilities— You certainly went to a lot of trouble.”
Benton shook his head. “Gram was very specific about what she wanted me to do. Much of this has been set up for years. She even had me write a survivorship clause in case—” Benton glanced at Joe and Kyla and away again.
Charles leaned toward him. He was trying very hard not to jump to conclusions. “You knew this was coming and didn’t do anything to stop it?” he demanded.
Benton shook his head. “No. I didn’t even remember their names until I heard that Gram—Then I pulled the paperwork. She never explained why she did things the way she did.” He looked at Kyla. “She knew. Why did she do it if she knew?”
A single tear slid down her cheek. “Because Gram believed in something bigger than herself. She told me that if she had to die, she wanted to do it with her faith intact.”
Benton nodded. “That sounds like Gram.” He rose to leave, but reached under the table for a large bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”
“What are they?” Kyla asked.
“I don’t know. She said it was private. Maybe you’ll tell me someday. In the meantime, Gram paid me a rather large retainer on your behalf. If either of you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”
Charles and Benton both shook hands with the young couple. As they left the room, Charles glanced back.
Kyla sat with Joe’s arm around her shoulders. She stared at the bag on the table, but she hadn’t moved an inch.
* * *
Joe locked the door and sat across from her. Kyla laid her hand on the bag.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Joe asked.
Kyla met his eyes and nodded. The bag contained three boxes and a letter. Kyla opened the letter and read it. When she finished, she looked at Joe sadly and wound her arms around his chest.
“Want to tell me about it?” he asked.
“You can read it. It’s written to us both,” she whispered.
“In a minute,” he answered. “I think I’ll stay here for now.”
It was several minutes before Kyla backed away. Joe stroked at her cheeks in an effort to wipe away the tears, and she smiled weakly. “She really loved us, you know.”
Joe nodded. “I know.” He took the letter and started to read. He could almost hear Gram’s voice in his mind.
My dear Kyla and Joe,
You know by now that I have made provisions for your future together. You needn’t worry about the others. They’ve been taken care of as well. I simply asked Mr. Benton to do it quietly.
I had my worries at times that one of you would lose the other. May the Ladies forgive my doubts. I should have known the powers that be could not bring you both peace only to destroy you again.
You will marry soon. Would that we could have arranged it before our day of reckoning, I would’ve loved to see it. You are a lovely couple, even when you don’t go out of your way to announce it.
Kyla, I know you will be a beautiful bride, but a bride needs certain things. I took the liberty of arranging those things for you. I think you’ll understand them when you see them.
You’ve both done a fine job. I hope you may finally find true peace and answers. May the Goddesses bless you and grant that we may see each other once more.
Joe folded the letter and set it aside. He nodded at Kyla. “Do you want to open them now?” he asked.
Kyla nodded. She opened the smallest package first. It was a silver locket. Inside were pictures of the two of them. Kyla didn’t know where or when hers had been taken, but Joe had to admit that he recognized his.
“It was taken when I was recovering from the staph infection...when I met her. I was probably semi-conscious. I don’t remember Gram taking this.”
Kyla moved to the largest box next. She removed the lid and laid her hand on the fabric inside. Joe saw her eyes dilate, and she sucked in her breath. At first, he was afraid she would have another adverse reaction. Instead, Kyla took his hand, and Joe found himself pulled along on the journey.
A warm mist surrounded him. Joe stepped out into the light in front of him. He could still feel Kyla’s hand in his. He looked at her, but she was rapt on the scene that lay before them.
It was beautiful. A path wound through a clearing in the woods where the fall colors shone in the evening light. A handful of people surrounded a couple. From where he stood, Joe could see a woman wrapping a golden cord around their wrists. Once, twice, three times.
Kyla met his eyes and smiled. “It’s their wedding day,” she explained.
“Whose?” he asked.
“My paren
ts.”
Joe looked back at the couple.
Colin and Heather. Heather was almost as stunning as her daughter. They were both fantastically happy.
“Can we meet them?” Joe asked.
“No, this is just a memory. We can only watch, not interact.”
“Oh.” Joe sighed. He had hoped to get to know them, even to theatrically ask for her hand in marriage from the father who was denied the joy of ever holding her. This was more wonderful than Joe could have ever imagined in itself. He decided to content himself with that much.
The couple kissed, and the crowd cheered them. They walked along the path back toward Joe and Kyla, hand tied into hand.
“What now?” Colin asked. “How do we possibly get happier from here?”
Heather stopped and looked into his eyes. “In love,” she answered. “Forever in love.”
She looked over his shoulder, directly at her daughter and son-in-law. She smiled at them. “If you have love, nothing else matters,” Heather assured them. She moved away with her new husband.
As the scene faded away, Joe knew that Heather, even then, had been doing all she could to instruct and protect her daughter. Kyla had inherited a lot more than her perfect nose from her mother.
“Do you know where they were married? Could we do the ceremony there?” Joe asked.
Kyla shook her head. “I know, but it’s a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“It’s seen a few tornadoes since then and some bad memories. Heather and Colin went there that night—” She paled.
“I understand.”
Kyla ran her hand over the dress again. “Would you mind if I wore this?” she asked.
“I’m marrying you, not your clothes.”
Kyla smiled at him crookedly.
“I think you’ll look fabulous, especially since you seem to have inherited Heather’s attributes.”
She looked down at her chest. “You mean the thirty-four Ds? Hard to miss, I guess.”
“Every moment you’re away,” Joe assured her.
Kyla giggled and picked up the box.
As she headed for the door, he called after her. “Where are you going?”
“To try this on. I’ll be right back.”
“Why not here? I want to see it, too.”
Kyla raised an eyebrow. “It’s bad luck, and the last thing we need is more bad luck.” She was back much quicker than Joe expected with the dress folded back into the box.
“Problem?” Joe asked.
Her smile was radiant. “Not at all. I love it.” Kyla sat the box down on the dresser and lay down on the bed beside him. She had an incredibly impish grin plastered on her face.
Joe narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Not much. Want to know what else went on in that dress?”
“Really?” Joe asked in surprise.
“No, not really. Well, at least not that I’ve been told. I just wanted to see what you’d do.”
Joe didn’t take the bait. “Good,” he answered. “You still have a package to open, anyway. After that, we’ll see.” He managed a straight face.
* * *
Kyla raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t fool me for an instant,” she told him.
“Yeah, but it’s fun to try.”
She picked up the last package and rocked it back and forth. “Heavy,” she commented. “Feels like books.”
There were three books inside. Two of them were journals in Gram’s script. The last was a binder. In it were photocopies of writings in various languages with what Kyla assumed were the English translations behind each one. Notes were written in the margins of the translations. Even her untrained eye could pick out Celtic, Arabic, Greek, and Latin. There were still more she didn’t recognize.
Kyla closed the book and laid it on the bed. “What is it?” Joe asked.
“Answers. I hope.”
Chapter Thirty-six
June 16th-28th
Kyla spent hours wading through the texts and Gram’s journals. Sometimes, they seemed perfectly clear. Other times, they were so obtuse that, even in retrospect, it was almost pure nonsense. Some days, Joe would return to the bedroom and find her in tears on the bed. At times like that, he wondered if not knowing might have been better.
He found her dilemma was typically a rehash of the same philosophical problem. Kyla had a problem with the idea of someone being fated to die, and the prophecies were pretty specific on the fates of Gram, Heather, and several other combatants.
Joe could understand her problem. Eric had told him once that he had a problem with the idea that Joe might be fated to die. Joe had explained to him that it didn’t matter if it was fated. He had been willing to give his life to save Kyla, if that was what it took.
Maybe that was the trick, Joe theorized. No matter what side the casualties fell on, they were willing to die for the cause they ultimately chose.
“I always hated the idea of religious war,” Kyla commented in return. “Now, I remember why.” She sighed deeply. “Gram lied to me, you know. I asked her if the prophecies said she was supposed to die, and she denied it.”
Joe didn’t know what to say at first, so he simply held her. “You know she couldn’t tell you what to do. You had to make a very hard choice and follow what you knew was right even though your heart hated it. It might have changed your mind if you knew she had to die, if you overanalyzed what you had to do and tried to find a way to evade it. What if you ultimately refused?”
She shook her head hopelessly.
Kyla also spent a lot of time reading the cards and letters Charles dropped off. It turned out that there weren’t as many questions as she’d feared, and many of them were duplicates. After consulting with Greg Robbins, they formulated a press release in the form of a Q and A that covered all of the ones they felt were appropriate to answer. They added questions that Greg had received from reporters to the list before finalizing it.
Requests for videotapes of their wedding poured in from the media. Kyla shocked Greg by agreeing to a tape of clips to be delivered to one reporter, Jacqueline Bourne. Like it or not, Channel 2 had to negotiate with a new star. Kyla was specific. The tape wasn’t for the station. It was an exclusive with Ms. Bourne.
When Greg asked Kyla why, she smiled. “I like her, and I think she deserves a break,” she answered.
The most upsetting letter was one that had been sent to the hospital and forwarded to the lawyer’s office on the mistaken assumption that it was for the fund. Any questions Kyla had about why she couldn’t reach Sarah were laid to rest. Her letter explained that until the fervor died down, she and Carl had decided to distance themselves from her. It was only temporary, Sarah assured her.
Kyla lay curled into Joe’s arms for a long time after she crumpled it and achieved a perfect three-pointer in the wastebasket across the bedroom. “It just isn’t fair,” she confided in him. “I make new friends, but I have to lose my old one? Why?”
Joe sighed. “Maybe because you’re not the same person you were then. If she comes to the wedding, you’ve got a chance at working it out. If not, would you consider me a consolation prize?”
He had expected a smile or a playful punch. Kyla gave him a passionate kiss.
“You’ll never be a consolation prize,” Kyla told him.
The crowds dissipated sometime in the third week, and the threatening letters stopped coming, but the money for the families kept rolling in. Waters waved a reluctant goodbye, and the officers returned to their normal duties.
Kyla was relieved. She’d never liked the attention.
Kyla was busy with wedding plans and setting up their new house. Some days, Joe went with her, but others he entrusted her to the care of the workmen Michael Benton had set up to help her.
Joe was amazed at how quickly it was coming together. Each time he went to the house, it became more of a home.
On one of her outings to the house, Matthew and Joe both accompanied her. Matthew got hi
s first look at where his daughter had healed, hidden, and decided that she wanted to marry the man who’d saved her life.
They drove out to the small plot, and Matthew saw the grave as Joe had promised. Kyla startled and looked at Joe behind her father’s back. The name Marianne had been added below the small symbol.
Joe nodded to her. He had asked Michael to arrange for that before Matthew came out.
The older man touched the gravestone much as Joe had when he and Kyla took that awful walk, tears in his eyes. Matthew hugged Kyla, and he never mentioned it again.
At Josie’s suggestion, Kyla invited Eric over for dinner as a surprise for Joe. When the doorbell rang, she raced Molly down the hall to the door. Kyla threw open the door and Eric stepped inside.
Once the door closed, he swept her up into a bear hug gentle enough not to hurt her ribs. He walked down the hall, carrying her while she laughed and pleaded with him to let her down.
“Eric?” Joe issued the mock warning. “What are you doing with my woman?”
Eric kissed Kyla on the cheek and dropped her to her feet. “Aw, come on. She’s had sore ribs ever since I met her. If I can’t carry her without hurting ‘em by now...” He grinned. “How’s the leg?” he asked.
“Better than the last time. The cast comes off in a week or so. At least it’s just building muscle up again and not physical therapy this time.”
Kyla curled up next to Joe on the couch, and Eric glanced her way.
“You healing okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Just a little sore, but getting better every day. When you assault the same tissues enough times—”
Eric sank into the chair. “So you two are going domestic on me, huh?” he teased.
“Who? Us?” Joe remarked. “You know us better than that. I do have to make an honest woman out of her. Her Dad has guns, you know,” he finished in a conspiratorial tone.
