“You have to know, Johnny,” Mitch told him honestly. “I tangled with Zorro. He fell on the knife he attacked me with.”
Cassie said, “How badly is he hurt?”
“He’s in critical condition. After they treated me, I stayed around the hospital to see how he was. Finally, the doctor came out of surgery. The knife wound was close to Zorro’s heart. I left this number to be called when there’s any word on him.” He turned to the boy. “Johnny, they don’t know if he’ll live.”
Cassie got up and went to Johnny. She knelt in front of him and squeezed his hand. “We’ll face this together, Johnny. No matter—”
Just then, the phone rang. Reluctantly, Cassie stood and answered it. Her face paled even more when she turned to Mitch. “It’s the hospital. They want to talk to you.”
With grim resignation, Mitch rose and took the receiver.
“Captain Lansing?” a voice on the other end asked.
“Yes.
“This is Dr. Hanson. You wanted to know about the boy who was brought in. Zorro, they called him.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. His heart just gave out.”
Immobilized, Mitch gripped the receiver. Finally, he managed to say, “Oh. Well, thank you for calling.” After he hung up, he turned to find Johnny still seated and Cassie behind him with her hands on his shoulders.
Mitch walked over and squatted before Johnny. He took his hand. “I’m sorry, Johnny. Zorro’s gone.” Mitch tightened his grip on Johnny, and Cassie squeezed his shoulder.
Johnny froze for a moment. Then he shook them both off and stood.
Mitch was forced back but he rose, too, and reached out quickly. He got the back of Johnny’s shirt and held on tight as Johnny started for the door. “No, Johnny, don’t leave. I’m sorry Zorro’s dead. But don’t run away.” He yanked on the flannel with his good arm. “Stay here with us. We’ll help you through this.”
Johnny turned and faced them, tears running down his cheeks. He stared at Mitch, then glanced at Cassie, his face a study in torment. “I...I...”
“We’re your family now,” Cassie said.
Johnny still looked torn.
“Yes, son, we are,” Mitch told him.
At those words, Johnny’s whole body sagged into Mitch. Careful of his injury, Mitch pulled the boy to his chest. Johnny sobbed as he burrowed into Mitch. “It’s okay, John, I’m here for you. We’re both here for you.” Looking over Johnny’s head, Mitch locked his gaze on Cassie. “For good,” he said hoarsely. “We’re both here for good.”
Epilogue
Johnny’s Journal
Well, life sure has been interesting the last few days. I just got back from Cassie and Mitch’s wedding. I’m still in my tuxedo—Mary Margaret said I looked sexy in it. Kurt said I’ll need one when I get to be a big-shot doctor.
I was the usher at their wedding. Can you believe it? After all that I did two months ago, they still want me in their lives. Mitch says I have to care about myself to believe I deserve to have people care about me. I’m trying.
I still miss Zorro. Cassie says that’s okay. He was like a brother to me, and just because he went bad doesn’t mean my feelings for him disappeared. Sometimes I just can’t believe he’s dead. When I get down, I try to talk to somebody—Mary Margaret, Kurt, Mitch or Cassie. They even put me in touch with the anti-gang specialist in New York, and he helps me to see why I got involved with the Blisters to begin with.
Mostly, I’m just grateful for another chance. Cassie says she got one when she was my age, too, and look how cool she turned out. I still feel guilty about all the trouble I caused them. She says that’s okay, she feels guilty, too, sometimes, about the things she did in her past. It keeps her honest. Mitch says Cassie and I are a lot alike, but Cassie says I’m really more like him. I consider both comparisons compliments.
Two letters came today: a scholarship notification and a letter from Columbia University. I always knew I was smart, but now the tests prove it out. A National Merit Finalist. That means I’ll get money to go to Columbia, which of course had the good sense to accept me. I’ll be working at the clinic because Kurt’s footing some of the bills, too.
Not bad for a punk like me, huh?
Mitch’s Journal
I’ll never forget what she looked like coming down the aisle on Seth’s arm. Her face glowed, and her smile was just for me. I pushed for the church wedding. She’d wanted to elope, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I insisted on a traditional wedding, with all the trimmings. She wore an ivory lace dress that couldn’t hide her curves but made her look young and innocent. In keeping with tradition—she says it just shows how much I like rules—I provided something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. I gave her the sexiest light blue undies you ever saw and told her to wear them beneath her gown. Her engagement ring was old—it had been my mother’s—and it looked right on her hand. Her wedding band, of course, was new. The borrowed part gave me pause and I fudged a bit on that. I borrowed a saying from one of her posters, and had it engraved on a bracelet for her. It read, “Teaching Someone To Love Is The Greatest Gift.
The ceremony was a real tearjerker. At the altar, Seth handed her over to me and said, “Take care of her for me, Mitch.”
Of course, Cassie’s eyes filled, then she took my hand and said, “Ready, big guy?”
“I’m ready, love,” I told her, and we took our places next to Kurt and Zoe.
Johnny was at the altar, too, right where he should be.
Cass and I are still fighting over her name. I want her to have mine—that’s the right way—but the most she’ll give in to is to hyphenate it, Smith-Lansing.
We can’t agree on where to live, so we’ve still got two houses.
But we both want a baby soon. How did she put it that day—our own little bundle of sugar and spice? We planned the wedding right before spring break so we can work on that in the Caribbean.
All in all, I’m a pretty lucky guy.
Cassie’s Journal
The wedding was lovely, even if I did initially fight against having it in a church. Yeah, I said church. Can you imagine? I got married in a church. In front of God and half of Bayview Heights High School. But Mitch wanted it, and ever since he was almost killed, it seems I can’t say no to him about anything. Of course, he takes advantage of it every chance he gets. And God, he looked so sexy in his tuxedo, I wanted to rip his clothes off right there at the altar.
Almost all the At-Risk kids came, including Joe DeFazio. He’s back in school, and even though he won’t graduate with his class, I think he’s going to make it. He tells me he’s saving up to replace some of my books, but I told him it’s not necessary. His coming back is enough.
Johnny’s doing great. He was bursting with pride to be an usher for Mitch—they’re pretty tight these days. Meg was at the service, too, and all three of them conspired to get me to dance at the reception.
Mitch came to my house two hours before the wedding, even though it’s bad luck to see the bride on the day of the ceremony. He insisted on every other damn tradition, I’m surprised he broke this one. But I was glad he did. He kicked Zoe out. Then he made the sweetest love to me ever. It brought tears to my eyes. When I asked him what that was all about, he said it was insurance so I didn’t jilt him at the altar.
Fat chance. I may have made some stupid decisions in my life and done some dumb things, but I’m not about to let go of the best thing that ever happened to me.
I’m so lucky. I’ve got so much. Mitch. Johnny. Friends like Zoe and Seth. When I was fifteen, I never thought my life would end up like this.
I guess it just goes to show you, “If you want the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain.”
* * * * * * * * *
Read more about Bayview Heights high school in the next two books of the trilogy, BECAUSE IT’S CHRISTMAS and COUNT ON ME at http://www.kathrynshay.com/bayview-heights-trilogy.
Lost and Found Groo
m
Patricia McLinn
Prologue
Twenty years ago,
Far Hills Ranch, Wyoming
“Tell us the Far Hills legend, Aunt Marti,” urged eleven-year-old Kendra Jenner.
Before Marti Susland could respond, Dale Sinclair, who wasn’t even part of the family, scoffed with all the disdain of a thirteen-year-old, “We don’t want to hear that old story again.”
“Yes, we do,” Amy asserted staunchly. Although Marti’s half-sister was a few months older than Kendra, she always followed Kendra’s lead.
Twelve-year-old Ellyn Neal backed their vote up with a nod.
“Aw, only girls and babies want to hear that story, right, Grif?” Dale appealed to the oldest, consigning to babyhood the youngest of the gathered youngsters, Luke Chandler, son of the Far Hills foreman.
At fourteen John Griffin was noticeably more serious and silent than in previous summers. He looked at each of the faces around the campfire until he came to her. Marti looked back at the only child of her oldest sister and felt a renewed ache of loss at Nancy’s death three years ago.
“I’d like to hear it, too. One last time.”
Marti’s breath hitched. It was as if the boy had read her mind. Or shared her premonition. Was this last campfire of the summer also the last for this gathering? Could she truly feel the ties that bound them to this place and these summers unraveling?
All these children had spent summers at Far Hills all their lives. Even after Father remarried and had Amy, Marti’s older sisters, Nancy and Wendy, had returned to the ranch with their husbands and children. At least for a while.
First, Father and his second wife, Cindy, were killed in that hotel fire, leaving Marti, at twenty, to take over Far Hills and raise her infant half sister.
Then Wendy’s pilot husband, Ken Jenner, was reported MIA.
Soon the strain in Nancy’s marriage to Lt. Col. John Griffin Sr. became too obvious to miss, followed by her diagnosis and long, losing fight.
But even with the adults scattered, Marti had begged, cajoled and badgered them into sending their children – Nancy’s son Grif and Wendy’s daughter Kendra – each summer to the ranch that was their heritage.
Each summer, with Kendra and Grif joining Amy and Luke in living at the ranch while their friends Dale Sinclair and Ellyn Neal spent more time here than at their homes in town, Far Hills Ranch was nearly what Marti had always dreamed it could be. Unclouded by the past.
A past embedded in the legend these innocents considered a thrilling story heard around a campfire. No, she wouldn’t tell it this time, because if she did –
“Please, Marti,” whispered Amy.
Marti looked at her half-sister and relented. As always.
“It happened right here, in 1878,” she began, using the familiar words she first heard from her grandmother. Every face turned toward her. “The campfire burned for four days and four nights on that outcropping on Crooked Mountain that lets you see all over Far Hills, until Charles Susland – your great-great-grandfather Kendra and Grif,” she broke off to explain, as if they hadn’t heard this too many times to count.
“And our great-grandfather,” supplied Amy.
“That’s right. That fire burned for four days and four nights after Charles Susland turned Leaping Star away from the house, until, finally, he rode up the mountainside. He only did it then to still his new wife Annalee. If she hadn’t been expecting a baby he’d have ignored her blathering and vapors. She’d given him one son already, but he wanted many sons.
“The Crow woman rose slowly when he rode into her camp and spoke to her.”
From long custom, Marti automatically dropped her voice to gruffly speak her ancestor’s part.
“ ‘I told you when you came to the house – you have no place here.’
“ ‘This is my place, my only place, my people’s place,’ Leaping Star told him. ‘They brought you to it when you took me as wife. They helped you. And you took our place.’
“ ‘Far Hills is mine. I built it. Your people didn’t make anything of this land, I did. And now your place is the reservation. Go back, Leaping Star.’
“ ‘Your children die there. White Deer and Yellow Sky died at the full moon. Runs At Dawn is very weak.’ ”
Amy drew in an audible breath of sympathy.
“ ‘Then go take care of her.’
“ ‘There is nothing left in me. Only enough to come to you, Charles Susland. Care for our daughter or she will die.’
“ ‘I can’t go running off leaving Far Hills. And I have a son now. A white son. He’ll learn to build something on this land instead of roaming like a pack of animals.’ He pivoted his horse.
“ ‘Charles Susland.’
“He would have kept riding if he could have, but Leaping Star’s will was too strong.
“ ‘You turn away from your children, so your blood will be alone. You turn away from my people, so your blood will have no home. You turn away from me, so your blood will be lost. Only when someone loves enough to undo your wrongs will the laughter of children live beyond its echo in Far Hills.’ ” Marti paused. As she always did here.
“One more night the fire burned on the overlook. And then it went out.”
At Marti’s final hushed words, a log shifted on their small fire and dimmed the flames.
Dale emitted a ghostly laugh, “And so you’re all doomed – cursed! Just like everybody in town says – the Far Hills Curse, that’s why all those Suslands die like flies.”
“Shut up, Dale,” ordered Amy. “You don’t know anything about it – you’re not a Susland.”
“So what. Neither’s Luke!”
Luke calmly watched Dale and Amy, but contributed nothing to the dispute his name had been dragged into.
“He’s a lot closer than you’ll ever be, because he’s part of Far Hills Ranch.”
“Big deal. And Ellyn isn’t even –”
“How could he not go back to his children?” Kendra’s voice trembled, but it seemed to be with outrage, not tears.
“Maybe he didn’t know how to be a father.” Grif stared into the fire as he spoke. “Some men just don’t.”
Marti licked her dry lips, tasting the whisper of winter coming. “There’s one more part I’ve never told you before.”
All eyes turned to her.
“But now... now I think I have to tell you. In case there’s not another time... in case we’re not all together again.”
Marti swallowed and resumed her story-telling voice. “Leaping Star said one more thing to Charles Susland. ‘If these wrongs are not righted in five generations of your blood, then they will never be undone, and Far Hills will be ever silent.’ ”
Amy’s wide eyes stared at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means somebody who had Charles Susland as an ancestor needs to make right all those things he did wrong,” said Kendra. “But there are others besides us, aren’t there?”
Grif shook his head. “I remember Mom showing me a family tree. Lots of people died off young and –”
“Just like I said!” crowed Dale.
“– that means the group of us sitting here are the last of Charles Susland’s descendants. But even if you believe in this sort of thing, Aunt Marti, how could folks living now make right something that happened a hundred years ago?”
“If I knew, Grif, I’d do it, no matter what.”
By his widening eyes, she could see her nephew recognized her words gave away that she did believe.
“All I know is that Amy and I are the last to carry the Susland name, but it will be our children, if we have any, and you, Grif, and you, Kendra, who must make sure the curse is lifted. Because you’re the fifth generation of Charles Susland’s blood.
“You’re the last hope of Far Hills.”
Chapter One
“I am not cursed.”
Kendra Jenner set the mug on the wood table with an emphatic clunk. The gesture lost a good deal of
its effect because the mug resembled the head of a cartoon duck, complete with blue bill. It was her son’s favorite.
“First of all, the entire idea of that legend is absurd,” Kendra declared. “And second –”
“Oh, I don’t know –” started her friend and neighbor, Ellyn Sinclair.
“And second,” Kendra repeated, “I’m not a Susland.”
“Not by name, but Charles was your ancestor, right?”
Kendra opened her mouth to reply, but a more pressing matter intruded.
“Mo’ doose.”
Kendra looked at her son seated beside her at their kitchen table. Despite the familiar swell of love that always twinned with an ache of loss, she kept her voice light. “Only if you’ll drink it this time instead of using it as hair mouse.”
Matthew, his thick, dark hair displaying new and interesting spikes, ignored that caveat and returned to the heart of the matter, hands opening and closing as he reached for the mug. “Mo’ doose.”
“Single-minded child you have there,” Ellyn said with a smile from across the table. She had arrived early for their meeting, catching Matthew in the midst of a lunch where more food went on than in. Although Meg and Ben Sinclair were school-age now, as a widowed mother of two, Ellyn had taken in the situation – including, no doubt, Kendra’s frazzled state – served herself coffee and took a chair at a safe distance. “Must take after his mother.”
You wouldn’t think so if you met his father.
The thought came before Kendra could stop it, and so did the ache. She pushed both away.
“Determination is a good quality,” she said as she gave her son the mug. “Both hands, Matthew.”
“Doose.” He drank loudly then raised his head to beam her a smile. “Dank you.”
Matthew’s smile eased some of her tiredness. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
“Hello, sorry we’re late.” The back door opened to Marti Susland and her three-and-a-half-year-old daughter Emily.
“Come on in, Marti.”
Kendra had stopped calling Marti Susland “aunt” so long before she had come back to Far Hills to live that she couldn’t remember exactly when she’d started viewing the older woman as an equal. Maybe it had been when Amy died, leaving Kendra and Marti united in grief. Since Kendra’s return to Far Hills, she and Marti and Ellyn had formed a support system built on friendship and all being single parents.
Heart Stealers Page 24
