Chapter 17: Answers and Questions

5:45 a.m.

Forest Hills Bed and Breakfast, Carbondale, PA

What was it that Shakespeare said, parting is such sweet sorrow? That one phrase summed up Flint's feelings as he peeled back the covers and allowed the crisp morning air to attack his senses. He glanced back at Jaye's sleeping form. It pulled at him. It would be pure bliss to crawl back under the covers and allow sleep to overtake him. Even though it had only been for a few hours, it was the best sleep he'd had in a long time. It was a deep, restful sleep, absent of dreams. Rising from the bed, he fumbled around in the dark for his clothes.

"Dash?" A brunette mess of hair poked out from under the covers, glimmering eyes barely clearing the comforter. "Dash, what are you doing?" She made no move beyond that. He had learned one thing from his missions spent with Lady Jaye. If ever there was a person entirely unsuited to morning, it was her. Poking and prodding did no good. She was like an old Xerox machine where you had to flip the switch and patiently wait for the machine to slowly rattle to life, each system firing up and coming on line in sequence. Generally, he found that a warm thermos of coffee could speed up the process—it was still a process though.

He sat on the edge of the bed, slipping on his shoes. "It's still early, you should go back to sleep while you can."

"Hrmph." Now a nose and mouth joined the eyes on the other side of the blanket. "How early?"

"5:45 early."

"You should still sleep too. Come back. It's cold" She patted the pillow next to her, shivering slightly as the air prickled her skin.

He rolled his head around his shoulders. He'd like nothing more than just that. Man, this was going to be hard. If it was going to be like this every morning—and he did recognize that it really wouldn't be every morning—but if the mornings he had with her would be like this, they'd have to do a much better job coordinating their leave. He knew two people who were not leaving the confines of the bed, wherever that bed may be, in two weeks when he had his next weekend off scheduled. The corner of his mouth rose up in a lopsided smile. He was lucky he was best buds with the guy in charge of approving leave requests, mentally noting that he needed her to put in a request yesterday. He leaned over, kissing her forehead and tucking the covers around her. "I know. I'm being discrete remember? It wouldn't do any good to have half the team see me leave your room."

She wrinkled her nose, "I hate when you're practical." She tilted her head as the sound of faint tweets began to fill in the lulls. Aunt Margie had warned the team that the birds could be a little loud this time of year. Jaye winked, a devious spark in her eye, "I think that's the nightingale and not the lark."

"Ahhh, you slay me woman." He gathered her in his arms. "One kiss and I'll descend."

5:45 a.m.

The Dakota, Upper West Side, Manhattan

It had been a long night full of twisted dreams and lengthy pauses of unwanted clarity. Tomax shifted in his bed, fearful of waking his brother, asleep two arm lengths away. Tomax only had to roll over to his side, reach out, and his fingers would graze Xamot's outstretched hand. Tomax barely recalled the chain of events that landed him in his bed yesterday. After Tomax had collapsed in his office, Xamot came to his side, assisting him down to the car and then up to his apartment. Although the twins kept separate residences, they usually shared the same space. Xamot had then kept a close eye on him, tending to his every need. Finally convinced that Tomax would recover, Xamot, exhausted himself from experiencing Tomax's plight, collapsed on the bed, gone to the world. Xamot's breath came out in long, languid breaths, his exhales matching the resonance of his inhales.

The room still had the darkness of the predawn, the ever-present city lights a dim glow around the curtains. The center was black, much as Tomax felt. Some of the dreams were troubling. She had been in several of them. Not Michelle, Lady Jaye. One of them falling was especially vivid. Xamot caught her and allowed his brother to tumble to the pavement below. Tomax asked Xamot to protect Lady Jaye, but he knew his sibling wouldn't. He was only torturing the Joe, prolonging her misery. Xamot could drag things out that way. Tomax couldn't spend too much time thinking about it given the prone figure sharing his bed. Yet, he was bothered by the fact that he may have crossed wires with the pretty Joe.

The twins had always found her attractive. One month Xamot had gone on a quest for similar-looking girls. It wasn't the same as being with her. Tomax knew her story and always wondered how a Boston socialite-in-training ended up enlisted in the military. Surely a commission was hers for the asking. That might have been a respectable career choice for a time—until it was time for marriage and ensuring the continuance of the Hart empire. She didn't go that route. He traced it to Ireland and the path grew cold from there. Something had happened. Now his side fascination with her may have cost him. If Xamot ever suspected there was more to his interest in her than a passing fancy shared by the brothers, he would leverage it to the fullest extent possible. Tomax would emerge. She would not. Then they'd have to deal with that beret-wearing shadow of hers. Tomax knew his story too. Know your enemies after all. Flint's background was predictable and Tomax didn't waste any ink on it. What did she see in the rash, hot-headed buffoon? Flint probably wore her down with his encyclopedia of poems. How utterly droll that man must be to her. She had a temper of her own though and if some of his past exploits were to reach her ears? He sighed, knowing that he'd leave it to the buffoon to come clean. Besides, the buffoon was busy working on his own angle. Speaking of which . . . .

Tomax slid out of the bed, one leg following the other until he managed to glide his entire body out from under the covers without making a sound. Silent, he crept out of the room and down the hall to his office. There would be one man up.

"James. No, it's Tomax. Why do you ask? What has he offered you?" Tomax remained quiet as James explained to him Xamot's call yesterday to confirm the deal with the Takeda brothers.

"But that was my responsibility. Why did he call you?" There was a pregnant pause. Tomax waited, knowing that his relations with James were stronger than his brother's. James would sing as he always did. And sure enough, it was out. Xamot had asked James to lend a quiet influence to Tomax's decision.

"You can say what you like. He'll figure it out anyway. I don't know what I'm going to do. There are certain matters that need my full attention. Were you able to find anything out?" Tomax jotted down a few notes as James updated him on the progress made in tracking down Tomax's requested address.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." James asked for further confirmation of the information Tomax had given him yesterday.

"Yes, I can confirm that they will be there today. She'll be out in front, in case you were wondering." Tomax ended the call, a shadow falling across the desk.

"Who was that brother?"

The sound of Xamot's footsteps raised the hairs on the back of Tomax's neck. He hated being this disconnected from his brother. It was like living with a ghost of himself. He never knew what would greet him around the next corner. Every second he had to be sharp. He couldn't keep it up much longer. "That was James. He's making the first deposit today."

"I know, he told me yesterday."

Tomax felt Xamot's warm breath on the back of his neck. "That's what he said. It was my job to call him brother."

"I feared you wouldn't be capable."

Xamot was just behind him; Tomax could feel his twin's body press up against his. "I was and I did. He had some advice for me just now."

Xamot wrapped his arms around his twin, his face resting on his shoulder. His scar was pressed up against Tomax's cheek and it looked like Tomax was leaning his head against a mirror. "Will you consider it?"

Tomax leaned his head back into Xamot. Giving in his brother's embrace, he closed his eyes, blocking out the rising sun. "I told him I was."

5:45 a.m.

215 E. Oak Street, Carbondale, PA

Duncan laced up his work boots, careful to avoid shredding his last pair of laces. Sometimes he pulled too tight, breaking them and then he'd have to start all over with a new pair. Times were tight and he couldn't afford to splurge on new laces when he had perfectly serviceable ones at the ready, if only he could control his movement. It had been happening more and more lately, the sudden tremors and uncontrollable shakes that racked his body. His daughter told him to go to the doctor. He knew it was a lost cause. Mother Nature would have her way with him and no quack was going to change that. Better to save the money for his daughter and her four children, three strapping lads and one bonny lass, little Una, the apple of his eye. If he thought his death would provide them with a better life, he'd up and off himself in a heartbeat. He was working on it though and soon, very soon, Nora and his grandchildren would want for nothing.

He made his way down the creaky steps, stopping upon seeing the light coming from the kitchen. It was much too early for Nora to be up. Walking into the kitchen, there she was sitting at the table, tea and a packed lunch set out for him.

"Nora," he scolded her, "I told you not to bother. I'm not helpless." Duncan frowned, pulling out a chair.

Nora, a slight woman with wavy brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, rose up from her seat to plant a kiss on her father's cheek. "Don't be such a grump. I'm not doing this every day so don't get used to it. I thought it might be nice for you to not have to worry on your first day."

The rest of Nora's thoughts went without saying. They had been waiting for a day like this to come for too long. As a mining family, they had done pretty well and were used to the ups and downs of life. Some years were better than others. Overall, they managed and Nora thought the kids had a decent life. Then the news came that the mine was closing. She dreaded that day. Although her husband Ryan was promised a severance, the idle gossip around town led her to a different conclusion. Overburdened pensions and bankruptcy loomed on the horizon for the company. Then the accident came. Ryan was the superintendent on shift. Rather than risk sending all of his men down into a shaft he suspected was having issues, he led a small crew himself to investigate. His suspicions had been correct and the roof from road No. 2 collapsed, instantly crushing the men. If not for Ryan, the loss of lives would have been much greater.

Knowing your husband was a hero didn't make the loss any easier to swallow. Four children without a father was tough on Nora. Four children and an ailing father were tougher. Nora did what she had to do to make ends meet from taking a job at the grocery store while the children were in school to spare weekends with a catering service in Scranton. Now her eldest, Geoff, was a year away from college and she was beginning to wonder how she could help put him through. She also secretly wondered how she would make it through once he was gone. Make no mistake, he would go. The boy was smart as a whip and a quick study. After the cave-in, Geoff stepped into his father's role with nary a thought of the childhood he was leaving behind. If she was running late, Geoff made sure the children ate. He helped round up the twins and get them bathed and in bed. Afterward, he'd hit the books until the wee hours of the morning. He was the sun and moon to little Una, her unexpected girl. Little did she know that Ryan had left her with something of himself. Una, born almost nine months to the day of the accident, had Ryan's piercing blue eyes and golden yellow hair.

Una was also the one thing that kept her father going and away from the drink. Once the mine closed, her father became an apparition of his former self. Late nights were spent drowning his sorrows in the drink. For a time she was jealous. It wasn't as if she didn't want to numb herself from the new reality life dealt her. All she had known was Ryan. She fully expected to watch her children grow up and grow old with him. Without him, she felt like a leaf blown around by the wind. The only thing keeping her grounded was her children and her father's decreasing state. Una reached him in a way no one else could. Not right away. When Una was just a blob, sleeping and pooping, her father showed no interest. It was when Una reached out and grabbed her father's thumb for the first time, that was when she had him. In a way, Una grabbed his soul and wretched it back from whatever demon had commandeered it. Now Nora's father was back among the living and about to start a new job.

A company interested in fracking hired him to help them navigate the old mining tunnels surrounding the town. Her father didn't say too much about the position. He wasn't much of a talker. Nora knew that her father had a better working knowledge of the Carbondale mines than anyone else alive. He had grown up in those mines and witnessed as they claimed too many of his friends. He made it his business to know every nook and cranny. That knowledge was about to pay off for all of them. A steady paycheck was exactly what her father needed to regain some of his self-worth. It would also help the family financially and it was Nora's hope that Geoff would gain the most.

"God speed." Nora kissed the top of her father's head as she shuffled out of the room to take a shower before the children woke. Duncan gripped her wrist for a moment before releasing her to the day. He slumped back into the chair, the tea growing cold before him. He didn't have the stomach for her kindness. He kept telling himself it was the right thing to do. Anyone would make his choice. He knew the fact he needed convincing was all there was to say. Standing up, resigned, he steeled himself for his first day on the job. He patted down his pockets, relieved to find that the badge he needed to gain access to the job site was safely tucked away in his front hip pocket. It had his name, picture, and a strange snake emblem he'd only seen in the newspapers a few times. It wouldn't be that bad. He closed the door behind him. It wouldn't be that bad.