The Paladin's Redemption (The Keepers of White Book 3)

by Richard Crofton

  ****

  Megan had no dreams that night, and she awoke at a more normal time the next morning, having slept well. After her hour of meditation with Moonie, she thought she might try the pool Michael boasted about in the basement, but found the white, wooden door locked when she tried to open it. She quickly inferred that he was working with Moonie for the day, and that the area was off limits during “business hours.” Her father was sitting at the kitchen table with the kids, teaching them the card game he’d promised Alex about. After a few words of greetings and light chatting, she decided to spend the lovely May morning going for a run. It had been weeks since she had done so, and now that she was growing accustomed to the routine of her changed life, she wanted to reintroduce the physical activity at which she excelled back into her schedule.

  The remainder of the day was rather uneventful as Michael and Moonie worked in the basement until the late afternoon. Megan and Jim, with Michael’s approval, took the children for a ride in the gray Suburban around town. It was then that Jim informed her that the SUV was theirs, compliments of Moonie’s apparently limitless funds, as compensation for the fact that Jim was required to allow their host to dismantle his truck in a chop shop that lay somewhere out back of the ranch house.

  Megan had been somewhat surprised by Michael’s leniency of agreeing to let them explore the area, having thought they would need to lay low quite literally with the Agency’s influence on the law enforcers who were searching for them. But Michael explained that Moonie had hacked into a server connected with highway cameras, had Michael intentionally ride his motorcycle in order to get picked up by the surveillance, then transferred the feed to indicate the footage being shown somewhere in northwestern Pennsylvania along Route 6, not far from Pittsburgh. He also had produced a false high alert message for the authorities and attached it to the feed. This, Michael had assured them, had thrown the Agency well off their tail, leaving them at least some luxury to chance a bit of normalcy during their stay in eastern New Jersey.

  The four spent the afternoon playing miniature golf at an establishment close to the beach, then enjoyed a nice lunch at a nearby pizza shop. Jim paid for the entertainment and meal with cash. They spoke of nothing regarding their unknown future, or the tragedies and bizarre events of both distant and recent past, but engaged in continuous, simple chatter and laughter with Emily and Alex. It was the most perfect day Megan had had in what seemed like ages. Father and daughter, with brother and sister, still newly acquainted in comparison with other timelines, yet the feeling of family generated among them as if there had been no past life before Toms River.

  When they returned to the ranch house after lunch, Michael and Moonie were out front, standing a bit of a distance from each other in the wide-open yard. Both wore leather baseball mitts as the two were having a catch. This activity was something Megan had seen them engaged in from time to time, particularly when they felt the need to discuss important matters or simply bounce ideas off each other. Moonie managed to field every ball thrown to him by Michael, as the latter showed no difficulty in pitching directly toward his chest with laser accuracy. Moonie was also able to launch the ball directly to his friend, regardless of his handicap. The fact that he couldn’t step into his throws or use much hip action to give the ball extra velocity seemed to play no part, and Jim expressed praise toward this. “All in the wrist,” Moonie answered him good naturedly. “I try to keep what’s left of me in the best shape I can.”

  “Says the guy with the smoking habit,” Michael added from his position in the yard as he threw another fastball right into Moonie’s mitt.

  “What are you, my mother?” Moonie shot back at him as he threw a harder fastball back.

  With their stepfather now free for the day, Jim and Megan left the kids with him and went for a walk together. Moonie had mentioned a path in the woods off to the side of the house that made for a pleasant nature hike, and they decided to take advantage of it. Though their conversation remained casual for the most part, they did bring up some of the more pertinent issues surrounding them from time to time, but there was never much of a major discussion that took up a significant amount of time. Megan mentioned that she was impressed by her father’s apparent ability to quickly accept the condition of their lives, that in fact their past lives would be completely erased and they would be starting over from scratch.

  Jim put one arm around his daughter while they strolled along the path. “I suppose it’s like beating cancer,” he said with a pensive tone. “It may take a long time for your muscles to recover their strength after months of chemo. Your hair may not grow back all the way and your taste buds are deadened, probably forever. And your short-term memory may never be the way it was either. I bet there’s a lot of setbacks you’d have to deal with, even years after you’ve recovered. But it’s a lot better than losing to cancer, ain’t it?”

  Megan squeezed the hand of her father’s that was draped around her shoulder. She was amazed by his use of cancer as an analogy, especially after how much that disease had taken from them. It seemed to her that he was truly ready to move on, even willing for the unknown life they would be headed for. Like an adventure, she supposed. And Jim was right. They would have to leave everything they’ve ever known behind. Their lives were uprooted in so many unthinkable ways, yet surprisingly, neither of them showed any signs of being put out or troubled by their plight. Because when all was said and done, it sure beat the alternative. As she held his hand tightly, she smiled at him in admiration.

  The rekindling of their relationship accelerated by leaps and bounds during that walk, particularly when Jim turned to her that moment. “I’m glad I’ve been given a second chance,” he said, “to say what I’ve always shoulda told you.”

  “What’s that, Dad?”

  “You have your mother’s smile.”

  ****

  She was startled awake shortly before 5:00 am the next morning. Another blurred nightmare left her drenched in her own sweat. This time, instead of the silhouette chained to a chair, a stunningly beautiful woman with long, straight brownish red hair and fair skin that defined perfection, complimented with lovely, light brown eyes, lay relaxing on a lengthy adjustable lawn chair by a sparkling blue swimming pool. She wore a pink bikini as she enjoyed the sunshine. She looked toward Megan with a smile that was divine, and waved to her.

  Just as Megan began to wave back, the once serene water in the pool suddenly burst into flames, and the woman screamed as her stomach melted away, then she gripped her own hair and began tearing it from her skull as she screamed in agony, until her entire body melted into a pool of bile and blood.

  Megan heard no screams from Michael’s room as she awoke, but within minutes she heard his footsteps as she had heard the other night.

  She wasn’t normally one to snoop, but when she saw Michael had left the door to his room open, curiosity got the better of her as she quietly crept in. She turned on the light and saw the pair of cargo shorts he had worn the day before on the floor near his bed. Though feeling a bit guilty for it, she fished into his pockets until she found his wallet and opened it. The clear, thin picture protectors attached to the flap held the same photo of the redheaded woman from her dream.

  This time, she entered the gym in the bathing suit he’d bought her, carrying the towel. Once again he was attacking the heavy-bag with unspeakable fury. He didn’t acknowledge her as she continued toward the glass paneled door that she knew led to the pool room, but she assumed he knew she was there. Just before she left him to continue his exercise, she turned to him and waited for him to pause from the rapidly thunderous blows he was exerting upon the bag. “What was she like?” she asked, hoping he would finally open up to her again. “Your wife.”

  Without turning to her, he lowered his head again as he rested one gloved hand against the bag to stop its swinging. “She was… perfect,” he said in a low voice. “The only woman I ever fell in love with.”

  She said nothing
back, somewhat troubled by his last statement, so he resumed his furious attack against the heavy-bag. She in turn opened the glass door and entered the pool area.

  As Megan paced her strokes, completing lap after lap in the temperature controlled pool, she wondered how she could ever replace such an incredible woman that had won his heart; how she could ever hope for the same bond between her and him. She felt foolish for thinking this way, as her logical side reminded her that there was no her and him, and that her fantasizing about such a predicament was unhealthy. She knew that he was to set out on a different path from hers, but the thoughts entered her mind regardless, and she had no way to prevent them from doing so. What bothered her even more was the fact that she couldn’t understand why she felt so compelled to cling to him. Why she refused to let him go, even though she knew she would have to.

  She finished her last lap twenty minutes after she had begun her first, but instead of drying off and leaving, she decided to switch off the lights and sit cross-legged on the cool, hard, tiled floor. She closed her eyes, and for the first time attempted a short meditation on her own as the refreshing pool water dripped from her hair, tickling down her shoulders and back. Within ten minutes, it came to her, and she understood more about herself than she had since the night Michael had come to her rescue.

  Having toweled off, she left the pool room to find that Michael was still working the bag, but at a much slower pace than when she had first entered. Though his physique was thin, the triceps on his arms bulged from being overworked, every perfectly defined muscle on his back flexed with tension. “Good swim?” he said from his position, as if talking to the bag.

  “Yes,” she answered softly. “Thank you.”

  He said nothing but threw a few more blows against the bag.

  She didn’t know how to begin, so she blurted out the bluntest opening line she had ever used in her life. “I think I know why I was willing to have sex with you in the shower that morning.”

  He stopped, remaining statue-like for a moment, the action betraying any attempt to hide his being taken aback. “You said you reconsidered your policy on chastity,” he finally replied, “as long as it was with the right person.”

  “That’s not it,” she said with conviction. “How could I have thought you were the right one? I’d just met you.”

  “Good point,” he said plainly. “Okay. What’s this about?”

  “Michael,” she answered with a suddenly shaky voice. “I have something to tell you. It’s been in the back of my mind for a while, but I can’t keep it inside anymore. I have to talk to someone about it.”

  For the first time, he turned around to face her, still panting slightly from his intense cardio workout. Like his triceps, his chest and abdominal muscles were swollen, which almost broke her concentration, but she quickly recovered her drifting eyes and brought them back to meet his. And it elevated her own self esteem that he also seemed to struggle to meet hers as she stood before him, dripping wet in her blue bathing suit. Until she spoke. “I haven’t told you everything that happened to me in that cellar,” she began. “I didn’t tell you what else she… Diana… did to me.”

  She spared no details as she recounted every heinous moment on the day that Diana Palmer forced herself invasively upon her, commencing an unnatural rape. Though retelling of the incident brought tears to her eyes, she managed as she spoke slowly, in broken sentences, starting with the removal of her shirt, up to the point when Diana had inflicted the cursed vision into her mind.

  “I’ve never felt so violated,” she said as the tears fell freely. “So filthy. Every experience I’ve had, even with Sonny, left me with a sense of guilt. And this… I didn’t even feel human anymore. I was garbage. At least that’s how she made me feel, even though I fought her off of me. The damage had already been done. And I didn’t realize it until now, that it’s been eating me up inside.

  “But when I was with you…” she stopped for a second and took a few breaths. “You’d think that I would’ve been too traumatized to ever want to be touched by anyone again. But that’s just it. I’ve always thought it was supposed to be a pleasant experience, and I think subconsciously I wanted to have that.” Her voice became more unstable as she continued. “I thought that… if I were with you… someone who risked his life to save me… someone I felt a connection with, even if it was because of your magic and my necklace… I thought that with you… it would be good. I thought it would somehow wash away all the bad… make everything better. You know, get rid of my tainted perception of it.”

  “Tainted because of her, Megan,” he consoled her. “Because of them. Not because of you.”

  She looked away from him. “I hoped I could just forget what she did to me and move on…” Then she broke into uncontrollable sobs. “But I guess I’m not strong enough.” Unable to control her emotions, feeling as if she would collapse at any moment, she walked briskly through the door as she cried, back toward the stairs at the far end of the basement. Michael watched her go, saying nothing to stop her departure.

  She laid quietly in bed, having changed back into her night clothes, though she had no intention of going back to sleep. The sun had risen, and it wouldn’t be long before the other occupants of the house would be up and about, but she wanted to spend the last bit of time that offered peaceful silence clearing her now troubled mind.

  As she stared upwards in the darkness of her room, she suddenly heard her door open quietly. She closed her eyes instead of looking towards the door, knowing who it was, for she still sensed him slightly, not to mention his enhanced odor after his heavy workout. She was too embarrassed to look at him, but she opened her eyes when she felt his weight rest upon the edge of her bed. The lack of light in the room left him before her as nothing more than a silhouette as he sat before her. With effort, she sat up slowly to face him.

  “You remind me of her, you know,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. “Your strength reminds me of her, though I think you’re stronger than she was. I told you once that you’re stronger than you know, Megan. And it’s true.”

  “I don’t feel strong at all,” she whispered despondently.

  To her surprise, he rested a warm, clammy hand on her own. She didn’t mind the sweat from his palm at that moment. “When you said you believed the dark magic and the light magic came from two different places, I think you were right.”

  She didn’t respond but tilted her head as if she weren’t quite following him.

  “Those who practice the dark arts,” he continued, “well, their magic is used to inflict fear and harm on others. Like when the priest petrified you, or the woman put a terrible vision in your head. Our magic however, is used to help people. Some spells are used to heal wounds and illnesses, but other spells are like blessings. We can cast spells that give people a sense of hope. Or peace. Or we can help them establish a sound mind with which to have better judgement. Or to enhance their perception. Another white spell like those is one in which we can give a person courage… an inner strength that can help them carry on when they would otherwise give up.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, not quite following him.

  “That night last week,” he went on, “when I saved you from them and first stood before you, you were terrified. Just minutes before, you had endured both physical and emotional turmoil under their power. The things they did to you that night, and had done to you during your entire time in captivity, were unthinkable. Most would have been emotional wreaks from that kind of treatment.

  “After I arrived and… dealt with them, I expected I would have to cast a spell to boost your courage.” He squeezed her hand a little more tightly. “But I didn’t have to, Megan. In spite of everything you had been put through, you were able to stand on your own two feet. Somehow you buried the terrible things that happened in order to do what was needed. You kept yourself together, kept your head about you, and you followed me out of that cellar by your own inner strength. Wit
hout me doing anything other than talking you through it.”

  He let go of her hand and rose from the bed, still facing her in the dark. “No one can expect you to just forget what happened, Megan. It’s not an easy thing to let go of. At the same time, you didn’t let those things hinder you from taking action when it was called for. And I don’t know what you would classify as ‘being strong enough,’ if not that.”

  She didn’t say anything back to him, but she sat motionless on her bed, taking in his point of view, slowly recognizing the truth in his words, and therefore finding herself able to come to terms with the painful memories that resurfaced this night. Fresh tears began to form behind her eyes, but these she welcomed as they were accompanied by a sense of relief.

  Michael’s shadowy form bent down and reached for where she had placed her towel with her bathing suit wrapped inside. “I’ll take this and have it washed and dried for you,” he said as he neared the door to the hallway.

  “Thank you, Michael,” she said to him before he left. “For everything.”

  Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to notice him turning around and giving her a nod. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you Megan. What Diana Palmer did to you. But I’m glad you told me about it. Believe me. When I cross paths with her again, and I’m sure I will, she’ll be sorry for it. I’ll see to that.”

  Chapter XIII

  Tuesday and Wednesday passed with much similarity to that of the prior Monday. The meditation exercises had become redundant for Megan, but she had been advised by Moonie not to allow impatience to overcome her, but instead to remain vigilant in her focus and to note even the slightest change in her perception and understanding of herself during the sessions. He had also encouraged her efforts by complimenting her on her progress, noting that she was off to a good start, whatever that meant in the introduction to the world of the Alpha Magic.