Kindred (The Watcher Chronicles #2)

by S. J. West

  I place my hand in Mason’s and instantly find myself standing in front of a mansion.

  My grandfather’s home is large and I begin to wonder just how many brothers and sisters my father might have had. Although it’s a mansion, it doesn’t feel cold and impersonal. I can tell my grandfather spent a lot of time designing little touches here and there to make what is a palatial estate a home as well. In the distance, beyond the man made lake with natural rock formations, is a mountain view that is breathtaking. The house itself looks like something you might find in Austria or Switzerland with it's dark wood detailing and turret style extensions.

  Mason leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

  “Good luck and call me when you’re ready to come home.”

  I nod and find myself biting the inside of my bottom lip.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Mason says, kissing me one more time but this time on the lips, forcing me to stop biting them.

  He winks and phases away.

  I press the button for the doorbell and wait, absently tapping my right foot against the multi-colored stone step beneath my feet.

  The door is almost instantly opened by a man in his late sixties/early seventies. He’s tall with short white hair, a white neatly trimmed goatee and mustache, and a smile filled with happiness making the wrinkles on his face crinkle.

  “Jess?” He asks.

  It’s only then I realize I have no idea what his name is or how to address him.

  “Yes,” I answer. “I’m Jess.”

  His smile broadens. “Please,” he says stepping away from the entrance and opening the door wider. “Come in.”

  I walk into the house and find myself standing in a grand entry way. There is a large circular staircase which seems to almost hang in midair and leads to the second floor. Straight out from the doorway I see a room of glass, which looks to be an arboretum.

  “My mom sent these for you,” I tell him, handing him the basket of cookies.

  He takes them graciously and peeks underneath the red and white cloth.

  “Oh, chocolate chip cookies,” he croons, “my favorite.”

  He looks up at me and holds out his arm bent at the elbow. Not seeing I have any other choice unless I want to insult him, I loop my own arm through it.

  “I thought we would go sit in the arboretum. Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, I ate before I came. You didn’t plan for me to eat here did you?” I ask, suddenly worried he might have gone to some trouble to make a meal for me.

  “No. But I do have a chef on standby. I was going to have her whip you up something if you were hungry.”

  “Then, no, definitely not hungry.”

  “Let’s go sit and talk then,” he says, leading me to the glass enclosed room.

  The arboretum looks out onto a well manicured backyard. A large potted ficus tree, which stands at least ten feet tall in the twenty foot tall room, sits by a set of double doors leading out to the backyard. Mute colored wicker furniture sits angled towards the door. There are a couple of potted orchards and ferns scattered around the room. My grandfather sits the basket of cookies on an iron table with a glass top before leading me to one of the wicker sofas to sit down on.

  “I guess I know a lot more about you than you know about me,” my grandfather tells me.

  “Mason said you found me years ago but decided not to contact me. Why?”

  “You had a family and seemed happy enough with them. I didn’t want to disrupt what you had by being selfish. Plus, you were almost through with high school and I know what a trying time that can be in a teenager’s life. You didn’t need me. You had a life of your own. So, I did the next best thing and sent that lawyer to give you some money. I wanted to make sure you didn’t want for anything. Plus, you seemed like a level headed young lady. I knew you wouldn’t go wild with the money.”

  “I built a house,” I tell him, looking around the room. “Nothing like this, of course, but it’s nice. I like it.”

  We’re quiet for a moment before my grandfather reaches beside him and pulls out a small photo album.

  “I thought you might like to see some pictures of your father.”

  He opens the cover of the book and staring back at me is a senior portrait of a handsome man with dark brown hair and eyes. He’s not smiling, just staring at the camera like he’s daring it to take his picture.

  “Why does he look so mad?” I ask.

  “Your father had a hard time after his mother passed away.”

  “She’s dead?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” my grandfather says. “I thought Mason would have told you that already. Yes, she died of cancer when she was fifty. Your father took it hard. We both did. But watching his mother die like that did something to him. He simply couldn’t cope and turned to drugs to help ease his pain. I tried countless times to get him into a rehab program but he just wouldn’t do it.”

  “Is that when he met my mother?”

  “It was during those years, yes. Your mother seemed to have her own demons she was trying to run away from. They clung to one another in their misery. When your father passed away, I tried to get your mother to move in here with me because I knew she was pregnant with you. But she disappeared before I could persuade her. It was my hope that I could get her clean and provide you both with a good life. From the moment she disappeared I tried to find you, but it was like neither of you existed anymore. Not until almost your eighteenth birthday, anyway. A man came to me and said he knew where you were. He gave me your name, address, the school you went to, everything.”

  “What man? What was his name?”

  “He never told me his name. Just gave me the information and left as quickly as he came. He didn’t even ask me for money for the information which gave me hope that it was real.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Tall black man,” my grandfather says, he eyes scrunch up as he tries to remember the man. “He had a bald head, commanding voice. For some reason, I knew I could trust him and the information he gave me about you.”

  I didn’t have a clue who my grandfather was talking about. At first, I thought it might have been my father who came and told him where to find me. Now, I just had one more mystery to add to the list of an already long list.

  My grandfather and I talk for well over an hour. I learn that the family name is Taylor and that my grandmother used to be an O’Malley which explained who I got my fiery temper from. Both my grandfather and grandmother were lawyers for the Hollywood elite and invested their money wisely to afford the lifestyle my grandfather was now enjoying in retirement. They never had any more children after my father was born.

  “That was a mistake,” my grandfather tells me. “We should have had more kids so he wouldn’t feel so alone. Both me and his mother worked long hours and he ended up being by himself or with nannies most of the time. I often wonder if he would have still turned to drugs if he’d had some brothers or sisters to lean on.”

  “You can’t change the past,” I say. “Things happen for a reason.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t have been born if he’d had an easier life. Blessings come from heartache sometimes.”

  I smile, realizing how true his words are.

  “Would you like to meet my family?” I ask him, not wanting him to think this will be our one and only meeting. Now that I know him a little better, I feel like I want him to become a real part of my family.

  He smiles. “I would love that.”

  “We’re having a party at my mother’s house tomorrow night for a friend of ours. He’s a tearer and this will be his tenth year living in our neighborhood. I’d love it if you could come. I’m sure I can get Mason to come and get you, as long as you don’t have a problem with letting him phase you there.”

  “They can do that?” My grandfather’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “I didn’t know Watchers could transport people.”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” I say in a conspiratorial tone. �
�They don’t like to let many people know.”

  “They’re secret is safe with me.” My grandfather winks and I know I can trust him to keep a secret.

  I call Mason when I’m ready to leave and inform him of the plan to bring my grandfather to meet Mama Lynn and Faison the next night.

  Before I leave, my grandfather gives me a big hug. When I try to pull away from him, I feel him tighten the hug for just a fraction of a second longer before letting me go. I smile at the show of affection.

  “See you tomorrow night,” I tell him, before taking hold of Mason’s hand.

  “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Jess.”

  Chapter 18

  Mason phases me to Mama Lynn’s front door.

  “It looked like you had a good visit with your grandfather,” Mason says, coming to stand in front of me.

  “I like him. I hope we get to spend more time together. I would like to get to know him better.”

  “See,” Mason says, smiling his knowing smile. “I told you there wasn’t any reason to be nervous.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him to me until our bodies meet.

  “I guess wisdom comes with age,” I say.

  Mason raises his eyebrows at me. “Are you calling me old?”

  I shrug. “Well you are, aren’t you?”

  His mouth quirks up into a smile at my teasing. “Old enough.”

  “Kiss me before I have to say goodnight to you, old man. And make it good,” I tell him. “The memory of it is going to have to last me the whole night.”

  “A good one, uh?” Mason says, planting small kisses on my forehead and working his way down to my neck. “And here I thought all of my kisses were memorable.”

  “They are,” I say, restraining myself from throwing Mason down on the sideway and having my way with him right then and there. Why does he insist on driving me crazy with his lips? “But this is the last one we’ll share until morning.”

  Mason stops his gentle torture and looks up at the house.

  “Which room do you normally stay in?” He asks.

  I follow his gaze and point to the second window on the left.

  “That one,” I tell him. “Why?”

  Mason studies the tree nearest the window.

  “I could make that jump.”

  “No.” I say firmly.

  “Why not?” He asks, almost pouting which drives me crazy and I have to kiss him before answering.

  When I finally come up for air, I say, “Because we are not doing that in my mother’s house.”

  “Doing what?” Mason asks, becoming serious.

  I realize it’s now or never.

  “The next time we are alone I don’t plan for you to get out of my bed for a few hours at least.”

  “And what exactly will we be doing for these few hours at least?” He asks.

  “Making love, of course,” I tell him matter-of-factly.

  “And you’re telling me this now?” He asks. “When you’re about to leave me for an entire night, a night we could be in your bed for these few hours?”

  I nod.

  “Are you sure?” He asks, all joking aside. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “Yes,” I tell him. “I know I can’t erase what happened in the past but I can make beautiful memories with you to think about instead. All I know is what he did to me. And all I want now are memories of you making love to me to think about instead.”

  “And I repeat, you’re telling me this now?”

  I laugh because Mason looks like he’s in mortal pain.

  “Yes, I’m telling you this now. Besides, you have work to do anyway.”

  “What work?” He asks, suspicious of my motives.

  “It’s your job to make sure our first time making love is as special as the first time we kissed. It’s a tall order. I thought you might need some time to prepare.”

  “Hmm, I suppose I do need some time to prepare.”

  Mason kisses me and drops his arms away from me.

  “You should probably go now before I abscond with you. Your mother and sister might not ever see you again if I do.”

  I giggle and lean up for one more small kiss.

  “I love you,” I tell him.

  “And I adore and love you. Now go before I change my mind about you staying here tonight.”

  I wink at him and he winks back just before he phases away.

  “Sounds like I’m just in time with your little care package.”

  I whirl around and see Faison standing just down the sidewalk.

  “How much of that did you hear?” I ask her, my cheeks burning.

  “Enough to know I brought these condoms just in time,” she says, a tease in her voice.

  Besides the two Piggly Wiggly white plastic bags, I also see a medium sized brown paper bag in her hands. She walks up to me and hands the bag to me.

  “I can’t take these in there,” I say.

  “Oh, Jess. Mama Lynn knows all about sex. She’ll just be glad you’re having it and using protection.”

  I lower my head and hide my face behind the bag.

  “Now come on my little grasshopper,” Faison says, looping one of her arms around one of mine. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  “I do not want to discuss sex with you,” I tell her resolutely.

  “Why not?” Faison says, sounding offended. “I could give you some tips that’ll drive Mason wild in bed. I know they do John Austin.”

  “Please,” I beg. “Stop. I don’t need those mental pictures in my head. I have enough bad memories to get rid of without you adding to them.”

  Faison sticks her tongue out at me. “Fine. I won’t share my extensive knowledge with you. Besides, I bet Mason’s been around long enough to know a few tricks of his own.”

  “Not talking about this with you,” I say in a sing song voice, heading for the door because I know only Mama Lynn’s presence will keep Faison from trying to talk to me about sex.

  Once I’m safely inside Mama Lynn’s house, I sigh, relieved in the knowledge I’m in a sex-talking free zone.

  “Jess is finally going to have sex, Mama Lynn!”

  I turn to look at Faison in complete shock and dismay. Have they been discussing my lack of a sex life behind my back? It sure sounds like it.

  “Why don’t you yell that a little louder?” I say through clenched teeth. “I don’t think Ms. Margaret across the street heard you. I’m sure she’ll be interested in knowing.”

  Mama Lynn walks into the living room from the kitchen area, a smile on her face.

  “Oh, my baby is growing up,” she says, coming to give me a kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. “Now, is there anything you need to know about it? Maybe I can help.”

  I stand dumbstruck. I have no words, only an irrational desire to turn around and run back to my house. Unfortunately, Faison cuts off my route of escape by closing and locking the front door behind her.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell her. “Please. I am literally begging you. Can we just not talk about it?”

  “Well of course we don’t have to talk about it,” Mama Lynn says. “Come on. I made that cheese dip you love so much. You got the tortilla chips right?” She asks Faison.

  Faison holds up the bag they are presumably in.

  “Now come and tell us all about your grandfather. What’s his name again?”

  It’s only then I realize I still don’t know my grandfather’s first name.

  “One second.”

  I pull out my cell phone and text Mason.

  Hey, what are you doing?

  Wallowing in complete misery without you in my arms.

  Dear Misery, what is my grandfather’s name?

  What do I get for answering the question? A midnight trip through a certain window?

  LOL, No! My undying love and gratitude.

  I already have your undying love…or so I was lead to believe…

  You know you do. Please. Just
answer the question. I have two very curious onlookers staring holes at me.

  Richard Taylor. And why are they staring holes at you?

  Because they know we’re going to be having sex soon.

  Do the three of you share everything?

  Faison overheard us talking outside. She brought me a rather large supply of condoms btw.

  You don’t say. And how long have you been scheming to take advantage of my body, Agent Riley?

  Practically since the moment we met.

  I didn’t realize my chastity had been in danger for so long. You are full of surprises. I do hope she brought a lot for our few hours in your bed. You should know I have very good stamina.

  “What?” Faison asks me. “Why do you look so confused all of a sudden?”

  Thankfully, Mama Lynn is at the sink washing out a pot. I show Faison Mason’s last text message and she starts to giggle.

  She leans over to me and whispers in my ear, “That means he can do it more than once a night.”

  “Oh,” I say, still not understanding why he feels the need to tell that to me. “Is that unusual? To do it more than just once a night?”

  Faison shrugs. “Depends on the man. John Austin’s only good for once a day. But I heard Shelby say her boyfriend can go three or four times a day. Just depends.”

  I am happy to hear you have good stamina. You will need it.

  I wait for a response but don’t get one. Worried, I text again.

  Hello? Are you there?

  Yes. I’m here. Just having an argument with myself about whether or not I should force my way into your window later tonight.

  Please do not. I don’t want our first time to be inside my mother’s house.

  I could always phase you out and phase you back in there in the morning.

  I actually consider the proposition, but shake the temptation off.

  No. Like I said, I want our first time together to be special. Hiding what we’re doing does not scream special to me.