Just Breathe (The Protectors Book 2)

by Leeanna Morgan

  “Why would they think that?”

  “It cost a lot of money to go to college. Even with a scholarship and the money I earned from part-time jobs, it wasn’t enough to pay all my expenses.”

  “Your parents are proud of what you’ve achieved. You should be, too.”

  Kelly picked up a box and some wrapping paper. “I am proud of what I’ve done.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing.”

  Tanner put down his scissors. “I’ve known you long enough to know something’s bothering you. What is it?”

  Kelly looked at the box in front of her. “What if I made the wrong decision? What if one day I wake up and no one wants to buy anything from my store?”

  “Do you honestly think that will happen?”

  “No, but other business owners have thought the same thing and still closed.”

  Tanner knew all about the fear of failure and how it could destroy your life. “You’ve done a lot of good things to make your store relevant and appeal to a lot of people.”

  “It’s totally different from when Uncle Mike owned Crafty Crafts.”

  He smiled. “Was that the name of his store?”

  Kelly smiled back. “It was a little corny, but it worked. He was the sweetest man I ever met. He used to make me cookies and listen to what happened at school. I’m sure he keeps an eye on me from heaven.”

  Tanner nodded. He didn’t believe in heaven, but if it gave Kelly some kind of comfort he wasn’t going to disagree. “How many parcels do we need to wrap?”

  Kelly jumped off the stool and went across to another table. “Avery boxed each of the orders this afternoon.” She counted the orders, then added the number of boxes still on his table. “Thirteen left to wrap. I’ll put my notebook away and give you a hand. We’ll be done before you know it.”

  Tanner opened another roll of paper. “There’s no hurry. I don’t have anything else planned.”

  “In that case…” Kelly picked up a remote and aimed it at some shelves. “We might as well enjoy what we’re doing.”

  And before he could ask what she was talking about, the sound of Christmas carols filled the room.

  “Merry Christmas, Tanner.”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Merry Christmas, Kelly.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kelly pushed her hair behind her ears and continued wrapping the box in front of her. Someone had bought the last four model cars and she couldn’t have been happier. If she wanted new stock for her customers, she needed to sell what she had on display.

  So far today she’d spent most of the morning packing online purchases. Out of desperation she’d called Jackie to see if she was able to work until Avery arrived. After a quick look around the store, Jackie started helping customers straight away. When she hadn’t hesitated to use the cash register, Kelly knew she’d made the right decision.

  “Anyone here?”

  Kelly looked up from her workbench. “Hi, Tanner.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’re drowning in parcels.”

  “Tell me about it. Avery couldn’t come in early, so I called Jackie. She’s picked up the basics really fast.”

  “I’m glad. Have you seen today’s Bozeman Chronicle?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to look at the newspaper. Is there something important I should read?”

  “You could say that.” Tanner opened the paper he’d brought with him and showed her the third page. “Doris’ Facebook post has struck again. One of the reporters at the Chronicle interviewed her and wrote a story about the journal.”

  Kelly read the article and sighed. “They’ve made up half the story. At least they got the Underground Railroad connection right. I hope the Jackson family in Boston don’t read any online newspapers.”

  “There’s about as much hope of that as the sun not rising tomorrow. Senator Jackson will have staff whose job it is to find any news about himself or his family.”

  Tanner’s cell phone beeped and he looked at the screen. “I won’t be a minute, Kelly.” He held the phone to his ear. “Hi, Tank. How can I help?”

  Tanner listened to what his friend said. “Give me a few seconds.”

  He looked at Kelly. “Do you have a TV down here?”

  “No, but you can look at the one upstairs.”

  Tanner held his phone to his ear. “Kelly and I are going upstairs. Don’t hang up.”

  Kelly jogged up the stairs and unlocked her apartment door. “I can’t stay with you, but you’re welcome to make yourself at home. Just lock the door after you.” She turned on her TV and passed Tanner the remote.

  “You should stay—it won’t take long.” He changed the TV channel and frowned.

  A well-known reporter was interviewing a man in a dark navy suit. His name flashed across the bottom of the screen.

  Kelly’s mouth dropped open. “It can’t be.”

  “Believe me—I wish it wasn’t.”

  William Jackson smiled into the camera and Kelly’s stomach twisted in knots. Abagail’s journal had just made the national news.

  ***

  Later that night, Kelly kicked off her shoes and flopped into one of her overstuffed chairs. The lunch crowd hadn’t thinned out all day. People had come and gone from her store like bees around a pot of honey. At times, the number of people was almost overwhelming, especially when a local television station planted reporters and cameramen outside her front door.

  She’d never prayed for a snow storm in her life, but today she’d focused all her misbehaving thoughts on heaven. A storm would shoo people home and take them away from town.

  If it hadn’t been for Jackie staying much longer than she’d said she would, Kelly and Avery wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the number of customers or restock the shelves.

  She closed her eyes and thought about why everyone was suddenly so interested in her store. She was sure Abagail would have been shocked by the amount of interest in her story.

  The journal was a simple retelling of an extraordinary life.

  With her friend Erin’s help, she was slowly working her way through Abagail’s family tree. She’d found Celeste Madison’s great-grandparents. They still hadn’t found any record of Abagail, but they were close.

  There was no way Kelly would ask Doris Stanley for help.

  The type of news media attention Abagail’s story had generated wasn’t good for her nerves—and even less helpful for Tanner. He had a busy career, a job that took him across America. Keeping a low profile was just as important to him as his reputation.

  She pulled herself out of her chair and headed across to the kitchen. A mug of hot chocolate, a good book and some Christmas music would clear her head. It might even make her feel as though she’d had some time to herself today.

  With the kettle turned on, she reached for the chocolate powder. When the phone rang, she looked at her watch and assumed it was Tanner.

  “I was about to make a mug of hot chocolate. Would you like one?”

  Silence greeted her offer. “Can I help you?” she asked, frowning.

  “I’d like to speak to Kelly Harris, please.”

  Kelly’s danger radar spiked. The man on the other end of the phone sounded like a reporter. With his smooth, authoritative tone he was probably hoping to convince her to tell him something no one else knew. “You’re speaking with Kelly.”

  There was a brief pause—a swish of papers as whoever was speaking looked through their notes. “This is Senator William Jackson. I believe you have a journal that belongs to my family.”

  She’d always had a deep distrust of people whose attitude bordered on bullying. The tone of Senator Jackson’s voice was so condescending that she almost ended the call.

  “Are you referring to the journal written by a woman called Abagail?” she asked as nicely as she could.

  “Unless you have another one, then, yes. Abagail’s journal should have been left with my family. At some point it was passed t
o people who weren’t the legal custodians.”

  “What makes you think Celeste Madison wasn’t the legal owner of the journal before I bought it?”

  “I’m not proud of my family’s history regarding their ownership of slaves, but it happened and I can’t change it. Abagail was Alexander Jackson’s slave. He owned her and all her possessions, including the journal. Therefore, the journal should remain in my family’s possession.”

  Kelly’s blood pressure went from a slow simmer to boiling. “For someone who isn’t proud of their family history, you’re happy to use slavery to strengthen your case.”

  “I don’t need to strengthen my case. The journal belongs to the Jackson family, not you. For all I know, it could be full of half-truths and outright lies.”

  She rubbed the side of her head. The dull ache behind her temples was getting worse. “What you think of the journal isn’t important. Abagail ran away from your family. Alexander Jackson’s ownership of her stopped the moment she crossed the Canadian border.”

  “You’re forgetting the basic facts, Ms. Harris. Abagail was never given her freedom—she was a runaway slave. I don’t want this to get messy. I suggest you think carefully about returning the journal. If I haven’t heard from you by Christmas, my lawyer will contact you.”

  Senator Jackson ended the call.

  Tanner had warned her that something like this might happen, but she hadn’t believed him. She couldn’t afford to fight a legal battle and she shouldn’t need to.

  Kelly put the phone on its cradle then picked it up again. She’d call Tanner, let him know what had happened, then try to get some sleep.

  At least she didn’t have to keep wondering if Senator Jackson knew about the journal. Thanks to Doris’ Facebook post and the newspaper article, he definitely knew it existed.

  ***

  The next morning, Kelly was still worried. Finding another story in today’s newspaper hadn’t helped calm her nerves.

  Thankfully, Tanner arrived to help wrap the never-ending stream of online orders.

  “He said it could be all lies.” She took a box off a shelf and checked to make sure the small, gilt-framed mirror would fit inside. “How does he know if the journal is real or not if he’s never seen it?”

  Tanner pulled a strip of tape off the dispenser. “He won’t know. Senator Jackson is hedging his bets. He obviously doesn’t want the journal to hit the news media. If he can hold them off from discovering the truth for a few days, it will give him a chance to verify your story. I’m surprised a reporter hasn’t already called.”

  “They might have,” Kelly said softly. She didn’t want to admit to Tanner that she’d deliberately ignored the message from the local news station.

  He stopped wrapping the box. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  “Someone left a message on the store’s phone yesterday. As soon as I realized it was a reporter, I ignored what they said.”

  “You what?”

  “I don’t have any spare time. I didn’t think it was urgent so I did nothing about it.”

  “I wish you’d at least told me about the call. We could have written a press release and made sure they had factual information.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference to Senator Jackson.” Kelly turned the tape dispenser around. “The only thing he wants is Abagail’s journal.”

  Tanner added a red bow to the box, then moved it to another table. “I’ll mail these orders this afternoon.”

  Kelly looked at the clock on the wall. “When do you have to be at work?”

  “Ten-thirty.”

  “I appreciate you helping me.”

  “It’s no problem. I would have come around anyway to make sure you were okay. Wrapping a few orders is the least I can do.”

  Kelly pulled more paper off the roll. “I never thought the journal would interest anyone apart from historians.”

  Tanner passed her a length of ribbon. “After everything Doris has said, Abagail’s story has taken on a life of its own. This close to Christmas, it’s the kind of information most reporters would give their eye teeth for.”

  “But Senator Jackson said we’re lying. Do we show him the journal?”

  “I wouldn’t do anything at the moment. If a reporter or anyone from Senator Jackson’s office calls, take their name and contact details. We’ll call them back in a couple of days once we know what we’re doing.”

  “Won’t that add more speculation to the stories going around?”

  “It might, or it could give the story time to sink into obscurity.”

  Kelly didn’t think there was much chance of that happening. “I don’t know, Tanner. Telling the truth is better than people making up their own stories about what happened.”

  “It’s nearly Christmas. Most of the world is busy choosing Christmas trees and getting last minute presents. Not saying anything to the reporters for a few days won’t make any difference.”

  Jackie hurried into the workroom. “I need your help, Kelly. A lady wants to buy the four enamel vases we put on display this morning. Can you look after the sales counter while I help her?”

  “Sure.” She handed Tanner the order she’d half-wrapped. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t rush—I can let myself out when I’ve finished. Call me tonight, but let me know if you need help before then. You’ll probably have more curious people visiting the store today.”

  “Curious people don’t worry me. Senator Jackson does.” Kelly followed Jackie into the store and helped a customer. It was a crazy day and there were still eleven days left until Christmas.

  Hopefully, Tanner was right and the interest in Abagail’s journal would disappear as Christmas got closer.

  On the bright side, her sales figures were the best they’d ever been. If she were lucky, she’d be able to buy her new display cabinets sooner than she thought.

  ***

  Tanner opened the door to Nick Costas’ gallery.

  Kelly had called last night and asked him to come to an early morning meeting. Nick had more information about the painting she’d won at the auction.

  Tanner knew almost nothing about art, but he was happy to be here, especially if it gave them more of an insight into Mary Jackson’s life.

  He looked around the converted warehouse. Nick’s gallery was dressed for the holiday season. In the reception area, a tall pine tree was covered in gold decorations and bows. Fairy lights twinkled from the exposed beams in the ceiling and Christmas garlands decorated the walls.

  With Christmas carols playing softly in the background, the gallery was tranquil, understated, and festive. Tanner compared it to the busy craziness of Kelly’s store. There was no time to appreciate the Christmas displays or garlands decorating her shelves. For the last two weeks, the antiques store had been full of people looking for last-minute gifts or more news about Abagail’s journal.

  The door opened behind him and a cold gust of air blew into the gallery.

  “Hi, Tanner. Sorry I’m late.”

  Kelly’s cheeks matched the bright red hat she was wearing. She was out of breath and beautiful.

  He unzipped his jacket. “I’ve just arrived myself. Is everything okay?”

  “I hope so. I need to leave in thirty minutes if I’m going to open the store on time. Does Nick know you’re here?”

  “Nick knows, little one.” Nick appeared from behind a display of paintings. “A discreet security system is important in a gallery of this size.” He smiled at Tanner. “It is good to see you again. Kelly told me you helped decipher the journal.”

  “Another person at Fletcher Security helped more than I did, but I was happy to do what I could.” Tanner had last seen Nick four months ago. Clients of Fletcher Security had requested a personal escort for a sculpture they’d bought from the gallery.

  Nick rubbed his hands together. “I have exciting news regarding your painting. Come with me into my workroom.”

  Tanner expected
Kelly to have a million questions, but she didn’t. She was as quiet as he was as they walked into the room behind the front counter.

  Nick pointed to some chairs. “Your painting is still with my friends at the Smithsonian, Kelly.”

  Tanner’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know the painting had left Bozeman.”

  Kelly pushed her woolly hat into her jacket pocket. “Nick wanted to X-ray the portrait and we couldn’t do that here. He found something on the canvas that didn’t make sense.”

  “The painting is being well looked after,” Nick added. “Until we use the right equipment any information about the painting is based on what Kelly has told me and our research.”

  Kelly unbuttoned her jacket. “Did the X-ray help?”

  “You could say that.” Nick opened a large envelope. “The first set of photographs are of your painting as the human eye sees it.” He passed them to Kelly and she shared them with Tanner.

  “The next set are the X-ray images that were taken on Monday.”

  She looked at first photo and frowned. “Are you sure this is the same painting?”

  “I am sure. It is another mystery to be solved.”

  Tanner looked at the photo. The portrait of the woman was almost identical, except in the X-ray image, a young child was standing beside her.

  Nick passed another photo to Kelly. “It was not unheard of for artists to re-use canvases and paint over existing images. What is more interesting about this example is the questions it raises. Why would a talented artist paint over the original portrait? Did the child die in tragic circumstances? Was it too painful for the family to remember her life?”

  Kelly looked up from the photo. “Mary Jackson had a son, but he died while he was still a baby. There’s no record of her having any other children.”

  “My colleagues think the young girl is about ten years old. The clothes and style of the painting have led us to believe that the initial portrait was painted around 1845.”

  “I don’t know who the little girl could be.” Kelly sighed. “Mary was from a family of fourteen children. Maybe it was one of her nieces or a younger sister.”