Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9(52)

“Christ, Kathleen. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, don’t you know that?”

“Yes,” she whispered quietly. “I do. It is exactly how I felt every minute of every day for seven years, wondering if I would ever see you again.”

Her words sliced through him. “That was different.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t have made it any easier if something happened to you, Jack.” She sighed heavily. “You don’t really think I’d knowingly put myself or the baby at risk, do you?”

“No,” he admitted. He’d been worried that she hadn’t kept her appointments purely for financial reasons, but he hadn’t wanted to believe that. Kathleen was stubborn, but she was also practical and intelligent.

“Next time, I’m going to see Erin’s doctor in Birch Falls. She’s a little more expensive, but Erin says she’s worth it.”

“Next time?” he breathed, running a hand over her soft, still distended belly. Kathleen told him they had to wait a minimum of six weeks before they could make love again. It was going to be a very long six weeks.

“Yes. I want a house full. Half a dozen, at least.”

That sounded damn good to him.

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They were nearly through January when Jack came into the kitchen with the day’s mail to find Kathleen on the floor, surrounded by at least a dozen stacks of paper set in neat piles around her. The kitchen had become her workspace for bookkeeping. She said she preferred it because it kept her and Kane close to him, and he liked it because he could pop in every few minutes and remind himself what a lucky guy he was.

Kane was in the baby swing Mrs. Fitzsimmons had given them, as quiet and intense as always. Jack leaned against the doorway, his mouth curling into a smile as he listened to her explain tax-deferred annuities and the importance of diversification for retirement planning.

“Who are you talking to?”

Kathleen turned and gave him a hundred-watt grin. “Kane.”

“He’s six weeks old.”

“Yes, he is. What’s your point?”

Jack chuckled. Kathleen talked with their son as if he was fully capable of understanding everything she said. Sometimes, given the look in those clear blue eyes, he wondered about that himself.

“Training him to be an accountant already?”

She laughed. “Kane will be whatever he wants to be, and whatever he chooses, he’ll be the best. Won’t you, buddy?”

The little guy sucked on his fist and looked at Kathleen with complete and total adulation. Jack knew just how he felt.





Chapter Twenty




September 2015

Pine Ridge

That same implacable, ice-blue gaze swung his way. Nearly forty years had passed, but his firstborn still had the ability to hold an entire conversation with nothing more than his eyes. At that moment, they were asking a hell of a lot of questions.

“Don’t look at me like that, boy,” Jack grunted.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Kane’s gaze obediently returned to the college football game playing out on the flat screen. The local state university was down by seven with five minutes left in the third quarter. Minutes passed; the only conversation was the sports announcers’ colorful commentary. Kane remained still, his only movement the lift of his arm as he drank from the longneck.

Jack couldn’t help but admire his stoicism. Quiet. Patient. Immovable. And a damn fine son. Michael had told him that it had been Kane who had done chest compressions on him the day of his heart attack, forcing the blood through his veins when his heart couldn’t.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t have to say more than that for his son to know what he was talking about. Kane grunted an acknowledgement without turning around.

“I’m not crazy, and I’m not suicidal.”

A curt nod. “I know. I miss her, too.”

Unbidden, tears welled up in Jack’s eyes. He blinked them away. Crying in front of his son was not something he would allow.

He should have known that Kane saw beneath the surface and truly understood. A man of few words, Kane’s heart was the biggest part of him. Maybe that’s why he protected it so fiercely.

“Daddy? Can I watch the game with you and Grandpa?” Kane’s little girl, Aislinn, peeked around the corner of the open door, her big eyes wide. At three years old, the child had the gentle demeanor of her mother, but the intensity of her father. Jack had seen the girl quietly approach her boy cousins in the midst of a particularly heated disagreement, smack them all soundly with her pop-up picture book, then walk away while they stared at her in disbelief.

“Of course you can,” Jack answered for him.

Kane opened his arms and she climbed up onto his lap, but her eyes remained fixed on Jack. “Mommy says I can’t hug you because you’re hurt, there,” Aislinn informed him, tilting her head thoughtfully and pointing at his chest.

“Your Mom is right. But you can give your dad a hug, and I’ll feel it.”

Kane’s gaze snapped to Jack’s over her shoulder. Her eyes went huge. “You can do that?”

“Of course,” he told her. “We’re family, so we’re all connected, in here. Your dad is my son, so when you show him love, I feel it too.”