The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) (24 page)

Elliott smiled. “Not anymore. Our son Cullen is the last.”

“To answer your question, the MacKlenna family has one of the brooches. The Mallorys have another. Do we have a family connection?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Elliott said. “Mallory is Irish, not Scottish.”

“We’re Ulster Scots,” Jack said.

“From the lowlands. The MacKlennas are from the Highlands. Meredith is the genealogist in the family, and her cursory research last night didn’t unearth a connection. If there is one, she’ll find it, though. Where did your brooch come from?”

“It was mailed from a law firm in Edinburgh,” Charlotte said. “I haven’t contacted them.”

“If you’ll give me the address, we’ll check it out when we go to Scotland for the holidays. I have a feeling our lines will connect at some point.”

“Find the other one and destroy them all,” Charlotte demanded. “They’re dangerous. I wish I’d never opened my mail.”

Jack put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, sis. We’ll find a solution.”

“Let’s go home.” Her voice sounded thick to her own ears.

Elliott handed Jack a business card. “Send me the address and any other questions you have.”

“I’m not sure I trust the topic to email.”

“You have a secure system and so do we,” Elliott said. “David made sure of it.”

Jack’s face pinched with clear irritation. “How do you know?”

“As I explained earlier. We investigated Braham’s story. You were part of the investigation.”

Jack’s face relaxed. “I would have done the same. Is there anything else we need to know?” Meredith and Elliott exchanged significant glances. He squeezed her arm affectionately. “No. Nothing else.”

They escorted Jack and Charlotte to the front door. “Your vehicle should be parked in front of your house by the time you get home. When we learned you had chartered a jet, we took the liberty of having it delivered. If you decide to go after Braham, please let us know.”

“We’re not going,” Charlotte repeated, shaking her head.

Jack shook Elliott’s hand. “We’ll keep in touch.”

Charlotte and Jack drove away, both lost in their own thoughts. Not a word was uttered between them during the drive back to the airport. Jack returned the rental car, and they walked over to the private plane terminal and boarded their plane, which was already standing by.

About a half hour into the flight, Jack said, “We have to go, Charlotte.”

“No, we don’t,” she said. “The stone is dangerous, and so many things could go wrong. We don’t know how it works, or why, or where it could take us next. I don’t trust it, and you shouldn’t either.”

“I do trust it, and I’ll go by myself.”

“That. Will. Never. Happen.”

Something flickered deep in Jack’s eyes, and he shook his head slowly. “Then you’re responsible for whatever happens to Lincoln and the history of disenfranchised people in the United States.”

She glared at him, struggling to find words necessary for a coherent rebuttal, but none came, and she gave up. “You can’t blame that all on me.” She punched down on the arm of the seat. “You’re brilliant, successful, drop-dead gorgeous, but you’re impulsive and spontaneous. You act on whims, and, while it makes for great fiction, in real life, actions can have unintended and disastrous consequences.”

She tapped her chest with her fingertip repeatedly, and swallowed against tears. “You’re unaware of the stress and consequences you cause me, or the impact your thoughtless choices have on my life. On me.”

Charlotte turned to stare out the window at the beauty and calm of the blue sky while she tried to breathe through her urge to either sob or scream.

When her breathing returned to normal, she continued, “I thought the monastery would help you learn to see more than one step ahead. Instead, all it did was provide coping skills to deal with regret and remorse when you finally realize you messed up. Again.

“Like two days ago,” she turned in her seat and faced him squarely. “Braham needed a buddy. I’m not his buddy. I’m his doctor. You two were getting on famously. But you were focused on your new book proposal. I ended up with him in Washington when you bailed, and it was an upsetting day for him. You let him down, Jack. You let me down.

“I have a very inflexible schedule. I couldn’t be there twenty-four/seven, because I work at a job where I have no control over when I’m needed. I was counting on you to help acclimate Braham to this time, to technology. I wanted you to make him want to stay. And what did you do? You left him by himself and now he’s gone.”

Jack’s face was a billboard of remorse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“You’re full of regret now. But if you had taken the time to think about the impact of your actions on anyone else…” She threw up her hands and swallowed, hard, again. “Forget it. Some day you might learn to base your decisions on logical thought, not emotion.”

Jack slammed the cover to his iPad and tossed the device on the seat in front of him. “You’re not without blame, Charlotte. I screwed up. I accept it, but can you? You never should have brought him here.”

Her chest tightened and anxiety ambushed her. “I couldn’t let him—”

The astonished look on his face instantly changed to total disbelief. “Did someone name you God, and then fail to send the message to the rest of the world telling us you were in charge?”

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Then maybe we should. You didn’t think about the consequences of your actions either, so don’t give me grief about my inadequacies.”

She adjusted her seat, leaned back, and closed her eyes. “We’re done talking.”

“We have to go after him. You have a responsibility to clean up this mess.”

“A mess I didn’t make,” Charlotte said in a dismissive voice, refusing to acknowledge there was any truth in what Jack had said.

He sat rigid in his seat. “Listen to yourself. Sometimes you’re off-the-wall crazy.”

She had learned long ago to be careful, to edit what she said to him. After all, he was a lawyer and a wordsmith. When it came to their
discussions
, she couldn’t compete with him. He always spotted holes in her arguments and threw them back at her with a blazing, fastball pitch.

But he was right. She had messed up. Braham should have died in Chimborazo, and now she had a responsibility to clean up her mistakes. But she adamantly refused to go back in time to make it happen. There had to be another way. She was an intelligent person and could solve this dilemma without putting her life in danger again.

25

Mallory Plantation, Richmond, Virginia, Present Day

C
harlotte had always
seen herself as a pragmatist, quick to make surgical decisions and expedient by nature, but personal decisions required time, thought, analysis, and more thought.

At the hospital, she remained a hundred percent focused, but she struggled with the dilemma of what to do about Braham and the assassination. She had gotten home after a thirteen-mile run, yet her head was as jumbled as it had been when she set out two hours earlier.

The situation had to be resolved somehow before she went nuts. Going nuts, though, was preferable to going back in time and dodging bullets and threats.

If she was ever going to find a solution, she first had to patch things up with Jack. She hadn’t spoken to him since the flight home from Kentucky days earlier, and she missed him terribly.

Since she had the night off, it was time to have a chat with her brother. Should she apologize? For what? Jack was the one who skipped out and left Braham to his own devices.

If she didn’t intend to apologize, then she needed to forgive him and move on. But move on to what? Braham was still an issue. The problem wasn’t only about forgiving Jack. It was about going back in time and keeping Braham from changing history.

This was another red-light moment in her life. She had taken a chance, ripped through the last one, and look what happened. She had created a mess. She might as well run another one. It couldn’t get any worse.

Wait a minute.
The consequences could be a lot worse. She could get shot. She could be thrown into prison. She could…

Yes, she could even die, but she could also die in the next five minutes sitting in her living room. Her mother had suffered a fatal attack and died in her chair at work. A tight tug in Charlotte’s gut caused a constriction around her heart. The loss of their mother had been traumatic, which was probably why she and Jack clung so tightly to each other.

Whew. Forty degrees outside and she was burning up. She grabbed a bottle of cold water, went out onto her screened-in porch, and looked out over her garden. Everything had been cut back to enhance next season’s growth. She loved the beauty of Richmond in the spring. If she and Jack went back in time now, they might be spending next spring in Washington in the year 1865, long before the cherry blossom trees had arrived from Japan.

She rolled her cold water bottle along her forehead, from one side to the other. Was she really considering going back? Yep, she was. There was no other way. Braham had to be stopped.

Okay, then. Let’s do it.

Two hours later, she marched into Jack’s office at the mansion. He didn’t bother to stop typing or turn away from his dual monitors. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”

She plopped down in a chair on the other side of the desk. “I’ve made a decision.”

“About what?” To be annoying, he continued typing. “A date Friday night? What you’re going to do this afternoon? How many miles you’re going to run this weekend?” He sat back in his chair and swiveled around to face her. He let the silence lengthen before asking, “Tell me your decision. I’m all ears.”

She drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk. “You’re also a butthead. But you know it already, don’t you? And you also know
exactly
what I’m talking about.”

He was pissed and hurt, and she was confused and scared. They would dance around each other until they found their way again.

He came around to the front of the desk, leaned against it, and crossed both his ankles and his arms. There was a glint in his eye and a half-smile he couldn’t contain. He knew damn good and well what she was going to say, but he wasn’t going to let her do it easily.

There was an uneasy rumble in her stomach. “Stop smirking. This isn’t funny.”

He held up his hands in a mock dramatic gesture. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sometimes she wanted to haul off and smack him. It was a darn shame they had outgrown wrestling matches. “You were wrong to go off and leave Braham alone, but I forgive you. I want you to go with me to…” The next part snagged on a logjam in her throat. She grabbed a bottle of water off the desk, took several sips, and then tried again. “I want you to go with me to…to stop Braham.”

He bit his lip, seeming to concentrate, then nodded as if he’d come to a decision. It was all for show, and she wanted to smack him, but it
was
part of the game.

“When do you want to leave?” he said finally, with a twinkle.

“As soon as I can arrange time off. I don’t know how much I’ll need. Maybe the rest of the year. Maybe more. It will be a setback for my career, but right now my sanity is a bigger concern.”

He hauled her into a bear hug. “You’re making the right decision.”

She hugged him back. “Then why don’t I feel better?” She pulled out of the embrace. “I’m going to the hospital tomorrow to talk to my colleagues. See if I can work out a schedule.”

“I’ll do the same. My agent will need to reschedule a few book signings. She’s expecting an outline for my next book, so I’ll have to promise to have one ready as soon as I get back.” He picked up a legal pad and pen and jotted down a few notes. “No big deal, though.”

“What about the plantation and your cat?” she asked, petting the animal curled up on top of the desk.

He continued writing. “We do have a farm manager, even though he doesn’t have much to manage right now.”

Her phone beeped, and she checked the message. Ken was coming to Richmond and wanted to meet for dinner. She texted back a simple
yes.
“I’m on call tomorrow night, but on Sunday, let’s have dinner and talk about what we need to do.”

He tossed the notepad on the desk. “I’ll add it to my calendar, but do you mind if we eat early? I might have something going on later.”

She rolled her eyes. Her brother had more ex-girlfriends in Richmond then all of his single buddies combined. “Who is it this week? Susan? Laurie? Jennifer?”

He smirked. “Susan was last year. Laurie went back to her ex-boyfriend, and Jennifer was hinting about a ring for Christmas, and that was the end of that. This is someone new. I met her at Starbucks yesterday.”

She stared at him for a long three-count. “Whatever.” She shook her head, puzzled, but he was as puzzled by her opposite position on dating. “Okay, we have a date Sunday night, six-thirty. Text me where to meet, and I’ll be sure we get through early enough so you can hook up with—” Charlotte threw up her hands, “—whoever.”

When Jack couldn’t contain his excitement any longer and started slapping high-fives with a poster of himself, she escaped the house, wondering if she was about to make another big mistake in her life.