by Hatch, Marcy
He dozed, but he did not truly sleep, waking multiple times throughout the rest of the night. He kept thinking he was somewhere else and remembering he wasn’t, reaching out for Katherine but finding the place where she’d slept beside him cold. Finally, in the early hours of dawn, he got up, knowing he wasn’t going to sleep anymore.
The rain still fell outside and when he stepped out onto the balcony he actually shivered a little when it hit him. He stood there a while longer, seeing the pool below empty of swimmers, the chaise lounges all sitting on their sides and lashed together near the utility shed. The sky was gray with bands of dark clouds and the wind had turned the sea choppy.
Jack went inside and dressed, finding some comfort in an old pair of jeans and his favorite sea green Henley. He went down stairs where the dining room was quiet but nonetheless stocked with coffee and bagels, fresh fruit, and scones. He availed himself of the first and last before heading to the library where he guessed he might find Miss Adjani.
It was, however, Louis Cade he encountered, sitting before the massive fireplace with a cup of something steaming. He smiled when Jack entered and gestured to the seat opposite.
“Nasty weather,” he commented once Jack sat down.
Jack shrugged.
Louis shook his head. “I know. You don’t care much for the weather. Unfortunately, it may delay your departure another day or two.”
“Great,” Jack said.
“I’m sorry. But I do have something for you if you’re interested.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“An offer.”
“Hmmm, not sure if I can take any more of your offers, Louis,” Jack said.
“You might change your mind once you hear it.”
Jack made a motion with his hands that said, go ahead but don’t expect me to take you up on it.
“It should be fairly easy, especially for someone with your academic background. What I’d like is a complete accounting of your experiences. You’re the only client I’ve had who has spent that much time in the past, enough to really get a feel for it. It would be helpful for our records, and needless to say I would pay you handsomely for your time.”
“How handsomely,” Jack asked, not sure if any amount of money could entice him to relive the past five years but well aware of how few prospects he had.
Louis smiled broadly. “Very.”
Jack hesitated, not sure if he could stuff his feelings down enough to make an account of what had happened, not right away.
“I would need some time,” he said.
“As much as you need,” Louis said.
❧
Two days later Jack was landing at LAX. In addition to the single bag he had brought to Cristobel over five years ago was a small black case with a holodisc on which to record and an envelope with the pertinent information regarding his new-found wealth. But the first thing he did upon landing was find a private kiosk at the airport where he could access the net, typing in Katherine’s name and hoping she hadn’t given him an alias.
Two seconds later Jack’s mouth dropped open as he got hundreds of hits on his inquiry. He picked one at random and read:
www.huffingtonpost.com
She’s Done it Again
New York—Katherine Kennedy, the presumed to be dead CEO of McLeod Industries no sooner comes forth only to disappear into the woodwork again after her explosive revelation as to the origins of her family’s fortune. Ms. Kennedy’s admission that McLeod Industries benefited from a distant relative’s criminal activities has officially been proven true.
According to the master of snoops, Leon Price, documents from the Pinkerton National Detective Agency relay the course of the investigation and its close upon the death of Alanna McLeod in Tombstone, Arizona. Additionally, further proof has been found linking Alanna McLeod with Alastair McLeod of McLeod Shipping, a precursor of McLeod Industries.
Leon Price, in an interview on Larry King Jr., said he found this information buried in an unrelated file he was directed to by a source he refuses to name. Meanwhile, Katherine Kennedy isn’t talking to the press, having gone into seclusion according to Dee Rydell, who nabbed an exclusive with Ms. Kennedy immediately before her most recent vanishing act . . .
❧
Jack skipped around between the various articles, going back to the first mention of her name as the primary shareholder in McLeod Industries. This was the result of the untimely death of her parents when she was twelve.
On March 12, 2012, an accident occurred which killed both her parents and left her one of the wealthiest minors in the western hemisphere. Her grandfather was granted custody of her and, just as she had told Jack, raised her primarily in Boston and France. There were a few pictures of her when she was young, most of them in the months after her parents’ death, a long gap when she was not seen at all, and then her emergence onto the scene of the young, rich, and restless not long after she started attending Vassar where she studied fashion, design, and business.
It seemed everywhere she went someone was there to capture her image, and he got his fill of her college days, the posh spots she frequented, and the tabloids linking her with a variety of men. There was a year or two of next to nothing then a frenzy when she took over the position of CEO, interviews with nearly everyone, and, a few months prior to her arrival in Leavenworth, an engagement notice, linking her with Antonio D’Salvatore.
There was a picture of the two of them, looking beautiful and rich on some yacht in the Mediterranean. The latest tabloids had him denouncing her, calling her a “spoiled rich bitch who didn’t know what she wanted and probably never would.” The picture showed him with a leggy blond dripping diamonds.
As for Katherine, the most recent picture of her was in the holo of her interview with Dee Rydell, a well-known anchor. Katherine was wearing a tweed skirt that showed off her legs to advantage and a conservative blue oxford with pearls. She looked amazingly beautiful and entirely at ease in the public eye until Dee asked her about the accident, suggesting it hadn’t been. Katherine’s eyes had widened in surprise, hurt, and something else that was gone in a second.
But Jack recognized it. It was suspicion.
He replayed the interview a dozen or more times, trying to find the Katherine he knew, trying to understand who she was. But no matter how many times he watched it, the only conclusion he could come to was that the Katherine from before her little adventure into the past was far different than the one who had come back.
He sighed and logged off, heading over to the bar where he ordered a beer.
He was still sitting there two hours later, nursing the same beer, when his flight was called. He arrived in Boston late that night and stayed at the Omni. In the morning, after conducting the necessary financial business, he rented a car and drove to the Cape, booking himself into the Swan House on Main Street in Harwichport.
He’d never been to the Cape before and found it still held a few charming remnants of earlier days. There was a nice church with stained glass windows nearby, brick sidewalks, antique shops, and a decent bakery.
It was close to supper by the time he settled in, and he decided to wait until the morning to try to see Katherine; maybe he’d have a little more courage by that time. In all truth he was very unsure of himself, not knowing whether she would want to see him. After all, she had chosen to return home, leaving with the certain knowledge that she would never see him again. As far as she knew he was long dead.
But he couldn’t fault her for her choice, knowing that if he’d been in her shoes he might well have done the same. Which was why he was here. He didn’t know, and he had to find out, one way or the other.
He slept that night, but he dreamed, too, bad dreams for the most part, dreams of Katherine in Alanna’s place, the bullets hitting her, dreams of Katherine
walking by him in that black dress, never giving him a single look, dreams of Katherine kissing him only to be snatched away by some unseen force as he reached for her. He woke to snow falling lightly outside his window.
He walked across the street to the bakery next to the church, ordered a tall black coffee, and plugged the address he’d been given into the navigator, directing him to Lower County Road.
Harbor View Estates turned out to be a gated community with a uniformed gatekeeper who was about as expressionless as a mannequin. He listened politely to Jack’s request and just as politely refused him entry.
“Well, can you buzz her, tell her Jack McCabe is here?”
“She’s not taking calls at this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that she’s not accepting calls or visitors. I can’t help you.”
“Can you give her a note?” Jack asked, wanting to punch the man but reminding himself he was back in an allegedly more civil era.
The guard sighed, finally losing a bit of his patience. “She’s incommunicado, buddy, do you want a definition?”
Jack stared at him a moment longer before backing out and heading back to the inn. He tried to think of some other way of contacting Katherine, but the longer he thought about it the more he came to the conclusion that maybe she just wanted to forget about what had happened. Who was he to come and remind her? After all, she probably thought he was hundreds of years dead. What kind of shock would it be to see him?
Jack walked down to Bank Street Beach that afternoon, flurries still flying, though not amounting to much. He walked all the way to the jetty at Wychmere Harbor, where he stood at the very end with the wind whipping his hair and the chop rising to spray him at intervals, the smell of salt strong and cold.
When he got back to his room he called his mom, hoping she hadn’t changed her number. Her face appeared before him, older, lined, and very surprised.
“Jack? Jackie, is that you?”
A smile cracked his face at the sight of her. “Hey, Ma, it’s me.”
“Oh my God I thought you were dead. I . . . I can’t . . .”
She lost it then, and it took him a while to calm her down and convince her that he was very much alive and all right—or as all right as he could be, he supposed.
“I was wondering if I could come visit,” he said finally.
“Of course you can, Jack,” she said, smiling broadly. “Of course you can.”
Chapter Thirty
One Year Later
Katherine was still on the Cape when she received the message, having made the place her home. She’d grown accustomed to the sound of the sea, the smell of salt, and sand at her doorstep, and it felt more like home than any place else.
She hadn’t had much company since she’d been here. Dee had come down once and they’d met in Hyannis for lunch. And her grandfather had come. Begging.
She’d agreed to meet him at the Squire in Chatham. “I want the truth,” she’d said after they’d got their drinks.
“I know you must hate me Katie, but I swear on my honor I never intended anything to happen. I only meant to delay. It was a flat tire, for God’s sake.”
“For what?” she’d asked, finding it hard to believe anything could be worth what they’d lost. His daughter. Her mother and father. He knew it, too, shook his head as he tried to answer, knowing his words weren’t enough by a long shot.
“It was the merger, between McLeod and Tecto.”
Katherine remembered. She knew the history of the company. That merger had been the ushering in of a new era for McLeod Industries. They were everywhere now and without Tecto . . .
“It was an accident,” her grandfather said. “I will go to my grave with the guilt of it.”
They’d left it at that.
For a second she thought it might be him, because of the subject line: please reply.
But it was Louis Cade. Wanting her to come back. She actually laughed out loud when she read it. As if I would step foot back on that island, she thought, deleting the message and returning to the book she’d been reading.
She got a second message the next day and three more on each subsequent day, despite putting him on her blocked list. He found a way around whatever security protocols she wrote, and she wasn’t expert enough to stop him.
What do you want? she wrote back.
Package has been sent, came the reply.
The following day she received a message with an attachment: a round trip ticket to LAX. The message said only to come at once and that it was important.
Damn him! Damn that Louis Cade.
But of course she went. She’d made her decision as soon as she wrote the first response.
❧
Three days later she was back on Cristobel Island, in the company of Louis Cade.
“Are you going to tell me why I’m here, Louis?” she asked crossly as the came into the library.
“Yes, I am,” Louis said.
She looked at him. “Well?”
“You should probably sit down. This may come as a shock.”
❧
Jack was living in a condo on Sanibel Island when he got the letter. It was the same damn printing that had drawn him in to start with.
He debated whether to burn it or read it, not sure if he wanted to open that can of worms or leave it closed and squirming in the dark. He turned it in his hands while he watched the sunset from the dining room balcony. It made him feel peaceful to watch the orange twilight fade into the dark, hear the waves rolling up along the sand, smell the tangy salty fragrance of the sea, but not the sea he had known.
No, this was a warm sea, a sea meant to cleanse and wear slowly away at those things you didn’t want anymore. And he had thought he was almost there, at the place where he was mostly content once again with his life.
Until he got the letter. It was brief and to the point:
Dear Jack,
Please come at once. There has been a development.
Louis Cade
There was a ticket clipped to the paper.
❧
The following morning found him on a plane heading west sitting in between two guys in suits who never shut up the whole time. He was almost happy to see Miss Adjani waiting for him, looking much the same as he had left her: stunning.
“I hope this is going to be interesting,” he said. “Because I was actually beginning to enjoy myself again.”
Miss Adjani gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Jack. Louis wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”
They took a shuttle over to the private runway where Louis Cade’s plane was waiting. It was déjà vu until they landed late that day. It was raining hard and the wind gusted around the island, warm but strong. It took them a good twenty minutes to make shore through the chop.
The drive to the compound was torturously slow. As soon as Miss Adjani put the brake on they both jumped out and grabbed what they had, making a run for the front entrance.
Inside, lights gleamed everywhere, from tall nooks in the walls, hanging from the ceilings, and sitting on tables, creating bright spots that led from the entry to the dining hall then down to the lower hall. Directly across from them recessed lights lit the way down the short corridor, an invitation to the gallery and library.
“Where is he?” Jack asked, not wasting time.
“He’s in the library, Jack, but it was a long flight; maybe you’d like to freshen up? Put on some dry clothes?”
“No, I’d just as soon know what’s so important I had to come.”
Miss Adjani shrugged. “As you wish.”
She took him to the library, and it was almost exactly as he remembered it but for the addition of a few paintings he thought
were new and the woman he thought he’d never see again.
Her eyes were just as blue as he remembered.
❧
Katherine dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand.
It was Jack. It was really Jack. He wasn’t wearing a frock coat or a hat but she recognized him just the same in his sopping wet jeans and oxford and corduroy jacket. He looked like a drowned professor from a liberal arts university.
Tears sprang to her eyes and her heart thumped in her chest, but she blinked quickly and forced a smile. How had he managed to blend in so well? She would never have guessed he hadn’t been born to the time period and to see him here, now . . . alive.
Before she could think what to say Louis spoke from her side.
“My apologies, Jack. I know you don’t like surprises, but as it turns out the development I spoke of involves both of you. I hope you can work things out between you. Oh, and to be clear, until about a half hour ago, Katherine was under the assumption you were still living in 1881.”
Louis exited the library without another word, taking Miss Adjani with him.
Jack stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. The bemused expression that said she’d done something unexpected again crossed his face.
“I . . . I can’t believe I’m seeing you,” she said at last. “I can’t believe you’ve been here all this time and I didn’t know. When did they tell you?”
Jack swallowed. “I knew pretty much right after you left,” he admitted.
“But how did you know?”
“It was the twenty questions thing. I didn’t notice it right off because it was as familiar to me as it was to you. It wasn’t until you were gone that I realized it was a later invention, from our time.”
“And then?”
“I came back, but they wouldn’t tell me anything about you.”
