by Mae Clair
Giddy with relief, she broke into a wide smile. “They’re getting along great. And from the back they almost look like twins.”
“Rick’s taller,” Wyn countered, eyeing the pair critically. “And Caleb’s hair is longer. But they definitely don’t look like father and son.” He shook his head, a resigned smile on his lips. “It was hard enough getting used to the idea of living with my ancestor and having him change into a werewolf every month like clockwork. This is freaky.”
Arianna felt elated. She didn’t think there was anything capable of souring her mood. “Don’t forget, Rick isn’t just Caleb’s father. He’s your great-great-great-great grandfather.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the reminder. I haven’t wrapped my head around that particular gem.”
Arianna watched as the two men dwindled in the distance. “What do you think they’re talking about?”
“Who knows? I’m just glad they’re talking. Caleb isn’t the easiest person in the world to get along with.”
“Don’t be silly. Parents love their children unconditionally.”
“Maybe. But in this century Rick Rothrock has zero experience at being a parent.”
“That doesn’t matter. He has all of Richard DeCardian’s feelings and memories. You didn’t hear him on the phone. Nothing in the world was going to stop him from seeing Caleb.” She glanced back to the window. For the first time since the two men had emerged from the barn, she felt a prickle of apprehension. “Wyn, what’s going to happen to Caleb if Rick does go back in time?”
“I don’t know.” The doctor turned away, his voice dropping to a subdued mutter. “I’m not sure I want to think about that.”
* * * *
Judging by the height of the sun, Caleb guessed it was near three o’clock. He was surprised how quickly the day had passed. For hours he’d been walking and talking with his father, hiking up grassy knolls and through dense thickets crowded with leafy trees.
Rick had talked about his life in both centuries. For his part, Caleb relayed the deterioration of his friendship with Seth. He explained how they’d been transported to the present, how he’d discovered he was a werewolf with the rising of the first full moon. He talked about Arianna and Wyn and how much each meant to him, about the difficulties he’d faced adapting to a new century. Finally, reluctantly, he shared the details of his most recent transformation into a wolf. How Wyn had found him the next morning, naked, covered in blood, the body of a dead girl just miles away.
When he was through, his throat was dry, his stomach fisted with revulsion and doubt. If he’d killed someone, wouldn’t he remember?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, too shaken to look into his father’s eyes, frightened he would see disgust. Several feet away, rushes and lily pads clustered at the edge of a pond ringed by the green tint of algae. In the backdrop, the roof peaks of Weathering Rock blazed white beneath the sun.
Rick stepped to his side, startling a frog from a cluster of reeds. It dove into the pond with an audible plop, sending a cascade of ripples across the surface. “I remember you and Charles used to play here,” he commented. “You’d drag everything from frogs and snakes to snails and worms into the house. Your mother never knew what she’d find in your bedroom.”
“Father, I’m not a child anymore.”
“I know that. I also know you didn’t kill that girl.”
“You sound like Wyn.”
“Listen to him. You’re not a killer.”
Caleb shook his head. “You don’t know what I did during the war.”
“That was different. You were fighting to stay alive, to protect people you loved and for a cause you believed in. You can’t compare the two. That girl was killed by Seth. He’s a murderer several times over, but he isn’t going to kill anyone ever again.”
Startled from his melancholy, Caleb gave an involuntary jerk. “What do you mean?”
“If the only way you can break the curse of the werewolf is to kill Seth, do you think I’m going to let you do that alone?”
A fat knot of horror unspooled in Caleb’s gut. “That’s not why I told you about this. Seth is dangerous. And he wouldn’t think twice about killing you or cursing you the same way he has me. If he figures out who you are, he’ll target you to get to me. I don’t want you involved.”
Rick grunted. “That’s Colonel DeCardian talking. You think I’m too soft, that I’ve led a pampered life and wouldn’t know squat about handling a cutthroat like Seth.”
“Father.” Caleb shook his head, his mind reeling at how off-course the conversation had veered. “I didn’t say that.” He spread his hands, mentally tripping over the objections. He didn’t want his father anywhere near Seth. Rick was brilliant, but his strength had always been resourcefulness and cunning, not physical aptitude. “Damn it, this is absurd. Seth is my problem, not yours. You might be my father, but that doesn’t give you the right to fight my battles. I grew out of that when I was six.”
“When you were a child–”
“I’m not a child!” Caleb exploded. The fear of his father hunting Seth sent his anger through the roof. “And not to put too fine a point on it, but right now we’re practically the same age.”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Thirty-three,” Caleb spat. “Have I made my point?”
Rick chuckled. “God, I remember that temper.” He glanced at his watch. “Six hours. I would have bet you’d lose your composure in five.”
“That’s not amusing.”
“It is, given I’m the only one who can push your buttons like that.”
Push your buttons.
One of his father’s favorite catch phrases, carried into the past. He’d heard it often enough to realize Rick wasn’t angry, just amused. He held his ground. “Wyn does a passable job of pushing buttons.”
“You mean there’s someone else capable of rattling you?” Rick grinned, fishing for a rise. “Someone who makes you as hot-tempered as I do? Let me guess. He’s got to be younger than you are, since you’re ancient. I mean–holy shit–a whole year. Your hair should be gray.”
“That’s enough.” Tiring of the game, Caleb massaged his temple. He’d forgotten how flippant his father could be when he was in a playful mood. Uncannily, Wyn had inherited the skill almost verbatim. “Could we forget Seth for a minute?”
He was terrified his father would do something foolish like trying to track his enemy. He’d lived with the curse of lycanthropy for three years, but couldn’t stomach the thought of Rick forced to live through the same grisly transformation, or worse, having his body ripped open by claws and fangs.
Muffling a curse, he folded an arm over his middle and turned away. The decomposing trunk of an uprooted ash tree lay at a right angle to the pond, its bark encrusted with vines and patches of moss. Caleb dropped to a seat in the center, bracing his knees apart and bowing his head into his hands. His stomach roiled, heightened by a sharp prick of pain at the back of his skull.
“Caleb?” Rick’s shoes made a soft swishing sound through the grass as he approached. He slid a hand on either side of his son’s neck, wedging his thumbs at the base, kneading to ease Caleb’s tension. “I shouldn’t have been so glib, but somewhere in this mess, you’ve got to find humor in the fact you’re older than me. When I see your mother again, it’s going to be interesting explaining how–” He stopped, his hands stilling on Caleb’s shoulders.
Caleb twisted to glance behind him. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing. I just realized…” Rick circled the tree and sank to a seat beside him. “I’m thirty-two. I was thirty-three, the same age you are now, when you were born.”
“So?” Caleb stared, unable to determine why his father looked dazed. A nerve of disquiet slithered down his spine.
“That means whatever happens to send me back, has to happen soon. And afterward–” A thin vein of horror bloomed in Rick’s eyes.
“Afterward what?” Caleb’s disquiet erupted into full-fledged
alarm.
“You never came back. Ever. That means I’ll never see you again.”
Caleb swallowed hard, his mouth dry. It felt as if the world ground to a shuddering halt. Rick had told him once before his mother had gone to her grave thinking he’d been killed in battle.
Because he never went back.
He hadn’t stopped to put two-and-two together. “Then I’m trapped here. Permanently.” Or he got rocketed someplace else on the next ball of lightning, or Seth killed him. Or he got locked away for being a murderer, or…
He couldn’t fathom the thoughts. Never to see his own time, his parents or his brother again. It had been three years since Wyn stumbled over him in that open field, but he’d always held onto a slim thread of hope, a belief he’d be able to return to the world he knew. He could no longer imagine walking away from the present, but he’d always believed he’d have the choice.
He shot to his feet. “This isn’t fair.”
“It is. Caleb, think about it. You love Arianna.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to leave her?”
“No.” His gut climbed into his throat. “But I want–”
“What?” Rick challenged. He took a step forward. “For her to be torn from her own time?”
“Of course not.” He shook his head. That wasn’t what he meant at all. Hell, when he thought about it, he had no idea what he meant. What would you sacrifice for her, Caleb had ventured only hours before, when asking Rick about his mother. Would you abandon your century?
How could he do any less for Arianna? “But never to see you again?”
“Hey!” Rick managed a lop-sided grin. “It’s not like I’m going to get zapped out of here tomorrow. Plus, this time I actually know when it’s going to happen and can plan in advance. We’ve just got to cram the next thirty or forty years into a couple of weeks.”
Caleb paled. “Weeks?”
“It’s not going to be that quick.”
“But you should know when it happened–happens,” Caleb persisted, irritated he couldn’t get the tense right.
“I do.” Rick shrugged, spreading his hands. “But I’ve already told you, your being here has altered the playing field. I’m not going to tell you a date, because it may be meaningless. The whole sequence of events has changed by your presence in this century.”
“Then by the same token, I could go back.”
“I don’t think so.” Rick looped an arm around Caleb’s shoulders, tugging him close. “Come back and sit down, and I’ll explain why. I’ve been doing a lot of deliberating since I found out about you, and I think it’s time I told you how Weathering Rock got its name.”
“Now?” Caleb frowned. “What’s that have to do with anything?”
“Maybe nothing.” Rick cast a long glance at the house in the distance, its roof peaks white with sunlight. “Possibly everything.”
Chapter 27
Arianna rolled onto her stomach, folding her arms on top of Caleb’s chest. To the west, the sun melted into a lava ball as it sank toward the horizon. A breeze perfumed with honeysuckle and clover rippled the grass. Ten feet away, Ranger stood with his head bowed, lazily cropping dandelions, his reins looped around the trunk of a sugar maple.
It had been a long day, exhausting for all of them. Sometime around four o’clock, Caleb and Rick had wandered inside. With a little coercion, Rick had agreed to stay for dinner, an opportunity that had given them all a chance to interact. He’d been curious to see the modifications made to the home he’d built, especially intrigued by the luxury updates to the kitchen and master suite. Arianna had found it fascinating, watching him walk room to room, moved by memories. He’d shared a few anecdotes. How Isabel had fussed until she’d found just the right fabric and pattern for the drapes in the dining room, now long gone; how Caleb had enjoyed sliding down the staircase banister as a child, until his mother, fearing he’d hurt himself, had insisted Rick make him stop. Ari had laughed over that one, especially when Wyn challenged Caleb to demonstrate the technique and, relaxing a bit, her overly correct lover had obliged.
Afterward, they’d moved to the parlor, still in disarray from Caleb’s violent transformation. Noting the damage, Rick offered to send a contractor around in the morning to replace the window and begin repairs. Caleb had consented awkwardly, uncomfortable at having his father see what he’d done.
By the time seven-thirty rolled around, Rick said his good-byes and prepared to leave.
“I don’t want you to go,” Arianna overheard Caleb say as the two men stood in the front hallway. Her curiosity got the better of her and she peeked around the corner.
“We’ve still got time, Caleb,” Rick replied with a gentle smile, so unlike the Rick Rothrock she remembered. “And now that I know about you, there are things I need to do. Business matters I have to address.” He gave Caleb’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I promise I’ll still be here tomorrow when you wake up, if that’s what has you worried. I’ll call you and we’ll make arrangements to get together.”
“How do you know you’re going to be here?” Caleb persisted, frowning irritably. “Because of some ancient rock buried under the house? What if I don’t want to risk our relationship on a chunk of stone?”
“Caleb.” Rick’s voice had been stern. “Don’t discredit your mother’s beliefs. How else do you think it’s possible you and I are standing here, having this discussion in this century?”
Caleb lowered his eyes.
Arianna had leaned forward, hoping to catch more when Wyn pointedly cleared his throat behind her. She flushed, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping. She was about to make an excuse when Wyn suggested they’d be able to hear better by moving to the opposite doorway. Unfortunately, by that time Caleb and Rick had stepped onto the front porch. In a matter of minutes, the sound of Rick’s Porsche could be heard fading down the driveway.
Caleb looked grim when he walked back inside. He disappeared into the rear bedroom, emerging moments later with a blanket tucked under his arm. Uncertain what he was up to, Arianna hesitated in the hallway, watching as he detoured to the dining room for a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses. Within seconds he was back, catching her arm and steering her toward the rear door.
“Where are we going?” she’d sputtered.
“Ride,” he said simply. “See if you can find something to put the wine and glasses in. Grab a corkscrew too. I’ll saddle Ranger and meet you at the barn.”
And so they’d gone riding, her first experience snuggled against him on horseback. She’d been uneasy but eventually relaxed, wrapping her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed to his back. She loved the way his body moved and flowed in communion with the chestnut, his spine ramrod straight, every other inch of him fluid muscle. The breeze scattered his hair and sent it streaming back from his face, white-gold and coin-bright to mingle with her midnight tresses.
When they eventually stopped on a grassy embankment bordered by trees, he’d spread the blanket on the ground, angling it for a perfect view of the setting sun. They shared a glass of wine, discussing Rick’s visit, but words soon gave way to the urge for touching and kissing. Caleb kept the mood light and romantic, yet she sensed his need for deeper intimacy. Eventually, he sprawled on his back, one arm pillowed under his head as he stared up at the sky. With his free hand he traced his fingers lightly down her spine.
Arms folded comfortably on his chest, she watched his face. “I think I should go home tonight, Caleb. You’ve been on overload the last few days.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to leave.” The same words he’d said to Rick. “Not tonight, Annie. I want you to stay with me.”
She wanted to stay. The thought of a night without him made her heart ache, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t astute enough to realize something was wrong. “Why is tonight so important?” Freeing one hand, she brushed the bangs from his forehead. “You look tired. You should rest.”
“I’ll rest
better with you in my bed.”
She shivered, pleased by his possessiveness. Coming from any other man, she would have objected, but Caleb crossed lines others weren’t permitted to tread. “Something’s bothering you.”
He grunted. “A lot is bothering me.” Exhaling, he shoved a hand through his hair. “Did you ever wonder how Weathering Rock got its name?”
She blinked, surprised by the odd choice of subject. “Rick told me your mother picked it, but that it was a long story.”
“Not so much long as unusual.” He rolled onto his side to face her. “My mother’s people were Scandinavian, from Norway.”
“As blond as you are, that doesn’t surprise me.” She grinned, fingering a strand of his hair, tinted platinum beneath the dying sun. “Lauren told me Rick is half Danish on his mother’s side. His grandfather came through Ellis Island in the early nineteen hundreds. He and your mother must have made a handsome couple.”
“She was beautiful,” Caleb agreed. “I think half of my father’s friends were in love with her, but she only had eyes for him. She was an educated woman, but superstitious too. My father told me when he was digging the foundation for Weathering Rock, he unearthed a large stone inscribed with runes. My mother took one look at it and panicked.”
“Runes? You mean like magical writings?”
“Of a sort. She called the stone a ‘weathering rock.’” He shrugged. “I don’t know a lot about her culture, but I know in ancient times the Nordic people inscribed swords and rocks with runes, thinking it passed power into the objects they marked. In the case of a sword, it gave the wielder greater strength in battle. Rocks and boulders were used as perimeter markers, protecting anyone who dwelled within the boundaries. The particular rock my father unearthed bore testing runes. My mother believed it was proof her people visited North America in the first century and that to remove it from the ground was bad luck. She believed it was a conduit, responsible for bringing people together who were soul mates, like her and my father. It forced them to weather the challenge of being from different centuries, testing the strength of their love. She insisted my father leave the rock in the ground. To this day, it’s buried somewhere under the foundation of the house. My father thinks it’s the reason I’m here.”