The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  “It’s funny. I didn’t remember what happened on that mountain for a long time. When I woke up in the hospital, I could barely piece together the facts. At first, all I had were images of cold and pain. I even argued with Doc McCarthy about being shot—that you shot me. Then I began to remember looking into your eyes and knowing what I had to do. The gun wasn’t pointing at my head, but at th-that m-monster. Collapsing when I did was the only chance we had.” Color drained from her face as the memories became as real as the man sitting next to her. “I know that now. I remember.”

  Michael stood up and took the pale and shaking woman into his arms and held her. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jessica. I hate what my father did to your family—I feel responsible for being too blind to realize the trap on the mountain had been set for both of us. I hate myself for putting you into such jeopardy. I just want to keep you safe from all of it.”

  “I’m trying so hard not to be afraid. But, I feel so exposed. I have no one.”

  “No. You have me.” He kissed the top of her head and waited for her shaking to stop.

  Jessica let herself remain enveloped in his arms, absorbing his warmth and feeling his heartbeat. She pressed her face closer to his chest and inhaled. The connection she felt to him when they first met strengthened through the perverse turns of their lives. For the first time in a very long time, Jessica Wyeth felt safe.

  Lost in her thoughts, she did not know how long she stayed there. She felt his lips caress the top of her head and he moved slightly. Embarrassed, she pulled away, eyes meeting briefly as he looked at her. The air was turning cooler and Jessica stepped back and rubbed her arms with a chill. She was uncomfortable at all that was happening, uncomfortable with all of the emotions he conjured. Looking toward the hills, she broke the awkward silence. “Sun is setting. I guess we’d better get going.”

  “I’ll drive you back whenever you want to go, but I just want to make sure we’ve said all that we need to each other.”

  They turned and walked into the cabin. It was neatly furnished with old, well-worn furniture and braided rugs thrown down on its wide planked wood floor. Having no electricity, kerosene lamps were placed on tables and several hung on the walls. A small kitchen was off to the right, consisting of little more than a couple of cupboards and a shelf with some mugs and plates on it. A huge hearth made of stone from the surrounding meadow was at the center of one wall. Michael quickly built a fire and its warmth began to soothe Jessica.

  Managing a weak smile, she said, “Thanks. I... I guess I just hate the cold a little more than I used to.” She watched as he rummaged through the cupboards and produced a bottle of wine. Jessica looked at him with surprise. “Do you live here?”

  “No!” The word came out as a laugh. “My farm is farther down the mountain. I’ll show it to you sometime if you’d like to see it.”

  She took the offered glass and sipped the wine, looking at Michael over its brim. “Yeah, sometime.”

  A comfortable feeling filled the cabin while the sunlight changed from yellow to red. Michael walked around and lit the tiny kerosene lamps. He began to talk, voicing the thoughts as they came to him.

  “I didn’t kill my father but I’m not sorry he’s gone. I will spend the rest of my life trying to repay others for the debt he put on their lives.”

  “Like the Franklin School?” Jessica turned to watch him.

  “Yes. When I first came here, I knew about some of my father’s tactics to extort money from people. One of the children that attended the school was a victim of his. I started giving money anonymously. Electra helped thinking that I preferred my privacy. What she didn’t know was that I felt too damned guilty to have my name associated with it.” He walked back to the hearth and stood before her. “I learned about your sister. I’m sorry.”

  Jessica put down her glass and stared into the glowing fire. “Cousin.”

  “What?”

  “Erin was my cousin. Bridget was my mother.” She quickly told Michael of her discovery.

  Michael sat back, initially stunned. But then again, he wasn’t completely surprised. He knew the ways of the Charity and knew what people would do to protect themselves and their children. Especially their children. After mulling over this information he asked, “Who was your father?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s true or not. I found what I think is my birth certificate, but my father’s name is missing. It’s incredible.”

  “You truly have no idea?”

  “No. I really don’t. Maybe it’s just because I really can’t think about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I nearly killed myself and others to get my life back only to find out it wasn’t mine to begin with. I saw firsthand the terror my family was trying to escape and now have an even deeper understanding of the lengths they would go to protect the ones they loved. It’s a cruel joke. It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re all dead. It’s over.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Michael, I really don’t.” Her eyes filmed over with tears as she fought them back. “I wanted to know from you if this was all over for me. I’ve spent so many years running. I have no idea how to just live a normal life and I thought I could be settled here. I’ve only been in Perc a year and I thought I could be accepted.”

  “Not for a long time, Jessica. Perc shunned you because they don’t understand what happened to you.”

  “That’s just it. They don’t and I don’t.”

  “God knows that I understand all too well what happened, and I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

  He walked over and placed their glasses on the table. Light from the small lamps and fire cast a glow around the room. Sitting down, he wrapped his arms around her and continued talking. “My life, whether I intended it to or not, put you on a course you had no control over. Whatever I decide for me, I know I can never fill the void my family created. But I have to try. Whatever you decide for you, I will not stand in your way.”

  “I know that. I have to decide for myself who I am now. I have a lot to figure out.”

  “In a way, I do too.” He reached into his pocket and produced a new silver lighter. The markings on it were unmistakable.

  “My God! The lighter! Where did you get that?”

  Michael flipped the lighter over in his fingers. “I had this one made when I was in Boston.”

  Jessica shivered as she looked at it. She understood its meaning. “So, you’ve decided to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

  “They’ve been trying to force me to take over. They corrupted my work and took the credit for the schools and programs I built.” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “It’s a mess. My father was so convinced that I would blindly follow him he did everything in his power to make others believe I was like him. He wanted everyone to believe that I would kill to lead like he did. He felt it was the only way to have true power.”

  Jessica’s eyes never came off the lighter. She was transfixed by what the lighter meant—by what it meant that Michael had it. “On the mountain the killer wanted you to kill me to prove you were strong enough to lead.”

  “Yes. That’s why he lured both of us up there.” Michael paused as he weighed his next words, gently raising Jessica’s head by placing his fingertips under her chin to look her straight in the eyes. “You’ve got to know that I’ve decided to lead, but not in the way my father envisioned. The Charity will not survive without a strong leader and there will be much more bloodshed if I don’t step in now. My uncle, Liam, has been doing his best to form new allegiances, but it’s been difficult with the hatred, the fear, the misinformation—”

  “You—they’re terrorists!”

  “Jessica. Look at me.” He held his arms out from his sides with his palms facing up, “I’m not
a terrorist, but I’ve chosen to work in a way that I feel I can have the most impact.”

  “And the secrecy?”

  “The privacy is meant to protect those I work with from being associated with the destruction my father created. Jessica, what he tried to do to you—what he succeeded in doing to your family! Yours was not the only family his terror touched. I have such a huge debt to repay. ” Michael’s voice trailed off, thick with emotion.

  Jessica brought up her hand to his face and used the back of her fingers to stroke his cheek. He turned his head to kiss the inside of her wrist and looked into her eyes. In that one moment, she saw the depth and fortitude of a man who understood her to her core and would stand beside her in whatever she decided to do.

  The years of being alone, whether in forced isolation from fear or in solitude sought for comfort, slipped away. A connection to herself and to the world flickered. Searching his eyes, she brought her mouth up to his and kissed him. His arms tightened around her and she yielded to the strength of his embrace. He entwined her hair in his fingers and kissed her mouth, her face and down her neck. Jessica paused, allowing herself to feel her response to him, feeling her heart beat and her body warm. She returned his kisses with an open mouth, smoothing his shirt back off his shoulders and running her hands over his firm chest and arms.

  She felt Michael’s hands around her waist, up her shirt and then down her back. They kissed with passion, but did not rush to explore one another. She sensed no urgency from him, only a connection and an inquiry. Jessica answered him with a soft sigh as he lowered her onto the bed. She reached around his back and pulled him to her.

  The moment edged on in its sweetness. The man and the woman found one another and rose up with the passion that finally had a voice. He, spellbound, joyous in his fortune and she, rapt, reveling in the connection that made them one. The fusion of body and mind now bound them together as neither thought possible.

  The fire in the hearth glowed with warm embers. Kerosene lamps taunted the darkness with tiny licks of flame.

  His bare arms around her, she rested her cheek on his chest and stayed there for a long time. The gentleness with which he consumed her intoxicated her. Nothing had ever felt so right.

  They remained entwined in each other’s arms for hours. Neither talked, but both absorbed the thoughts and the presence of one another, gently exploring the other’s body with a cheek caressed on a chest or a tongue tasting the saltiness born from their passion. Michael gently stroked Jessica’s hair and shoulders while she dozed off occasionally. He watched the light of the fire play on her skin and let his fingers travel the soft contours of her body, lingering at times on the swell of her breasts. He gently touched the angry red scars that lined her ribs and fought hard to keep his anger in check. Sleep did not come to him. With one arm around Jessica and the other behind his head, he stared at the ceiling as pieces of their conversations rolled over and over in his mind. The hours ticked by and still he could not settle the issues. The business tended to on his last trip to Boston and Belfast did little to give him comfort. The same reasons that drove him to Perc so many years ago were now driving him out. He was Magnus Connaught’s son. Living with the weight of that legacy was getting harder and harder.

  The sun began to rise, and with it birdsong filled the air, rousing Jessica from her sleep. She rolled over to him.

  The closeness of her again filled him and pushed the darker thoughts from his head. He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the mouth and neck. He could feel her response to him and forced himself to be slow. His head clouded with the love he felt for her and he let her come to him as she needed.

  “I love you.”

  The words were out of his mouth before he even thought them. He looked down into her eyes and saw the strength of her emotions. He brought his finger to her lips before she had a chance to respond. He had a lot he needed to say to her.

  “Jessica, this isn’t over for us. I want us to be together, but the truth is that to get to me, the men who want control over the Charity will try to harm you. For as long as they think either you or I are alive, we will never be safe.”

  He watched as the reality of his words settled in on her. He could tell by her expression that she had come to the same conclusion. “How long will it be?”

  He considered her question as she rose to dress, eyes following her full curves. She pulled on her jeans and sweater and walked barefoot to the porch. He finally answered her. “I don’t know. It could be a month, maybe a year, before someone comes here for me. It would be sooner if the story on the search is blown. Questions would have to be addressed publicly then. Once that happens, if it happens, it’s over for me here.”

  “Here? You mean Perc?”

  Michael thought for a moment. “No. I mean here. In the US.”

  Michael rolled out of bed, dressed, and made a pot of strong coffee. He joined Jessica on the porch and handed her a full mug. The sun’s light warmed the night’s dew into rising wisps of steam giving the illusion that the whole field was smoldering. Jessica looked over it and sighed. In spite of all the turmoil, she felt more serene than she had in years.

  “I don’t want to be without you.”

  He walked over and wrapped his arms around her from the back, resting his chin on her head. “If we handle this right, you won’t have to be.”

  They drove back to her farm in comfortable silence, smiling once when Bob Dylan’s version of “All Along the Watchtower” joined the sounds of the truck bouncing along the dirt road. The music ended and the voice of the announcer came back on to provide a weather report and news of a local traffic accident.

  Michael switched off the truck radio and reached for his own police scanner, with a look to Jessica that both apologized for being pulled back into his official duties and requested permission to check in. He flicked on the scanner and listened as static grated the words of the dispatcher and those of several emergency crews busy with the problems related to the crash.

  “I’ll drop you off at your place. This accident is minor, but we’re shorthanded. I should go on duty.”

  “You’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed the hand unit and called into his station.

  “This is Sheriff Conant reporting in. I’ll be at this frequency if you need to reach me. I’m coming on duty shortly.”

  “Affirmative, Sheriff. We’ve been trying to reach you. The station is packed with reporters that want to talk to you about the mountain search for that Saunders boy.”

  Michael and Jessica exchanged a quick look.

  “Tell them I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

  He switched on the truck radio again.

  “Local news is still focused on the recent allegations being leveled at our own Sheriff Conant. Colleen Shaunessy-Carillo, reporter for WBZ in Boston, Massachusetts, reports that Sheriff Conant and other well-known members of the community have been involved in a cover-up concerning the circumstances of the recent search for a small boy. Ms. Shaunessy-Carillo states that—”

  Jessica reached over and switched off the news. “That’s it then. It’s out. What are we going to do?”

  The pickup rounded the last turn to Jessica’s farm. She smiled as she saw Snugs and Phoenix huddled at the far end of the meadow, raising their heads at the sound of the truck. The horses began to walk to the barn for their morning feeding. A slight breeze picked up, freshening the air with spring’s earthy scent.

  Jessica slowly got out of Michael’s truck and stood in the center of her drive, taking in the scene she had looked at hundreds of times. The barn, the house, and the view each held a promise that wasn’t kept. Instead of a creating a future, her farm delivered her past, and the irony that she was now free to be Jessica Wyeth, only to be considered a stranger to everyone she knew, was not lost on her. She was deep in thought and didn’t notice Mi
chael come up to stand beside her. His presence calmed her, centered her in a way she had longed for. Nodding her head in the direction of the valley she said, “The road must be blocked by the accident at the base of the mountain. Otherwise, reporters would be here, too.”

  Michael turned her toward him, gripping her shoulders in his hands. His stark blue eyes, shining with urgency, bore into her. “It has to be now. Are you with me?”

  “Yes.”

  Michael searched her face for any doubt. “I have a plan. Get what you need.”

  Jessica ran into the house. She knew exactly what she would grab and what she would need. This time instead of just clothes and some money, she grabbed papers, some family mementos, the large silver framed picture of Erin—and her passport.

  Jessica carried her belongings to the truck then walked over to where Michael was throwing extra feed to Snugs and her son. She rubbed their heads and smiled, knowing they would be well cared for.

  Michael watched her silent good-byes and waited until she looked at him with a smile. He wrapped her in his arms and welcomed her kiss.

  Phoenix was the only witness as the taillights disappeared over the mountain road.

  About the Author

  CONNIE JOHNSON HAMBLEY grew up on a small dairy farm just north of New York City. Deciding to forego her law and banking background, she has written on biotech and recruiting issues for Bloomberg BusinessWeek and Nature Biotechnology. She lives outside of Boston with her husband and three children where she continues her love of the outdoors and storytelling.

  About the Cover

  Special note needs to be made about the cover design. In 1965, an arsonist burned down the author’s family’s barn. No people or animals were hurt, but the building was a total loss. It was a devastating blow to a farming family. The image below provides a reminder and an inspiration that sometimes stories have endings that no one could foresee.