“Then, one day, he got a letter. He had been trying to get in with the CIA for years, and had been faced with rejection after rejection. Finally, they agreed to see him for an interview. It was a long process but, two years later, we moved to Connecticut, bought a house, and he began working for the agency out of one of the satellite offices. He eventually started his own private security firm and we moved back up here.
“After he passed away, I traveled a lot. It wasn’t until my granddaughter was born that I decided to make Massachusetts my home once more and I’m glad I did so I could be around for all of her firsts.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, even though things may look bleak right now, life has a funny way of working itself out.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Burnham,” an imposing man clad in a dark suit interrupted, popping into the kitchen. Based on his stature, I knew he worked for the security company. Maybe he was Colleen’s version of Eli.
“Hello, William.” She looked away from me and gave him a congenial smile.
“I apologize for interrupting, ma’am, but I have news.” He slid an envelope in front of her and she opened it, examining the contents.
I turned my head to allow her to read whatever it was without me trying to look over her shoulder, but I was certainly curious. Instead, I occupied my mind with my surroundings. The kitchen was modern and homey. It opened into a laid-back sitting room with a large screen TV, and I could tell this was where most of the entertaining occurred.
“Thank you, William,” Colleen’s voice cut through, bringing my attention back to her and the formidable-looking man standing at ease next to her.
“Ma’am.” He nodded, retreating from the kitchen.
As if on cue, the stove buzzed, indicating that the lasagna was done. “Perfect.” She jumped up from her chair. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“Are you kidding me?” I responded, rubbing my stomach. “This little guy has a monster appetite.”
“Well, he’s got Burnham DNA in him. He’s going to be a big baby.”
“How big was Tyler when he was born?” I asked, almost scared to know the answer.
“Nearly ten pounds. Word of advice, dear,” she said, looking over her shoulder as she retrieved the lasagna from the oven. “Don’t turn down the epidural.”
Tyler
THE WHEELS OF THE plane finally touched down at Logan International in Boston after midnight, the end of three very long days of traveling. The drive to the closest airport in Sudan was nearly fifteen hours, then a thirty-hour series of flights back to the States. It was torture. Every minute that passed was another minute Mackenzie believed I was avoiding her. After clearing customs, I debated continuing on down to Texas, but I was exhausted. No commercial flights would be departing for several hours and it would take just as long to get one of the company’s jets prepped for flight. I could use a few hours rest for what I knew would be one of my most difficult missions to date – convincing Mackenzie I was someone worth forgiving, that my love for her was real.
“So what’s the plan?” Eli asked, helping me carry my bags up the short steps of my house in Beacon Hill.
“Sleep for a few hours, I suppose. Then head back home.”
“Home?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. Home. Where Mackenzie is. I’m done being a coward. I’m not going to let my brother dictate what’s best for me anymore. For all I know, there may never have been any threat to our safety. Maybe he just made it up to keep me away from her. I don’t know, but I’m through being his pawn.”
Eli nodded before holding his hand out to me. I grabbed it and he pulled me in, patting my back. “Good for you. I’ll do what I can to get a flight plan in place for tomorrow, hopefully without your brother knowing.”
I smiled appreciatively at him. “Thanks. Call me with the details.”
“Will do,” he said, turning from me and hopping back into the cab we had shared from the airport.
Alone once more, I stared at my front door, my chest tightening. I hadn’t stepped foot inside this house since the day everything fell apart. I had my mom grab the few things I needed for my trip, too distraught to face the memories I made with Mackenzie within the four walls of the house that, for a brief moment of time, actually felt like a home.
After unlocking the door and disarming the system, I entered the foyer. Everything looked just as I had left it four months ago, but it was all different. Darkness enveloped the house, despite the light that was now flooding through the foyer.
The sound of my shoes hitting the hardwood floor echoed as I walked into the formal sitting room and poured myself a scotch from the wet bar. A strong memory rushed forward and I placed my hands on the counter, trying to steady myself.
“Something about being near you makes my heart race faster than it has in years. And I want this feeling to last for as long as possible, preferably forever. It took meeting you to make me realize I was lost. I was numb for years. I always held out the smallest glimmer of hope someone would come along to make me feel again, just like you did. So, yes, this is my home. Just like South Padre is my home. I’m home as long as I have you. Alaska could be my home. Antarctica, Idaho, a corn field in Nebraska. Fuck. I don’t care where, as long as you’re with me. You’re my home.”
Closing my eyes, I fought against the memory, trying to forget it. The ghost of Mackenzie’s spirit surrounded me here, tormenting me. I could almost smell her scent of cinnamon and it broke me more than I thought possible.
I grabbed the scotch and poured more into my glass. My world spinning, I dashed up the stairs, wishing I could find somewhere in my house that hadn’t been tainted by my betrayal and deception, but I knew it wasn’t possible. It surrounded me, mocking me, reminding me that I didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
Hesitating outside the door to my master bedroom, my hand hovered over the handle. A voice urged me to open it, to face my demons, to live with the reminder of what I had done. That was my penance for using Mackenzie.
Tentatively, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. I stood frozen in place as my eyes fell on my bedroom, everything exactly as I remembered, as if it was suspended in time. The bed still had a rumple on the duvet from where Mackenzie had been reading when I came back from picking out her engagement ring. The shadows of her soul, her heart, her love were everywhere, torturing me, reminding me, punishing me.
A low glimmer on the nightstand caught my eye and I went to it. I grew breathless when I saw the jeweled cross she always wore. I picked it up and my eyes scanned the room to see what else had been left behind. Her suitcase was still in the corner. I opened the closet to see the clothes she had brought with her hanging neatly. At the end of the rack was the dress she had worn the night of the dedication dinner. I ran my hand along the lace, Mackenzie’s words replaying in my mind.
“I love you for you. I don’t care about the man you wanted me to think you were. I know the real Tyler, and I love all the sides of that man. I love the caring side, the controlling side, the side that takes, the side that gives, and the side that loves. And I’m so grateful you opened your heart to love me.”
The pain was back. It had never really left, but being faced with reminders of how I destroyed everything was too much and I sank to the ground, throwing back the scotch, her cross scorching my flesh. I needed the burn to dull the rest of the heartache coursing through my veins. I had distanced myself from any physical memories of Mackenzie, but now that I was back in Boston, it all came rushing forward and the remorse was overwhelming. I physically felt it in my throat, in my chest, in my heart.