Stories in the series (in order):
The Lady for a Lady
No Easy Way
Sleeping Beauties
An Act of Betrayal
The Devil You Know
Demons
The Riddle of the Night
The flowing sounds of "Moonlight Sonata" floated up into the bedroom waking her from sleep. Caitlin yawned and stretched out on the bed trying to remember when she fell asleep. The clock on the nightstand showed 1:43 am. She had been asleep for two hours.
The cello was still playing "Moonlight Sonata" and Caitlin realized Hawke was awake. She slipped her shoes off her feet and padded out into the hallway and looked over the stairwell. Hawke wasn't in the living room playing. The music was coming from the porch. She knew this was her only chance to get the journal so she crept downstairs and pulled the journal from its place in the bookshelf.
There was no need to rifle through the written pages. The journal opened to her letter immediately, a sign the journal had been kept open to this page many times.
Caitlin sat back on the couch and began reading.
'Dear Cait,
I never thought I would be writing a letter to you in this journal. My mind keeps going back to that TV screen and the gunshot that took you away from us. . .from me. I want you here so badly that my mind is creating you everywhere in the cabin. I haven't been out anywhere, so I'm guessing it won't be long before I see you in public. I haven't had the courage to see your parents. I'm afraid of what I might say or do that would hurt them even more than the loss they would suffer at never being able to see you again.
I'm sitting here with my cello in front of me playing your favorite songs, watching Tet mope around like he lost his favorite toy. I never thought that you were around Tet long enough for him to miss you. He must realize the pain I feel. I laid in bed this morning, holding my breath so I could feel my heart slow. I wonder how fast your heart was beating right before Horn shot you? Had you given up on us coming getting to you? I wonder about these things.'
Caitlin turned the page.
'The whole time we were trying to get to you I kept thinking about the only thing I had never said to you. Something I wish I had told you right before you got into your car and disappeared from our lives forever. Even if the words were only taken in friendship at least you would have known how I felt. The saying 'now is as good a time as any' doesn't always apply in some cases, but I assume it will have to apply in this one. Who knows, maybe you're looking down from heaven and watching me write this. If so, Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, you should know that. . .'
The letter stopped.
Caitlin flipped forward in the book, but the rest were empty pages. What had happened that stopped him from finishing his final words to her? What were his final words to her?
The music from the cello seeped back into her mind and she remembered Hawke was on the porch. Gathering her courage and the journal, she walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside.
Hawke glanced at her briefly as his bow slid along the strings of the cello. His music soothed the soul and even she couldn't bring herself to yell at him as she was going to do moments ago. Instead she stood in the doorway until he finished the song. When he put the cello back in the case, she took a step toward him and handed him the journal.
"You didn't finish your letter," She said.
Hawke took the journal and laid it aside. "I was going to finish it, but revenging your death got into the way." He went on to explain. "Dominic and I had different ways of grieving. His way was to repair Airwolf so we could go after Horn. When Airwolf was ready to fly, he came to get me. I was writing the letter when he showed up. I forgot I hadn't finished it."
Caitlin shrugged and slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Finish it now. Right here, in front of me. Tell me how you would have finished the letter."
"Cait, I—"
Caitlin whipped her hands out of the pockets of her jeans and let them slap against the side of her pants. She hoped the ending of his letter was going to be the words she had been waiting for.
Before either of them could utter another word, the radio squawked.
With his head still hung down, Hawke excused himself and went inside to get the radio. Caitlin picked up the cello case, using both hands to hold it. Tet whined at her side.
"I want to hear the words from him, Tet. Is that so hard to understand?"
Hawke came back out a few minutes later.
"What's up?" She asked, noting the confused expression on his face.
"Michael was just checking on us. He wanted us to know that Dominic is fairing well and your brother is handling the situation as well as could be expected. No one is showing any signs of distress which is good because pulmonary distress would have already happened by now. It looks like we all may be in the clear."
"Except you," Caitlin pointed at the journal lying on the bench. "Finish the letter, Hawke."
"Cait, I can't finish the letter because it's not fair to you."
Caitlin threw her hands up in the air. "What isn't fair to me? Did you forget what you were going to say in the letter? Do you have amnesia? Oh, wait. That was me. Did you live with a drug manufacturer for six weeks under a different name because you couldn't remember who you really were? Oh, no that was me as well. So, there is no reason why you shouldn't be able to finish that letter. Finish it, Hawke!"
Tet howled at the loud noise. "Sorry, Tet." Caitlin retreated into the confines of the cabin. She grabbed some food out of the refrigerator and the bread from the cabinet and started making a sandwich.
"What are you doing?" Hawke asked when he came inside.
"I'm mad and I've got food in front of me. What do you think I'm getting ready to do?"
Cait washed the tomato, placed on the cutting board and started slicing it. In the middle of her third slice, she stopped the knife half way through the tomato, pulled it out, and laid the knife down.
"What's wrong?" Hawke asked.
Caitlin looked up at him, frowned, and said, "I can't do this anymore, Hawke."
Somehow, Caitlin knew Hawke understood she wasn't talking about slicing the tomatoes.