by A. M. Mahler
Silence followed Jackie’s passionate tirade. Danny’s chest filled and his hands shook. No one had ever shown him that kind of devotion before. Leave it to her to be the one to stand in front of him and face down his father. His hands were shaking. He stood up and reached for her, kissing her and pressing his forehead against hers.
“He said he came here to explain,” Danny said, gently leading her back to sit next to him. “Let’s see what he has to say.”
Jackie nodded, took the letters, and clutched them to her chest.
Danny’s father sat across from them, feet flat on the floor, hands on his knees. “I deserved that,” he began. “Daniel’s mother, Caroline, came from a lot of money. More money than an enlisted sailor like me could fathom. Hell, you could have added up the salaries of my entire ship and it wouldn’t have equaled her money. We met when I was stationed at Pearl Harbor and she was vacationing with her family. We’d both gone to see a surfing competition. She liked that I was in the Navy and me, well, I just liked her.
“Caroline stayed on when her parents left. They didn’t like me. I was lowbrow. A soldier wasn’t good enough for their princess. They didn’t believe I had anything to offer, and they were right. I lived in barracks. I was temporary. Caroline traveled the world, but she wasn’t going to do it on an ensign’s salary. But she got pregnant, and we got married. Then you were born, and she died. Did I love her? I don’t know. I was infatuated with her, but I knew we wouldn’t last. I was just a rebellion against the life her parents had wanted for her.
“When you were born and she died, I wasn’t as full of grief as a married man should have been over the death of his young wife. I was sad, yes. We’d had fun and were friends, so of course I was upset, but I think had it been true love, I’d have been more devastated. She had set up the trust for you before she died, so her family couldn’t get to it. I think she would have loved you. I doubt she’d have kept you from boarding school, but she would have loved you.”
“Why didn’t you give me up then? If you had no interest in raising me and she was gone, why did you keep me?”
“First of all, if I did that, the money wouldn’t go with you. It would go back to her parents. And that money was yours. I wanted to make sure you got it. People are greedy, and money like that can turn good people into jerks.
“The second reason I didn’t put you up for adoption was that I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give you up, but neither could I relate to you. I was never asked if I wanted to be a father. My whole life changed in less than a year. I had no one to give you to on deployments. The Navy was my job, my life. It’s what I did. I wasn’t trained for anything else. I couldn’t take a baby on a ship. The trustee for the estate suggested a governess. The trust allowed child care, and I thought that would be a good alternative. When I started thinking about school for you, I found Trent. It seemed perfect. I’m not proud of the decisions I made for you, Daniel. I was emotionally unavailable to you and it was because of fear.”
The confession struck Danny dumb. His father, the distinguished naval commander, a decorated veteran, was afraid of something? Danny was still reeling from the fact that the man had any feelings at all.
“I was afraid of being a father, and having that fear made me angry. I blamed you for making me vulnerable. When you were shot overseas, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to come see you, to reach out in some way, but by then, I didn’t know how. I didn’t think you would accept an olive branch. I don’t blame you if you don’t accept it now. I intercepted the letters out of anger. You had found somebody, and I hadn’t. I’m sorry for what I did.”
When his father had finished talking, Danny broke eye contact. He looked down at the letters in Jackie’s hands, then into her eyes. What would she do? He knew she would support him in any decision he made. Would she accept the olive branch given? She would. She was mad at his father, but she would still accept his apology and offer of peace.
He took the letters from Jackie’s hands and rolled them over. There was a good-sized stack. Would it be painful to read them? Should they even bother?
“I need some time, Dad,” he finally said, still not looking up. He realized he hadn’t offered that particular term of endearment in over twenty years. Yet, somehow, it felt right now. He hadn’t forgiven his father, at least not yet, but he thought he might be able to in the future. “I know that’s something you might not have a lot of.”
“I understand,” his father said, standing up.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“I’m flying home tonight. I’m retired. I live near Naples now.”
“How can I get in touch with you?”
His father reached into his pocket and produced a precisely folded piece of paper.
Danny put it in his pocket without looking at it.
“Dad,” he called when his father reached the door. When his father turned around, he took a deep breath and sighed. “Take care of yourself.”
“You too, son.” His father gave him a small smile and then disappeared out the door.
Danny and Jackie walked out on the porch and watched him drive away. When his vehicle was out of sight, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder.
“You did the right thing,” she said softly. “You don’t owe him anything, but you listened to what he had to say, and you gave him hope.”
“I thought of you,” he said, still watching the empty driveway. “I asked myself what you would do. Did you have any regrets after your father died? My dad is dying, but I don’t really feel anything about it. I’m just sort of numb. When he’s gone, there’s no changing things. I know I won’t get a second chance.”
“That’s so you.” She kissed his cheek and pressed her face to his shoulder. “You may look and act like a badass, but you’ve always had a big heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
“I love this new tigress you just became,” he chuckled. “It looked as if you were going to kick his ass.”
“He destroyed my life. He derailed my plans and sent us on two different paths. I wanted to punch him.”
“Should we go inside and read these letters?” he asked, holding the pile of envelopes up.
Jackie put her hand on his and lowered them down. “No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what they say. That’s in the past. We’ve found each other again, and that’s all that’s important.”
“I was interested to hear about the wife and kids,” he teased, as her face flamed red. “Are you blushing?”
“I know I said that—”
“What? You didn’t mean it?” Danny hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Did you not mean you wanted to be my wife? Aren’t we going to have lots of kids? It sounded like a good plan to me.”
“You’re making fun of me,” She rolled her eyes and lightly smacked him on the arm.
He put the letters down on the porch table and turned her to face him. “I’ve never been more serious in my life, Jacks. I want that life. I’ve always wanted that life with you.” He framed her face with his hands. “Will you marry me, Jackie?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He kissed her then, on their porch in New Hampshire, somewhere he’d vowed never to set a toe in again. But with this woman in his arms, the one who had just agreed to become his wife, Danny knew that while there would inevitably be heartaches ahead, the good moments would far outweigh the bad.
Epilogue
RYAN CIRCLED JIMMY Reilly’s car, eyeing it critically. He had spent many hours with it in a remote garage in California. The security here was tight. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe Jimmy really had died of a heart attack, but that still didn’t feel right. He had been a young guy, and in good shape physically.
In college, Ryan had taken engineering and forensics classes. Discovering what had gone wrong in this car still drove him. As an adult, he had taken seminars with the FBI and police departments on accident rec
onstructions and arson investigations, anything that would help him for the day when he was ready to go over this car.
He was ready now. Most of the engine compartment had been damaged in the fire, but the passenger box was untouched. He’d driven to California with his hauler to bring the car back to New Hampshire. The work had begun on the barn to convert it into garage facilities. It would have offices, garage space, and classrooms for training. Eric was going to handle security for the building. Only Ryan, Danny, and Eric were going to be able to unlock it. Once it was finished, it would be a multimillion-dollar facility. Ryan had worked his entire adult life for this moment.
It was strange looking at an inanimate object and knowing that someone had died in there. What had Jimmy’s last moments been like? Had he known he was going to die, or had he just thought it was another wreck? Had he had regrets? His crew chief had reported that he’d heard Jimmy swearing just before everything went silent.
All Ryan knew was it must have been some kind of heart attack for him to have died that quickly. CPR hadn’t been started right away, and he had been declared dead in the helicopter. That alone seemed negligent and highly suspicious to Ryan.
He’d have the privacy to go over the car in New Hampshire. It was going to be kept in a separate part of the garage, only accessible to Ryan. He realized that he had become obsessed with finding out what happened the day Jimmy died.
Work was coming along on his house, as well. A few more weeks and they’d be down to punch-out work. He’d gone along with Sophie’s design, something that he’d lost a lot of sleep over wondering why. He avoided her general store when he was in town. His brain stopped firing on all its cylinders when he was around her. He didn’t remember getting so tongue-tied around her at Trent, but it didn’t take much now.
Everything about her just did it for him. Her brandy colored hair, her soft Southern drawl, her bright-green eyes. Even all those freckles sprinkled over her face. She’d grown into a beautiful woman. When he was around her, he was sorry for the reputation he’d cultivated at Trent. He was sorry he’d blown through girls. He’d never mistreated them, and they’d all known the score, but still, when he was around Sophie now, he felt almost dirty thinking about that time.
He looked back to the car. Things were going to start happening for him now. Things were looking up. Everything was about to change.
Turn the page for a sneak peek
Of the first book in the new fantasy series
Coming soon from A.M. Mahler and
Raconteur Books
The Guardian
A.M. Mahler
Raconteur Books
One
King of Prussia, Pennsylvania – 1773
THE WARRIOR THRASHED about on the bed, sweat breaking out all over his body. He was trapped again in a battle that he hadn’t fought, a war that wasn’t his own. He was an observer, and though he’d had the dream before and knew what was to come, he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t intervene and change anything. He couldn’t help the girl. And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to just once jump in front of her and slay her attackers for her. She was tired, he could feel it. He knew her physical strength drained as the fight went on.
He ran along behind her as she fought her way through the corridors of the castle, frustrated as she sustained injuries he could do nothing to stop. Suddenly, she screamed as she was violently jerked into a room. The heavy wooden door slammed shut and was barred against intruders.
“Fox!” She cried out to the man in the room. “We have to leave, Fox. We have to flee now. There are too many men to fight.”
“No, you need to leave,” the man said. “You need to get as far away from here as you can. Take the stone with you. Protect it at all costs. He will not rest until it is his. Everyone needs to split up and go their separate ways. If we aren’t together, we can divide his resources. It will confuse him for a while. He will need to regroup, form a new plan, before he can come after any of us.”
“Split up?” She asked shaking her head. “You can’t be serious. The Healer and the Scholar—”
“He doesn’t want them as badly as he wants you and the stone. You are the Guardian. You will find an inventor and scientist in the American Colonies in the year 1764 that will be sympathetic to your plight. He will be a great asset to you. You will find a Warrior ten years later that will protect you in your quest. Do not guard your heart against him. He is your mate. He will know things, like I do. Trust in what he says. He will be marked and not like others.”
“What is a Guardian without The Healer and The Scholar? What is she without The Fox? We need each other. I do not know the stone as well as the others.”
“You don’t need to know it any better than you do,” Fox said. “You just need to protect it. We will all meet again. Gradually, you will find us; one by one. It won’t happen for centuries but when the time is right, we will be reunited for the final fight.”
“Your visions are vague, Fox.”
“This one is specific.”
“Only to you. You aren’t telling me all of it.”
“No, I am keeping some to myself. I’m only telling you what you need to know. It doesn’t all pertain to you,” he said. A banging on the door rang out through the room. Fox moved to a bookcase and shoved it aside, revealing a small wooden door. “Go now. I’ll seal the passage behind you. Head for the forest. In the ruins of the chapel, there is money hidden in the altar for you. Take it and go straight to London. Secure passage on the first ship to France. You can head to the Colonies from there. Your inventor isn’t born yet. Neither is your Warrior. Make sure you are in the Colonies by the year 1764. You’ll meet the inventor in a city named Philadelphia. The Warrior will come ten years later. Now, go! Go!”
The Guardian plunged into the darkness of the corridor. She dared not light a flame to see. She didn’t need to anyway. She knew these secret corridors better than the back of her own hand. She grew up running through their maze. Only her family could find her here. None of the servants or men-at-arms knew about them. So she ran in the darkness, guided by memory. She came out right near the stables as she had hoped. Quickly, she looked around her. Seeing the immediate area clear from soldiers, she plunged ahead to the barn. She took the first horse she came upon—her father’s prized stallion and the fastest in the herd. Pembroke—named for William Marshal, First Earl of Pembroke and Richard the Lionheart’s most treasured knight— didn’t protest. He was used to his mistress’s impromptu and ill-advised jaunts into the night. She spurred him forward, not daring to look behind her as she made her way to the chapel ruins and the unknown life that now awaited her.
JACK WOKE WITH a gasp. The dream was so real that her image lingered in the air before him. She called to him, of that he was certain. But who she was, where she was or what her real task be remained ever a mystery. He had seen her in his dreams since he was a child. He knew her face as well as he knew his own. He knew all their faces.
Silently, he rose from the bed. There was a bottle of whisky still lodged in his hand from the night before and he set it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. He moved around the small room with stealth, gathering his weapons and few belongings, and left the room without waking his companion. It would be less awkward that way since he could not recall her name or perhaps did not know it at all.
He edged out of the house and took to the shadows of the barn, borrowed a stallion with no intention of ever returning it, mounted the horse, and tore off into the night. The horse appeared to know where to go, which was advantageous, as he did not have the first idea.
He rode through the early morning hours until daybreak, seeking answers for the eternal questions in his mind. The dream came to him over and over for as long as he could remember. The girl—her face—an image he knew as thoroughly as he knew his own, one he had studied endlessly. She appeared in his dreams with the others. A battle had separated them from each other and now she looked for a warrior. But who was she? Why did
she need protection? Rationally, he knew she must be a manifestation of his subconscious. He must have seen her in this travels and remembered her face, inserting it into his dreams.
But deep down in places of himself he was hesitant to explore, he knew that wasn’t the truth. The dreams he had, had a way of becoming true in reality. When he was but a boy, he had dreamed of an Indian family, one he would consider his own. One day, his village was burned and he was the sole survivor. That same Indian family that appeared to him in his dreams had taken him in and made him one of them. “Olam-a-pies,” a story builder, his Shawnee mother had called him. She said he built these stories in his dreams. Today, he was their representative in the white world.
Finally, he spotted a deer, dropped the horse’s reins and slid quietly from his saddle. He removed his bow from its case and moved slyly through the brush. The sun was just rising, though he had been awake for hours. His unsuspecting prey was in sight. Dinner would be venison today. If he could come across some salt for it, he would be in heaven. He slid through the tall grass as he stalked close to his quarry and nocked an arrow, preparing to shoot.
He cursed as his meal spooked and bolted into the forest. The thunder of horse hooves approaching surprised him, and he crouched down to avoid detection. He glanced over to where his horse was grazing far off the trail now. The stallion did not appear fazed by the approaching animals.
A cloaked rider astride a white mare was moving at a dangerous speed through the forest. Four riders were in close pursuit. A pistol roared and the bullet struck the mare's flank, causing the horse to stumble and bring her rider tumbling down. The cry of fear and surprise that rang out was a woman's, closely followed by a bellow of outrage. Without a thought, the concentration that Jack had previously focused on the deer was transferred to the chasers closest to him. The bandits dismounted and viciously yanked the girl to her feet. The hood of her cloak remained covering her face.
