Jameson (In the Company of Snipers Book 22)

by Irish Winters

  Maddie was staring at Jameson by then. He could feel her eyes on him. “What’d he say?”

  Unfastening his seatbelt, Jameson tugged Maddie closer, wishing new cars didn’t all come with sturdy consoles between the driver and passenger seats. “He said he didn’t know what I was talking about, that he didn’t have a daughter. To get lost.”

  “Th-that’s all?”

  Jameson nodded as he leaned her under his arm. She was crying, he could tell. Rick Bannister had also told him to fuck off, that he’d beat the shit out of Jameson if he ever showed his face in his bar or at his front door. But Maddie didn’t need to know that.

  “Have you talked with my m-mom, too?”

  “No, babe. But I know where she lives, and I have her phone number if you want it. She’s actually not far from here. She lives in Bailey’s Crossroads. But that’s up to you. I just thought if your dad could so easily deny the beautiful, intelligent, courageous woman that his daughter is, well… Maybe he’d treated his wife the same way, and she’s feeling as bad as you. As lost.”

  “I don’t feel bad. Least I didn’t until—”

  “Until I brought all this crap up, huh?”

  She was breathing hard. Swallowing hard, too. Trembling. “My life with Dad was crap,” she admitted. “So… I’ve been close to where she lives all this time, huh? Does she, umm, live in a house or on the street, or is she—”

  “A house. She lives in the nice residential area. There’s an elementary school within walking distance. She teaches fifth grade there.”

  “Wow, you’ve been busy…” If Maddie’s heart beat any harder, she’d go into cardiac arrest. But for the first time, hope had also whispered through her tone.

  “Breathe,” Jameson murmured into the side of her head. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just thought you’d feel better knowing you have a mom, and that she still lives nearby. Close enough to visit someday, when you choose. It’s all up to you.”

  Maddie sniffed. He’d made her cry. “Aw, babe, I’m sorry. Damn, I’m an ass. I ruined your new car day. I’ve spoiled everything.”

  “No,” she whimpered, her face pressed into his neck under his ear, her breath warm and moist on his skin. “When I was a little girl, I used to dream my mom was a queen from another country. That she only left me behind because she was so much more important than me, you know? That her country needed her more than I did. That she’d come back someday to get me.”

  He held Maddie tight. She was coming apart, and his heart was breaking for having hurt her. “Let’s go back to my place. We’ll go mansion hunting another day.” And I’ll keep my big mouth shut from now on.

  “No. I… I think I’d like to call her.” She turned in his arms and smoothed her fingertips into his hair over that same ear. “You went to all this trouble just for me. Maybe I could call her, you know, j-j-just to talk. See if she remembers me. Where’s her number?”

  Jameson produced his phone and handed it over, tipping his lips to her forehead. “I’ll never lie to you, and I only want what’s truly best for you. I’m okay if you’d rather not call. But if you do, her name’s in my contacts list under B for Bannister.”

  “She kept her married name? She’s not—?”

  “Remarried? You won’t know until you talk to her.”

  The tension between them changed from desolate to excited, and in that moment, Jameson wasn’t sure what the hell he’d done. This could go so, so bad. Yet he’d relied on his gut, and he had that same feeling now as when he’d first met Maddie. This could also go so, so good.

  She was working his phone. Then, “H-hello...? Is Krystyna there? Oh...” Silence. “Well. Umm… okay, well… umm… hi.”

  Jameson pressed his nose in Maddie’s hair, content to breathe the flowery scent of this amazing woman into his soul, while she reached out for the mother who might just need her as much as Krystyna needed her baby girl.

  “Umm…” Maddie stalled. She smacked her lips and gulped and breathed too hard until, at last, she whispered, “My name’s Maddie—”

  “Maddie? Madelyn Bannister?” Krystyna shrieked loud enough Jameson heard her over the connection. “Is this you? Are you my baby girl?! Good grief, tell me it’s you! God, please let you be my Maddie! My baby!”

  “It’s me, M-m-mom,” she choked through her tears. “Yes, it’s me.”

  Jameson bowed his head and smiled. He didn’t need to see to know they were headed to Bailey’s Crossroads next.

  Chapter Thirty

  Maddie stared at the traditional American Foursquare home at the end of a neatly edged walk in Bailey’s Crossroads, Virginia. The walk led straight up a couple steps to a pair of hunter-green doors with frosted windowpanes. A sturdy brass knocker that formed a golden heart. One long, elegant brass handle. Two huge, red geranium plants in terracotta planters, one at each side of those doors. The matching hunter-green runner that started at the edge of a graciously large porch, ended at those doors. White lattice work concealed all lower sides of the porch, and plump Boston ferns in bright red pots hung from chains attached to the ceiling. The house was postcard perfect. Surely a teacher couldn’t afford to live here.

  Weathervanes decorated every quaint, tidy home in this delightful neighborhood, where wide green lawns stretched like welcome mats from one home to the next. But the proud standard flying high at the steepled peak of this address on Melody Lane was as telling as the woman Maddie hoped she’d find inside. A tremendous, golden, perforated heart, each hole in it another cookie-cutter-shaped heart. Hope in that beautiful weathervane had echoed inside Maddie’s chest the moment she’d parked at the curb and turned off the ignition.

  That SUV all by itself had made this day one of accomplishment. She’d felt as if she’d arrived when Jameson guided her through the automobile loan process, which hadn’t been difficult at all. But doing that with him made everything almost, well, fun. She’d been on top of the world. But now…

  Her feet refused to move, and she was afraid she’d pass out. Her lungs had rebelled, refusing her breathing rights. Her poor heart now resided between her tonsils, which might also explain why her stomach felt it needed to climb out of her mouth. Tiny black dots danced at the edge of her peripheral. The only thing holding her steady and upright was the valiant, handsome man at her side, his left hand at her elbow, his white cane stuck out in front of them like a divining rod. Or a spear in case the gentle woman she hoped to encounter ended up being another dragon to vanquish. Like Rick Bannister.

  “You’d think she’d be waiting, watching for me,” Maddie mumbled more to herself than to Jameson.

  “She’s probably as anxious about this meeting as you,” he confided. “Put yourself in her shoes. She deserted her little girl. What would you say to that baby when she returned to you as an elegant, well-cultured woman?”

  “I’m not elegant or cultured.”

  “Oh, yes, you are.” Like the bulwark of strength he always was, Jameson wrapped his strong left arm around her shoulders and breathed into her ear, “One step at a time, Maddie. That’s how we get the tough jobs done. You can do this. I have enough faith in you for both of us.”

  That right there was what made him different from the overbearing men in her life. Jameson offered endless encouragement, never bullying. He’d only ever built her up. Even when he’d been angry with her back at Delaney’s warehouse, he’d stayed at her side instead of letting her face Alex alone.

  She huffed through her nose. Her poor heart fluttered like a sparrow had gotten trapped in her ribs. It hurt. The risk of this letdown was suddenly too great. Better to hold onto that little girl’s dream of a queenly mother, who’d merely stepped out of her daughter’s life because she had to rule an entire nation. That fairytale version seemed so much safer than taking another step forward and proving just how little anyone wanted an unlovable—

  “Maddie?”

  Good grief. There she is. At her door. Kry
styna Bannister. My mother. She’s blonde. Light blue eyes. Just like me.

  “Is that…? Good grief. It is! It is you! I recognize my baby anywhere!” The mother Maddie had been dreaming of all her motherless years ran off that porch and down her walk, and then Maddie was…

  Found…

  Wanted…

  Wrapped up tight in a hug that stole her breath in all the best ways.

  “I… I…” There were no words for the wealth of feelings and emotions bubbling up from her poor battered heart. Filling it up. Flooding its darkest fears with something she’d long forgotten. Being treasured by the mother who had only ever loved her. Krystyna’s blonde hair was wrapped in a thick braid that hung down her back. But that voice, that sweet caring lullaby of notes from a language of somewhere far away, was why Maddie had dreamed her mother was a queen.

  They cried and cried, clinging to each other, their hands warm and possessive.

  “My baby girl. My dziecko anioła. I hate your father with every feather of my soul,” Krystyna cried as she enfolded Maddie in a vaguely familiar feminine scent of powder and… Chantilly perfume. That’s what it was. It came in a pink box, and it smelled like cloves and orange blossoms, and it was… My Mom.

  “He’s not on my Christmas list, either,” Maddie replied, feeling rather lighthearted and pleased now that she knew her mother wanted her.

  “But I really hate Rick. The day he kicked me out of our house, I swore I’d come back for you. He said if I ever showed my face, he’d cut your throat and throw your dead body into the street at me. And I believed him. He said he’d call Immigration. I couldn’t take the chance of losing you forever.” Krystyna’s chin quivered as she cupped Maddie’s cheeks and peppered her face with soft kisses. “I missed you every day, my sweet lost dziecko anioła. Every single second. He stole everything from me the day he made me leave you behind.”

  “He kicked me out, too. I wanted to join the Marines. He wanted a cook, a maid, and a slave.”

  Krystyna’s elegant fingers knotted into fists against Maddie’s head. “That black-hearted bastard.”

  “But I went to college, and I graduated, and I have a really good job now, and I like what I do, and… and… Mom…” And she was doing it again. Talking too fast and saying too much. But that word… That one word broke her heart and healed it, all in one breath. “Mom,” she cried, the poor heart opened wide. “Mom. My Mom…”

  They stood locked in each other’s arms, breathing each other in, remembering and loving and soaking in all they’d reclaimed. Maddie had never hurt so much, nor felt so loved. This was what she’d missed, and she’d never lose it again.

  Krystyna pressed a soft kiss to her tear-soaked cheek. “I am so proud of you.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the authorities when he kicked you out?” Jameson asked quietly.

  “Good grief!” Maddie came to her senses. “M-m-mom. This is Jameson Tenney. He’s the reason I’m here today. This was his idea, to come meet you. I’m so glad I did.”

  With Maddie safe inside one arm, Krystyna’s gaze raked over Jameson, his black hair, the spectacles he hadn’t taken off, and the way he’d cocked his head the tiniest bit when he’d been introduced. The way he stood there tall and proud, always listening. Her chin dipped when she noticed the straight white cane he held erect at his centerline.

  “Because I was in the country illegally, Mr. Tenney. My student visa expired after I met Maddie’s father.” Her voice had turned stern, but not once had she remarked about his cane.

  “You’re Polish,” he stated with a genuine smile, and Maddie was so proud of Jameson. He always knew what to say and do.

  “Yes, I’m from Poland, but I’m an American citizen now.” She looked to Maddie. “By the time I swore my allegiance to America, I’d lost track of you. It took me a while to find you again, but by then, you were in college. I’m sorry, dziewczynka. I didn’t know what he’d told you about me, and I didn’t want you to have to decide between the two of us. I chose to wait for you to find me, instead of me causing you more pain.”

  Jameson cleared his throat. “Dziecko anioła is…?”

  “Polish for angel baby,” Krystyna replied, her head up and a good strong arm still around Maddie. “And dziewczynka means baby girl. What are your intentions for my daughter?”

  Maddie couldn’t hold back the cheek-cracking smile that stretched from one ear to the other at being named the daughter of this strong woman. “Relax, Mom. Jameson is my hero. He’s a former Navy SEAL, and we work together in Alexandria, and we’re going to marry in a month or two, and I want you to walk me down the aisle.”

  “Marry?” Krystyna’s voice quavered.

  Maddie looked into the sweet faded-blue eyes of the first person she had ever loved. “Yes, Mom. It’ll be a small wedding, maybe by a justice of the peace is all. I don’t have a lot of family, just—”

  “But I do,” Jameson announced with unexpected rowdy conviction. “SEAL teams consist of six platoons, Maddie. Each platoon is sixteen SEALs strong. Two officers. One chief. Thirteen enlisted. Trust me. My brothers’ll all be there. Then there’s Mom’s and Dad’s brothers and sisters. Two sets of grandparents. All my cousins.”

  “And I have eleven brothers and sisters, dziewczynka. All live in America and all with sons and daughters, cousins you’ve never met. Your grandparents, Matka and Ojciec, my mom and dad, are still alive. They’ll be so thrilled to meet you. I’ll have to rent the hall in my church. It might be large enough, but if it isn’t…”

  Maddie looked to Jameson. He was grinning. Like her. So many words she used were her mother’s. She traded Krystyna’s embrace for Jameson’s, knocking his cane to the ground as she burrowed under his chin.

  “Thank you,” she told him as she circled her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead down to hers. “You gave me back my mom.”

  “I think we should serve lemonade at our reception,” he whispered into her mouth. “What do you think?”

  “I think I love you, Jameson Tenney. Forever and ever—”

  “Amen,” he breathed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Lexie. Whatcha doing, sweetheart?” Alex asked, not sure what his precocious little one was up to. Her bright brown eyes sparkled from the corner of the front room sofa where she sat with Bradley snuggled in her arms. With his face pressed to her—chest?

  “I feeding baby, Daddy,” she said, the sarcastic “duh!” in her tone obvious, like he shouldn’t have asked such a silly question.

  “Oh, my, no,” Kelsey murmured. She’d barely settled into the nearby rocking chair after making sure Lexie had a good hold on Bradley. Now she was back on her feet. “No, honey. Put your shirt down. Let me get you a baby bottle to feed Bradley.”

  “No, Mama. I wanna feed him like you do. He likes it this way.”

  Alex nearly roared with laughter the way Lexie had Bradley’s face plastered to her flat, little girl chest, as if she knew better than her mom and dad. Girls. God, he loved them. Never a dull moment at his house.

  “Kelsey? This one’s all yours.”

  Her brown eyes laughed back at him. “Just you wait. Bradley’s going to give you a run for your money one of these days.”

  “Plan on it, Mama.” Nothing would make Alex happier.

  After all was said and done and explained to the satisfaction of the authorities in Boston, he’d brought Mel home and put him to bed. The next day, he moved his old man out of the comfortable bedroom in the basement, upstairs to the bedroom closer to Lexie’s, two doors from Alex and Kelsey’s.

  Since that telling night in Boston, Mel had been semi-faithful about taking his meds, with Alex riding shotgun to make certain he did. Mel had also explained more about his relationship with Pops Delaney and the Irish mob. His claim of being Pops’ lieutenant wasn’t verifiable, since everyone involved was dead, and, according to Tucker Chase, the FBI had no evidence he’d ever been to Ireland or in
Boston. But none of those answers or explanations changed the fact that he’d deserted his family for a life of intrigue and dirty-dealing. That he’d left them as destitute as beggars on his folks’ doorstep, then missed most of his only son’s life. Not to mention his wife’s and parents’ deaths and funerals.

  If Mel had ever been sharp enough to leave no trace behind, as he claimed, he would’ve been a completely different person than the father Alex remembered. Which cast doubt on every word out of the old con’s mouth. Alex didn’t fall for Mel’s stories. He was certain they were mostly lies. But Mel had gotten them to the Black Rose in time to extricate Maddie from certain death, and he had seemed to know details about Lucy Delaney that agreed with Jameson Tenney’s more trustworthy observations. Those two truths Mel told were undeniable.

  Since that day, he’d also filled in a couple holes in a certain nine-year-old kid’s recollections. Not enough for Alex to give him a key to Kelsey’s castle, but enough he was willing to listen and hear the old guy out. Which brought peace back to the castle, as well as story time with Gramps for Lexie, whom he now remembered.

  Boston authorities had turned Mel over to Alex for safekeeping. Said they didn’t send Alzheimer’s patients to jail. Which made him Alex’s father, once and for all. Mel was finally home and that was okay.

  Alex now knew that Mel’s lucid moments, which was all that their time together in Boston had been, would occur less frequently from now on. Alzheimer’s robbed everything from its victims, and this might be the hardest battle Alex would ever fight. But what else did a person do when their long-lost parent finally came home? For that answer, Alex looked to Lexie.