Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9(73)

He’d moved to a smaller room when Jake officially took over ownership of the Pub. At that point, they’d begun remodeling the living quarters in earnest, all of them grown. He hadn’t any interest in buying new furnishings for his space, though. If they had been good enough for Kathleen, then they were good enough for him.

The room wasn’t a shrine, by any means. Life had gone on, and he’d gone on with it. That didn’t mean he’d left everything behind. There was comfort to be had in sinking into the same chair he’d fallen asleep in countless times with one or more boys on his chest. In sliding between the sheets of the same bed in which he and Kathleen had created their family.

Memories stared back at him in the forms of framed pictures. A couple of his parents, of Kathleen’s. Wedding pictures – his and every one of his sons. Shots of the boys growing up. A photo of him, Brian, and Charlie after that first mission.

That had been a turning point, the beginning of what eventually became the Ghost Team. Oh, it hadn’t happened all at once. He was certain that despite the rush and sense of purpose that mission had given him, it would be the last. Just went to show how na?ve he’d been then.

The truth was, he liked it. He liked putting his skills to use, knowing he was making a difference. And while he hadn’t been in it for the money, it was a hell of a nice perk. Still, he would never have gone again if Kathleen had asked him not to. She must have sensed that on some level, he needed it. And damn if she hadn’t actually been fucking proud of him for it, too.

He still remembered how when he’d come back, they’d make love for hours. Afterward, she’d drape her languid body, softened by as much pleasure as he could give, over his and tell him how much she loved him. What a good, selfless man he was...

It was bullshite, of course. He’d been nothing but selfish then, riding high, foolishly thinking he’d paid enough dues to earn an easy ride. And why wouldn’t he? He had the perfect wife, the perfect family. The pub was doing well, and he was off playing hero every couple of months.

For a couple of years, he’d had it all.

He’d been a fool to think it would last.

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January, 1991

Pine Ridge

“One more for the road.” Kathleen handed him a Thermos of hot, homemade chicken soup and a flask filled with whiskey. He’d been partaking of both in an attempt to kick the head and chest cold he’d been battling for the last week or so.

Jack accepted both, stuffing the flask, which had been his father’s, into an inside pocket for later, when he wasn’t driving the treacherous snow and ice covered roads up to the private air strip. The winter had been a brutal one thus far, with record lows and above average snowfalls, making travel difficult, even for those accustomed to mountain winters.

Concern filled her eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Jack?”

“I’m feeling much better, thanks to your expert care,” he assured her. A nasty virus was working its way through the region, and had all but closed down the local schools. Kieran had been the first to get it, but one by one, it had been claiming the rest of them. Kathleen had been the only one spared thus far. She’d been playing nursemaid around the clock, pushing fluids, dispensing over the counter pain meds, fluffing pillows and providing the comfort only a mother could.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, frowning when it felt warmer than usual. “Are you running a fever? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

Stepping back slightly, he focused on the dark purple crescents under her tired eyes and the paleness of her complexion. “You look pale.”

“It’s the middle of January in Pennsylvania,” she said with a weary smile. “Of course I look pale.”

She wasn’t being totally honest with him; the way her eyes remained fixed on his chin instead of meeting his gaze was a dead giveaway. That and the way she petted his chest and arm, a soothing form of distraction she had perfected over the years.

Not for the first time, he regretted agreeing to this mission, and not only because the flu had knocked him on his ass. He’d been taking on more assignments lately, mostly to keep an eye on Brian. Brian had lost Adonia the year before and he wasn’t coping well.

From what Brian had told him, he and Adonia had been fighting over whether or not Alexis should be enrolled in public Kindergarten. Alexis was a common point of contention between them -—Brian felt she should have as normal as childhood as possible, whereas Adonia wanted to home-school their daughter, or at the very least enroll her in a private, controlled learning environment that would cater to her special needs. Things grew heated and tempers flared. Brian left to cool down, and when he returned later that night, he found her unconscious and unresponsive.

The official cause of death was listed as a subarachnoid hemorrhagic stroke, most likely a result of Adonia’s rare bleeding disorder. Brian blamed himself, convinced that it was their argument that had elevated her blood pressure to a high enough level to cause a weakened blood vessel to give way. Heaped upon that was the belief that if he hadn’t walked out, he would have been able to get her the medical attention she needed before it was too late.

The doctors didn’t agree. After the autopsy, they’d concluded that Adonia’s weakened vessels were ticking time bombs, and that nothing could have saved her. Unfortunately, Brian’s crushing guilt wasn’t allowing him to accept that, not yet.