Author's Notes: Happy New Year, fellow Scotch shippers! It has almost been a year since we last updated this story. And rest assured that we have NOT abandoned this beautiful story. We are also republishing/reposting another Scotch story, "Rebecca." This has been mainly written by Acalanto with another writer but we have decided to repost and continue Rebecca by Acalanto with JOYS OF OCTOBER as editor. We hope that you will support and love Rebecca as much as we do. Cheers to 2020!
Theresa - Chapter 14
Busy Day
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Tom, I'm not the one who has doubts. Now why don't you just relax, "she suggested.
"I am relaxed."
"No, you're not."
"Shouldn't we do this in bed?"
She sighed with exaggerated patience. "I already explained why I prefer the rug."
"Maybe a shower will solve the problem."
"Again?" She asked skeptically. "Another cold shower?"
"I felt better."
What he really meant was that he could take care of himself; he'd done it for years, alone on that island. He didn't like not being in control. She just needed to show him the benefits of surrendering to the hands of another person.
"Don't you trust me?"
Holding her gaze, he said. "Of course I do. I just need time to get used to the idea."
"Do you need time to get used to the idea of me touching you?"
"But not for the reasons you are thinking."
It's been a long, long time. I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself
"When a man says he doesn't want to be touched by a woman, there is only one logical conclusion. You're losing interest in me."
"WHAT?" he practically shouted. "No, I never said…"
From her vantage point above him, Rachel managed to keep a straight face.
"You want me to beg you, don't you?" Tom groaned.
"You will eventually," she assured him. "Believe me, before I'm done, you're going to be begging."
He felt his heart racing. And she hadn't even touched him.
He sighed.
She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her expression relaxed and her lips curled up in a devious smile.
He sighed again. Very deeply this time. Then he relented, "Okay! What do you want me to do?"
"Take off your shirt and lay on your stomach," she instructed.
Reluctantly, he did as she instructed. Then he closed his eyes and tried to relax.
But he tensed when he felt Rachel's hand running up his back
"You're stretched out so nicely for me, but I need you to relax. I promise it won't hurt."
"Rachel," he growled, "you are not helping."
"Sorry," she said in a voice that sounded anything but. Then she reached for the oil.
He hissed out a breath as she began running her thumbs in gentle but firm circles over his shoulders and neck. Then her hands moved lower, pressing into the long muscles running from below his shoulder blade to his lower back. She knew exactly where the painful areas were and how to massage them.
"What is that smell?" he asked. "Smells familiar."
"Peppermint oil."
He sighed contently, and buried his head in the crook of his arm. "I could get used to this attention, if this is my reward every time I get hurt..."
She removed her hands and mocked punched him on his shoulder.
"Hey, I'm just kidding!Please, don't stop. That feels good." Tom raised his head and craned his neck towards her place by his back.
She exhaled a long, exasperated sigh as she stared at Tom lying on his stomach beneath her on the floor.
"Sweetheart," he added, a bit of whine his voice.
Rachel's hair tickled lightly at the back of his neck as she bent to speak into his ear, her voice deadly serious. "I'm gonna kill you if you do that again."
"So bossy," he muttered under his breath.
His breath hitched when she ran her fingertips lazily along his back and then she started to plant kisses along the length of his spine. The casual weight of her, leaning against him so close…
"Rachel!" He squeaked, "what are you doing?"
"Does it feel good?" she teased.
"Oh, yeah," he gasped. "Best therapeutic massage I've ever had!"
"Just try to remember what you would lose if you broke your neck. Don't take this the wrong way, but I've never seen anyone so uncomfortable on a horse like you."
"I have a confession to make; I've been scared of horses since I was a child."
He felt her hands waver for a moment. But she continued to gently massage his back and shoulders.
"Why?" she whispered.
"I don't know. It's something I've been trying to control for years; it's weird and frustrating as hell."
"Did you fall when you were a kid?"
"No. I fell a few times but I was already an adult," he admitted sheepishly.
"There are just really some things we just can't explain."
"I like not I just have to keep trying."
"Don't you dare! I need you alive and in good physical shape," Rachel warned him, stilling her massage.
"So you want me for your selfish purposes."
"Is that a problem?" Rachel asked innocently.
"It will be my pleasure to help you, sweetheart."
He felt so exhausted and at the same time energized. His life was not perfect, but it could still be good.
"He doesn't like me."
"Who?"
"Ronald."
"He's just a little overprotective."
"Does he visit frequently?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"He lives very close, as you are aware now, he loves Theresa, so the answer is yes."
"Lucky me!" he groaned to his side.
"Did anything else happen?" she asked suspiciously.
"When I came out of the bathroom he was waiting outside the door, and he cornered me. Then he introduced me to his favorite shotgun…" Tom confessed.
"He didn't…" Rachel said, aghast.
"Oh yeah, he did, that was followed by the whole 'If you hurt her, I'll kill you and make it look like an accident' speech."
"I can take care of myself just fine," she said. "I am not a fragile English rose, I'm more like a cactus, prickly and difficult to eradicate."
He loved her for who she was, stubborn, smart, beautiful, and maddeningly independent. If she wants to compare herself to a cactus, okay, sure, whatever she wants.
"Cactus can produce flowers that are shockingly beautiful, the thorns may seem hostile, but they are part of the survival strategy. Persistent, they survive in regions that would kill other, more fragile beings. Yeah, Dr. Scott, I think I can accept this analogy."
Rachel snorted. Impossible not to love this man.
"Where did you learn how to do this?" he asked.
"Amabel. During the pregnancy, her hands worked wonders for my tired feet."
"I should have been here."
"You are here now."
"Rachel…I…. there's something I need to tell you, but…" he hesitated, clearly struggling to find the right words.
"You're not ready yet."
"Doesn't that disappoint you?"
"You aren't perfect. So what? How many absolutely perfect people do you know? The others may have the hero. You're all, I need. The real man, imperfect, and no less loved."
His heart was in his throat. Soon, he promised himself, very soon he would tell her—the truth—the whole truth. Everything.
He looked deeply into her eyes and smiled. "I love you so much, Rachel."´
"I know," she said as she leaned forward and kissed his lips. "Now relax and let me take care of you."
He sighed and closed his eyes.
She could feel his muscles relax under her fingers, his breathing gradually becoming slow and even. Sometimes he lets out a quiet moan.
He lost track of time. God! That feels good. He sure will want her to do it again.
He felt her kiss his shoulder and then she said, "Let's go to bed."
He is perfectly content to stay where he is, the rug is soft and he is so tired. But it seems that she thinks differently and she called his name softly, "Tom!"
"Hmm?" he replied in a groggy voice.
"Bed!"
"I can rest here," he protested weakly.
"No, that would ruin all my work."
He knew he was destined to lose this argument, so he just got up and crawled into bed.
"Rest," she said, "I have to check those two."
"He thinks she's cute."
"My point exactly. The men in this family, Mike included, seem unable to say no to her."
"You're exaggerating."
"Am I?" she asked in a taunting tone. "Theresa certainly does seem to have you wrapped around her little finger. Do you deny it?"
"I can say no to her," he said, but his tone lacked conviction.
"Tell me an incident since you met here where you have said no to her."
He thought for a moment, trying to come up with something to convince her, but his mind came up with nothing.
"Well?" she prodded him for a reply.
He made an exaggerated groan. "God, I'm so tired."
"So rest, cowboy," she said.
Then she leaned over him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before she walked out of the door.
After she left, he sank into the pillows with a satisfied sigh. His day had begun so well, until the knock on the door put all his nerves on the edge.
SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH
Earlier that morning….
"Hi! You must be Theresa."
"Mike!" Theresa said enthusiastically, wrapping her small arms around his neck and squeezed as hard as a little girl could.
He was taken by surprise, but recovered quickly and hugged the little girl back. He remembered when his daughters were small and welcomed him with hugs and kisses when he returned from a mission.
"You are daddy's friend; my mum told me about you, we have a code name for you."
"Really?"
Mike drew his eyes away and looked over Theresa's head at Rachel and Tom.
"But my mum doesn't want me to say."
Mike straightened his posture, but he kept his eyes trained on Rachel's face. He noted Tom's hand on her waist from beside her.
While Mike greeted Rachel warmly and Theresa was giving Aunt Amabel the most enthusiastic of hugs, Tom greeted Blake with only the necessary politeness.
"Agent," Tom said stiffly.
"Chandler."
She had asked the British government for help. How to say no to a woman who had saved millions of lives? They couldn't, not to mention that she would be a valuable asset, a scientist who had defeated the Red Flu by working for them, they were more than happy to help. Two points were not negotiable. For the world her whereabouts should remain unknown unless she wished otherwise. She wanted to go to a godforsaken city in the middle of nowhere.
Blake had been called to take care of her safety
Then he had done his job. He made sure she was safe. He was adult enough to admit he was attracted to her. They were friends for three years, when things changed. Sometimes he wished they hadn't…
"Hi, Uncle Blake," Theresa said.
"Hi, sweetie."
"It is good to see you again Blake," Rachel said.
"It's good to see you, too."
Tom narrowed his eyes at the sight of Blake smiling warmly at Rachel. He recognized the feeling for what he was, jealousy, pure and simple. A better man would have been ashamed. He was no such man, not anymore.
Forget it. Asshole. She's mine. Hell would freeze before he let her go again.
Blake looked at him as if asking, feeling territorial are we Chandler?
The corners of Tom's mouth tipped up in a smile of purely male arrogance. I can be, she loves me.
"Would anyone like something to drink? A cup of coffee or tea?" Rachel said to break the tension between the two men.
"Coffee sounds good," Mike replied.
"Sorry, I need to get back to work, Rachel." Blake said. "I just wanted to check that everything is ok."
Clutching her father's leg, Theresa smiled and said, "We're good. Daddy's here." She looked up at her father as if he were invincible, which of course he was, as far as she was concerned.
"Come on, Phil, what's the rush?" Amabel said. "I'd love a cup of tea, Rachel! And those pancakes sure smell good."
He gritted his teeth. He hated it when she called him that. When they'd met she'd asked if she could call him Phil, he'd politely said no. But she smiled and said that the name matched more with his sweet personality. He is not a sweet guy, he is cynical, sarcastic, realistic. Sunny personality like hers irritated him.
"I actually have to go, Rachel. I need to check some information."
"Is there something you're not telling us? Mike asked inquired.
The press was already agitated by the fact that the Captain had ended his exile. They were going to dig and when they discovered the truth, it would be a nightmare. Unfortunately this could happen sooner than they expected.
Something in his expression shifted, but he said, "I've got it under control."
Tom and Rachel exchanged a fleeting worried glance. Because they knew that it's just a matter of time before the press found out about Theresa.
"But Uncle Blake, you just arrived."
He raised his hand and gently brushed Theresa´s cheek as he said, "We can play hide-and-seek the next time I visit."
"The three of us can play together. You, me and Daddy."
The two men looked at one another.
Tom was neatly cornered and he knew it. He couldn't tell his daughter that he didn't like the agent, because there were no reasons for it, just an irrational feeling of jealousy. Besides, the little girl seemed to like the man, and from what he had seen so far, the feeling was mutual.
Blake looked into Theresa's innocent little face and melted.
"Of course, sweetie." Tom and Blake said, almost in unison.
"Yeah! It'll be fun."
Both men groaned internally. The prospect of spending more time with each other was not what they would call fun. But for her they would make an effort.
"My keys, Chandler!' Blake said, holding out his hand.
Tom leaned over and took the keys from the pocket of the jacket his daughter was wearing.
"Here, agent. By the way, I left the car about 10 minutes from here; it's among some trees, on a dirt road after the bridge."
"Right!" He looked back at Rachel and said, "If you ever need anything, you know where to find me."
"I know."
Then he said goodbye and left, closing the door behind him.
"The man really needs to learn to relax," Amabel said.
"Let's move into the living room," Rachel said leading the way.
"When will I meet the rest of the crew?" Theresa asked looking expectantly at Mike.
Mike leaned over and whispered something in the little girl's ear and Theresa lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Yeah!" shouted Theresa as she clapped her hands.
"Mike!" Tom and Rachel said together.
"Trust me."
Tom sat down and placed Theresa squarely on his lap. Mike sat in a chair in front of them.
Amabel and Rachel moved into the kitchen and stood close to each other, talking quietly.
Rachel could hear her daughter chattering and Mike laughing as he listened to the little girl's tales.
"Will you stop teasing Blake?" Rachel said. "Just tell him."
"That he's an idiot?" She asked, stabbing a piece of pancake and dipping it in syrup. Then she licked her finger, and smiled sweetly. "He already knows."
"You like him, admit it."
"He's not interested."
"Amabel, I…"
"It's okay. We don't choose who to fall in love with. So… how was the conversation with your Captain?" She asked as she picked up tea bags in the cabinet. "And don't leave out any juicy details."
"Get your mind out of the gutter," Rachel said. "Nothing happened."
"Nothing?" Amabel chuckled, not so subtly looking over her shoulder and in Tom's direction.
Rachel´s gaze followed Amabel´s. As if sensing her, he turned his head to face her. Suddenly, she found herself thinking of the kiss they had shared.
He lowered his mouth to the curve of her neck, sliding the edge of his tongue over her skin, and he kissed the throbbing pulse in the hollow of her throat.
A deep sigh escaped Rachel's lips. Behave yourself!
His mouth curved into a wicked little smirk. Rachel blushed despite herself.
Damn him.
Mike raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Daddy," Theresa said, tugging at her father's sleeve. "You didn't hear what I said."
"Sorry, honey."
"That good, huh?" Amabel said as she playfully nudged Rachel with her shoulder.
"Oh yeah, very! He can be… intense."
"I'll bet."
"He said that you gave him my address."
Amabel's eyes turned serious. "I did. He practically vibrated with nervous energy. I very much doubt that he could sleep and I think it's safe to assume that you were having the same problem. You two needed to talk alone."
"Seeing him after so many years was not easy. For a moment, I thought I was daydreaming, that the man standing in front of me was just a fragment of my overactive imagination. Although in my dreams he had never been dressed ..." she paused, remembering how dangerous he looked, but in an exciting way. "We talked…"
"How did that work out for the two of you?"
The coffee maker started hissing as the hot water percolated through the coffee grounds.
"It was better than I expected."
"But?" Amabel encouraged.
Sometimes, his eyes glinted with what almost looked like sadness– there was something that he wasn't telling her. Something that still hurt him. Nothing could be more painful than losing a child and he had lost three. It frightened her to think that he might have suffered a loss that rivaled that pain.
Rachel tried to sound casual when she smiled and answered, "It's not like we could solve everything in just one night."
But Amabel wasn't fooled by it. She heard the words left unspoken.
"One step at a time, Rachel. You two will have plenty of time to say what needs to be said."
"He's afraid," Rachel said quietly, "and he's not the only one."
Rachel was a strong, proud woman, sharing her fears with her was a sign of how far their friendship had grown over the years.
"He will talk when he's ready. Because no matter how scary his inner demons are, there is something he fears most."
Then Rachel hears his light, carefree laugh. The knot in her stomach began to unravel.
He's happy to be here with them.
She is happy that he is here
"He's not going anywhere." Rachel said.
"Wild horses couldn't drag him away."
Together.
That's enough. For now.
Rachel smiled softly and reached up to gently squeeze her friend's wrist in a silent expression of gratitude.
"Mike, do you want cream and sugar with your coffee?" Rachel asked, pouring the dark liquid into a large mug.
"Just black, please."
"Tom?"
"I'm fine, sweetheart, " he answered absently, his daughter's chatter demanding his attention.
She is still surprised to hear him calling her this; it was still all very new. He had spoken as naturally as if he had done this for years. He had done it this morning; somehow, it's different to hear him say it in front of other people. Surely, she will get used to it.
Amabel raised her brows while her friend blushed. Again.
"Oh, shut up," Rachel said, "I don´t —" A sharp rap on the door interrupted her words.
The knock sounded again and a muffled voice called out, "Rachel?"
"Things are about to get more interesting," Amabel commented, stirring sugar into her tea.
Before Tom could stop her, the energy pack that was his daughter jumped from his lap and ran to the door, screaming excitedly, "Grandpa!"
"Don't worry, Tom. It's just Ian." Rachel said." I forgot he was coming today."
"Here's your coffee, Mike." Rachel said, handing him a red mug, before continuing. "Ian is my father's cousin," she explained. "Theresa loves him like a grandfather."
"Daddy's here!" Theresa said and hurled herself at the older man as he stepped over the threshold.
"I see," chuckled Ian. His eyes scanned the room and finally landed on Tom. He smiled kindly at him before turning his attention back to the little girl.
Of medium height, white hair, deep-set green eyes, and a very friendly smile. Tom liked him instantly, sensing that he had an ally in the old man.
"Oh, Grandpa, isn't it wonderful?" Theresa asked.
"What is wonderful?" Another man asked as he entered through the open door, followed by two women. Both women had dark eyes and olive green skin indicating Mediterranean ancestry. Spanish or Italian, maybe?
Theresa's smile became positively incandescent when he saw the other visitors." Grandpa Ron…" she cried happily.
His green eyes cut quickly to Tom. He looked him up and down, a scowl unsatisfied on his stern face. Unconsciously Tom straightened his back.
Ok! This one clearly doesn't like me.
"Granny Cameron!" The woman chuckled, cupping the little girl's cheek.
"Granny Violet!"
"Your family?" Tom asked. He was giving a good impression of being completely relaxed, but Rachel could see the tension in his shoulders.
She gives him a comforting smile. "Come on," she said, "I'll introduce you to them."
He exchanged a look with Mike, who took a sip of coffee to hide his amusement. Tom had a feeling that his friend would tease him mercilessly later.
"Good morning, Rachel!" Violet said, "Sorry, we should have called."
"It's wonderful to see all of you." Rachel said, "Violet, let me introduce you, this is…"
"My daddy," the little girl said.
"Thomas Chandler," he said, politely holding out his hand
"Nice to meet you," Violet said while holding his hand warmly. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Some of it is even true," he answered with his most charming smile.
"I see why you like him so much, Rachel," the other woman said, "Hi, my name is Cameron Scott, "she said, holding a hand out to Tom, which he shook.
"Nice to meet you, ma'am."
"This is my husband Ronald," she said with obvious affection.
Ronald accepted his outstretched hand, eyeing him coolly. Then he leaned closer and in a low voice said. "Don't screw it up this time."
Before Tom could respond Ronald walked away, followed closely by his wife, who smiled at Tom as if apologizing for her husband's behavior.
Ronald greeted Amabel warmly and scrutinized Mike for a moment before offering his hand.
Rachel's brown-green eyes were soft and apologetic when they met Tom's eyes.
Don't worry about me. I can handle it. His gaze told her.
"Don't worry Daddy, he'll like you." Theresa said.
Rachel and Tom exchanged a smile when they heard their daughter. It seemed that the two women in his life felt the need to protect him. Unnecessary - but cute, nonetheless.
"We already like him, honey," Violet said. "He is now part of the family."
"Tom!" Ian tapped him on the shoulder with an amused look. "Can I call you Tom?"
"Sure."
"Tom, this is Ian Scott."
The two men shook hands.
"My daughter talks a lot about you."
"All the good parts are true. The bad parts are not. Well… maybe just a little."
"Grandpa snores,"Theresa confided.
"I only breathe loudly," Ian said, and Violet laughed. "Welcome to our happy little family, Tom."
"Thank you."
Seats were offered and coffee was brought.
Theresa was sitting on her grandfather's lap. From her grandparents it seemed that his daughter had a preference for Ian.
"You arrived earlier than we expected, Chandler."
He smiled politely at Ronald. It seems that the interrogation was going to start. He understood the concern of her family, he did, but that was ridiculous, they were both adults. He did not feel that way since he had to talk for the first time with Darien's father. What are your intentions with my daughter?
Sitting beside him, Tom could feel her exasperation under the seemingly calm exterior. Eyes locked, a silent conversation passed between them. She would let him fight his own battles, but that didn't mean she wouldn't interfere if she thought it necessary.
"Please, call me Tom."
"All right...Tom."
Seeing Rachel so quiet was unusual, Mike thinks. The woman always had something to say when it came to something important to her, and surely, Tom was important to her. The way they looked at each other left no doubt about how they felt.
"I arrived yesterday." Tom answered calmly, "Well, technically today, since it was around 2 am."
"Did you sleep here?" Ronald asked, sounding scandalized.
"Hi mouth, my name is foot," Ian muttered under his breath.
Rachel was tired, the night had been too short, and this day, oh this day.
"He slept in mum's bed." Theresa said.
Ronald's scowl deepened.
Rachel tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. Then she put her hand on Tom's thigh, casually, resting it there as she spoke. "Sorry, Tom and I didn't get much sleep last night."
Unable to stop himself, Tom smirked when Ronald looked ready to swallow his tongue. God! She is magnificent and he loves her for that too. For a few seconds, he forgets that there are people in the room. He had to fight an overpowering urge to reach out, pull her into his arms, and kiss her senseless. But he didn't think the old man's heart could take it.
There you are. There's the fire. Mike carefully hid the smirk that wanted to creep across his face. It was good to see these two working together again!
Amabel does her best to maintain an even expression. But the whole situation was too much fun, she coughed and grunted to hide her laughter. "I think I need more tea, anyone else? Chamomile, maybe? Ronald? "
"Daddy cuddled me and sang to me." Theresa said.
"Oh, that's so sweet!" Cameron said. "What kind of music do you listen to, Tom?"
He spent the next hour being politely questioned, in Ronald's case, not so amicably, by Rachel's family. He answered the questions as best he could.
They had asked many questions, some easy to answer. Does your family have any religious beliefs? Do you cook often? Do you like to fish? What kind of books do you like reading? What kind of sports are you into? Where would you plan on living as a couple?
One particular question had been difficult to answer. Do you have a job? For many years his life was tied to the navy, climbing the ranks had his goal, a retirement when the time came, but nothing has gone as planned.
No. He didn't have a job.
As a good friend, Mike came to his rescue, saying that he had a job offer from the US government. They had been talking about it, but he honestly didn't know if he wanted to return to the military, even as a consultant.
So he had been invited to visit the Scott family farm, an invitation he cannot refuse, his daughter was eager to show him her favorite horse.
Theresa jumped up and down, "I really, wanna ride. Please! Please! We can walk there."
"It's a twelve-minute walk." Ian explained.
Mike was invited too and promptly accepted the invitation. But when asked if he liked to ride, he replied that he preferred to keep his feet on the ground.
He seemed enchanted by his daughter, he couldn't blame him for that. Tom thought. But he could blame him for something else. He could tell his friend was having way too much fun at his expense.
SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH
Scott Family Farm
Leaning against a fence, the two friends sat silently for a while, lost in their own thoughts. It was the first time they'd been alone together since Tom met Rachel's family.
Amabel had said goodbye earlier, saying she would be back soon for a visit.
"Soo…" Mike said slowly. "How does it feel to be interrogated?"
Tom blew out an exasperated breath. "You're never going to let that go. Are you?"
The laughter Mike had been holding at bay finally bubbled forth. "Not a chance in hell."
"Do you think that's funny?" Tom asked, sounding hurt, but he's not fooling anyone.
"You have to admit it's funny."
"What are they laughing about?" Cameron asked her sister as she watched through the window the two men.
"Please, move back from the window," Rachel said, "we left them outside so that Tom could breathe after being subjected to a version of the Spanish Inquisition."
"We just wanted to know more about him," Violet replied as she joined her kitchen table, Cameron sat in her favorite armchair.
"Just curious you know," Cameron said.
"I'm surprised you didn't ask what color his underwear was."
An unholy grin split Cameron's face.
Rachel groaned and sipped her tea, holding her gaze over the rim of the cup. "At least Theresa will keep Ian and Ronald busy in the stables for a while."
"I don't think our little girl wants to be away from her father for long."
Rachel agreed with her daughter because she felt the same way. It was great to have him around.
"It's strange to feel like this again," Tom said after a time.
"Happy?" Mike asked.
"Yeah." Tom said, nodding with a faraway look. "I had forgotten how sweet a child's laugh is, hearing her call me daddy, the way she looks at me, as if I'm invincible and Rachel, I love her, and she loves me but I have made mistakes before ..."
For a moment Mike saw in his friend's eyes a glimpse of that agony he knew so well.
Sasha.
Her betrayal had cut him deep. She had been dead for years, and he was still angry with her. And not just with her.
"Don't you think it's time that you put Sasha to rest?" Mike asked finally, and cautiously.
Tom stared at him, then looked quickly away, his jaw clenched. The conversation is a familiar one by now… You cannot be a prisoner of this pain forever. She's already dead, let her rest in peace.
Other emotions were aroused by the mere mention of her name.
Sadness.
Pain.
Loneliness.
Guilt.
She had hurt him beyond reason and he had done the same to her.
"And if I can't?" Tom said quietly. A simple answer reveals so much. That maybe he wasn't strong enough to leave the past behind.
Shit!
Mike doesn't do words, not if he can help it.
Jeter would be better suited to advise, he would have wise words to absolve Tom from the sin he is sure he committed. But Jeter is not here, he is.
"Nobody blames you, except yourself, Tom. You have to face this; you need to talk about what happened that night. Talk to Rachel about it."
"It's not easy," Tom mutters.
I'm still not ready to talk to her.
"Relationships are not supported by half-truths, Tom," he said. "The past has a tendency to catch up with you no matter how much you fight it."
"I know," Tom said, running his hands over his hair. "I just… " He heaved a frustrated sigh. "I'm afraid I'm going to ruin everything," he confessed.
"Being afraid doesn't mean weakness, just a healthy sense of self-preservation. But clinging to this fear will end up provoking what you desperately want to avoid."
A look of steely determination settled over Tom's face. I'm not gonna lose her again.
Hope blooms brightly in Mike's chest.
That's it, my friend.
Fight!
"Daddy!" A little voice squeaked happily. He turned to his little girl, a smile on his lips. Then she ran straight into father's arms almost knocking him from his feet.
His daughter's smile calms his soul like nothing else. He will do anything; face anyone, anything, including his own fears and insecurities to have a future with them, his baby and her mother.
"Wow!" He laughed, hugging his daughter.
"Come on," Theresa says pulling her father's hand, trying to drag him. Then she added, "You can come too, Uncle Mike."
Tom pretends his feet skid when she pulls. "Theresa, slow down, " he said smiling.
"Where are we going?" Mike asked.
"We're going horseback riding," she said excitedly.
Mike gives Tom a concerned look. He is a bad rider. And it wasn't because of lack of effort or trying.
Who could resist those innocent blue eyes? Mike certainly couldn't, and he wasn't even the father.
Theresa was still in her yellow dress, but had changed her shoes for boots and was wearing gloves and a helmet.
"Nice helmet you have there," Mike said.
"This my favorite. Grandma Violet bought this for me."
"How many do you have?" Tom asked.
"Just three. Mum said I only have one head, but I only have two feet, and more than two pairs of shoes. Sometimes adults don't make sense."
They laughed unable to completely disagree with the child's logic
"Speaking of your mother, shouldn't we wait for her?" Tom asked.
"She will know where to find us."
Theresa pulls her father's hand again, and this time she finds no resistance.
When they reached their destination, Ronald and Ian were waiting with three saddled horses.
"Isn't he beautiful?" asked Theresa as she gently stroked the horse's muzzle. The horse pushed her nose gently against her neck and breathed into her hair.
Tom was surprised and his face showed. Was the little girl riding this horse? A Big Black Horse.
He didn't consider himself a horse expert, far from it, but this one was certainly not a farm horse, this one was pureblood.
"Daddy?"
He was reminded that he had not answered the question. "Your horse is very beautiful, princess."
"What's his name?" Mike asked.
"His name is Polaris and the two mares are Cassiopeia and Frigg," Rachel said, joining them.
Polaris, also known as the North Star. Sailors and travelers have used it for navigational purposes for centuries. Coincidence? Perhaps, but he doubted it.
He wondered how they had gotten such a horse? He didn't think the question would be well received, especially by Ronald, the man was looking at him as if he had sucked on a sour lemon.
"What is the history of the horse?" Mike asked.
"He was a gift." Ronald said.
"From who?" Mike asked.
"We don't know," Rachel said honestly.
"You don't know?" Tom repeated incredulously.
"Blake's research found that the animal was bred in a horse farm here in the UK. But they refuse to say who he belonged to. He came accompanied by a note. Because I believe in second chances. A broken heart can still love."
Tom frowned. He remembered a conversation, a conversation with a very peculiar lady. It was the same phrase she used; add that to the horse's name, it couldn't be coincidental."Audrey!" he said. Rachel raised an interrogative eyebrow. "I talked about her yesterday, remember? Isabeau's sister?"
"Mrs. Kershaw is a lovely lady who has abundant resources and she was very fond of Tom." Mike explained. "We talked on the phone two months ago; she wanted to know how you were doing."
Audrey Kershaw. She had done so much for him and he had never thanked her properly. He now has the chance to remedy the situation, if only in part.
Theresa rode her big black horse with consummate ease. And everything else becomes insignificant.
Can you teach me how to ride a horse? She had asked the night before. But apparently she didn't need any help.
Tom didn't know if he was proud or scared.
Then she gave the horse a gentle nudge with her knees, and he took off at an easy trot around the pasture.
Scared, definitely scared.
"How fast can a horse run?" Tom asked, concern etched into his features.
"He is one the sweetest horses I've ever known. She is safe with him." Ian assured them.
"You will need it," Rachel said, handing him a pair of riding gloves.
"Thanks. Maybe we can convince her to accept a pony."
"Good luck with that," Ronald said as he was handing over Cassiopeia's reins to Rachel.
"She told us that ponies are for babies." Violet said.
"Sounds like she keeps you on your toes." Mike said.
Rachel mounted her horse gracefully.
"Sometimes. Our little girl is a curious and very fearless child." Cameron said and added, handing Rachel a small basket. "Have fun."
"Here, you will ride my horse," said Ian, handing him the reins. "Frigg is a gentle soul. She will take good care of you."
"I appreciate it..." said Tom, "Frigg means beloved in Old Norse right? She was Odin's wife. Goddess of fertility, household, motherhood, love, and marriage."
"You really do you know Nordic mythology. Impressive, I must say."
"Like I said before, I've read a lot in recent years," he said as he put his foot into the iron stirrup and went to lift himself into the saddle.
He had read and reread all the books in the house on the island. The military strategy books, the poems, and the children's books. One of the children's books illustrated by Isabeau was about the Nordic gods. When Jeter came to visit him, he always brought with him a new book. They had been good company in his lonely years.
"Daddy, Mummy, come on. What's taking so long? Let's go!" Theresa urged them impatiently from atop her own mount.
Rachel clucked her tongue, nudged her horse with her knees, and the mare broke into a trot.
Tom nudged his horse and followed suit.
They followed Theresa, on her horse, up the hill behind the house and into the woods.
"She's a natural," Tom said.
"She is."
"Wait till you see him," Theresa said, "Grandpa said he's been there a long time, before Grandpa's grandfather was even born ..."
"A tree," Rachel explained when she saw the question in his eyes.
Ah, the beauty seen through the eyes of a child, the world could be a place full of beauty and magic.
Theresa was very excited, talking a mile a minute as they climbed the hill. When they reached the top, he could see an oak tree rising majestically, its sturdy trunk, the branches growing zigzag, giving the tree a twisted appearance. Some branches have bowed and touched the ground.
Pointing at the oak, Theresa said, "The Sentry."
They dismounted and Rachel took the horses and tied them to a nearby tree.
Still mounted, he glanced around at the surrounding landscape. "The name is perfect; it is the highest place on the property, an excellent vantage point," he said, as he dismounted.
Theresa walked along a fallen tree trunk with her arms open for balance."Let's climb the Sentry!"
He looked at Rachel, who smiled. "Aren't you coming?" he asked.
"No," she said, resting her hand on his chest. "I don't climb trees, these skills she inherited from you. You are the family athlete."
A home. A sense of belonging and purpose.
Family. The word was savored on his tongue as the sweetest of desserts. The kind that once experienced, you never forget, your heart will always yearn for more and more.
Rachel watched his face curiously. He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't hear. Then a slow smile worked its way across his face and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, they were breathless.
"Daddy!" Theresa called as she climbed the oak and sat on the first branch.
"I haven't climbed a tree in ages!" , he frowned.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Rachel replied as she gently pushed him toward their daughter.
Soon the two were climbing the tree, it wasn't as hard as he imagined it would be, he thanked the heavens for keeping fit all these years.
"We can see the house from here," she said as they sat together on one of the tree's branches.
The house appeared in the distance. It looked tiny from where we were perched ; even from a distance, the smoke coming out of the chimney was still discernible. Its old structure, together with a garden full of colorful flowers, the moss and plants crawling on the stone wall around the house, surely gives the property a nostalgic aura.
"You come here a lot?" Tom turned to his daughter.
"Only if I behave. Sometimes with Aunt Amabel, with Grandpa Ian, but he doesn't come up here, he says he's too old to climb trees, even Uncle Blake has come here once, but usually Mum comes with me..." she narrated as her legs swung from her perch.
I don't climb trees. Liar! Tom thought with a fond smile. He looked down.
She had spread a blanket under the tree and set the picnic basket nearby. Leaning against the old trunk, feet extended forward, eyes closed; her lips tilted in a serene smile.
"Come on, Daddy, I want to show you other things."
So he was introduced to a variety of insects, which surprisingly his daughter had a lot of scientific information about. They crawled into a hollow trunk and put his observational skills and patience to the test as he watched the work of a group of ants cutting leaves and taking their fragments to the nest. He taught her how to camouflage herself using leaves and twigs. She made herself very small and very quiet, but soon she began to move restlessly, and removed the leaves that covered her.
"I'm hungry, Daddy."
"I'm thirsty. Let's see what your mother has for us."
"I'm starving, Mum! And daddy is thirsty," Theresa announced to Rachel as they came back to the picnic blanket.
With an exaggerated groan, he sat. "Pleeaaase…Water, juice, or grassy tea."
"I can arrange it." Rachel said. "But first you have to wash your hands."
Quickly they washed their hands.
Tom gulped down the glass of orange juice Rachel offered him as Theresa lifted a mini blueberry scone to her mouth and chewed with evident pleasure.
He looked tired and unusually scruffy.
"Are you okay?" Rachel asked, refilling his glass and handing him a sandwich.
"Yes—I haven't had..." he paused, looking at his daughter, and back at Rachel, "a family for a long time. Sure feels good, very good."
They spent the next minutes enjoying their meal and listening to Theresa talk about everything she still wanted to show her father.
He yawned.
"Are you tired, daddy?" Theresa asked after eating her third scone.
"Just a little, yes."
"You can lie with your head on Mum's lap and take a nap," Theresa suggested to him. " I do that sometimes when I'm feeling tired and sleepy too."
He smiled and yawned again. "It sounds like a good idea,"said Tom as he laid his head on Rachel's lap. "I think I'll close my eyes for a few minutes."
"Can I play more, Mum?"
"Sure. Just stay where we can see you. "
"Okay, Mum!
"Where are the extra batteries?" he says watching his daughter run after a butterfly.
"She is five years old, and you gave her a lot of sugar."
Tom's eyes met Rachel's and they smiled.
He could lie there forever with his head on her lap and her fingers running lightly as his eyes followed his daughter playing with insects a few feet ahead. But he needed to think about practical things, and the first thing on the list was to get a job.
Gently, she caressed the hard line of his jaw.
"I think you need to shave."
Tom nodded absently, clearly focused on something else out of his sight.
"I need to get a job."
"What about working as a consultant?"
"I honestly don't know if I want that but maybe it's the only alternative right now."
He is a military man at heart, he always would be. A commander whom the soldiers respected and trusted. The mission had been successful because of many factors and one of them was to have him at the helm of that ship. It was not fair that he had moved away from what was undoubtedly one of his passions. He was a brilliant strategist, he is, she corrected herself, he had beaten Admiral Ruskov in his own game.
She hadn't said anything, her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, it was an expression he'd seen a few times when she was in the lab analyzing one of her samples.
He felt compelled to add, "Don't worry I'll think of something."
"Admiral Ruskov," she said.
Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that.
"What?"
"He was a military strategist, a very good one it seems, according to Mike you admired him and even had a book from him. You are better than he was, many people can benefit from your experience. You could write about military strategies."
He put himself in a sitting position facing towards her. "Write a book?"
"A book, a manual, think about it."
"I don't know…"
But she could see the idea was taking root in his mind.
"I never thought of myself as a writer."
"Most people don't think they can until they start writing. Real stories don't always have a predictable script."
He couldn't help but smile at the thought that this described their story. Man meets woman and… well, all parts of the script were there except one. But to propose to her he needed a ring. Diamonds might be the classic stone of choice for engagement rings, but their story was far from traditional, maybe he should choose something different.
She raised an eyebrow at his silence.
"I need to ask you something, "he said, "What's your favorite color?"
"Seriously?" Surprise colored her voice.
"Yeah."
"I don't have one. Why?"
"Just curious."
"Curious?" she echoed.
He rose to his feet and held out his hand to help her up.
"Tom…"
"Mine's black," he says, letting his hands casually rest on her waist. "Like your dress that night."
She scoffed and shoved lightly at Tom's chest. He didn't budge. "If you'retrying to distract me. It's not going to work!"
"Isn't it?" He whispered against her ear, in that tone he knew drove her crazy.
She tried to push him again with the same result.
"Theresa," she called, her voice sounding a bit unsteady.
The little girl came running up to them. "Are you feeling better now, Daddy?"
"Yes, much better."
Suitably distracted.
Taking advantage of his distraction, Rachel detached herself from his arms.
"We need to go home," Rachel said. She was reaching for the basket to tie it to the back of the saddle.
They climbed back onto their horses and started riding home.
Then it happened, a stupid accident. The mare that had been easy to control, decided it was time to take off. He squeezed the reins trying to control the animal, but it only made matters worse, as the friction of the reins with his injured hand hurt like hell. He heard Rachel and Theresa cry out his name. He was on his back before he knew what was happening.
He started to get up but was prevented by Rachel's hand on his chest. "No, Tom, stay still for a while, I need to check if the fall broke something."
"I'm fine," Tom replied softly.
"I get to decide that," she responds, examining his head, neck, arms, legs.
"I'm fine, sweetie," he reassured his daughter in a soft voice.
"Are you sure, Daddy?" Theresa asked nervously beside his head.
"Just fine," he repeated.
"Mummy?"
"It lookes like nothing is broken, but his hand will definitely need stitches." Rachel said. "He'll be fine."
He noticed that Rachel's hands were shaking and his daughter looked scared.
Ignoring his aching body, he pulled the little one into his arms while holding Rachel's hand with his good one
"I was afraid."
He exchanged a look with Rachel.
"I know sweetie, I'm fine, I promise."
SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH
"Daddy fell from the horse," Theresa shouted as she entered Ian's house where her family and Mike were gathered.
Everyone spoke at the same time.
"Oh God! Are you okay?"
"You poor thing!"
"What happened?"
"Is the horse all right?"
Cameron gave her husband a warning look.
"The mare is fine." Rachel assured.
"I'm fine, just bruised and sore."
"You've had a busy day, haven't you?" Mike said with a small smile on his lips.
Tom smiled, but said nothing.
"May I go to the bathroom?" he asked Ian.
"Upstairs, third door on the left."
"Thanks."
"When you come back bring the first aid box." Rachel said.
As he climbed the stairs, he listened to his daughter describe the accident.
A few minutes later, as she finished bandaging his hand, Rachel announced that they are going home. He kept his expression neutral, but inside he was relieved. He wanted nothing more than to have a very long bath, a soft bed and rest for two or three hours, away from her family. Okay, not all of them, but Ronald, he can be a royal pain in the ass.
The return home had been quick, thanks to Ian's borrowed car.
Under the closed eyelids, he heard the sound of small feet running down the hall, then the steps grew softer as they approached the door. The nearer they came, the softer and slower they seemed.
"Daddy?" she says hesitantly.
"Hey, princess." He looked down into the worried little face.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm a little sore, but I'll be fine."
"Want a hug? I feel better when Mum hugs me."
Though all his muscles protested, he went down on his haunches.
"Come here, sweetie," he said and he held his arms out to Theresa.
She snuggled into her father's arms, burying her face against his chest, and wrapped her small arms around his waist and squeezed as hard as a little girl could.
"Better?" she asked.
"Oh, much better."
"I don't want you getting hurt."
"I don't like it either," he said, "but unfortunately accidents happen."
"You need to be more careful."
"I'll do my best."
Theresa pushed back to look her father in the face, suddenly very serious. "I need you to stay for a long, looooong time."
"I'm not going anywhere—ever. I promise."
"I know," she says with absolute confidence. "Because you love me."
He laughs a deep rumble from his chest.
"That's right! I love you so much, my little sunshine."
"You smell funny," she said, wrinkling her nose and then she giggled her innocent little laugh "Why do you smell like my toothpaste?"
"Your mother used peppermint oil to massage my back. Menthol, the main chemical component of peppermint is also used in products like toothpaste."
"What is this mark on your stomach?" she asks, tracing the scar where it started on his side and where it ended on his back.
"I got hurt, but your mother was there to help me."
"Did it hurt?" she asked.
"A lot. But as you can see I have completely healed."
"There are other marks on your back, Daddy. There's one here on your shoulder."
''I have also fallen from my bike.''
Then she examined his arm with great interest. He couldn't help but notice how her eyes lit up, suddenly. "You have a tattoo, Dad," she said, her little fingers following the image. "Can I have one, too?"
"You're too young to have a tattoo."
"When I get older can I have one?"
"Maybe."
"Yay!" Shouted Theresa as she clapped her hands. "My birthday is in a few weeks."
Shit!
"Princess, wait, that's not what I meant."
"I need to tell Mum," she said, jumping out of bed.
He started to get out of bed
"No," she says, her little hand resting on his chest, "you stay, Mum said you need to rest."
Then she runs out of the room.
"Theresa! Wait…"
"Mum, Daddy said I can ..." he heard Theresa say loudly to Rachel.
He laid on the bed with a sigh.
Rachel is going to kill me.
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