Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9

by Abbie Zanders

  Would she?

  Jack thanked her and walked back to his house, using the key to let himself in. He removed his coat and gloves, hanging them on the free-standing coat rack there, then remembered to wipe his feet on the mat and remove his boots. There was a part of him that knew it no longer mattered, but he did it anyway.

  The place was chilly, but not freezing, which meant the heat was still on, too. A brief check of the thermostat confirmed that it had been set for fifty-seven degrees, enough to keep the pipes from freezing. He clicked it up to seventy-two, then moved into the kitchen.

  Everything looked exactly as he remembered it. The pine cabinets. The Formica countertops. The aging white appliances. The goddamned tea kettle with the painted roses. Even the smell, though faint, was the same. Jack closed his eyes and inhaled the scents of lemon and wood and freshly-baked cookies. For a moment, he could almost believe that nothing had changed.

  But it had. Everything had changed. Him, most of all.

  Would Kathleen still want him, damaged as he was? This—– coming home –—was all he had thought about for so long. It was what kept him sane, a pinpoint of focus through a vista of horrors.

  Now that he was finally here, the doubts began to creep in. He was no longer the man Kathleen had fallen in love with, mentally or physically. What if he’d been kidding himself? What if this—– this empty house, this feeling of no longer belonging—– was all there was?

  That’s when he saw it, the tented notecard on the table. Cream-colored, with a tiny rose in the bottom right corner. The same design that was on the stationery she’d used to write him letters all these years. He knew that if he lifted it to his nose, he’d catch the faint scent of flowers, just like her perfume.

  His name was written in familiar, flowing cursive on the front. Dare he open it?

  With trembling fingers, Jack reached for it. He lifted the top and read the words there, his vision growing blurrier with every word.

  Dear Jack,

  I knew you would come back to me. I love you, always, mo croie beloved.

  Kathleen

  Then Jack Callaghan did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He broke down and cried.

  Chapter Eight

  September 2015

  Pine Ridge

  “Can’t you just leave me be?” Jack grumbled when yet another nurse came in to take his vitals.

  “Your numbers spiked,” the nurse calmly explained as she checked the wires and tubes and machines. “How’s your pain level?”

  “Hurts like hell.”

  “You can use the morphine pump if you’re uncomfortable.”

  Jack grunted. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing? It’s not doing a damn bit of good.”

  “It’s regulated so you don’t give yourself too much. I’ll talk to the doctor.”

  “You do that. And then maybe I can get some rest and you can stop pestering me.”

  The corners of her lips quirked. “My, you are a bear tonight, aren’t you? What happened to the charming man who used to sneak me candy?”

  Squinting, Jack tried to read the name on her ID badge. Christine McIlvie. It wasn’t familiar.

  “You don’t remember me,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  Some of the irritation faded as he realized he was being an arse. “No, lass, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not surprised. It was a long time ago. You knew my grandmother. You used to come by on weekends sometimes, do some work around her house when she needed it. She loved those visits.”

  Jack looked closer, his eyes widening when the pieces fell together. The red hair. The freckles. The mischievous eyes staring down into his. She could have been Fitz’s sister, but she was far too young.

  “Chrissy? Ginny Fitzsimmons’ little girl?”

  “Yep, that’s me,” she grinned.

  “Good Lord, lass, I didn’t recognize you without your pigtails.”

  Christine touched her short, practical cut, laughing. “I forgot about those. They’ve been gone a while now.”

  “I am an old man with old memories. How is your mother?”

  “She’s good. She moved down to Florida about ten years ago, said her bones couldn’t handle the winters around here anymore.” She swapped the nearly-empty I.V. bag with another while she talked. “She still talks about you, you know. How much you helped my grandmother. It meant a lot to her.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. The woman had been like a second mother to him, and Fitz wasn’t there to do it...

  “You knew my uncle, didn’t you?”

  Knew? That seemed such a poor word to describe the kind of friendship he and Fitz had shared. They were brothers, in everything except parentage. Not a day went by that Jack didn’t think about him at least once, but he didn’t want to go into that. “Aye.”

  Whether she sensed that, or was just a kind soul, she readjusted his blankets and laid her hand over his. “I’m going to see about those meds. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Little Chrissy, now Christine McIlvie, R.N., slipped quietly out of his room. It was another reminder of how fast the past forty years had gone by. The last time he’d seen her, which didn’t seem that long ago at all, she’d been a skinny, little thing with a face full of freckles, flame-red pigtails, and the same green eyes and impish smile that Fitz had. It was a shame that Fitz never got to meet any of his nieces or nephews, or have kids of his own.

  Jack sighed into the semi-darkness and sank back into the pillow. Through the blinds, he could see hints of moonlight. How he wished he could get up, detach all of these bothersome sensors and tubes, open the window and breathe in the scents of autumn. If he never smelled antiseptic again, he would be a happy man.

  At least things seemed to be quiet. Other than a few muted sounds from down the hall, the occasional sound of hard rubber wheels rolling along in tandem with soft-soled shoes, he could almost pretend he wasn’t laid up in intensive care. Barring any surprises, he had a few hours before Chrissy or someone else came in again.

  He suspected he knew why his machines had started squawking. Because he’d been dreaming of Kathleen again. That seemed to be happening a hell of a lot, even more than before. Each time he closed his eyes, whether willingly or not, his mind was reliving those early days. He wondered if it was some kind of sign, then realized he didn’t care.

  He gave the morphine pump another squeeze and closed his eyes, willing her to come to him again.

  January 1975

  Pine Ridge

  Jack went upstairs as fast as his healing legs would allow and took a shower. The water was ice-cold (he made a mental note to turn on the water heater) but he was too focused to care. He shaved and dressed in comfortable, familiar clothes – blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that smelled as if they had been freshly laundered.

  He paused, his chest filling with emotion. Kathleen had been doing his wash, ensuring he had fresh, clean clothes. She’d been keeping his house, never faltering in her faith that he would honor his vow and come home to her.

  Because she loved him.

  The clothes hung more loosely on him than they once had, but they felt good. And for the first time in a long time, on some very small level, Jack Callaghan felt a little like the man he used to be.

  Jack pulled the cover off the old Galaxie, saying a small prayer of thanks when the engine roared to life with just a bit of coaxing. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be driving, but he’d be damned if he had to wait another minute to see his girl. She’d been waiting far too long for his sorry ass as it was.

  He smiled and raised his hand in acknowledgement when he saw Mrs. Fitzsimmons waving at him from the window.

  The drive to Birch Falls was just as he remembered it, though there were a few more houses along the way. It felt good to drive a real car again, smell the lingering scents of his father’s pipe smoke in the rich leather seats. That was nothing compared
to the knowledge that each familiar twist and turn in the road brought him closer to Kathleen. Seeing her. Holding her. Kissing her.

  With each mile, his anticipation grew.

  After pulling into the parking lot of O’Leary’s diner, Jack cut the engine. He took several deep breaths; his heart was leaping against the walls of his chest, his palms sweaty. With one last check in the mirror, he pulled off the patch of toilet paper from his chin (it had been a rather quick shave), and headed for the front door.

  He made it about half way across the lot when he stopped. There, in the window, he saw her. Kathleen. Looking even more beautiful than he remembered. She wore a powder-blue waitress uniform, her black hair pulled back into a clasp at the base of her neck. Pad and pencil in hand, she was taking the order of an elderly couple.

  And then, as if sensing him, she looked up. Their eyes met, and time itself stopped.

  The next thing he knew, she was flying out the door, skidding to a stop less than a foot away.

  “Jack? Is it really you? Or am I dreaming again?”

  “It’s not a dream.”

  And then, just like he remembered, she launched herself into his arms. He tried to brace himself, but his leg gave out and he lost his balance. Grabbing her around the waist, he just went with it, falling backward with her on top of him. He never felt the impact; all his could feel was the warm, fragrant flesh of his croie.

  She kissed him, long and hard, and Jack was certain he’d died and gone to heaven.

  “I missed you so much,” she whispered.

  “I missed you, too.”

  He looked up into her face, her beautiful, perfect face, and saw the crystal droplets on her lashes. With the snow falling softly, the glow of the lamplight behind her, he was even more certain he was in heaven, because she looked exactly like an angel.

  “Oi! Lass, what in name of—”

  Conlan O’Leary’s deep voice boomed out from the front of the diner, where two dozen or so patrons were peeled to windows, watching the scene with great interest. “Jack? Jack Callaghan, is that you lad? Come on inside then, before ye both catch yer death.”

  Kathleen leaned down and kissed him again (thank God!). She didn’t seem in any hurry to move. He wasn’t, either, but it was snowing and she was in just that little waitress uniform.

  “Guess we should go in.”

  “Guess we should,” she agreed, but made no attempt to move until he put his big hands around her waist and lifted. She was every bit as soft as he remembered.

  She laced her fingers with his, and his heart soared. It was a good thing, because now that he’d seen her, he was quite sure he was never going to let her go again.

  “Welcome back, son,” Conlan said, clasping him on the shoulder. “Come, sit. We’ll get ye something te eat.”

  Food? Who could think about food? His thoughts must have shown clearly on his face, because Conlan gave a knowing chuckle. “Aye, I ken ye have some catching up te do, but ye can do so with something hot in yer belly.”

  They moved to the round booth in the back corner, the most secluded table in the place. “Katie-belle, ye are officially off-duty. I’ll get ye both some coffee. And remember,” the older man said with a wink and twinkle in his eye, “this is a family place.”

  Kathleen blushed as they slid in next to each other, but she kept her hand in his. “I knew you would keep your promise,” she murmured.

  It was a heady feeling to know someone believed in him so absolutely. There were times when even he had his doubts, not for lack of effort, but because of circumstances beyond his control. And in that moment, he swore to never, ever willingly let this amazing woman down.

  “I wouldn’t have made it without you,” he replied truthfully. “Knowing you were waiting...”

  “Always,” she whispered.

  Conlan brought them coffee, soup, and sandwiches. “It’s good to have you home, Jack.”

  “It’s good to be home, Mr. O’Leary.”

  “Now maybe my daughter will start smiling again, eh?”

  “I’ll do my best, sir. Speaking of, might I have a word?”

  The old man’s eyes lightened. “Aye.”

  “Kathleen, would you excuse us for a moment?” She didn’t want to release his hand, but he brought hers up to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Just a moment, I promise.”

  She nodded. “I should go freshen up a little anyway.”

  Jack didn’t think so. She looked beautiful. Had this not been so important, he wouldn’t have given her the chance. He couldn’t help but watch as she walked away, the slight sway of her hips, the swing of her ponytail, resurrecting long-dormant sensations. Only when she disappeared behind the double doors did he turn to her father.

  “Sir, I’d like to marry your daughter.”

  “Ye don’t beat around the bush, do you, lad?”

  “No, sir. I love Kathleen, and I don’t want to waste another minute.”

  Conlan studied him, then nodded. “Aye. Ye are a good man. If she’ll have ye, I’ve no objections.”

  Relief washed over him. He liked the old man, and wanted his blessing, but in truth, nothing would have stopped him. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Will ye be proposing then?”

  “Aye.” Jack pulled out the small box he’d purchased years earlier on his last visit home. The one he’d hidden in his closet. Thankfully, it didn’t appear that Kathleen had discovered his secret hiding place.

  “Good lad.”

  Kathleen returned, no longer in her uniform, but in a pair of figure-hugging bell-bottomed jeans and a loose, flowery top. Her hair was down, brushed to a soft shine and curling around her shoulders. Both Jack and Conlan stood at her approach.

  Wobbling a bit, Jack steadied himself with a hand on the table as he went down on one knee. “Kathleen Siobhan O’Leary, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  The diner went silent as Kathleen lifted a trembling left hand out to him. Her voice was clear as she gave him her answer. “Aye, Jack Padraig Callaghan. I will.”

  Jack slipped the ring on her finger. Cheers erupted as Jack stood and took his fiancée in his arms.

  “Ready to get out of here?” he asked breathlessly.

  “So ready,” she grinned.

  “I guess I’ll just wrap this up for ye, then,” Conlan said, his green eyes bright with amusement and warning. “I’ll expect my daughter home by midnight, and in the same pristine condition in which she’s leaving.”

  “Da! I’m twenty-five years old!”

  “Doona ‘Da’ me,” Conlan said, his accent thicker than it had been only moments earlier. “It doesn’t matter how old ye are, ye are my daughter. My unmarried, innocent daughter.”

  Kathleen opened her mouth to say something, but Jack squeezed her hand. “She’s in good hands with me, Mr. O’Leary.”

  Conlan nodded approvingly, picked up their plates, and headed into the kitchen.

  “I don’t know why you agreed to that,” Kathleen pouted later, snuggled across his lap.

  Jack chuckled. There was a large, stiff part of him thinking exactly the same thing, but thankfully, his self-discipline prevailed. “Your father is right, Kathleen,” Jack said, tucking a strand of black silk behind her ear. “We should wait.”

  “Why? We’re both adults. Haven’t we waited long enough?”

  “I would wait forever for you, Kathleen, if it meant doing it right. Tell me you don’t want a proper wedding.”

  “Well of course I do. But I want you more.”

  “And you have me, for as long as you want me. Tonight, I just want to hold you, okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed with an exhale. “But I’m calling Father Murphy first thing in the morning and we are doing this sooner rather than later.”

  “Sounds right to me,” he agreed, kissing her into silence once again.

  Chapter Nine

  September 2015

  Pine Ridge

  Michael opened the door to
his office, exhausted, to find Jake snoring on his couch. He pushed his brother’s legs off the end to make room, then sat down heavily and rubbed his eyes. “Everyone else went home to grab a shower. You should, too, man. You reek.”

  “Says the man who hasn’t slept in two days,” Jake mumbled. “What’s the word?”

  “They’re moving Dad out of the CICU to the step-down unit.”

  “That’s good news, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s good news.”

  “So why do you look like someone pissed in your coffee?”

  “Like you said, I haven’t slept in two days.”

  “Bullshit. I’ve seen you go a lot longer than that. Level with me, Mick.”

  “What, did Shane give you some of his psychic mojo or something?”

  “No. But I know you, little brother, and something’s got you spooked. Talk to me.”

  Michael exhaled. Jake wouldn’t let it go, and he was too tired to play games. “It’s probably nothing, but something just isn’t adding up.”

  “It’s a hell of a thing, having a heart attack.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Shane says you think it wasn’t a complete surprise, though.”

  “Shane has a big mouth.”

  “Kier doesn’t think it was a surprise either.”

  “What the hell does Kier know?”

  “He knows Dad hasn’t been at BodyWorks for over two weeks.”

  Michael frowned. Given the history of heart disease in their family, Jack was a stickler for keeping in shape and insisted his sons did the same. For him to miss two weeks was unusual, but it wasn’t exactly a red flag. “So?”

  “So, Kier says the last time the old man was in, he cut his workout short. And when he left, he was covered in sweat and as pale as a ghost. He told Kier it was just indigestion, but he hasn’t been back since.”

  Indigestion. Just like Jack had told Maggie. “No one thought to mention it?”

  Jake shrugged. “Didn’t think anything of it. Would you? Shit, Mick. He said it was indigestion, for Christ’s sake.”