Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9

by Abbie Zanders

  He never did. He realized, much later, that that was the only time she had ever been truly disappointed in him.

  January 1988

  Pine Ridge

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked as they got ready for bed. Kathleen had been especially quiet since Adonia’s visit earlier, answering only absently, her mind preoccupied elsewhere. As always, sensing that something was troubling her made Jack want to fix it immediately.

  “Adonia doesn’t think Alexis should play with Kieran anymore,” Kathleen finally said.

  “What? Why?”

  “She worries because Kieran is so much bigger than Alexis. She’s afraid he’s going to hurt her.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Kieran adores Alexis.”

  It was true. Alexis had inherited the same rare disease as her mother, which kept her blood from clotting normally. They had to be especially careful with her; even the smallest cut could be life-threatening. At two years old, Kieran didn’t understand the specifics of that, but he did know that Alexis had to be treated with extra care. When Adonia came to visit and brought Alexis with her, Kieran watched over his friend and made sure the other boys never did anything rough around her. The boy had such a strong protective instinct, Kathleen had taken to calling him her ‘little white knight’.

  “I know,” Kathleen exhaled. “And deep down, Adonia knows it, too. I think there’s more to it than that.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, but I get the distinct feeling it has something to do with you. Whenever I mention your name, she gets this disapproving look on her face.” Kathleen shook her head. “What do you know that I don’t?”

  Jack hesitated. He had a pretty good idea. Brian was out of town more and more these days, picking up side jobs from Sammy. Based on the bits and pieces Brian had shared with him, the stakes were getting a lot higher, too. The higher the risk, the higher the payout.

  He pulled back the covers and patted the mattress in invitation. Kathleen climbed in and curled her body up against his. If this conversation was going where he thought it was, he wanted her soft, warm body in his arms.

  “Jack,” Kathleen said softly, using her thumb to stroke along the creases of his brow. “I know that look. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not good,” he admitted heavily.

  “Tell me.”

  Jack took a deep breath and pulled her closer, wishing the situation hadn’t gotten to this point. Not only did it feel like he was betraying Brian’s confidence, but between the kids and her accounts and the Pub, Kathleen already had plenty of other things to deal with. The last thing he wanted was to give her something else to worry about. And worry, she would. Brian and Adonia were their closest friends, and Kathleen’s big heart wouldn’t allow her to shrug it off.

  But the truth was, he was worried about Brian himself. Brian was a damn good SEAL, but a SEAL depended a lot on his team to have his six, and Jack knew nothing about the guys Bri was working with. He could use a fresh perspective. Kathleen had a special gift for seeing things clearly; he was too close to the situation to be wholly objective.

  He began simply. “Brian is picking up jobs on the side.”

  “I know. Adonia told me.”

  “Did she tell you what kind of jobs he’s doing?”

  Her nose wrinkled just a bit as she thought about that. “No, actually, she hasn’t, other than to say that it was some kind of subcontracting work that required him to go out of town frequently.”

  “That’s true,” Jack said carefully. “But it’s not the kind you’re thinking of. It’s off the books, covert subcontracting.”

  It took only a few seconds for her to comprehend. “Oh, Jack. Why would he do something like that?”

  “Because it pays well. Really well.”

  She sighed, melting into him, not nearly as surprised as he would have thought.

  “I wondered how they could afford all of those specialists,” Kathleen murmured. “But what has that got to do with you?”

  “He asked me to go with him,” Jack admitted. “We went through the same training; we have the same skill set. According to Brian, there is a demand for the kind of work we were trained to do. Unfortunately for us, it’s not legal outside of wartime.”

  “You said no.”

  “I said no,” he agreed. Some of the tension in his chest eased a little. Kathleen’s soothing presence and rational acceptance encouraged him to share more. “He seemed okay with that at first, but he’s been on me about it again lately.”

  “Why lately?”

  “I don’t know all the details; he can’t tell me unless I sign on. But my gut tells me he’s been taking the riskier jobs, going for the bigger payouts, and he’s had some close calls. He says he’d feel a lot better having me at his six.”

  Jack waited patiently while Kathleen digested that. He ran his hand along her arm, quietly relishing the soft, floral scent of her shampoo.

  “Why did you refuse?” she finally asked, surprising him.

  “Why?” he echoed.

  “Yes, why?”

  That question was not so easily answered. How could he explain something like that to his sweet, caring wife? The one who could not possibly conceive of the horrors he had experienced firsthand. The one who had lived in her own personal form of hell, not knowing if he was alive or dead, or in his case, worse.

  No matter how much he wished otherwise, those things had happened. He had experienced them, and they had as much to do with making him the man he was as all the good things that had happened in his life, maybe even more so. It was the hard times that really defined a man, tested his faith as well as his mettle.

  Perhaps the time had come to crack open the door that he had kept locked up all this time and share that part of himself with her.

  It was the first time he’d talked about his time in Vietnam –—any of it—– with her or anyone else. Even he and Brian never spoke of what had happened. When the subject came up, they spoke only in vague generalities, never anything specific.

  But Kathleen was his croie, his heart, the other half of his soul. She already knew more about him than anyone else and still loved his sorry ass. Was there to hold him in the dark when the nightmares gripped him and wouldn’t let him go. It was she who brought him back, without ever once demanding an explanation.

  If he was going to talk about it with anyone, it would be her, because in a way, she was already sharing his hell.

  She coaxed his head down into her lap and stroked his hair while he spoke; somehow, she’d known exactly what he needed. If he’d had to look into her eyes or see the horror his tales would surely bring to her beautiful features, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. Instead, she let him tell her in his own way, in his own time.

  He didn’t tell her everything, of course, but enough that she got the gist. She held him like that through most of the night, and when he was finished, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  When he finally found the courage to look into her eyes, he was humbled by what he saw. Not horror. Not disgust. Not pity. No, what he saw was something far more powerful: limitless, fathomless love.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, holding him close.

  “For what?”

  “For trusting me. For sharing that with me. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

  She was right. It hadn’t been easy. But it would have been impossible with anyone else.

  When they made love that night, he’d never felt closer to her. And when they fell asleep in each other’s arms, he didn’t have a single nightmare.

  Kathleen, once again, had vanquished his demons.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Neither Jack nor Kathleen brought up the subject again, not until Adonia showed up at the Pub in tears with the news Jack had been dreading: Brian had gone missing.

  Jack sat her down in the kitchen with a glass of brandy while Kathleen made tea. After s
everal unsuccessful attempts, Adonia finally calmed down enough to tell them what she knew.

  It wasn’t much. Brian had left the previous week, promising to be back within a few days. Nearly a week had gone by; Brian hadn’t returned and Adonia had heard absolutely nothing.

  “You have to do something, Jack,” she pleaded.

  “I don’t know what you think I can do, Adonia,” Jack told her honestly. Because of the sensitivity of the missions, Brian rarely offered any advance information beyond a last minute notice that he’d be out of town for a few days, and not always even then. Over the last couple of months, Brian missed more shifts at the bar than he’d worked. For that reason, Jack had hired Declan’s college-age sons and nephew to help out a few nights a week to pick up the slack.

  “Brian said if anything ever happened, I should give you this.” Sniffling, she pulled a small card out of her pocket and handed it to him.

  Jack turned it over in his hand, his brow furrowing. It was the size of a business card, matte black, with only a phone number in stark white text, nothing else. Someone, presumably Brian, had written “Jack” and “ICE” in white grease pencil in the upper left corner. ICE. In Case of Emergency.

  With Alexis in the capable hands of her grandmother O’Connell, Kathleen coaxed an exhausted Adonia into staying the night in one of the upstairs guest rooms. As Kathleen closed the door behind her, she sat down beside Jack on their bed.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked quietly.

  Jack flipped the card in his hands. Jaw tight, his blue eyes blazed. He was angry. Angry at Brian for getting himself into this mess. Angry at the system because Brian hadn’t really had a choice, not if he wanted to take care of his family. And angry that despite his best efforts to remain uninvolved, that was no longer possible.

  Because Brian was in trouble.

  Kathleen nodded, hearing the response he didn’t voice aloud. Her expression gave nothing away, but her eyes reflected everything he was feeling. She stepped into his arms, laying her head over his heart in a gesture of silent support. No matter what he chose, she would be right there beside him. He closed his eyes and soaked in her warmth. Kathleen would always have his back.

  He released her reluctantly. Decision made, there was no sense putting it off. He went downstairs, put on his coat, and walked to the nearest public phone.

  As expected, the phone number went right to an answering machine. Jack’s message was short and simple. “Sammy. Jack Callaghan. Call me.” He rattled off the number on the dial, then waited.

  Within minutes, the phone rang. Jack picked it up, knowing who was on the other end before the man even spoke.

  “Sammy.”

  “Jack. It’s been a while.”

  “About time for a reunion, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Hell yeah, it is,” Sammy answered, his voice somber.

  They made arrangements to meet the next morning at a location about two hours northwest of Pine Ridge. It was with mixed feelings that Jack prepared to leave the Pub. He’d checked in on all of his boys, still deep in the sleep of the innocent.

  Was he doing the right thing, leaving them like this, going off to God knew where to do God knew what? What would happen to them if something happened to him?

  Nothing. Because he would make damn sure he came back and no one would have to answer that question.

  Kane was waiting for him at the top of the stairs when he closed the last door and slung the black bag over his shoulder.

  “Where are you going, Dad?” Kane asked quietly. Now twelve, his eldest son’s head already reached above Jack’s shoulders. Boyhood still clung to him, but just barely. Kane was big and broad, with an air of authority around him not usually found in kids his age. One day very soon he would be a formidable man.

  Icy blue eyes watched him intently. Expectantly.

  “I have to go away for a few days,” Jack told him.

  “Why?”

  Such a simple question. Such a difficult answer.

  Jack was still working on a suitable response when Kane prompted, “Does this have anything to do with Uncle Brian?”

  “What do you know about Uncle Brian?”

  Kane shrugged and looked away briefly before turning that gaze back his way. It was the same gaze Jack saw in the mirror every morning, the one that demanded an honest, if not thorough, answer. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he, Dad?”

  Jack met him eye to eye, this boy who was almost a man. There was no sense in lying or trying to sugar-coat it. Kane was both clever and intelligent; he would see right through either.

  “Yes.”

  Kane nodded somberly. “Do what you have to do, Dad. I’ve got things here.”

  Something passed between them. An unnamed awareness, perhaps. Respect and pride, definitely, on both sides.

  Jack pressed a kiss to his eldest son’s head and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know you do.”

  He left Kane and made his way down the stairs to find Kathleen in the kitchen, pouring him a cup of coffee for the road. As he embraced his wife and kissed her goodbye, a sense of déjà vu settled over him. Hadn’t he told her that they would never again have to do this? In doing this for his friend, his brother in every way that counted, was he breaking his word to his croie?

  And just like all those years ago, there were no tears, no desperate pleas. Just unwavering faith.

  “You will come back to me, Jack Callaghan,” she said emphatically. “And you will bring Brian back with you.”

  “Aye,” he promised.

  Traffic was light in the pre-dawn hours, and made the trip quicker than anticipated. He used the extra time to mentally prepare himself. The diner, located just off the interstate, was busy with activity. Hard-working truckers filled at least half the booths, while harried-looking waitresses bustled about with big, welcoming smiles and even bigger carafes of hot, black coffee.

  Jack found a table in the back corner, one with a good view of the main entrance and the parking lot.

  The plump, older server came by and filled his cup, leaving the copper-colored carafe on the table along with a handful of half-and-half creamers. Her nametag read “Mona”.

  “You want the special, handsome?” she asked, peering down at him over a pair of half-moon bifocals, pad and paper in hand.

  “Just coffee for now, thanks, Mona.”

  She nodded and was gone, stopping to check on other tables before disappearing into the kitchen. It left Jack to study his surroundings more closely.

  As meeting places went, it was a good one. Off the beaten path, but just barely. Public, yet crowded with those who knew how to mind their own business.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t Charlie Malone. His old friend scanned the place, his gaze knowingly going right to the back corner. A big smile lit his face as he made his way over.

  “Well I’ll be damned.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Charlie grinned in ready agreement.

  Jack stood and greeted his old friend. They’d gone through training together, but Jack hadn’t seen him since those first few months of deployment. Charlie looked older than he had then, though his eyes still glittered with the same mischief.

  “I was expecting Sammy.”

  “Yeah, well, when Sammy told me you called, I pulled rank.”

  Jack suspected all along that Sammy wasn’t the brains behind the operation. The guy was a damn fine demolitions man, but he lacked vision and had a short fuse. Finding out that it was Charlie pulling the strings put an entirely different spin on things. While Jack’s gut had never completely trusted Sammy, Charlie was another story entirely. He wondered vaguely if Brian knew, and if so, why he hadn’t mentioned it.

  “No,” Charlie said, answering Jack’s unspoken question (and further increasing Jack’s confidence in the process). “I prefer to remain in the shadows. I only emerge when the situation requires it. Or, as in this case, when I want to.”

  Mona appear
ed out of nowhere with another mug, took Charlie’s order (he ordered a special for himself and Jack), then disappeared again before Jack could protest.

  “So what the hell brings you to this neck of the woods?” Jack said. “I thought you were a Midwestern boy.”

  “I am,” Charlie agreed. “But I like the mountains around here. Thinking of buying some land, building a remote cabin away from the rest of the world for when I retire. Or maybe go underground. I have some ideas for a fully functional, self-contained shelter when shit inevitably hits the fan someday. And it will.” He tapped his temple with his index finger.

  “Good plan,” Jack said. He’d often dreamed of doing the same thing himself. His father used to bring him hunting around here when he was a kid, first week of deer season, without fail. A lot of the forested land was state game lands, but there were always parcels available if you knew the right people and had enough cash.

  “Business must be good, then,” Jack said, lifting the mug to his lips.

  “Aye, it is at that,” Charlie said. “So what are you doing with yourself these days, Jack?”

  “Is that really what you want to talk about?”

  “I never discuss business on an empty stomach. And neither should you. A man cannot concentrate properly when bacon is involved.”

  Mona arrived with two heaping plates. Eggs, sausage, home fries, and thick slices of slab bacon sat atop a mountain of buttermilk pancakes. Jack’s appetite re-emerged; his stomach rumbled in welcome. Maybe Charlie had a point.

  “I own a pub,” Jack told him in between delicious, grease-laden forkfuls.

  “A pub, huh?” Charlie laughed. “Wasn’t that supposed to be my dream?”

  It was. Jack suddenly remembered pulling guard duty with a then nineteen-year old Charlie passing the time by telling him about the old-fashioned Irish tavern he would own someday.

  “So you don’t own a pub?”

  “Didn’t say that, did I? I’ve got several, but there’s only one I’m really fond of. Old place with real spirit to it, if you know what I mean. I’ve been fixing her up in my spare time.”