Antony climbed into the car next to John and had barely clipped his seatbelt before the engine revved and they jerked ahead. “Easy, brother. Whatever has happened, we need to arrive alive to assist.”

Terry had said little but John’s heart was knotted so tight he could hardly breathe. A fire? His mind blasted with images of the massive, beautiful new house burned to the ground. That would be a terrible loss; Jack and Natalie finally in a home, their little girls finally settled. After everything poor Nat had been through over the past few years, it could be devastating. But there was more pressing at John’s guts. Was anyone hurt?

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Antony watched him from the passenger seat, his hand often gripping the dashboard. Like many of his brothers from another time, another rhythm, Antony had yet to get used to the speed at which things moved. Racing in a vehicle at sixty-five was nerve rattling, but John was hitting ninety on many stretches of the highway. The hour trek to Burlington had taken them forty-five minutes and they were both breathless as they parked and trotted along the tarmac toward the waiting plane. Terry stood at the door.

“S’go,” Thorne hissed and again they buckled up.

John braced for the news and Antony began to wonder how difficult this was all going to be.

“Antony,” Terry said as they reached cruising altitude and relaxed slightly. “Glad you’re along, mate.”

“Talk,” John spouted, his knees jerking and hands clenched.

“The fire was bad, set by some bloody lunatic who’s been stalking Jack. A student. Psychopath.” Terry cleared his throat, adjusted his armor and hid his emotions. “Natalie and Jack and one of the babies got out safely.”

“Jesus!” John gasped. “How bad?” His mind wouldn’t even conjure the images of burned flesh and hospital rooms.

Terry blinked.

There it was, the chink in Thorne’s protection and John saw it immediately. Nothing broke through Terry’s façade unless it was devastating. His heart dropped and something extraordinary happened inside. John Biebe suddenly became strangely calm. Yeah, this was going to be hard for everyone. He swallowed, answered for Terry. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Terry nodded and Antony’s head dropped back.

Silence prevailed for the duration of the short flight as they looked out the window at the billowy clouds, the beautiful dawn that defied the reality of their lives. Finally John spoke.

“Which one?”

“Catherine.”

“Catherine,” John sighed. The bubbly, pleasant child … gone. “The arsonist been caught?”

“Yeah. We need to get our act together, mates. We’ll bring them all back to Vermont. Bury the baby there. I gotta tell ya, I got no idea what we’re facing here. I haven’t spoken to Jack or Nat since before it happened. Got the call from the police and stepped into action. Here we are,” he said as the pilot raised a hand for them to buckle up again.

A rental was waiting and again they sped, this time not far. Walking toward the Portland Harbor Hotel John’s chest tightened even more, but his nerves had gone to steel. It was time to do what had to be done, take care of those who needed care. He’d find his own comfort at home when it was over. For now … for now …

They stood at the door to suite 1805. Terry turned. “John, you handle Natalie. Antony and I will deal with Jack.” His hand rose but stilled for a second before tapping a knock. No one knew what they’d see, but every man was as prepared as humanly possible.

***

Morning. Jack sat on the edge of the dining chair, his head bowed. The room service breakfast sat untouched on the table beside him. The smell of the congealing eggs and cooling toast turned his already nauseous stomach. He stood, throwing his napkin on the table, strode to the window and stared at the harbor. A busy harbor, bustling with activity, but he couldn’t watch. He had no heart for it.

Natalie sat in the plush armchair across the room, clutching Chelsea. She was silent, had been silent through the night. The last sound Jack remembered her make was a scream after the terrible crash. He clenched his eyes at the memory.

The babe whimpered in her arms and his wife tried to console the child, but the tiny girl would not be comforted. The poor child was missing her sister, her birth mate and companion. She was missing a piece of herself, and there is no solace for that.

He turned back to the window, staring at the ocean. Death … death was not a stranger to him. He knew it well; many seamen died while under his command. Old, young; seasoned officer and green midshipman. He was familiar with death’s vagaries. He understood them, accepted them. But this? This was a completely different creature. It couldn’t be explained away by war or disease. There was no understanding this.

He didn’t save his daughter. No matter that he couldn’t, that the fire prevented him from rushing to the tiny, precious child, snatching her from the flames and carrying her to safety. It was his duty … no, it was more than duty. She was a part of him; she was his future and he failed her. A sob caught in his throat. How could he have failed her?

Instead, he saved the trollop, the fiend who intended to kill them all. Her life for Catherine’s. It wasn’t a fair trade, not in the least. Bitterness crept up like bile his throat … it should be Catherine still alive. Catherine! Not this evil monster hell bent on destruction. And who was to blame for this injustice? Himself. He brought the monster to their doorstep. He encouraged it, nurtured it. Refused to see the grave danger it presented until it was too late. Too late for Catherine.

He looked back at Natalie, his wife who trusted him to keep them safe. He failed. Failed in his duty as a husband and a father. And now she looked to him for support and comfort. But … he had none to give. Again a failure.

He stared out the window, seeing nothing. He knew before he heard the light tapping that his brothers were there, but he didn’t turn. How could he face them? It was Natalie who opened the door and let their family in. 

***

General Marc Antony knew in that split moment that he would not be following orders. His eyes swiftly took in the room, Jack’s weakened stance, the sadness in Natalie’s eyes … and the desperation in the child, Chelsea’s cries. He reached out; embracing both mother and babe then slid the distraught little girl from Natalie’s grasp.

John’s heart was tough, but not quite tough enough for this. He opened his arms and Natalie, his dear friend, his sweetheart from long ago, simply walked into his embrace.

Thorne closed the door and stood at the window with Jack. “We’re here, mate. We’re here.”

“I thankee, brother, but there is nothing to be done.”

In a way Jack was correct. Terry had already made all the horrible decisions, arranged for the removal of the tiny burned body from the morgue, purchased the coffin, paid whatever fees or expenses might arise. The Cessna stood fueled and ready to leave whenever they were. Only inside that hotel room had time stopped and pain taken over.

Jack’s eyes rose at Chelsea’s sudden silence. Antony had cooed and hushed the baby into relaxation, surely within moments the babe would finally sleep. Across the room, John comforted a destroyed Natalie, his love, his wife, so broken that even tears would not come. Oh, how he had failed.

Terry cleared his throat, steeled his emotions and tugged Jack to sit at the dining table with him. He pushed aside the plates of food and watched the massive captain struggle.

“How could I have let this happen?” Jack groaned. “How could I have failed so miserably? I should have seen it, protected against it. I should have stopped it!”

“You couldn’t have, mate.”

“I should have stopped it.”

“Well, if you’re gonna look at things that way, this is probably my fault. Maybe if I’d pushed you earlier to get away from there, maybe if I’d have gotten my own sorry arse or one of my men to you quicker it –”

“She … was … my … daughter,” Jack hissed.

“And you still have a daughter, Jack. And a wife.”

Jack turned to see Antony through the bedroom door, sitting at the side of the bed and smoothing a hand over Chelsea’s curls as the baby hiccupped after hours of sobbing.

“You still have a daughter and wife to care for, Jack. This wasn’t your fault or my fault or anyone’s fault. It was an act of malice, pure and simple and there was no way to foresee such a thing.”

“How could this have happened?” a tear slid down Jack’s face. He wasn’t listening. Under the circumstance he probably couldn’t even hear Terry’s words. He’d seen this sort of thing before, watched people deal with terror and grief, hostages and family alike. It would take quite some time and just the right voice of reason to reach Jack Aubrey. It wasn’t going to be Terry’s voice that day. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder. Then … there was Natalie.

John was sitting on the sofa. Nat wasn’t crying. She wasn’t actually looking at anything, even though her eyes were open. Was she breathing? He ran a fingertip tenderly down her cheek. “Natalie,” he said.

She blinked, focused. “How are you John?”

A question that had no place in that situation. John’s gut started to roll. Was she sliding down that ugly slope that led her to attempt suicide once before? He took her hand and gripped it tight, capturing even more of her illusive attention.

“I’m good, sweetheart. Better then you. Natalie … baby … I need you to talk to me. Just … talk to me.”

Natalie looked at him, puzzled. Talk. Talk? How could she talk? How could she give voice to this pain? There were no words to convey the agony. And besides, this was her load of grief, hers to carry. There was no one to blame but herself. She should have found a way to Catherine, brought her out safely with Chelsea. But, she didn’t and now she’ll have to live with that. “There’s nothing to say, John.”

John cuddled her close and kissed her forehead. “There’s plenty to say, sweetheart. Just … tell me what happened.”

She shook her head and pushed away from him. “No. Can’t. Not your problem.”

John gently turned her face toward his. “We’re family, Natalie. This is our problem, all of us. Just start with what you were doing before it happened. Were you happy? Annoyed? Just talk to me.”

Her eyes drooped and she began so softly, he had to lean closer to hear. “I was outside on deck, holding Chelsea. She’s been teething and has a little cold. She was fussy, so I was walking her back and forth outside.”

“And then what?” John brushed a stray lock of her hair out of her eyes.

“The lights flashed and the fire detectors started beeping. I yelled for Jack.” Natalie’s voice became louder and the words began to speed up and run into each other. Her eyes were glassy as she relived the terrible night. “I ran to the stairs to get Catherine, but she was there. Oh God, John,” Natalie clutched at his shirt, “I could smell gasoline! She lit a match, dropped it …” She couldn’t finish; the sobs she’d been denying broke through. Loud, wracking sobs that shook her whole body. “I couldn’t … I couldn’t get through. I couldn’t get to my baby!”

John held her, rubbed her back and let her cry. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let it out, baby.” He let her cry until she couldn’t anymore, the sobs slowing down and allowing her to breathe.

“What am I gonna do, John?” Her head rested on his shoulder, his arm held her tight against him.

“You’re gonna get through this, sweetheart. It’s gonna be tough, but you’ll have help. We’ll help, baby. But first, we gotta get you all home.”

Jack listened as his wife wept. He nodded … it was good that she had finally cried, but it did nothing to ease his pain. He wanted to go to her himself, but he couldn’t. Each sob was a knife in his heart and he closed his eyes to the aching. He returned to the window. Terry stood beside him, speaking words of wisdom he couldn’t take to heart. His brother was right; there was no way to have known that Joanna would prove to be so malicious. Yet ….

He took a deep breath and turned away from the window. Chelsea had finally fallen asleep on the bed as Antony watched over her. Natalie’s crying had softened, John gently rocking her. Terry’s large hand rested on his shoulder.

“It’s time to go home, Jack.”