Blood & Soul

Blood & Soul by Deborah O'Toole (aka Deidre Dalton) is Book #3 in the Bloodline Trilogy.

Emma Beckett is adopted into a loving home as an infant, never knowing the true circumstances of her birth. As a child, she discovers she has unique powers of healing but eventually realizes her abilities could be an instrument of evil, begotten by a bloodthirsty monster.

From Chapter Nine: Growing Bonds

AFTER DINNER, EMMA approached Kirk in the den, where he was sitting on the tan sofa, staring pensively into the cold fireplace. He had a tulip glass filled with cognac in his hand, the base of the crystal resting on his thigh. He turned his attention to her when she came to stand in front of him, his eyes now questioning, if not apprehensive.

"Can I join you?" She asked him softly.

He waved his free hand to the empty place next to him. "Be my guest."

She sat down, gracefully crossing her legs. Kirk noted - not for the first time - that they were long, just like his, tonight encased in dark brown dress slacks. Her light-green long-sleeved shirt was tucked into the waistband, emphasizing her slender and lithe appearance.

"Kate told me you were agreeable to me visiting your old home," Emma began. "Are you sure you're all right with it?"

Kirk moved his eyes to the glass resting on his thigh. "It's not so much that I'm agreeable, Emma. It's natural to want to see where you were born, so I wouldn't deny you that. The house . . . " He paused, groping for words. "The house contains many of my old demons, a horrible baggage I wouldn't wish on anyone." He sighed. "You don't know the half of it just from reading news accounts and sensationalized books about my father, and me."

Emma stared at him while he took a large sip of his cognac. "If you feel so strongly about it, I won't go."

He shook his head. "No, go and see it. That way you'll get it out of your system, and perhaps be satisfied."

"Can I ask you a another question?"

He glanced at her quickly, and then looked away. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why don't you sell the house? Or simply have it destroyed?"

He took several minutes in answering, taking a few more sips of his cognac before speaking. His voice was so quiet she had to lean forward slightly to hear him.

"Despite all the horror visited upon so many women, the entire community, and even my Katie, I can't bring myself to sell it. I don't expect anyone to really understand, but it is my father's house, technically speaking. As evil and loathsome as he became, he is still my father. He hates me now, of course, which for some strange reason doesn't bother me. I don't know whether it's a warped sense of loyalty to him that keeps me from selling the house, or if it's a matter of having a place to go if things in my life go sour. I never used to be this way, not until I spent ten years behind bars. It can change a man, alter his personality and perception until it in no way resembles what he once was. I'm speaking about myself, of course, so pardon the third person analogy. I'm not the man I once was, and probably never will be again. Somehow, in some way, having that house tethered to me is just punishment for all of my own sins." He turned to look at her again. "Am I making any sense?"

Emma nodded slowly. "Yes, you are. I think I understand. You feel as if you haven't been punished enough for your transgressions. You attach yourself to enough misery so you can feel as if you are making further reparation."

He gave her a small, somewhat sad smile. "Exactly."

"But Kate loves you," Emma persisted. "She waited for you to be free so you could continue your lives together."

"Kate is my salvation," he replied solemnly. "God knows why she chose me to love, or why she continues to do so. I wake up every day and thank the powers that be for her, if there is such a thing. I would simply die without her. Yet . . . " He hesitated. "Sometimes I think she would be better off without me. I have brought her more heartache than joy over the years, so I'm amazed she has stood by me as she has."

Emma was quiet for a long moment, thinking about what Kirk had just told her. That her biological parents loved one another was glaringly evident, despite their past difficulties. Theirs was an unconditional love that transcended time and circumstances. She supposed it was very romantic in a way, while at the same time it was bittersweet. The abiding love they shared was nonetheless interwoven with a deep sadness that was also worn on their sleeves.

"Do you remember the first time you saw Kate?" Emma asked, wanting to continue their intimate discussion. She was communicating with her father and she didn't want it to end, even though the subject matter was uneasy for him.

Kirk smiled widely, revealing his teeth. "I'll never forget the first time I saw Katie. I was walking down the hall at English High School, and she was standing by her locker. She literally took my breath away, but being the ridiculous macho man I was, pretended I didn't notice her at first. Yet I knew, in that instant, that I would love her until the day I died. Whether she had anything to do with me or not, I'd go to my grave loving her. It was quite a revelation for a teenage boy, let me tell you. Immature and brash though I was at the time, I still knew Katie was for me in the blink of an eye."

"As it was for her?" Emma wanted to know.

"Maybe not at first, but it didn't take long once we started going out."

Emma smiled. "I've found such a love in Shawn."

Kirk glanced at her as he took another sip of cognac. "He's been right in front of you your whole life."

"I love him." Emma returned Kirk's regard, a small smile forming on her lips. "Shawn and I have been connected for a long time, so I don't know if I can view it objectively. Yet I know I love him, and want to spend my life with him."

"You're young, Emma," he stated calmly. "There's no need to rush into anything. Let nature take its course. I'm sure it will come out all right in the end."

Impulsively, Emma leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she told him.

Kirk grinned, hoping to bring levity into his tone. He winked at her as he replied wryly:       "What are father's for?"

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Kirk changed his mind about going to the Lester home on Chestnut Avenue. Instead of escaping to work, as he originally planned to do, he decided to accompany Kate, Emma and Shawn to the house.

"Are you sure?" Kate asked him doubtfully as they stood in their bedroom getting dressed.

"Yes," he replied strongly as he slipped on a pair of dark loafers while sitting on the made bed. "I thought about it all night. Maybe if I go inside and look around, I can finally put my demons to rest."

"Or you might have an adverse reaction and become more down than usual," Kate pointed out practically.

"I'll never know until I try," Kirk responded simply.

She gave him a tense smile. "Emma has brought something out in you, hasn't she?"

"Such as?"

Kate came to sit next to him on the bed. "Her serenity, her utter tranquility of being has had an impact on you. It's as if she represents hope for the future."

"Well, she does, doesn't she?" He countered. "She has her whole life in front of her, and hasn't been jaded by what humanity has to offer as of yet. It does make me feel hopeful, Katie. If I can confront what has been eating away at me all these years, maybe I can finally lay it to rest."

"Then what?" Kate wanted to know. "Sell the house? Or raze it?"

"I'm of a mind to have it torn down," he replied. "I thought about that last night, too. Why keep it there? It's nothing more than a ghoulish tourist attraction, reminding everyone about the atrocities committed by my father, and me."

Kate sighed. "I've told you so many times, darling. What happened in the past is solely the fault of your father. You were a child when your mother and sister were killed, and then he took over parenting duties. How could you fight it?"

He shrugged. "We can agree to disagree. I had choices, and I made the wrong ones." He reached over to place his hand on top of hers on the bed. "We could have the house razed, and then a garden planted in the memory of my father's victims. But no bluebell bushes," he finished with emphasis.

She attempted a smile. "It sounds like a splendid idea, darling. A fitting end to the history of the house. Perhaps, over time, people will forget if it's turned into a memorial garden."

"I'm sure of it."