by Mae Clair
Caleb fingered the medallion, duller in color and aged by time, before slipping it into his pocket. He concentrated on the parchment, scanning the letter silently before reading it aloud.
January 1, 1880
A new decade. I told your mother I’d live to see it, God rest her soul. It’s been hard without her these last two years, but I feel an inner peace knowing I’ll be with her soon. Don’t fret for us, Caleb. We had a long life, crowned by a wonderful marriage, full of much joy. Every life must reach its end.
Caleb paused, his voice catching. No doubt his father would have written about his mother’s death in one of the many journals. To compound the sadness, he was reaching the end of his own life.
Arianna laid a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. “He sounds content, Caleb.”
He nodded, swallowing back the realization his parents were dead. Strange, he’d never thought of them that way before. He’d always envisioned them in 1863, carrying on without him. But that year had passed, as too, had 1880. Drawing a breath, he continued reading aloud.
Even after all this time, I can still see you standing in the near-dark at Weathering Rock as I walked away from you. You may think that was easy, but it was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done.
As comfort, I took great joy in experiencing your life over again, watching you grow. And so I leave you these journals, intertwining my thoughts of past, present and future. I wrote them for you, Caleb. Each day as I sat and took pen to paper, I thought only that I wanted to share my experiences–our experiences–with you. There are several dozen journals from your mother as well. Once I told her the truth, she cried for hours. When she dried her eyes, the first thing she did was to sit down and write you a letter. I promised her you’d find it. She became enthralled after that, writing every chance she got.
Charles left you something different–the painting. I know the two of you never had the close bond you have with Wyn but, in his own way, your brother respected the choices you made and he certainly loved you. Your mother used to say we’d raised an artist and a soldier, and while you’d each defend the other to the death, there was no comfortable ground between you. Especially as you grew into adulthood. I like to think you and your brother understood each other on a level your mother and I couldn’t understand. Charles poured his heart into the painting. It hangs in our bedroom still and I hope it will grace the walls of Weathering Rock in your own, new century.
Give Arianna and Wyn my love. My wish for all of you is that you find the joy I had with my beloved Isabel. Have children, Caleb–my grandchildren–and tell them about me. I wish I could see them and hold them, but I don’t feel cheated by that loss. How can I, when I was privileged to know and love my son as child, man and friend?
I can still see you drunk at your bachelor party, trying and failing to make a good impression on Arianna’s parents. Your mother laughed herself silly when I told her you called Paul, Peter. God, I have good memories of both centuries, more than enough treasure for a man my age.
I think the end is probably within a few days, but I have little pain. Charles, his new wife, and their children take good care of me. You’d like Sylvia. She’s not the dreamer he is and keeps him grounded. And their sons, Adam and Aaron, have grown up strong, as has lovely Sarah.
It’s been a good life. I want you to have the same, Caleb. I only pray when you are a father, you’ll be blessed by the same pride and joy in your children that I have in mine. Surely no parent could be prouder than you have made me. I will be with you always, Caleb… past, present and future.
With much love,
Your Father
Caleb folded the letter, allowing the words to wash over him. At his side, Arianna wiped tears from her cheeks. “All those years, and I never knew the real Rick Rothrock.”
“DeCardian,” Wyn said quietly.
“DeCardian,” she agreed. “Caleb?”
It was hard to speak. By nature, he wasn’t a man given to emotion, but lately it seemed feelings were wrenched from him with alarming frequency. He felt a sting in his eyes and blinked it back. “I’m not sure how to feel.” His voice was hoarse. “A half an hour ago I was walking with my father out back. Now it’s like I’ve lived a whole lifetime. His, my mother’s and my brother’s in a matter of minutes.”
“I think you can live them more slowly in these.” Wyn tapped the journals in the nearest crate. “He left you his life, day by day. That’s an amazing gift.”
“It is.”
“And the painting goes downstairs,” Arianna said. “In the parlor. We’ll take it to a frame shop tomorrow.”
The thought made him smile. “Charles would like that.” He looped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “Tomorrow, we start our own life. Together.”
He wanted what Rick had: children and family.
Standing in the attic surrounded by his father’s journals, his wife and his closest friend, he understood what he should have realized three years ago when a shower of ball lightning cast him into a new and challenging century.
He’d come home.
In truth, he’d never left.
Mae Clair
Mae Clair has been in love with the werewolf legend ever since catching her first glimpse of Quentin Collins in the TV show Dark Shadows. As an adult she developed a passion for history, particularly the Civil War era. Weaving elements of myth and history allowed her to create Caleb DeCardian, a character who is both noble and cursed. Mae lives with her husband in Pennsylvania where, among other works in progress, she is currently writing the sequel to Weathering Rock, which features Wyn DeCardian as the protagonist.
Mae’s Website:
www.maeclair.com
Reader email:
[email protected]
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2012 Mae Clair
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: October 2012
ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-4168