The last few stories in this series have all turned out to be quite long, and this one's no exception.
This one is also posted in two parts, with the second part in the same thread. IN BETWEEN
fifteen and sixteen
To Keep from Forgetting
“Family isn’t only about DNA,” Beth said. Mick felt the reassuring touch of her hand at the back of his neck; she gently stroked his hair, comforting him as much as she could. And she was right -- he knew that. The test results weren’t going to change what Robert and Jacob had come to mean to him. He ought to put the envelope aside, get out of the car, and go into the house to help celebrate Jacob’s return.
Instead, he put the Mercedes into gear and pulled away from the curb. From the corner of his eye, in the rearview mirror, he saw Robert coming out the front door, hurrying down the steps, watching the car drive away. Robert must be bewildered to see him leaving, but Mick couldn’t bring himself to turn back. Beth, beside him, hadn’t seen Robert, and she didn’t question Mick’s departure. She had to know how close he was to breaking down, and she seemed to understand why he couldn’t stay.
The Bionalysis envelope rested on the seat beside Mick’s knee. Mick St. John ID#56-898334 can be excluded as the biological father of Robert Fordham. Mick was okay with those results, he really was. He couldn’t help but be happy for Ray – he knew how much Ray had wanted a child of his own. Ray and Lilah had made a real life for themselves after Mick had gone away, and it was a relief to know he hadn’t ruined that for them. It must have been hard for Lilah, who’d had to carry the memories of what she’d shared with Mick, but she’d managed it. And Ray and Lilah had raised Robert together, a son to love and be proud of. Everything was the way it ought to be.
But it hurt, it hurt so much, as if Mick had lost his humanity all over again. He’d been so sure this family was his own. Robert had even seemed to recognize him, to feel a connection. But that was only because of the photograph. Growing up in that house, Robert must have seen the faded photo of Mick’s troop every day of his life. It was hardly a surprise that he’d thought Mick seemed familiar. Even Jacob had probably reached out to Mick because of the familiarity of that picture.
But at the moment he’d found Jacob, when he’d held the boy for the first time, he’d simply known that Jacob was his legacy. How, how could it not be true? Jacob had held on to him with total trust, just the way Beth had done when she was little. When Mick had put him on the stretcher, Jacob hadn’t wanted to let go. And the way Beth had looked at the boy, as if she were his mother . . .
Mick turned abruptly onto another residential street, pulled over to the curb, and stopped the car. Beth didn’t say anything, but she was looking at him with deep concern. He bent his head over the steering wheel, not able to look at her yet, and said, “Is that something you want, Beth? A family? Children?” He and Beth had joked awkwardly about a vampire’s inability to have kids, and she had seemed okay with it, but when she’d looked at Jacob on the stretcher, he’d seen the longing in her eyes.
“I don’t really know,” Beth said. “Not the same way you do. It’s not something I’ve always dreamed about. But I suppose I always expected it to happen someday. That I’d get married, and have children.”
“I saw the way you looked at Jacob last night.”
“That wasn’t for me, Mick,” she said gently. “I thought I was looking at your grandson. I was thinking about how it must feel for you.”
“It shouldn’t matter,” Mick said. “He’s not my grandson, but it shouldn’t matter.” He’s my best friend’s grandson. Isn’t that enough?
“Mick . . .”
He turned away from her, staring blindly out the window, his eyes burning. She reached out for him, putting her hand to his face, and he felt himself come apart. He’d never let himself break down in front of her before, never, not even that morning on the balcony. But this time he couldn’t stop the tears. He tried to pull away from her, but she wouldn’t let him; she put her arm around his shoulders and drew him close instead. He stiffened against her for a moment, but finally gave in. He lowered his head to her shoulder, let her hold him, and let himself cry.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, holding him tight. “It’s okay. You can let go, you don’t have to hold back. Not with me, Mick. Not with me.”
Mick found himself mourning for something he’d never actually possessed, but which he’d lost just the same. He hadn’t slept since Jacob had gone missing, and he was numb with exhaustion, but he still couldn’t sleep. He lay in his freezer staring up at the lid, and when he closed his eyes, memories overwhelmed him. Memories of the war, his terror when Ray was injured, his despair when he’d thought Ray was dead. Memories of Lilah, of the difficult, passionate, loving few weeks they’d had together. Had he done the right thing when he’d walked away from them? Should he have stayed in their lives, welcomed Ray home, pretended that nothing had ever happened between him and Lilah? He didn’t think he could have done that. But maybe I should have tried.
And he thought of Beth, and wondered how she felt. It couldn’t have been easy for her to learn about Lilah, even though it had happened so very long ago. He’d tried to be open with Beth, to be as honest as he could be, and surely that had been the right thing to do. But had his story hurt her? She’d been near tears when he’d told her how much he’d loved Lilah. But she’d also told him that his love for her had been right. And she’d been so gentle, so caring, when he’d broken down in the car. Everything was still okay between them. Wasn’t it?
When night fell outside he gave up on sleep. He got up, dressed, and went up to the roof, staring out at the city, and he didn’t go back inside until his thirst became overpowering. He went downstairs for blood and morosely checked his phone. Three people wanted to hire him for one thing or another; he erased the calls without answering them. Robert had also called, but Mick didn’t think he could bear to listen to that message. Not yet. He sat down to check his email instead. He had messages from both Logan and Elaine, and he opened Logan’s first.
I was planning to give the laptop to Elaine tomorrow, but she’s still pretty upset about an email she got recently. I don’t want to throw too many things at her at once. So I’m thinking next week. Just want to let you know.
Mick was pretty sure he knew which email Logan was referring to, and he knew just how much it had upset Elaine. He opened Elaine’s message next.
You said you wanted to know if I found out anything about Asha. I heard from Thomas a little while ago – he told me that Asha was dead. She took her own life. I know you didn’t want that to happen, Mick. I’m sorry. E.
Elaine didn’t know that he’d eavesdropped on her, that he already knew about Asha’s fate. And he also knew that Elaine wasn’t sorry at all. Her bitter rage at Asha and Thomas was never really going to fade, not even with Asha’s death. Because of what they did to me. He shook his head slowly, thinking of that. And while he was still sitting there, thinking, another message appeared in his folder. This one was from Beth.
I was going to call, but I thought you might need some space for a while. So I’ll tell you my news this way instead.
At work today I overheard some talk between Ben and Detective Novak. Novak doesn’t believe that Verdalino shot himself, but I guess that’s not a problem. Forensics will bear out your story. The interesting thing is that Ben defended you. It reminded me of the way he overruled Novak and let you in on Jacob’s case. But none of that fits with the way Ben interrogated you at the Fordhams’ house. Which still worries me, by the way. I don’t know what to make of Benjamin Talbot.
Robert called me this afternoon to ask about you. Apparently he saw us pull up and park by the house, and then drive away. I told him you’d gotten some bad news, and couldn’t face a party just then. He said that Jacob keeps asking when you’re going to come visit. I didn’t know what to tell him. I guess this is difficult and complicated, too.
I hope you’re okay. I know this all must be hard for you, and you must need time to think about it. I have a lot to think about too. If you want to visit the Fordhams after all, I can arrange it, and come with you. Remember what I said, Mick. Family isn’t only about DNA.
Mick stared at the screen for a time. He’d almost forgotten the police interrogation he’d endured after bringing Jacob out of the basement. It had seemed simple enough, and he hadn’t had to lie about anything important. He wasn’t worried about that, anyway – Verdalino had shot himself, and forensic evidence would confirm it. Mick had to admit that Talbot’s questions had been disturbing, but why would Talbot have let him in on the case if he suspected anything? Mick pushed that worry aside. Beth had written I have a lot to think about too. What did she mean by that? Was she thinking about Mick’s fathomless past, wondering how many other secrets lay hidden there? Was she thinking about their relationship, about the fact that they could never have children together? Was she upset that he hadn’t gone to see the Fordhams? It was obvious that she thought he should go.
But he shouldn’t go back to the Fordhams’ at all, not ever. It would be best for everyone if he never saw Jacob again. Mick couldn’t be part of a child’s life. In a few years it would be obvious that he hadn’t aged, and he wouldn’t be able to explain why.
He was suddenly overwhelmingly tired, all the days of lost sleep catching up with him at once. Quickly he wrote brief answers to Logan’s and Elaine’s messages. But he didn’t know how to answer Beth’s. Finally he simply wrote that he was thinking of her. He dragged himself up to his freezer, fell into it, and slept at last.
When he woke the next evening, feeling marginally better, he found another email from Beth.
I’ve been thinking of you too. And I’ve been thinking about kids. I felt something strange when I looked at Jacob on that stretcher. It felt as if Jacob was ours, together. I know that doesn’t make sense, but there it is. But don’t worry. I’m really okay with us not being able to have kids. I wish it could be different, but it’s not a deal-breaker.
And I keep thinking of the night you stayed beside me and held me while I slept. I’ve been wishing so much that I could do that for you now. But you can’t sleep in a bed beside me, and I suppose I couldn’t stay in your freezer for very long. It makes me sad that we won’t ever actually be able to sleep beside each other like a normal couple. But then, maybe it’s time that I stopped thinking about what normal couples do. Our relationship may be neither normal nor human, but I truly believe that we will find our own way.
Mick touched the screen, taking Beth’s words into his heart, letting them fill the empty spaces inside him. The love and commitment he felt from her message took his breath away. There were so many pitfalls ahead of them, so many things they couldn’t do together or have together. But Beth had the right idea, he was sure. It was time to stop thinking about what normal couples did, and find their own way. Beth’s been right all along. It doesn’t matter that she’s a human, that I’m a vampire. All that matters is the way we feel about each other. Right here and right now.
And maybe Beth is right about the Fordhams, too.
He’d given up so much, walked away from so much – he couldn’t bear the thought of doing the same thing yet again. He couldn’t stay in their lives; it wouldn’t be safe. But what harm could it do to go visit them . . . just once?
The next day Mick found himself standing on the steps of the Fordhams’ house, Beth’s hand clasped tightly in his. He reached out to ring the doorbell but before he could touch it he heard footsteps, and the door swung open. Robert stood there, looking like a different man now that he was free of grief and despair. Jacob was half hidden behind him, peering out at Mick. The boy looked excited, but fearful; his heart was beating very fast. Mick let go of Beth and knelt on the doorstep, holding out his hand. Jacob took it, then suddenly threw his arms around Mick’s neck. Mick closed his eyes and held on tight to the little boy. When he finally looked up, through a fall of Jacob’s hair, he saw Beth gazing down at him. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling.
Mick said, “Jacob, you remember Beth, don’t you? You met her in the hospital the other night.”
Jacob hesitantly nodded, though Mick wasn’t sure how clear his memory might be. Mick and Beth had stayed at the boy’s side until his parents had arrived, talking to him and trying to comfort him, but he’d been in a daze for most of that time. “You were there with Mick,” Jacob said shyly, looking up at Beth.
“That’s right, I was,” Beth said.
Mick got to his feet, Jacob in his arms, and Robert led them all in to the house. “I’m glad you finally came,” Jacob said. “You have to see something!”
“See what?”
Jacob pointed to a table across the room, and when Mick put him down, he ran over to it.
“It’s something that Jacob saw the other day,” Robert said, glancing uncertainly at Mick. “I hoped that you could explain it. Jacob is convinced that it’s you, but that just isn’t possible . .”
Mick's breath caught when he saw that Jacob was leaning over a photograph, staring at it in fascination. It was the same photograph Beth had seen, the one of Mick and Ray with their troop in 1944. This was the photograph that Robert had grown up with, the one that had made him think that Mick was someone familiar. Jacob turned the picture over, and Mick saw the list of names written on the back. The name Mick St. John was right beneath Ray Fordham. Beth was staring at Mick wide-eyed, and her heart was racing.
Mick steadied himself and carefully took the photograph from Jacob, pretending to examine it. He flipped it over, studied the list of names, and shook his head. “I have a copy of this photograph,” he said. “That’s my grandfather. The name was passed down.”
“He looks just like you,” Robert said. “Exactly like you.”
“Strong genes in the family,” Mick muttered. “The men all tend to look alike.”
“But that is you,” Jacob protested.
“No, Jacob. That’s my granddad. He and your grandfather were best friends back then, during the war.”
“Your grandfather and my father?” Robert said in astonishment. “But you said I didn’t know your family. And I can’t remember my dad ever mentioning the name.”
“I don’t think he would have,” Mick said. He didn’t really even have to improvise; he could mostly stick with the truth. “My grandfather and your father had a falling out just after the war. They never spoke to each other again. I’m not surprised that your father never mentioned him.”
“Oh,” Robert said, looking overwhelmed. “But Mick, why didn’t you tell me about that? Is that why you came here to help, because of the family connection?”
“It is, but – I was afraid to tell you. I thought you might know about the bad blood between them, and if you did know – well, I thought you might not let me help.”
“Good Lord, Mick, I wouldn’t have turned down help from my worst enemy. But that doesn’t matter. It was just so extraordinary seeing your face in this old picture. The resemblance is so remarkable. Beth, you saw it too, didn’t you? That’s why you asked about the picture.”
“Yes, I did,” Beth said, clearing her throat. “I didn’t understand it either. I had to ask Mick about it.”
“That’s neat,” Jacob said happily. “It’s like we’re in the same family! But what’s a falling out?”
“Well, it’s kind of like an argument, or a fight,” Mick explained. Though he’d never actually let it come to that.
“That’s all? They should have just made it up, and been friends again.”
It’s true, they should have, Mick thought sadly, but Jacob didn’t give him time to dwell on it. “Mick, do you want to see my room? I’ll show you.”
“Sure,” Mick said, and Beth started to follow them to the stairs, but Robert moved to stop her.
“Beth, I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute? And Julie will be here soon, we wanted to ask you a couple of things . . .” he glanced anxiously at Jacob, and Mick realized he wanted to talk to her without Jacob overhearing.
“Come on, buddy, let’s check out your room,” Mick said, and Jacob eagerly took him upstairs, not seeming bothered when his father and Beth didn’t follow them. With vampire hearing, Mick could easily hear the conversation below, and he concentrated on it as well as on Jacob.
“I understand that you had something similar happen to you,” Robert said to Beth. “That you were kidnapped when you were a child.”
“How do you know that?” Beth asked, a little stiffly.
“I overheard Mr. Talbot say something about it to you. When you were talking about real life monsters.”
“Oh,” Beth said, her voice softening. “Yes, that’s right. And it’s true. I was kidnapped when I was four.”
“I didn’t know – I don’t know how to ask, but I wondered if you could tell us about it. How you dealt with it, what problems it caused you. We’re just so worried about Jacob.”
“Has he been having any problems?”
“Not really. I mean, he doesn’t want to be left alone, and he won’t sleep in his room at night, but surely that’s to be expected. But he won’t talk about what happened – he just freezes. And all of this is bound to cause him problems later on. I want to be able to help him through them.” Robert paused for a moment, then asked, “What was it like for you? Were you locked up by a madman, like Jacob was? And then rescued?”
“Yes, except it was a madwoman who took me,” Beth said. “And I was rescued by a private investigator that my mother hired.” Mick could hear the sudden warmth in her voice.
Jacob tugged at his hand. “That’s where the bad man came in,” he said, pointing up at the ceiling and shivering a little. “Daddy had it all sealed shut, so nobody can ever get in that way again. He says it’s safe now.” Jacob’s voice was doubtful. “But I don’t know.”
Mick climbed up on the bed and touched the ceiling. The metal panels were gone, and fresh wood and plaster had taken their place. “Your dad’s right. There’s no way to get in through there.” Below, he heard the front door open and close, and Julie Fordham’s voice entered the conversation below.
“But what about the windows? And the door? Someone could get in that way, couldn’t they?”
“They could, but they won’t.” Mick sat down on the bed, and Jacob crawled up beside him, huddling close. Mick put his arm around the boy. “Nobody’s going to hurt you again, Jacob. I promise you.”
“How do you know?”
“How did you manage?” Julie Fordham asked Beth. “How did you get past the fear?”
“I wasn’t really ever afraid,” Beth answered. “That was because of the man who rescued me. I always felt as if he was watching over me, keeping me safe.”
“Because I’ll be watching over you,” Mick said to Jacob. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“You will?” Jacob said, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“I will. Even if you never see me again, I’ll always look out for you.”
“I’ve really been scared,” Jacob whispered. “He wanted me to be scared. So I don’t want to be, but I can’t help it.” Jacob was crying now, silently, holding back his emotions in a way no six-year-old ever should. Mick pulled the boy into his arms, and Jacob clung to him and finally started to sob. Time passed without Mick’s notice, and only part of him was aware when the conversation below stopped, when footsteps came up the stairs. Robert looked in first, abruptly blinking back tears of his own, and he gently pulled Julie away when she would have gone to her son’s side. Mick’s gaze met Beth’s for an instant, and then she was gone as well. Just for this moment, there was nothing in Mick’s world but Jacob. How will I ever be able to stop myself from coming back? But he knew he could do it. He’d done it with Beth, and with Rosie. It would nearly kill him, as it had before, but he could do it. And I have to.
When Jacob had finally cried himself out, Mick took him to the bathroom and gently washed his face. After he’d toweled himself dry, Jacob grabbed Mick’s hand and led him back into the bedroom.
“Daddy said I could have a different room if I want,” Jacob said very seriously, glancing at the ceiling. “Do you think I should do that? Or should I stay in this one?”
“I think it doesn’t matter. If you want another room, you should go for it. If this room has bad memories, there’s no shame in moving out.”
Jacob went to his window and looked out for a moment, and then turned back to Mick. “This is my room,” he said firmly. “I like it. I’m gonna stay here.”
As they drove away from the Fordhams’ house, Beth looked shaky, as if the conversation about her long-ago abduction had brought it fully to life in her mind again. It had come back to Mick’s mind as well, with awful clarity. Images of Jacob kept mixing in his mind with memories of Beth when she’d been little. Jacob hugged him goodbye at the front door and begged him to come back; little Beth wrapped her arms around his neck and asked him not to cry. Mick looked at Beth in the seat beside him now, and also saw the little blond girl who’d ridden in that same seat so very long ago.
“I’m going to go back,” Beth said suddenly, when they were two blocks away from her apartment. “I might be able to help Jacob, just because I’ve been through something so similar.”
Mick was startled, but after a moment, he nodded stiffly. That would be good for Jacob, to have someone near him who really understood. But to know that Beth was visiting him, that she was part of Jacob’s life . . .
“What about you?” Beth asked.
Mick shook his head. “I told you. Just the one visit. I can’t go back.”
“Mick, anyone can see how you feel about Jacob. You adore him. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“What else am I supposed to do? He’s going to get older. I’m not. It won’t work, Beth.” He pulled up in front of Beth’s apartment and slammed on the brakes, stopping the car.
Beth paid no attention to the jerky stop. “That doesn’t mean you have to drop out of his life now. You could have years before anyone noticed.”
“And then what?” Mick asked bitterly. “In five years, or ten, what do I do? Disappear without a trace? How would Jacob feel about that?”
“You could tell him the truth.”
“No. That’s not possible.”
“Why not?” Beth asked, her voice rising. “What, would it break vampire rules? Is that why you won’t do it?”
“It would break every vampire rule there is. But that isn’t why I won’t do it.”
“Why, then? Is it the same reason you never told me?” Her voice was starting to shake. “Why didn’t you ever come back to see me, when I was little? Why did you always watch from a distance, and never come near me for twenty-three years?”
“Beth, you know why. You were only a child. I couldn’t burden you with a secret like that!”
“Are you sure that was the reason? You never did tell me the truth, even when I was an adult, even after we’d met again. I had to find out on my own. If I hadn’t, you’d still be hiding from me, wouldn’t you?”
“I – I don’t -- ”
“What were you planning to do if Jacob really was your grandson? You said you thought you’d found your family. You must have meant to be part of their lives.”
Mick shook his head again, dazed. “I wanted to be. It seemed like such a miracle, like anything was possible. You’re right, I was imagining that I could be part of their lives. But it was just a fantasy. I could never have actually done that. I could never have told Robert he was my son. How would I tell him something like that? I can’t just -- ”
His voice broke, and he couldn’t go on. He’d never known that Beth felt that way, that she’d been so hurt by his secrecy. But how could he have done anything differently? He couldn’t have stayed in Beth’s life any more than he could now stay in Jacob’s. Some things were impossible, no matter how much you wanted them.
“No, you can’t,” Beth said, very low. She put her hands to her face and drew in a deep, shaky breath, and then looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes again. “Oh God, Mick, I’m sorry. You can’t tell your secret now, and you couldn’t then. I know that. Believe me, I know. You couldn’t take the risk, and I wouldn’t want you to.” Her voice sounded haunted, and Mick knew she was thinking of Dean Foster, remembering what she had done to keep Mick’s secret safe. “Talking to Robert today, about my kidnapping . . . it upset me a lot more than I thought it would. I was so alone back then. It’s worse, somehow, knowing that Jacob must feel that way too.”
“But he won’t be alone. He’ll have you.” Mick hesitantly put his arm around her, and she leaned against him, her face pressed against his chest. Relieved, he drew her even closer. “I’m glad you’ll be visiting him,” he murmured. “It’ll make me feel better, knowing you’re part of his life.”
“You’re sure it won’t make things harder?”
Mick sighed, leaning down to rest his head against hers. “It’ll make things harder too.”
“Oh, Mick. I want you to be with him. I want him to be your grandson. I want that damn DNA test to be wrong. I even had the test redone at another lab, to be sure.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “Same result, of course. They don’t ever get those tests wrong. But I had to know. It just hurts to think of you watching Jacob from a distance, when I know how much you care about him. I don’t want you to be on the outside looking in, not any more.”
He kissed the top of her head. “It’s part of life for me. That’s just the way it is.”
“I don’t want it to be that way,” she whispered, putting her arms around him. He held her close, for a long time. Mourning with her, for times she’d never known, for something he had somehow lost yet again.
When he finally got home, Mick was still thinking about the Fordhams. It was pure heartache to know that he’d never go back to the old Victorian where he’d spent so much of his childhood, never again feel Jacob’s small arms tight around his neck, never again see that look of recognition in Robert’s eyes. He walked now through his parking garage, head down, feeling the cool tracks of tears drying on his face. Why did this family haunt him so? He’d rescued dozens of kids in his time, and he’d never felt like this before. Except with Beth. But everything was different when it came to Beth.
He crossed the lobby, got into the elevator, and froze, breathing in sharply. His hand moved automatically to the stake he kept in his pocket. A vampire had just been in this elevator . . . an old vampire . . . and there was something else as well. He realized what it was, and who it was, just as the elevator doors opened on his floor.
There was a redheaded woman standing in front of his door, scribbling a note on a piece of paper. A black-and-white dog sat beside her. The woman looked up as Mick stepped into the hall, and he saw her face.
“Esme?” he said, stunned. The dog, at her feet, pricked up his ears and wagged his tail.
Esme had taken a seat on the couch. Mick sat hesitantly in the chair across from her, hardly able to believe she was here in his apartment. She had always seemed so ethereal to him; someone who was just out of reach, not quite belonging to the world. Was part of that the aura of a vampire, seen by a human? He’d never met her before when he’d been a vampire himself, and she seemed so much more accessible now. But he could tell she was uncomfortable here, even nervous. He glanced down at her dog . . . Tangent, how appropriate . . . and then back up at Esme.
“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly. “I didn’t expect . . . I thought you’d still be human. Did it -- did it just happen?”
“No, it was a while ago. A few days after I saw you last.”
“Oh. I thought . . .”
Of course she could see that he’d been crying. “I just found out some bad news. That’s all.” He spoke with finality, not wanting her to ask about it.
“I see,” she said hesitantly. “But I really am sorry. I thought you’d have more time.”
“So did I. But it was never a real cure.”
Esme nodded. “It’s strange, though. I knew you were a vampire, I knew it had to be true. But somehow I don’t seem to have quite believed it. I still think of you as that young mortal American medic, you know.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“It doesn’t feel so very long ago to me.” Her eyes were downcast, and Mick wondered how old she really was. Much older than he was, he was sure, though he hadn’t realized that before.
She reached down to pet her dog, and Mick’s eyes were drawn back to Tangent. “How do you do it?” he asked impulsively. “How do you make an animal trust you that way? I brought home a cat when I was human, but when I turned back, he was terrified of me. I had to find another home for him. Could I have found a way to make him trust me?”
Esme seemed startled by the question, as if no one had ever asked her such a thing before. “Most likely not, with an adult cat,” she said. “But I couldn’t really say. I don’t know much about cats. I’ve always worked with dogs, or with horses.”
“Always?” Mick asked curiously.
“Always. Even when I was mortal. My father was a skilled horse trainer, and everyone was dependent on horses at that time -- including vampires. So vampires, out of necessity, came to him. My father never knew he was training horses to accept a vampire’s touch. He only knew there were certain people that horses feared, and that he had to find a way around the problem.”
“Then your father taught what you know?”
She nodded proudly. “He could teach almost any horse to overcome these fears. I helped my father with the horses from the time I was a little girl.”
“And your dogs?”
“They’re more difficult than horses. I usually start with newborn pups, and even then it only works some of the time. Tangent is one of the very few I was able to train as an adult.”
“And he doesn’t fear you.”
“No, he doesn’t. Not any more. He did once, but . . .” With a thoughtful look, Esme got to her feet. She walked across the room to Mick’s side, and Tangent followed her hesitantly, looking curiously at Mick. She gave the dog a little push, and suddenly Mick felt Tangent’s nose against his hand. The dog was hesitant, not as trusting as he’d been when Mick was human, but he certainly didn’t react the way animals normally did to vampires. “I thought so,” Esme said with satisfaction. “He doesn’t fear you either.”
Tangent tilted his head, studying Mick. “Does he know me?” Mick asked. “From before?”
“I'm really not sure. I can’t tell from your scent that you’re the same person now, but perhaps he can. He does seem rather curious about you.”
Enchanted, Mick slid from his chair to the floor, and the dog sat contentedly beside him. Esme hesitantly joined them on the floor. Mick, stroking the dog, was startled when she suddenly lifted her hand to touch his face.
“What is it?” he asked.
She moved her hand away. “Mick, what was your bad news? Why were you crying?”
He hadn’t wanted to tell her anything about it, but her touch, and her compassion, changed his mind. “Because I thought I had a family, and I don’t. Because I want to be with them anyway, and it’s impossible. They’re mortal, and I can’t tell them what I am. Esme . . . you’ve been around a long time.” She had so much in common with him; was there any chance that she had found an answer? “How do you manage it? How does an immortal deal with these – these mortal feelings?”
“I don’t know,” Esme said simply. “In my whole life, I’ve never allowed anyone to stay near me, whether they were mortal or not.”
“Not even other vampires?” Mick stared at her in disbelief. Why would anyone stay so isolated? And for such a terribly long time?
Esme nodded, eyes downcast. “Not until someone finally freed me.” She looked up at him then, very steadily.
“Freed you?” Mick said uncertainly.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached out to touch his hand. “Your ring.” Her voice was unsteady. “May I look at it?”
“Why?”
“Please. Just for a moment.”
Slowly he slipped the ring off his finger and handed it to her. She held it in her palm, staring down at it, turning it slowly from side to side. The crystals in the cross caught the room lights, gleaming.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
“It belonged to a friend of mine,” he said, watching her. “He’s dead now.”
She nodded tightly. “When I saw you before, I knew there was something familiar about it. And I finally remembered what it was. Tyler never wore it while I knew him, but he showed it to me once. It was important to him.”
“You knew Tyler?” Mick whispered. Suddenly, it seemed to be difficult to breathe. “Tyler Mackenzie?”
“Yes.”
Esme handed the ring back to him, and he took it from her, automatically sliding it onto his finger. It was true; at one time, Tyler hadn’t worn this ring. It was Mick who had convinced him to start wearing it. “How did you --”
“I turned him.” She wasn’t looking at Mick, and her face was half hidden by a fall of hair. “I would have stayed with him, if I could. But it wasn’t meant to be.”
“You’re Tyler’s sire. You – but how --” Mick’s mind was suddenly racing. Tyler had cared for his sire, deeply, but had never so much as told Mick her name. She doesn’t want me near her, Tyler had said sadly. She has enemies in her blood family, and she wants to keep me clear of them. Tyler and his sire had stayed apart, communicating only with letters, for almost thirty years. But those enemies had still come after Tyler, in the end. “It was your blood family that killed him,” Mick blurted out. “You tried to keep him safe, but . . .”
“I had never meant to turn anyone,” she said quickly. “Not only for the obvious reasons . . my own turning was a nightmare. . . but because of my sire and my blood brothers. They destroyed everyone I was ever close to. I had a lover once. I learned never to take another, never even to have a friend. Anyone I cared for would die. How could I ever presume to have a fledgling? But then I met Tyler, in hospital during the war, and – and everything was different then.”
“He told me he was badly injured at the time he was turned,” Mick said slowly. He could scarcely even grasp the other things that Esme had told him; he set them aside for now, and concentrated on Tyler. “Paralyzed, in a wheelchair.”
“It was worse than that. He was in constant pain, more than he could bear. There was so much life hidden within him, so much joy – I could sense it – but when I met him, he asked me to help him die.”
“Tyler wanted to die?” Mick could scarcely even imagine it. But Tyler had had to deal with more than physical pain. As a human, he had never recovered from the war. How was it that becoming a vampire had saved Tyler, when it had so nearly destroyed Mick?
Esme nodded. “At that time, I’d heard nothing of my sire for decades. So I gave Tyler the choice. I told him all the possibilities, all the dangers. He wanted to take the chance.”
“It was a new life for him,” Mick said, remembering. “A chance to start over, and leave the war behind. He wanted it. God, he loved being a vampire so much. It really was a gift for him.”
“I stayed with him for a year, to teach him all I could, and then I pretended to be angry with him, and sent him away.”
“To protect him from your family?”
“I didn’t really believe they would ever leave me alone. It was only a matter of time. But I thought maybe, if they believed I didn’t care for him, they’d let him alone. It didn’t work.”
“It worked for a long time, Esme.”
She nodded stiffly, her head bowed. “I felt it when he died,” she whispered. “I knew what must have happened, who had done it, but . . . Mick, were you there? Were you with him?”
“No. I wish I had been.”
He could see it all as if it had been yesterday: the milling crowds on the campus, the lines of yellow police tape, the bloody stain on the sidewalk. They’d already taken Tyler’s body away. But Tyler was a vampire; how could he be dead? Had he been injured so badly that he’d had to pretend to die? Would he reappear later, ruefully shaking his head as he packed up his things to move on? Mick remembered those wild, desperate hopes, all torn away forever when he’d knelt on the bloody sidewalk to take in a deep breath of the past.
Tyler was walking on that sidewalk, surrounded by a small group of chattering students. He was the very image of an eccentric professor in the floppy hat and long coat that shielded him from the sun, and his students were all carrying instruments and talking breathlessly about music. A young girl in a purple T-shirt skipped alongside Tyler to ask him a question, gesturing with her flute case, and as he turned toward her, a shot rang out. The girl screamed, dropping her flute, and fell to the ground. “Take cover!” Tyler shouted, and as more shots were fired he became a blur of motion, shoving his students to the ground, flinging himself over them to shield them with his body. Then three bullets hit him almost at once, all three striking him in the back of the head. Mick could see the wounds, the blood; he could feel Tyler’s life slipping away.
And he knew what the killers were. Three bullets hitting at once, in the precise spot that could kill a vampire . . . it had been set up to look like a human crime, but only vampires could have done this. Only vampires.
Mick opened his eyes. He was in his apartment, sitting crouched on the floor, and Esme’s hand was resting on his. He could hardly breathe. The memory had never been this vivid before, never. And Esme must have seen it all with him -- she had gone very pale. After a moment she drew away from him, putting her head in her hands. Her dog crept to her side and lay down beside her. Mick leaned back against the couch, breathing hard. He felt overheated, and he was sweating, but Esme looked chilled. She drew a deep breath and finally looked up at him, her eyes haunted.
“Tyler saved all the kids,” he said. “Only one girl was hit, and she survived.”
“He would have been so glad of that,” Esme whispered.
“Yeah.”
“And he would be glad to know his death was avenged. That was you, wasn’t it? You sensed his killers. You found their scent; you knew they were vampires.”
“Yes. And I finally tracked them down.” For that part, vampire senses hadn’t been enough -- he’d had to rely on old-fashioned detective work. “I tried to take them out, but I couldn’t do it alone. I had help.”
“From another friend of Tyler’s?”
Mick shook his head. “From my ex-wife. She’d been following me. I guess she figured I was going to get myself in over my head.” The memory of that moment, the knife cutting deep into his throat, usually gave him a chill, but he still felt hot. He pushed back sweaty hair and fumbled at his coat, trying to get it off. Why was he still wearing it?
“Mick. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I guess the air conditioning must have gone out.” He got the coat off, left it on his chair, and went to check the thermostat. It claimed that the temperature indoors was sixty-five degrees, but that couldn’t be right. It had to be a hundred degrees in here; he could almost feel the sun beating down on him. “What’s wrong with this thing? It’s so hot.”
Esme was suddenly beside him. “It isn’t hot,” she said, and she touched Mick’s hand again. “You aren’t even feeling this, Mick. Someone else is.”
“What?”
“Someone you’re close to.” Beth, Mick thought in confusion, but he knew it wasn’t her. Esme went on, “A fledgling perhaps . . .”
“Oh God.” Mick pulled away from her and stumbled back to the chair. He grabbed his coat, reaching into his pocket for his keys. “It’s Elaine. It’s fire. She must be . . . she must have . . .” His old nightmare flooded over him: the air full of smoke, fire leaping into the sky, Elaine’s house collapsing in a ruin of flames.
“No,” Esme said urgently, catching his arm and holding him back. “It isn’t fire.”
“How do you -- ”
“It’s sunlight.”
How does she know? What if she’s wrong? But Esme was still holding on to him, her eyes clenched shut in pain, and he knew that she was – somehow – feeling this even more clearly than he was. “Sunlight?” he breathed. “She’s outside?”
Esme nodded, slowly releasing her grip. “Outside for too long. Sunlight. Sunlight on water, reflecting.”
“I know where she is.” Keys in one hand, coat in the other, Mick ran.
-
Thank you, posted just in time for me to print out and take along with me on my vacation. How very considerate of you..I really owe you for that!! And for a lot more than just that as well... 
... for you to do a chapter for after Sonata, even tho, yeah, technically speaking and all, it's not reallllllllly In Between. Ummmm.... please? 
I'm choked up...after reading this. 