Lucky Stars

Chapter Seventeen Jack’s Sunday

Jack

Jack woke and the minute he did he knew Belle, who was tucked in the curve of his body, was also awake.

She was always awake before him. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she lay in bed until he woke.

His arm resting at her waist got tight and her body went stiff in response.

He always pulled her closer when he woke. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she grew stiff when he did.

He closed his eyes with frustration.

He knew what the morning would bring and what the day would bring. It had been three and a half weeks since the accident and every day was the same.

Belle had had a concussion, a sprained wrist, some intense bruising and she’d lost their child.

Considering the staircase was made of stone and it was a long drop, the doctor told them they’d been “lucky”.

And Jack felt lucky.

She could have broken her neck, broken her back or her head injury could have caused brain damage.

None of this happened.

She was alive and breathing and was released from hospital within a few days.

For this, regardless of the crushing loss they’d endured, Jack felt lucky.

Belle, on the other hand, it was overwhelmingly safe to say, did not feel lucky.

During her short hospital stay, she had been far more quiet than normal, her moments of silent contemplation far more frequent and far longer and, for the first time, Jack did not enjoy them.

Indeed, these moments were so frequent and so long, if she wasn’t having one, she was sleeping.

Jack allowed this. She had told him when she did this she was trying not to think and he hoped, in this instance, she was successful.

When Jack, in his Jag, and Rachel and Lila, in Belle’s car, went to collect her when she was released, Belle’s game began.

There were no photographers mainly because the first night Jack was there, after sitting with Belle until she woke and remaining with her until her quiet tears subsided and she’d fallen asleep, he’d demanded a first thing in the morning meeting with the hospital CEO. When he had that meeting, he told the CEO if that first word was breathed about Belle being an inpatient, why she was and what she’d lost, Jack would stop at nothing until he’d closed the hospital down and the CEO, personally, would never work again.

The CEO believed him but he wasn’t hard to believe. Jack meant what he said and everything about the way he said it screamed it.

Therefore, they had thankfully not had that additional worry.

After she was released, when they were at the backdoors where the cars were parked, Belle started toward the Peugeot.

“Belle, honeypot, you’re riding with Jack,” Rachel had said gently.

Without looking at her mother or Jack or anything but the pavement, Belle replied softly, “I want to go to the cottage.”

Lila got close to her granddaughter, “Belle, my sweet –” but Jack interrupted her.

“Take her to the cottage.”

Both Lila and Rachel’s eyes flashed to him and he saw Belle’s body grow tight. He nodded to her mother and grandmother, they both gave him intense looks but they didn’t demur and helped Belle into the car.

He watched them drive away then he got into his Jag and drove to The Point.

Once there, he found his mother, told her to pack whatever Belle needed and then he went to the kitchen and told Elaine to pack what the dogs would need for an extended stay at the cottage.

Then, in his and Belle’s room, beside his mother, he packed what he would need for an extended stay.

All of this he put in the boot, he called the dogs and loaded them up and he drove into town.

He had a suitcase in each hand and a dog at each heel when he opened the door to Belle’s cottage.

Lila stood at the head of the stairs as he walked up.

He dropped the suitcases on the landing as the dogs nosed around the small house.

Without first offering her a greeting, Jack said, “I’ll need keys and someone should go to the grocery store.”

“I’ll go to the store,” Rachel, who had appeared in the back hall, offered immediately and bustled into the kitchen.

“I’ll find keys,” Lila murmured and she bustled into the kitchen too.

Jack went to Belle’s bedroom.

She was lying on her side on top of the covers, her hands in prayer position under her cheek, her right wrist wrapped in a bandage, her eyes were open.

She lifted her head when he entered then, without any further reaction, her head dropped back down on her hands.

This didn’t faze him. After being treated to days of this kind of behaviour while she was in hospital, Jack was used to it.

However, this time, as she was not in a narrow hospital bed having just fallen down the stairs, he took off his shoes. At the same time Gretl and Baron came in and started nosing at the side of the bed for Belle’s attention.

She reached her left hand out and stroked each dog alternately.

Jack joined her in bed, being careful as he knew she was stiff and sore and he settled behind her.

She stopped stroking and went still.

“Jack –” she whispered.

He cut her off as his arm slid around her waist, “Quiet, love.”

“I think –”

“Quiet.”

“We shouldn’t –”

He carefully pulled her into his body. “Belle, I said quiet.”

She kept her body stiff but whispered, “Okay.”

She resumed stroking his dogs’ heads until they settled in, lying by the bed.

And Jack held her until she fell asleep.

Then he cautiously left the bed and went back out to the car to collect the things he hadn’t been able to carry when he arrived.

As he filled the dogs’ bowls with water and food and set them in the kitchen, Lila came in.

“She’s still asleep,” Lila whispered. “I’ve closed the door.”

Jack nodded.

Lila studied him, her eyes soft. “Are you okay?”

His reply was instant and honest, “No.”

He watched as she closed her eyes and he felt his gut get tight at witnessing the pain in stark relief as it settled on her features.

“Lila, are you all right?” he asked in return.

Her eyes opened and she gave him a sad smile as she shook her head.

“Whatever your child feels, and that extends to whatever your grandchild feels, you feel it too. Happiness or despair, you feel it right along with them.” Jack’s jaw got hard and Lila came forward, put her hand to his arm and continued in a quiet voice, “I know that’s difficult for you to hear right now but I’ve every faith you’ll learn this yourself, my man, I know you will…” she paused and whispered, “someday.”

Jack nodded again. He didn’t have it in him to answer mainly because his chest had tightened along with his gut and he was finding it more important at that juncture to focus on breathing.

Lila got closer and her voice dipped quieter when she advised, “Don’t let her pull away.”

“I won’t,” Jack vowed and it was, indeed, a vow. His words were low and they vibrated.

Upon hearing them, he saw Lila’s eyes register surprise then they warmed. The sad smile disappeared, a hopeful one took its place and she squeezed his arm.

Later, Rachel came in carrying groceries and Jack went out to retrieve the rest.

Later still, Belle woke and sat in the kitchen with Jack while Rachel and Lila made dinner and even helped do the dishes when they were finished eating.

Shortly after, Lila and Rachel made their way to the door.

Belle followed them to the landing, her expression confused.

“Where are you going?” she asked her mother.

“Home, to The Point,” Rachel answered, giving Belle a kiss on the cheek.

“But, I thought –” Belle started.

“I’ve got painting to do and we’ve got guests, Cassandra and Angus,” Lila reminded Belle, moving in for her own kiss.

“But, they aren’t guests you hired –” Belle began again after she received her kiss.

“We’ll come and visit tomorrow,” Rachel assured her daughter.

“No, tomorrow’s Sunday. Sundays are Jack’s days,” Lila, to Jack’s surprise (and satisfaction) told Rachel.

Belle’s body jerked but Rachel said, “Oh, right.” She looked at her daughter and went on, “We’ll be back on Monday.”

“But, my car,” Belle said. “I’ll need –”

Jack slid his hand along her waist, pulling her to his side and interrupted her, “If you need to go anywhere, love, I’ll take you.”

She looked up at him, her face wan, the bandage still at her temple, dark circles under her eyes even though she’d slept a good deal the past few days and she mumbled, “But –”

His fingers gave her a squeeze at her waist and he promised softly, “Whatever you need, poppet, I’ll get it for you.”

He saw tears fill her eyes, she swallowed, looked to his shoulder, his ear and then away.

Then she said, “Okay,” but she didn’t mean it.

They spent a quiet night in front of the television until she fell asleep, her head against his bicep which she was using for a pillow.

He took her to bed and woke with her already awake in front of him.

His arm got tight and her body grew solid.

“Belle,” he whispered into her bent neck.

“You should go,” she said back.

It was then his body grew solid.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t want you here,” she told him, her voice quiet and remote, her words felt like acid injected straight into a vein.

He ignored the pain and replied, “Sorry, my love, I’m willing to give you just about anything you want but I’m afraid that’s something I can’t give you.”

“There’s no reason anymore for you to be here,” she went on to explain, her voice still quiet, her head tipped down, her body remained tight.

Her words slashed through his gut and he pulled her vaguely resisting body closer before he asked, “Why would you say that?”

“Because you were with me for the baby and now there’s no baby, so –”

She stopped speaking when his arm clenched even tighter.

“I wasn’t with you for the baby,” he told her, his voice as tight as his arm, his temper rising but he controlled it, barely.

“It’s okay, Jack. I’ll be okay eventually. You can just –”

“Belle –” His voice was a warning.

“Seriously,” she said firmly.

“Seriously,” his reply was even more firm, “I wasn’t with you for the baby. I was with you for you.”

“I can’t believe –”

He cut her off even more firmly, demanding, “Believe.”

“Jack –”

He interrupted her again, “This is the first and last time we’re having this ludicrous discussion.”

“Jack –”

“Belle, don’t say another word.”

“But Jack –”

His arm shook her body gently. “Belle, not another fucking word.”

She grew silent, her body stayed taut.

For his part, Jack used those moments to control his anger and seek patience which he had the feeling (and he was right) he would need a lot of in the coming weeks.

Finally, she said quietly, “The dogs need to be walked.”

Thinking that walking the dogs would be a good opportunity to control his temper and find his patience, he agreed, “I’ll see to it.”

Then he kissed her shoulder and left her in bed.

They spent a tense Sunday together.

Then they spent a tense Monday together, Jack waking after Belle, holding her tight body close for long moments before she told him the dogs needed to be walked. He kissed her shoulder, left her in bed and walked the dogs. Then he worked in her living room while she puttered around her house.

This went on.

Eventually he had to go to London and she had to go back to the shop.

As the days slid by, she remained distant and on edge and Jack resolutely remained close, calling her during the day, the conversations short, one-sided (his side) and stilted and coming home to her cottage at night. She’d make him dinner then he’d work, she’d listen to music on her MP3 or they’d watch television. All of this done in silence.

They rarely talked but as he was allowing her emotional distance, he refused to allow her physical distance.

He nestled her close when they were both on her couch. He held her when they were in bed. He took her hand in his when he walked her to her store in the morning or when he was able to collect her in the evenings. And he took every opportunity he could to pull her into his arms and brush his lips against hers.

Often, when this happened, he’d see her wet her lips anxiously or tears would fill her eyes but she said nothing and didn’t avoid his touch nor did she respond to it.

Rachel, Lila, Joy and Yasmin were never far but they also gave Jack and Belle the space they needed to move forward and heal.

Unfortunately, neither of those things was happening.

Jack had decided early after the accident he would wait for his chance to break through.

She’d lost a child and he had no idea, not carrying it, how that felt.

Jack, too, lamented the loss of their child. He was looking forward to sharing that with Belle, looking forward to every aspect of it with great anticipation. Anytime he thought of their loss, remembered his mother’s voice on the phone when she called to tell him what happened, Lila greeting him at the entrance to the hospital, whispering to him that Nathan was gone, seeing Belle lying bandaged and asleep in her hospital bed, his chest would get tight.

But whatever he felt was simply emotional. It had not been tied to the physical. He’d not had a child in distress die inside him.

And he couldn’t imagine her pain.

Therefore he was willing to let her have her head.

However, he thought Belle would give him an opening, something, anything.

She was not doing that.

And, even though it had been only three and a half weeks (albeit a very long three and a half weeks), Jack was losing patience.

It was Sunday, their day, and it was bloody well time for him to break through.

His face nuzzled the hair at the back of her neck and he whispered, “Belle.”

“You need to walk the dogs,” was her reply.

“In a minute.”

Her stiff body got tighter at his unprecedented response. Every day for three weeks when she’d done that, Jack had left her and walked the dogs.

She hesitated a moment before she said, “It’s not nice to make them wait.”

“We’ll walk them in a minute.”

Her tight body grew rock solid.

Then she whispered, “We?”

Now was the time for him to begin to break through.

Therefore, Jack informed her, “You need to start taking your walks again.”

“I –”

Jack interrupted her and went on, “You also need to start eating more.”

“But I’m not hun –”

“You also need to start designing,” Jack cut her off again. “Dirk tells me that you haven’t begun producing the winter collection. It’s September, you need winter stock.”

“But, I –”

“And we need to go back to The Point.” When her body grew so solid it felt like she’d shatter if she moved, Jack shifted and buried his face in her neck. “I love your cottage, poppet, and I understand why you needed to be here but it’s not our home.”

“Home?” she breathed.

“Home,” he replied and his mouth moved to her ear. “It’s time to go home, my love.”

“But, Jack,” she whispered, “this is my home.”

He kissed the skin behind her ear and her solid body gave a delicate shiver.

His frame absorbed it gladly and he felt like shouting in triumph.

Finally, for the first time in weeks, she gave him something.

Instead of shouting his triumph, he murmured, “Your home became The Point when Elaine moved your things into our room.”

She started to shift but he held her firm and moved over her to kiss the hinge of her jaw.

“But –” she began.

“You told me I’d have to explain what it meant when you agreed to moving your things to my room. Now, I’m explaining.”

“But –”

“It’s time to go home.”

“But –”

Jack was unrelenting. “This evening, we’re moving home.”

He shifted away, let her drop to her back but when she did, her eyes went to his shoulder then his throat then his ear.

Then she said, “Jack –”

He cut her off again by brushing his lips against her own before he whispered, “Now, poppet, we can make love or we can walk the dogs. Your choice.”

He watched close up as her eyes finally met his and she blinked.

“Make love?” she breathed.

Jack grinned and teased, “Is that your choice?”

Her eyes grew wide and her body, which had relaxed, went stiff again before she retorted sharply, “No!”

Undeterred, he nevertheless relented and, still grinning, he announced, “Then we’ll walk the dogs and then come back and make love.”

Her hands came to his chest and she gave a useless shove for Jack wasn’t going anywhere.

“We can’t make love,” she snapped.

“All right,” he replied and bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “If you’re not ready for that then I’ll make you come with my mouth and, after, if you feel up to it, you can do the same for me.”

She gave him another ineffective shove and demanded, “Get off!”

He ignored her and mused against her neck, nudging her earlobe with his nose, “Or maybe we can do it at the same time.”

Her hands stilled and she whispered, “Oh my goodness gracious.”

There it was. Another something.

Her words made him smile. His hand drifted from her waist upward and stopped by her breast, his thumb stroking the side.

She liked that. She’d always liked that. Very much. From their first night together he discovered how much she liked it.

She liked it no less now because her body melted under his and her hands slid up his chest so her fingers could curl on his shoulders.

Thank God, he was getting somewhere.

Not about to lose his advantage, his mouth slid over her jaw to touch hers.

Speaking against her lips, he stated his preference, “As much as I like the idea of having the taste of you in my mouth while your mouth is wrapped around my cock, I might get distracted and not hear those sweet, sexy noises you make. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather make you come when I can concentrate and listen to you and you can return the favour later.”

Her eyes grew wide then they went languid.

Watching it, Jack realised that yes, thank God, he was definitely getting somewhere.

“You’ve never spoken to me like that,” she murmured, the fingers of one hand curling around his neck, her body had grown soft but it was moving restlessly under his.

Oh yes, definitely getting somewhere.

“No,” he replied and touched her mouth in a brief kiss, “I haven’t.”

He didn’t have to ask if she liked it, he knew from her response she did.

“Jack –” she whispered, the hand at his neck moved, her fingers gliding in his hair, her actions belying her next words. “I’m not ready for this.”

He touched her lips in another brief kiss before he said, “All right, my love, I’ll be sure to spend a lot of time getting you ready.”

“Holy heck,” she breathed but her fingers put pressure against his head, her head lifted and she touched her mouth against his.

When she did, he growled his triumph into her already opened mouth, slanted his head and slid his tongue inside.

She immediately emitted one of her sexy, little noises and his already hard cock jerked at the sound.

Then Baron and Gretl moved, their tags jangling and they both barked.

This was right before they heard a banging at the door.

Jack’s head came up and twisted as the banging continued, loud and unabated.

“What the fuck?” he muttered.

Belle’s body had grown tense underneath him and feeling it, Jack decided he was going to wring the neck of whoever was at the door.

“Would a reporter bang on the door like that?” Belle whispered, her voice filled with anxiety.

“No,” Jack answered as the banging stopped then, within seconds, continued and he stifled a frustrated growl.

“Mom and Gram wouldn’t bang like that,” Belle told him as, with regret, he moved away from her warm body and their warm bed.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Jack replied though he figured they would but not on Sunday.

He exited the bed and Baron and Gretl started circling to the bedroom door and back to Jack.

He heard Belle’s movement, looked back and saw her sitting up and throwing the covers back.

Jack stopped in his progress to the door and ordered, “Don’t move.”

Belle halted her legs in mid-swing and asked, “What?”

“Don’t leave that bed.”

“But –”

“Belle.”

She stared at him a moment then her legs settled and she whispered, “Okay.”

“I won’t be a minute,” Jack told her and watched her nod.

Then Jack, barefoot, bare-chested and wearing only pyjama bottoms, stalked through the house, down the steps to the front door and threw it open.

A tall, sandy blond-haired man with intensely blue eyes stood outside wearing a beat up leather bomber jacket, a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt stating his fondness for The Rolling Stones.

He had an even more beat up leather satchel over his shoulder and, alarmingly, a large, even more beat up leather bag sitting on the stoop by his foot.

His eyes bugged out when they fell on Jack’s face.

“Jesus, you’re the famous, rich dude,” he declared.

Jack scowled at him. “I am indeed. And you are?”

The man’s face split into an easy, wide, white smile and his hand shot forward toward Jack before he said, “Jenson Abbot, Belle’s Daddy.”

Jack stared at his hand, vaguely disappointed that he couldn’t commit homicide against Belle’s father and then he took his hand and shook it, introducing himself by saying, “Jack Bennett.”

“Dude, I know,” Jensen Abbot replied. “Christ, photos of you and Belle are everywhere.” He dropped Jack’s hand and went on, “You two look sweet together. Sah… weet. Never thought my precious girl would find someone to complement her, because, hey man, I don’t have to tell you, she’s beautiful but, seriously, dude, you… are… it.”

Jack had no reply to that however he did get the impression that perhaps Belle hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with how wild her father was and she had painted a verbal picture of Jensen Abbot that was rather wild.

“I came to surprise my baby girl and see how she’s gettin’ on with all this shit so, um, you think you could let me in because I kinda wanna see my daughter and I seriously need a caffeine fix. You know what I’m saying?”

“Of course,” Jack murmured, stepped back and motioned to Baron and Gretl to go up the stairs which they did.

Jensen didn’t delay. He picked up his bag and barrelled up the steps after the dogs.

While he did so, he shouted, “Bellerina, get your ass out here and give your ol’ Dad a hug!”

Jack had made it to the landing in time to see Belle come running out of the bedroom wearing her nightgown. Then he watched as she threw herself in her father’s arms.

“Dad!” she shouted happily as Jensen swung her around. Jack thought there was one thing good about Jensen interrupting Jack’s determination to break through during his Sunday and that was hearing Belle sounding happy for the first time in weeks.

Jack watched as Jensen hugged his daughter while the dogs danced around them and Gretl gave an excited woof.

Jensen pushed Belle a bit away and his gaze went immediately to the significantly faded bruise and stitched cut at her temple.

Then he exploded.

“Holy shit! What the fuck!”

Then, for some strange reason, his eyes slashed to Jack and, Jack noted, they did this accusingly.

Jack was taken off-guard. He thought Jensen was there because of the accident but apparently he didn’t know. Jack also couldn’t imagine why Jensen was glaring at him with murder in his eyes as if Jack himself had shoved Belle down the stairs.

He had no time to come to terms with either of these thoughts.

Belle’s face had grown pale and Jack bit back a curse before suggesting to Jensen, “Perhaps you and I can have word in the living room.”

“Yeah, we’ll have a fuckin’ word. We might have two,” Jensen ground out and his gaze swung back to his daughter as his hand curled around the side of her head, his thumb under the cut. “I mean, what the fuck?”

“Dad –” Belle whispered, her body swaying toward her father and her hand came up to his, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. “I’m okay.”

“Girl, you’ve got a head wound,” Jensen returned.

“I’m okay,” she repeated softly.

But Jensen was not appeased. His hand dropped but twisted and Jack watched him catch Belle’s hand and give it a squeeze. All the while his eyes were on Jack and Jack noted he didn’t look happy.

“Get your Dad a cup of joe, girl. Your man and I are gonna have words,” Jensen said without taking his gaze from Jack.

“I think –” Belle started but Jack moved to Belle’s side and curved his arm around her waist, bringing her close and kissing her temple above the cut.

Then his mouth moved to her ear and he said gently, “Belle, love, show your father the living room and then, please, make some coffee.”

“But –”

Jack gave her waist a squeeze. “Please.”

Her eyes searching his, she took in a breath, wet her lips and finally nodded.

She turned to her father and invited, “Come on, Daddy.”

As Belle took her father to the living room, Jack went to the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and then walked into the living room where Jensen Abbot was staring out the window.

Belle’s father’s eyes came to Jack the minute he entered the room and he watched Jack close the door.

The door barely clicked in its frame when Jensen demanded, “Don’t make me wait, man.”

Jack turned and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Three and a half weeks ago, at my home, Belle fell down the stairs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jensen bit out then his eyes narrowed. “How?”

“Pardon?” Jack asked.

“My girl ain’t clumsy. How’d she fall down the fuckin’ stairs?”

This was, Jack thought, a fucking good question.

One he had not thought to ask as he’d been preoccupied with seeing to Belle and dealing with losing his child.

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken of it,” Jack answered.

“Well, when she gets in with the coffee, we’ll be fuckin’ speakin’ of it,” Jensen threatened and Jack walked toward him.

The way Jack did it, Jensen rightly pulled himself up to his full height.

“You won’t mention it,” Jack declared.

“What the –”

“I wasn’t there,” Jack explained away what he had the uncomfortable feeling was Jensen’s implication that Belle didn’t fall down the stairs but that Jack had some hand in her injury. “I was flying from London to Cornwall at the time. No one witnessed it. She was found unconscious at the foot of the stairs.”

Jensen relaxed a bit and asked in a less hostile tone, “Did she trip?”

“I don’t know but you won’t mention it,” Jack stated inflexibly.

The hostility was back when Jensen asked, “Why the fuck not?”

“Because she was pregnant when she fell and she’s not pregnant now.” Jack watched the blood drain from Belle’s father’s face and he softened his tone when he went on, “She’s not handling the loss of our child well, Jensen, and I need you to handle her with care.”

Jensen’s eyes grew wide. “Your child?”

“Our child, yes,” Jack replied.

He looked away and pulled a hand through his hair.

Jack thought upon meeting him that he, like Rachel, looked years younger than he must be.

At that moment, he looked old enough to be Belle’s grandfather.

“Bellerina,” he whispered to the floor and Jack thought even his voice sounded old when he looked at Jack and said bizarrely, “I really need to get me one of them cell phones. Rachel’s probably been frantic tryin’ to get a hold of me.”

Knowing, from what Belle told him, that Jensen Abbot was an American nomad, no home, travelling from city to city taking on whatever “gig” (Belle’s word) he could find, as a musician (he played piano) or a dealer (he dealt blackjack) or anything else that came up, Jack reckoned that Jensen was not wrong. It was likely Rachel had been frantically trying to reach him.

“You’re here now,” Jack replied and Jensen nodded.

Then Jensen went still and said, “Handle her with care?”

Jack felt his jaw grow hard but he tried to keep his voice soft when he replied, “I meant no disrespect. What I meant –”

Jensen visibly relaxed and his grin spread right before he cut in and assured, “I know what you meant, man, and I know it wasn’t disrespect.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder stoutly and his grin widened into a smile. “Glad to see my girl’s got herself a good man. ‘Handle her with care’,” he muttered. “I like that, I should write a song about that.” Then he looked around Jack toward the door and shouted, “Girl, where’s my coffee!”

Jack had no chance to say another word as Jensen rounded him and marched to the door.

However he had a feeling his Sunday with Belle was no longer just his.

And he was right.

“Jenny!” Rachel shouted as she flew through the enormous entrance hall of The Point and threw herself in Jensen’s arms.

Belle and Jack followed Jensen inside, Gretl and Baron trotting in with them heading straight toward the kitchen and food.

Jack watched as his mother, Lila, Yasmin and a big, strange, white-haired man wearing a kilt and a dark-haired woman wearing an effusive number of scarves and silver jewellery wandered in behind Rachel.

Then his eyes swung to Jensen and Rachel and he saw, to his shock, they were shamelessly necking in the entrance hall.

Shamelessly and passionately.

And, after this went on for a while, Jack realised they were necking shamelessly, passionately and, apparently, tirelessly.

For the first time in three and a half weeks, Jack found himself chuckling.

When he did, Belle’s head twisted sharply to face him, her eyes narrowed and his chuckle became laughter.

Then she looked back to her mother and cried, “Mom!”

Rachel, slowly (very slowly), realised she had an audience and she broke from her lip lock with Jensen but she didn’t move away.

Cuddling Jensen, her fingers playing with the collar of his jacket, her head resting on his shoulder, she looked at her daughter, a smile on her face and muttered, “Sorry honeypot.”

“I’m not sorry,” Jensen grinned unrepentant at his daughter, his arm around Rachel. “It’s been too long, little girl.”

Belle made a frustrated noise and Jack’s arm, already around her shoulders, curled and he pulled her into his side.

“Oops!” Rachel all of a sudden uttered and looked up at Jensen. “Jenny, we’re not allowed to embarrass Bellerina.”

Jensen looked down at Rachel but his eyebrows went up, “Says who?”

“Says Jack,” Rachel replied. “He’s kind of protective of Belle and he’s forbidden it.”

“Yeah,” Jensen was still grinning. “I got that impression right off.”

“Really?” Rachel asked curiously, twisting so her front was plastered against Jensen’s and her arms went around his waist. “What happened?”

“I’m sure we’d all like to know but perhaps you two can cotton onto the fact that there are other beings in the universe so that everyone can meet Jensen,” Lila broke in and Jack chuckled again.

“This isn’t funny,” Belle whispered at his side and he looked down at her.

“Poppet, you’re wrong,” Jack whispered back, a grin on his face and it didn’t leave even when he bent his head to touch his grinning lips to her pursed ones.

Introductions were made including Jack meeting Angus and Cassandra. Then they moved, everyone settled in the morning room and Joy ran out to see to refreshments.

“How you getting on, lass?” Angus boomed gently when they were all seated.

His question was for Belle but strangely his eyes were on Jack.

As were Cassandra’s.

“I’m okay, Angus,” Belle answered, busy with pressing the hem of her skirt over her knees, her head bent and she didn’t notice Angus wasn’t looking at her.

“You?” Angus barked at Jack and Jack inclined his head.

Angus was studying him intently and Jack didn’t like it.

Jack had no way of saying anything, not in company, so he held the Scotsman stare and he didn’t laugh when Jensen declared, “It’s all going to be okay now ‘cause I’m here.”

Belle’s head came up and she smiled at her father.

“Oh lordy,” Rachel muttered. She was cuddling so closely with Jensen in the corner of the couch opposite Jack and Belle that she was nearly in his lap. Then her eyes came to Jack and she said, “I hope this place is fortified. Jensen can be a bit wild.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak but Jensen beat him to it.

“That gives me an idea! Let’s have a party!”

“Jenny, we’re not having a party,” Lila decreed.

“Woman, we’re havin’ a party.” His gaze swung to Jack and he attempted to enlist reinforcements. “Jack, my man, you agree we could use a party, doncha?”

“I’m not sure we’re ready for a party,” Jack replied and Jensen’s brows drew together.

Then he informed Jack, “Dude, when things get heavy, a party’s the only way to go.”

“Daddy,” Belle said quietly, “I’m not really in the mood for a party.”

Jensen’s gaze went to his daughter, his brow unfurrowed, his eyes went soft and he gave in immediately, “All right, baby. No party.”

At that moment, Jack decided he liked Jensen Abbot.

Rachel popped out of her chair and pulled Jensen up with her then she wrapped her arms around his waist and suggested, “How about a one-on-one party, you and me, right now?”

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle whispered.

“Now you’re talkin’!” Jensen shouted.

“Holy heck,” Belle breathed.

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Rachel told the congregation with no embarrassment whatsoever and she led Jensen out of the room.

“More like twelve,” Lila muttered under her breath then called after the departing pair, “See you at breakfast!”

They heard Rachel’s giggle and Jensen’s laugh as Joy rushed back in.

“What’d I miss?” Jack’s mother asked excitedly.

“Well, we’re not having a party and, apparently, Jensen and Rachel are off for a twelve hour sex-a-thon,” Yasmin answered. “Other than that, you didn’t miss much.”

“Ah,” Joy sat in the corner of the couch Jensen and Rachel just vacated and went on dreamily, “Young love.”

“Joy, they’re both fifty-five years old,” Lila told her.

Joy looked at Belle, winked and amended, “Ah, young-at-heart love.”

Belle smiled at his mother and Jack realised as his chest squeezed in a mixture of pain and pleasure, he hadn’t seen her smile at all since the accident but today, with her father’s unexpected appearance, she’d smiled several times

It was then Jack thought that perhaps he should have let Jensen have his party.

Suddenly Angus stood up and demanded, “Bennett, a word.”

Belle went tight at his side and Jack tipped his head back to look at the Scot.

“Is it necessary you have your word now?” Jack asked calmly.

“It was necessary I have it three weeks ago. But now’s going to have to do,” Angus shot back.

Belle’s tight body got tighter and Jack felt his jaw follow suit.

“Is something wrong?” Belle asked.

Angus’s face softened when he looked down at Belle. “Nothing’s wrong, lass.”

“But –”

“Just want a word with your man,” Angus went on.

Jack felt her body get as tight as it was that morning when it felt like it would shatter at the slightest movement before she asked, “Is it about the third ghost?”

“Let’s not worry about ghosts for now, shall we?” Joy said hurriedly and Jack’s gaze cut to his mother.

She knew something, something that concerned her greatly, a reaction she was trying to hide.

Jack instantly made his decision.

He gave Belle a squeeze and a kiss on the side of her head before he said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Belle’s eyes never left him as he stood, her expression was anxious and her cheeks had lost the healthy glow her father’s visit had returned there and were again pale.

He leaned over her, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and he pressed a kiss against her lips then whispered, “I’ll only be a minute, poppet.”

“Okay,” she whispered back.

His eyes sliced to Angus then he led the way to his study.

He closed the door and saw Angus standing, legs planted wide, arms crossed on his barrel chest when Jack turned to the room.

“You got whisky?” Angus asked.

“It’s ten thirty,” Jack replied. “Can you wait until an appropriate hour to have a drink?”

“It’s not for me, lad, it’s for you.”

Jack did not think that boded well.

“Speak fast, McPherson, I need to get back to Belle.”

“What you need to do, Bennett, is to quit molly-coddling her. She’ll find her way.”

Jack’s patience, not exactly in a healthy state, instantly frayed at this man he did not know in the slightest having the gall to tell him what to do.

Therefore his voice was low and obviously angry when he replied, “I met you fifteen minutes ago and you barely know Belle. Don’t think –”

Angus cut him off by saying, “My wife was with child when she was knocked over by a car.”

Jack felt as if he’d been punched in the gut, hard, thus he made no reply.

Angus continued, “My wife survived. My child did no’.”

Jack clenched his teeth and he still made no reply.

Angus went on, “I molly-coddled her, like you’re doing. I did it for months. I lost her those months and I feared she’d no’ come back to me. I eventually had to take a job and when I did, she had to be responsible for herself. When I got back, she was better. I took the hint and tried to be normal.” Angus strode forward, stopped two feet away and put his big hand on Jack’s shoulder. “The grieving process is the same for everyone, lad. You’re doing Belle no favours by no’ helping her move to the next stage. The time has come and gone for molly-coddling. It’s time now for normal.”

For some reason, Jack found himself sharing, “We’re moving back to The Point today.”

Angus smiled a crooked, highly demented smile that made Jack question his sanity even after Angus just displayed he had a grip on it. “That’s good news, lad. Good news.”

Jack was finished and therefore asked, “Are we done?”

Angus dropped his hand. “’Fraid no’.”

“Finish it,” Jack demanded.

Angus took a step back and asked, “You sure you don’t want that whisky?” When he caught Jack’s hard look he hurried on, “Cass and I been working while all this was going on.”

Jack stared at the man before informing him, “You should know I’ve never seen Myrtle and Lewis and I don’t believe they exist. I’m humouring Belle, my mother and Belle’s family. I have little interest in this.”

“You might change your mind when you learn Belle is Brenna Addison Bennett reincarnated,” Angus replied.

Yes, Jack decided, Angus McPherson was definitely mad.

And Jack didn’t relish the idea of a madman living in his home with his family.

Therefore, Jack’s voice was ominously quiet when he asked, “Pardon?”

“Belle’s Brenna reincarnated. Cass hasn’t had a chance to confirm if you’re Joshua but we’re guessing you are.”

“That’s absurd,” Jack bit out.

“It’s the truth,” Angus shot back.

Jack crossed his arms on his chest and he scowled at the Scot.

“Cass felt it the minute she touched Belle,” Angus stated. “Seeing as so much was going on, you didn’t shake her hand when you met her. To confirm it, she needs to touch you.”

“Perhaps I should be more clear,” Jack replied. “When I said I had little interest, I meant I’m not participating in this farce.”

Angus leaned forward. “Think about it, lad. We know your story with Belle, the women have shared it. And we know you. A body can’t escape you. You’re all over the papers, all over the magazines. We know your history, most especially with women. Then, one night, you meet this girl and within hours you know you want to spend the rest of your life with her? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Deciding he was done and it was time to get back to Belle, Jack shook his head and started toward the door saying, “This is none of your fucking business.”

“You and Belle are connected,” Angus called after him.

Jack stopped, hand to the doorknob and turned back, “Yes, we are. But there’s nothing odd about it.”

Angus hadn’t moved from his spot. “No, you’re right, it isn’t odd. It’s beautiful. But when I say you’re connected, I mean in more ways than you can imagine. It’s rare and it’s exquisite when it happens and it’s happened to you. You and Belle are connected supernaturally. You belong together. You’re destined for one another. You felt it immediately and don’t stand there and tell me or yourself you didn’t.”

Suddenly, Jack remembered the first time Belle’s eyes fell on him. He remembered it felt like a sledgehammer had hit him in the gut.

And he remembered being extremely irritated that, when she was introduced to him, she hadn’t offered him her cheek to kiss and this made him so annoyed, he’d forced that on her.

And he remembered, practically the moment he met her, he’d manoeuvred her into his arms and, only moments later, he’d had the irrational desire to kiss her.

And, lastly, he remembered, in the dead of night, only hours after meeting her, when she was standing at his side in his shirt next to his dogs that he already considered her his woman and he remembered he felt a possessiveness unparalleled in his entire history with the opposite sex.

Therefore, bearing in mind that his history with the opposite sex was considerable, he had to admit that all of this was more than odd. He’d never thought about it, never questioned it, it was simply the way it was.

However, now, he was forced to think of it and his eyes narrowed on the Scot.

“I see it’s coming to you, lad,” Angus muttered.

Jack moved back into the room.

He hated doing it but he had no choice but to prompt Angus, “Go on.”

Angus only nodded once then said, “When I say reincarnated, I’m not talking about what people think I’m talking about. What I mean is, Brenna Addison and Joshua Bennett’s souls carried the spirits your and Belle’s souls carry. It isn’t that you’re Joshua and she’s Brenna. You’re you and she’s Belle. But you both carry this spirit, a trace of life on this earth that never dies even when its host does. It lives on with one purpose. It’s always seeking its mate, yearning for it and is only at peace when it finds it.”

The idea was ludicrous.

Jack didn’t share this thought but he knew his face showed it because Angus sighed and suggested, “How about we give that time to sink in?”

Jack wanted to advise him not to hold his breath but Angus wasn’t done.

“The thing with this is, these spirits, these traces, these bits of life, they seem to be anchored to The Point in some way. Not anchored here for good and ever because, if they were, Belle wouldn’t have Brenna’s trace. But the action is anchored here. What needs to happen is anchored here. Cass and I don’t think it’s been that way through eternity. We think something has anchored those traces here, brought you both here. We think they’re here because they have to be for Myrtle and Lewis.”

“So, what you’re saying is, Belle, being at least a trace of their mother come back to The Point, can set them free.”

Angus nodded but said, “Problem is, Myrtle and Lewis have disappeared.”

Jack stared and asked, “Pardon?”

“We’ve done reading after reading. There are no ghosts in this house.”

This, at least, was good news.

Jack crossed his arms on his chest and replied, “So your work is done.”

Angus took in a deep breath then he said, “No’ likely, lad. The children were there when Belle fell down the stairs.”

At this unexpected news, Jack felt his entire frame grow tight.

“What?” he asked on a menacing whisper.

“We all saw them. Yasmin got to Belle first. She said they were hovering over her when she arrived.”

“They hurt Belle?” Jack ground out, knowing his words were insane and not giving a fuck.

“No, they were upset, shouting for help. I wasn’t paying much attention but, looking back, they seemed scared. Or at least the boy did. Problem is, since they’ve disappeared, we can’t ask them what they saw.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means something happened that night. They saw something, something that frightened them and they’ve disappeared. Probably for their own protection. We can’t find them. But they’re not gone because they can’t go. They can’t leave this place unless they’re released. They just don’t want to be found. It isn’t unusual. What’s unusual is that neither Cass nor I can sense them and none of our readings are finding them and we’re both pretty good at this kind of thing.”

“Now what?” Jack asked.

“We’ve got to talk to them. Cass felt another entity when we first came to this house. That entity has disappeared too. No traces of him, no signs like he wasn’t even here, like he’s never been here. The children, there are traces of them everywhere. I can feel they’ve been in this room as I’m standing here with you right now. The third entity, we’ve got nothing.”

“And, this third entity –” Jack started.

“Is what I think frightened the boy.”

Jack’s chest grew tight as his mouth murmured, “Caleb Caldwell.”

“That’s my guess,” Angus agreed on a nod.

Jack’s chest grew tighter and his voice sounded hoarse when he said, “Belle.”

“That was my guess too,” Angus replied. “It would be strange, him being here. A ghost has to have some connection with the place it haunts. It has to be a place they spent a lot of time in or the place they died in. But it isn’t unheard of for a ghost to find a connection to someplace integral to something that happened in their life. Even so, we did readings on the top of the stairs, the bottom of the stairs and every step besides. We gave it everything we got. There’s nothing there. No ghost leaves no trace. It’s impossible.”

Jack, to his sheer disbelief, found himself stating, “We need the children.”

“Aye, lad, we need the children.” Then Angus shifted uncomfortably and asked, “Has Belle said –”

Jack cut him off, “We haven’t spoken of it. I assumed she tripped.”

Angus nodded again. “Aye, and she might think she did even if Caldwell was present. He’d have to trick her into the fall or, say, appear before her and make her lose her balance, something like that. Ghosts can’t touch humans unless they have a spell to give them powers. We’ve got the diary of a local girl. Cass found it in the library in town. I’ll share that with you later. But, as far as we can tell, Caldwell had no dealings with a witch who could give him that power and, even though this diary mentioned a good deal about him, the local girl doesn’t note that he dabbled in the dark arts. To be able to touch Belle, he’d have to have a spell. To be able to banish all trace of himself, he’d have to be very powerful. Although Cass is sure she felt something else, we’ve yet to discover what that was.” He leaned forward. “But, Jack, something scared that wee ghosty lad. Something that made him disappear when he’s had full run of this house for centuries without any indication he feared anything here. We need to call him out.”

Jack shook his head. “Do whatever you do but Belle and I aren’t moving back to The Point today.”

Angus threw his head back and hooted before looking at Jack. “Lad, you think we’ve been sitting back drinking whisky and chasing ghosty vibes? Belle’s protected. Cass has got her covered. Cass has got everyone covered. The whole house has so much protection it’d take a powerful coven to break through and, even for them, it’d take days.”

Jack was far from convinced but before he could share this with Angus, Angus spoke again.

“I know you don’t believe all I’m saying but believe this, I take my work seriously. My family, for generations, has been doing this work and we all take it seriously. We live it. We breathe it. It’s our legacy. In all my time doing this work I’ve no’ let anyone down and I’ll no’ start with you and I sure as hell will no’ let The Tiny Dynamo down.” He leaned in before he finished, saying, “Do you get me?”

He certainly sounded serious but Jack didn’t reply. He just held his stare.

Angus let it go and urged, “Talk to Belle about that night, Jack. We need to know what she saw and what she felt.”

“And, if there was some other…” he paused and then clipped out the word, “entity, what would you be looking for?”

“A cold draught is usually the way,” Angus answered. “It could feel like a slight breeze. It could be she saw her breath, like she was out in the chill air. Sometimes the ghosties appear full on, like Myrtle and Lewis like to do. Sometimes it’s just a feeling. Even if she just had a feeling she wasn’t alone, Cass and I need to know.”

Jack took a breath in through his nostrils and then he said what he couldn’t believe he had to say.

“I’ll talk to Belle.”

Angus smiled his demented smile. “Good lad.”

Then Jack continued to say what he couldn’t believe he had to say, “I need to get back to Belle but I’ll want a full briefing.”

Angus didn’t give the slightest indication of smugness. He just nodded and agreed, “Absolutely.”

Jack nodded back and then he and Angus started back to the morning room.

They didn’t make it.

They didn’t because they ran into Miles going the same direction.

“Miles,” Jack called, his voice curt and he watched his brother turn.

When Jack saw him, he noted there was something about Miles’s face, something Jack couldn’t quite read but whatever it was, it put Jack on edge and this only intensified when he heard Angus suck in breath behind him.

Miles rearranged his features and changed directions. Meeting Jack, Miles embraced his brother’s stiff frame.

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” Miles murmured, clapping him on the back while still embracing then releasing him and stepping away. “Elaine told me you and Belle were here. I thought I’d go –”

Jack cut him off, “Now’s not the time, Miles.”

Miles’s face grew tight then his eyes moved to Angus and they grew wide. “And who might you be?”

“The McPherson,” Angus announced, his booming voice, which Jack had noted in his short time with the Scot always had a warmth underlying it no matter if he was booming, hooting or telling you ridiculous facts about his job.

Now, Angus’s voice was stone cold.

“I’ll bet you are,” Miles muttered, humour in his tone and not nice humour.

“Miles –” Jack started and his brother’s eyes cut to him.

“I just want to see if Belle’s all right,” Miles stated.

“I’ll save you the trouble,” Jack told him bluntly. “She’s not. She fell down the stairs, sprained her wrist, gave herself a concussion, split open her temple which called for five stitches and she lost our child. One isn’t ‘all right’ when that happens.”

“Jack –” Miles began.

“Time, Miles,” Jack interrupted. “We need time.”

Miles’s face turned obstinate. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

Jack lost his patience, leaned toward his brother and clipped, “And I’m telling you the right thing is to give us… some fucking… time.”

Miles glared at Jack, shifted his glare to Angus then back to Jack and he said tersely, “Tell Belle she’s in my thoughts.”

“I’ll be certain to do that,” Jack lied.

Without another word, Miles walked away.

“Who, on the good God almighty’s earth, was that?” Angus asked, watching as Miles disappeared.

“My brother,” Jack replied.

“You’re not close?” Angus asked.

“Not even a little,” Jack answered.

Angus pursed his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from talking then he said softly, “Bad seed, lad.”

“You can say that again,” Jack muttered under his breath and then turned and led the way back to the morning room.

After Jack and Belle had coffee with the assemblage, Jack escorted Belle and Lila to the stables. As Lila forged ahead, Jack and Belle walked silently, hand in hand. It wasn’t, Jack was relieved to note, one of their recent tense silences. Instead, Belle seemed more at ease. He knew this because instead of holding her body stiffly away from his, she walked close, her fingers curved around his palm, her shoulder brushing his arm.

He helped her up to the loft the way he’d done it the first time they were in the stables together, coming up directly after her, his hands under hers on the rails, his frame protectively close to her body.

Once in the loft, Jack realised that Belle hadn’t protested their ascent. In fact, at the base of the ladder, she’d simply glanced at him, waiting for him to come to her, expecting him to take care of her.

Instead of celebrating this crowning achievement in one of the myriad ways he would have preferred, he controlled his urge and looked around the loft.

Jack saw that, since the last time he’d been there, Lila had been busy. She’d taken over the space, swept it clean, there was another table filled with paint tubes and brushes, a bean bag and some rugs and there were half a dozen canvasses tilted against the wall, all of them covered. An unfinished one sat on one of now three easels set up by the sliding doors. And there were snapshots of the view taken at different times of the day and through different weather tacked to the walls.

The unfinished painting was, Jack was fascinated to see, going to be part of her storm series and even unfinished it was already spectacular.

After giving Belle a kiss which was more than a brush on the lips, deeper, longer, making a statement but not something which would cause her embarrassment in front of her grandmother, Jack left and went back to the house.

He found Angus and Cassandra and, in his study, he allowed Cassandra to take his hand.

The moment she did, Jack watched as she went into a trance for long moments, her eyes unfocussed, her face growing pale.

Jack’s gaze slid questioningly to Angus but Angus just gave him a nod and Jack waited, although he did so impatiently.

Finally, Cassandra came back to herself and pulled away.

Taking a step back, she said decisively, “Yep, mate, you’re Joshua.”

Jack again looked at Angus then back to Cassandra and found himself saying “So, my soul holds his trace.”

This, for some bizarre reason, made her laugh.

When she got control of her hilarity, she shook her head. “No, Jack, you are Joshua.”

Jack’s eyes sliced back to Angus.

Angus caught Jack’s look and muttered, “We’ve a professional difference of opinion about what reincarnation means.”

“I see you gave him that trace business,” Cassandra said to Angus, her voice amused.

“It’s the way it is, lass,” Angus shot back.

“It isn’t, Angus. I mean, whoever heard of traces of souls drifting through eternity? That’s rubbish!” Cassandra retorted.

“And whole beings reincarnated again and again throughout time isn’t rubbish?” Angus returned hotly.

“Nope,” she replied calmly.

Angus’s face got redder than its normal red and Jack astutely surmised the Scot was about to blow.

Jack, thinking both theories were rubbish and also thinking that them having a passionate argument about it was preposterous, was quickly coming to the end of his patience.

Therefore he cut in, “Are you done with me?”

Both their eyes came to him and Cassandra said, “For now.”

Jack nodded, left the room, found Yasmin and asked her a favour to which she agreed. Then he and Yasmin drove to Belle’s cottage and Yasmin packed Belle’s belongings while Jack collected his own and the dogs’. They took them to the car then they took them to The Point.

Jack collected Belle from the stables, they had a late lunch and, after lunch, she wandered away and disappeared.

He found her in the library seated in a chair she’d pulled to the window. Her legs were tucked underneath her, a sketchbook was in her hands, a box of coloured pencils on the armrest, the page was blank and she was staring out the window.

He walked to her, pulled the sketchbook out of her hand, tucked it under his arm then took her hand and pulled her out of the chair.

She watched him do this as if she was in a trance herself before her body jolted and she started, “Jack –”

He ignored her, leaned down, grabbed the box of pencils and, his hand still in hers, he guided her to his study.

There, he dropped her hand and positioned a chair at the window behind his desk. He went back to her, led her to the chair and, with a gentle shove, he pushed her into the seat. He gave her back her sketchbook and pencils and then turned to sit behind his desk.

As he opened a file, he felt her eyes on him.

“Jack,” she called softly.

“Yes, love?” He kept his eyes on the papers in front of him and forced himself not to look at her.

He was attempting to establish normal. Before the baby died, they hadn’t had time to create a “normal” but, when they did, he had decided this would be it.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

Minutes later, when he allowed himself to glance at her because he heard her pencils scratching on her pad, he saw her head was bent and she was drawing.

He pulled in breath slowly and, just as slowly, he released it.

And when he did, some of the tightness he’d been carrying in his chest for three and a half weeks released as well.

They all had dinner together, Jack made certain Belle came with him when he walked the dogs and when they returned, they sat talking with Lila, Joy, Yasmin, Cassandra and Angus.

When it was clear Belle was ready for bed, most of the others having already left one by one, Jack, his arm around her waist, guided her up the stairs.

She was Belle and therefore unable to hide her reaction to the stairs which he knew throughout the day she’d avoided. He stayed close, his arm firm around her, his tread steady and they made it to the top after which he heard her let out a little sigh.

He wanted to give her a squeeze or a kiss, some reward for facing that fear but he didn’t call attention to it and simply led her to their room.

Now he was lying in their bed on his side, waiting for Belle to finish in the bathroom.

His eyes were on the door when it opened and she came out, wearing a simple pale green nightgown with thin, satin, pastel blue straps and a matching sheer pastel blue ruffle at the hem which came to mid-thigh. Her hair was down, her cheeks were pink and she was rubbing lotion in her hands. But her eyes, which skittered around the room looking anyplace but the bed, betrayed her nerves.

And, Jack thought, she never looked more beautiful.

“Come to bed, poppet,” he called softly when she hesitated.

She wet her lips and walked to the bed.

Gretl and Baron had greeted her at the bathroom and they followed her. She paused to rub their heads and then commanded quietly, “Down,” and they both settled at her side of the bed.

She turned to him and hesitated, so Jack leaned forward, took her hand and gave her a gentle tug. She came toward him, he caught her at the waist and pulled her over his body as he yanked the covers up to her waist.

She lifted up with a forearm in his chest and looked down at him.

“Jack.” Her sweet, musical voice was tentative, her glorious grey eyes were stormy and she announced, “We need to talk.”

“We do, poppet,” Jack agreed and he watched her face register surprise.

For the purposes of containment, as well as other reasons, Jack’s arm tightened at her waist and his other hand slid up her back to capture her hair in a loose fist.

Then he said, “Belle, I need you to tell me about that night.”

Her body jerked before it grew tense and her eyes, stormy before with whatever thoughts she carried, were tempestuous now.

“Why?” she asked, the thread of fear starkly evident in her tone.

He used her hair to pull her face to his and he touched his lips to hers before letting her draw back and answered, “Because I need to know and because you need to share so you can let it go.”

“Jack, I don’t think –”

“Belle, love, we need to talk about this.”

“But, you –”

“Tell me, poppet, say it fast then it’ll be over,” he encouraged.

“But –”

His arm tensed and she stopped speaking, “Belle, tell me, I need to know.”

She gazed at him a minute, her cloudy eyes dark then she closed them tight, opened them and whispered, “I don’t want to tell you because you aren’t going to believe me.”

It was then, his body tensed.

He forced himself to relax and asked, “Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head and in return Jack gently shook her.

“Belle, whatever happened, I’ll believe you.”

She wet her lips nervously before she asked, “You will?”

“Yes, I will,” he replied firmly.

He watched her swallow then she said, “It’s going to sound daft.”

“It won’t sound daft.”

Her eyes moved from his to his shoulder then his ear and he watched as she came to a decision before she nodded. Her gaze finally came to rest on his and she spoke.

“Okay, you need to know.” He nodded in encouragement and she continued, “I’d just got off the phone with you. I was hungry and I told the dogs we were going to see about dinner.” She stopped talking and Jack’s fingers released her hair but slid through its length, coming back to slide through again and he felt her relax against him as she went on, “I was walking down the hall. I was preoccupied, the dogs were with me and then, all of a sudden…” she paused again and took in a breath but didn’t continue.

“Go on, poppet,” Jack urged, still stroking her hair as his other hand started to draw circles on the small of her back.

She nodded again and whispered, “I was at the top of the stairs. The dogs, they had pressed close to my legs and for some reason, they started to growl.” Jack stopped his hands stroking and circling and he wrapped his arms around her as she carried on in a barely there whisper, “It was strange. I started to ask them what was wrong but I saw…”

When she seemed to falter, Jack pressed gently, “Keep going, love.”

She shook her head but, her eyes locked on his, she said in a rush, “I saw movement on the stairs. It was Lewis. He was drifting up the stairs toward me. He was going so fast, Jack, so very fast. I could tell right away something was wrong.”

Jack’s arms convulsed but she kept talking.

“He stopped and shouted at me. I don’t remember what he said but I remember that he knew my name. He shouted my name and then…” Jack felt her body begin to tremble and her hand moved up, her fingers curled around his shoulder, digging in, holding on. “Jack, I swear, I felt a hand in my back and it pushed.” Tears came to her eyes and she whispered, “It pushed me down the stairs.”

Jack’s arms spasmodically tightened and it took effort to loosen his hold.

“Do you believe me?” she asked softly, the tears still shimmering in her eyes.

“Of course I do, love,” he replied absently, his thoughts on Angus’s words, that a ghost couldn’t touch a human which meant, if Belle had been pushed, someone had pushed her. “Did you see someone there?” Jack asked.

She shook her head. “I didn’t get the chance to look.”

“The dogs, you said they were growling. Do you think they saw Lewis?”

Belle kept shaking her head. “Lewis was in front of me but when I glanced down at the dogs, they were looking behind us.”

“Did you feel anything?” Jack enquired.

Her face turned from fearful to confused and her head tilted to the side before she asked, “Feel anything? You mean the hand in my back?”

“No. Anything else. Did you feel anything?” Jack repeated, “Hear anything? A presence. Did you sense someone there?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing. But the dogs did and I think Lewis saw something.”

“You didn’t hear footsteps, sense someone moving behind you?”

She kept shaking her head. “Nothing. But my mind was somewhere else. I just woke up from a nap and had talked to you and…” She stopped and her eyes slid to his ear.

“Belle, love, look at me,” Jack commanded gently and after a long moment, when her gaze finally moved to his, he urged, “And what?”

“And the baby,” she whispered and his chest, which had relaxed, got tight again at her mentioning their child. “I was talking to the baby about you, before you called. And, when I was walking down the hall, I was thinking about dinner and you and wondering how long it would take for you to get home…”

At those words, instantly, the tightness in his chest released and he cupped the back of Belle’s head and pulled her face close to his throat.

She resisted but only a little before her body relaxed into his.

When it did, Jack asked, “What were you saying to the baby about me?”

He was gratified to feel her nuzzle closer, pressing her forehead against his jaw as her fingers clenched his shoulder. “Just telling him that you were right. I’d met Cassandra and Angus that evening and they were so strange. I was telling the baby you were right about it not going back to normal and boring.”

“I was right, my love, things are definitely still not normal and boring and, with those two and your father in the house, I fear things will not be normal and boring for some time.”

Her body tensed then eased and he couldn’t believe his ears when she let out a short, strangled giggle.

His arms clutched her even closer and he was beyond thrilled when she didn’t resist but, instead, melted.

After several long, satisfying moments, Belle shared on a whisper, “I know you’re going to think I’m even crazier, but, Jack, I’m scared of the stairs.”

“That isn’t crazy, Belle, not after what happened.”

Her fingers pressed into his shoulder and she cuddled even closer. “Okay, but, this is even crazier,” she pressed ever closer and admitted, “Jack, I think there might be something in this house that wants to hurt me.”

He rolled to his side, taking her with him and he placed his fist under her chin and tipped it up so he could look in her eyes. They were still stormy with worry but the tempest had subsided.

“Tomorrow, we’ll talk to Angus and Cassandra.”

She tilted her head into the pillow and, seeing it and loving it when she did that, Jack couldn’t stop his smile.

“We will?” she asked.

He nodded. “We will, poppet. They’ve been working while we’ve been away and they assure me you’re protected.”

Regardless of the fact that there was evidence to suggest that there was something amiss in his house and something mysterious about his connection with Belle, Jack still thought Angus and Cassandra’s assertions were rubbish.

But he knew Belle didn’t.

And he was willing to use whatever he could to calm that storm in her eyes.

His tactic succeeded.

She took a shuddering breath and gave him a tentative smile.

Jack allowed himself a moment to let her smile settle in his chest and his gut then he gave Belle a squeeze before he rolled and turned out the light.

When he had them settled, the front of Belle’s body cocooned to his, she spoke softly, “Jack, we need to talk about something else.”

“What, love?”

She hesitated and said, “This.”

“This?”

“This. Here. Now. You. Me.”

He gave her a squeeze and whispered, “No, poppet. The one thing that we don’t need to talk about is this. Here. Now. You or me.”

“But –”

“All of that is the only thing that’s good and right in this fucking crazy mess.”

She was quiet then she asked, “It is?”

“Don’t you feel it?” Jack asked in return.

Her reply was breathy and hesitant, “I want to.”

He gave her another squeeze. “Then do it.”

“But, the baby… it’s what drew us –”

Jack gave her another, tighter squeeze, halting her words. “I thought I said we weren’t going to have this discussion.”

“But we have to!” she cried, her voice beginning to rise.

His hand came up to fist again in her hair and he used it to pull her head back gently.

Then his lips sought hers in the dark and he reminded her, “Belle, if you remember, there was no baby when I made you mine.”

“Jack –”

He cut her off, “It’s a sad fact that there’s no baby now. It hurts to think about it. It makes my chest tight and my gut ache. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still mine.”

“It makes your chest tight?” she whispered.

“And my gut ache.”

“Really?” she breathed.

“Yes, my love.” He tucked her face in his throat and went on, “But even with our loss, after your accident, I still felt lucky because I didn’t lose you.” He spoke cautiously, not wishing to feed into her fears but needing her to understand. “You could have been hurt in a much worse way, poppet, and, you being here, in our bed, in my arms, for that, I feel lucky.”

He could barely hear her when she asked, “You, James Bennett, feel lucky?”

“Yes, poppet,” he tipped his head so his lips moved against her hair. “I couldn’t lose you and, I promise you, my love, we’ll make another baby when the time is right. For now, we need to just be. You and me, we need to just be.”

“You and me,” she whispered.

“You and me,” he repeated.

“You…” she hesitated then said her next words in a way that made them sound impossible, “like me.”

He smiled into her hair. “Yes, Belle,” he gathered her closer before finishing, “I definitely like you.”

And, after saying those ridiculous words that in no way defined how he felt about her, he couldn’t stop his chuckle.

She stiffened in his arms and asked, “Why is that funny?”

“I’ll explain some other time.”

“Explain now,” she demanded.

“Some other time.”

“Jack –”

“Poppet,” he interrupted her and then ordered, “Sleep.”

“But –”

“Sleep.”

“I think –”

He gave her a gentle shake and demanded, “Belle, sleep.”

She held herself stiff and then muttered, “Bossy.”

Jack smiled into the dark and advised, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to that, love.”

It took her a while but, finally, she relaxed and said on a sigh, “I guess I’ll try.”

And, again, he couldn’t stop his chuckle.

Jack’s Sunday was not quite complete.

Because in the middle of the night, the dogs started barking loudly.

He jerked awake and felt Belle do the same in his arms.

“What the fuck?” he muttered but before he could ascertain what was wrong, the door to the bedroom flew open.

Jack came up and twisted in bed as the room suddenly flooded with light and Jack stared in stunned disbelief as Angus and Cassandra charged in, Angus, wielding a whip and Cassandra brandishing what looked to be…

He stared incredulously…

A twig.

“We’ll not harm ye, wee ghosty!” Angus boomed, his eyes across the room.

“She’s vaporising!” Cassandra shouted.

The dogs barked.

Jack threw the covers back and knifed out of bed.

His body went rock-solid when he heard an ethereal, boy’s voice shout, “Myrtle!”

At the sound, Jack’s body stayed still but his head whipped around and he saw Angus circle the whip over his head but when he flicked it out, it fell to the ground.

“The turret!” Cassandra yelled and ran from the room.

Angus, his kilt awhirl, followed her.

“Don’t hurt them!” Belle shouted. She was out of bed and running after Angus and Cassandra, the dogs, still barking, at her heels.

Jack ran after her and caught her at the waist in the hall.

“Don’t hurt them!” Belle screamed after the departing Angus and Cassandra, her body straining against Jack’s hold and Angus whirled back.

“We won’t hurt them, lass.”

Then he was gone.

Belle turned urgently to Jack. “Jack, don’t let them hurt the children.”

Jack grasped her hand and tugged her swiftly down the hall to Lila’s room. Turning the handle, he shoved open the door, switched on the light and Lila came immediately up in bed and stared at them.

Before she could say a word or even blink the sleep from her eyes, Jack ordered, “Do not let Belle leave this room and keep the dogs close.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he left.

He went back to Belle and his room, pulled on jeans, a t-shirt and trainers and ran to the eastern turret where he knew most sightings of the child ghosts took place.

He was climbing the spiral, stone stairwell at a run, taking the steps two at a time, when he saw Angus and Cassandra descending.

“We lost them,” Cassandra informed him, sounding disgusted.

Jack planted himself on the stairs and glowered up at the witch and the Scot.

Then he demanded to know, enunciating his words perfectly clearly, “What. The. Fuck!”

“We’ll talk downstairs, lad,” Angus said in a soft boom.

“What the fuck?” Jack repeated.

“Downstairs.”

“Here,” Jack clipped, “now.”

Angus and Cassandra shared a glance then they looked back at Jack.

“We figured something like this would happen. Belle and you coming back, the children would make an appearance to be sure you were okay,” Cassandra explained, “We gave ourselves a glamour so they wouldn’t sense us and hung out. We both felt her when she arrived in your room.”

Jack ignored the absurd notion that they’d given themselves “a glamour”, whatever the fuck that was, and bit out, “Who?”

“Myrtle,” Cassandra answered.

“We wanted to catch her before she could disappear again so we could ask her some questions,” Angus added.

“So you came charging into our room, likely scaring the hell out of her, and her brother by the sounds of it, which means they’ll disappear again,” Jack snapped.

“We didn’t think she’d get away,” Angus replied.

“Well she fucking well did,” Jack returned.

“That was unexpected,” Cassandra muttered.

Jack’s eyes sliced to the witch, “Unexpected? You’re supposed to be clairvoyant, for fuck’s sake.”

She pressed her lips together and had the grace to look embarrassed.

“After this debacle, I’m supposed to trust that you two can keep my family safe, Belle safe, while ridding this castle of ghosts?” Jack asked and his voice was dangerous.

“So you believe in them now.” Angus grinned his demented grin.

Jack felt his jaw grow hard before he said, “I didn’t see them but I heard the boy and you didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, that’s something, it’ll be better if you believe,” Cassandra put in.

Jack’s angry gaze swung to her, he ignored her comment and commanded, “Perhaps one of you will answer my fucking question.”

“Calm down, mate. It isn’t like this gig is easy. It’s not like it’s a love potion. Ghosts can be unpredictable,” Cassandra told him.

“Especially child ghosts. They’re always the toughest to deal with,” Angus grumbled.

“One of you, I don’t care who,” Jack cut in, “have two seconds to give me one good reason not to toss you out on your asses right fucking now.”

“Cassandra leaves, half of her protection goes with her,” Angus replied swiftly. “It’s connected to her essence. There will be some protection but we’re guessing, considering the unusualness of this job, that you need all you can get, lad.”

Jack glared at the Scot.

“And, regardless of this, Angus is the best in the business. You couldn’t get better,” Cassandra put in.

“Thanks, Cass.” Angus grinned at her.

“Well, it’s the truth,” Cassandra said to Angus.

“I know that. Still, nice to hear,” Angus returned.

“Fucking hell,” Jack muttered.

Angus looked at Jack and his face grew serious. “I promised you, I’d no’ let you down. This is a setback but, Bennett, that promise holds true. I’ll no’ let you down.”

“You need to be patient,” Cassandra added.

“And you need to understand that Belle and my room is off-limits,” Jack returned.

“We can’t –”Cassandra started.

“Off-limits,” Jack repeated firmly.

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak but Angus got there first.

“Cass, let it go,” Angus muttered out the side of his mouth. “If he’s declaring limits, that means he’s no’ kicking us out on our arses.”

“Oh yeah,” Cassandra muttered back.

“Fucking hell,” Jack muttered in return.

Cassandra’s face grew soft and she murmured, “Patience, mate, seriously, you have to trust us.”

Jack was unaffected by her soft look. “I’ll trust you when you give me reason to do so. Until then, you need to know, another stunt like this, you’re gone.”

“Understood,” Cassandra said immediately.

Jack scowled at them both trying to ascertain if they did, indeed, understand. When he could tell by their faces they did, he turned his back on them, stalked down the stairs and to Lila’s room.

The minute he entered, Belle flew to him.

His arms closed around her as her hands settled on his chest and her head tipped back.

“The children?” she asked.

Jack’s gaze slid to Lila then back to Belle. “They’ve disappeared again.”

“Damn it to hell,” Lila muttered.

“Gram’s been telling me that Cassandra and Angus can’t find them,” Belle told him.

Jack put his arm around her shoulders and moved her to the door. “We’ll have a full briefing tomorrow.”

“Do you think they’re okay?” Belle asked as Jack whistled for the dogs and nodded his goodnight to Lila.

He had no idea how to answer her.

Firstly, he now did, indeed, believe there were ghosts, as outrageous as that concept was. He couldn’t believe his ears but he also couldn’t deny he’d heard, distinctly, a young, disembodied voice shouting the name Myrtle.

Secondly, given the fact that they were ghosts, he doubted they were okay.

Lastly, they were being pursued by the Laurel and Hardy of ghost hunters and therefore felt the need to flee then disappear which meant they were seriously not okay.

“I’m sure they’re fine, love,” Jack murmured his lie.

“I hope so,” Belle whispered and before he closed the door behind them, Jack locked eyes with Lila who was biting her lip.

“It’ll be fine,” Jack assured Belle but his words were also meant for her grandmother.

As he closed the door, he saw Lila pull herself up and nod.

Then Jack waited for Belle to say her goodnights to her grandmother before he guided her and their dogs to their bedroom.

And, approximately fifteen minutes later, dogs settled, Belle’s weight heavy in his arms, Jack looked at the clock and saw that it was twelve oh three.

Finally, he thought, this fucking Sunday is over.