Chapter Twenty-Six:
He sat there. Alone. Fingering the small golden band in his hand. Wondering why he had never suspected. Wondering how one man could be so cruel. All those years. All those years he hadn't visited. Hadn't pretended to care. Because he didn't. Didn't care at all. Alistair Crane was an evil man. If he could be called such.
He'd let his daughter lie there. Year after year. Without letting her family--the ones who truly loved her--know she was alive. Still breathing. Still with them. Eased their pain. Martin didn't know what would have happened had they known. Would Jenny--Sheridan--have woken up sooner? He didn't have an answer. He never would have an answer. Alistair Crane had seen to that.
Anger filled him. Consumed him and wouldn't let go. That ruthless monster had ruined a lot of lives in his lifetime. He missed so much with his own children--his wife--because of him. Gone so long. He closed his eyes remembering the last time he saw his family. How they looked. How they felt in his arms that evening as he said goodbye. To answer Alistair's call. Just like he always did.
But that summons was nothing like the usual. Not at all. That evening was the beginning of the end for him. And only the tip of the iceberg for young Sheridan. The pawn of her father. And her weak-willed brother. He couldn't forget the image of her as a little girl. Hands bloodied. Horror in her eyes. They lied to her. Like they lied to everyone.
That image morphed into an image of her as he had last seen her. All grown up. Beautiful as ever. Pain of not knowing her identity and concern for him in her eyes. He studied the small golden band in his hand again. Lifted it closer to read the inscription once more. "To Sheridan. Love always, Luis." He gripped the ring tighter in his hand. Closing his eyes and damning Alistair Crane silently.
He'd stood here only a day earlier. Taunting him as he gave him the ring. Laughing evilly at the shock written plainly on his face as the realization overtook him. He'd thought he'd hated the man before. But that was nothing compared to the hatred he felt for him at that moment. Nothing compared to what he felt as he looked at a picture of his son. With his daughter. A daughter who looked so much like her mother. His granddaughter. And Alistair's.
Fear for them all had kept him from saying goodbye to her the following day. So he'd left a note. Hoping she'd understand. He watched from the shadows, from the forest surrounding the cabin. His heart pounding at the sight of his son. Luis. And his Pilar. Holding a tiny, blond-haired girl in her arms and watching Luis and Sheridan in concern. His family, he thought. So close, yet he couldn't touch them. Take them into his arms. He couldn't break his promise. Couldn't let Alistair tear the little family apart again.
It almost killed him. Almost. But he was determined, now more than ever, to find a way back to them. Back to them all. And until then, he would lie low. Lull the monster into a false sense of security. Somehow, he'd do it. Somehow. He slipped the ring in his pocket as he rose from his seat and went outside.
He sat there. Alone. Fingering the small golden band in his hand. Wondering why he had never suspected. Wondering how one man could be so cruel. All those years. All those years he hadn't visited. Hadn't pretended to care. Because he didn't. Didn't care at all. Alistair Crane was an evil man. If he could be called such.
He'd let his daughter lie there. Year after year. Without letting her family--the ones who truly loved her--know she was alive. Still breathing. Still with them. Eased their pain. Martin didn't know what would have happened had they known. Would Jenny--Sheridan--have woken up sooner? He didn't have an answer. He never would have an answer. Alistair Crane had seen to that.
Anger filled him. Consumed him and wouldn't let go. That ruthless monster had ruined a lot of lives in his lifetime. He missed so much with his own children--his wife--because of him. Gone so long. He closed his eyes remembering the last time he saw his family. How they looked. How they felt in his arms that evening as he said goodbye. To answer Alistair's call. Just like he always did.
But that summons was nothing like the usual. Not at all. That evening was the beginning of the end for him. And only the tip of the iceberg for young Sheridan. The pawn of her father. And her weak-willed brother. He couldn't forget the image of her as a little girl. Hands bloodied. Horror in her eyes. They lied to her. Like they lied to everyone.
That image morphed into an image of her as he had last seen her. All grown up. Beautiful as ever. Pain of not knowing her identity and concern for him in her eyes. He studied the small golden band in his hand again. Lifted it closer to read the inscription once more. "To Sheridan. Love always, Luis." He gripped the ring tighter in his hand. Closing his eyes and damning Alistair Crane silently.
He'd stood here only a day earlier. Taunting him as he gave him the ring. Laughing evilly at the shock written plainly on his face as the realization overtook him. He'd thought he'd hated the man before. But that was nothing compared to the hatred he felt for him at that moment. Nothing compared to what he felt as he looked at a picture of his son. With his daughter. A daughter who looked so much like her mother. His granddaughter. And Alistair's.
Fear for them all had kept him from saying goodbye to her the following day. So he'd left a note. Hoping she'd understand. He watched from the shadows, from the forest surrounding the cabin. His heart pounding at the sight of his son. Luis. And his Pilar. Holding a tiny, blond-haired girl in her arms and watching Luis and Sheridan in concern. His family, he thought. So close, yet he couldn't touch them. Take them into his arms. He couldn't break his promise. Couldn't let Alistair tear the little family apart again.
It almost killed him. Almost. But he was determined, now more than ever, to find a way back to them. Back to them all. And until then, he would lie low. Lull the monster into a false sense of security. Somehow, he'd do it. Somehow. He slipped the ring in his pocket as he rose from his seat and went outside.