Chapter 76 Mallory Plantation—Elliott #2
“If your mother was an Elder and my seven-times-great-grandmother was an Elder, that means if Emily and I have daughters, they can be Elders.”
“I don’t think Violet will ever need any of our women to fill that role.”
“Maybe not right now,” James Cullen said.
“But this shows how far back Erik and Violet went to put their long-term strategic plan in place. The scope is rather breathtaking.” He paused only briefly before continuing, as if the weight of one revelation naturally made room for the next.
“On another matter,” he said, “I have ideas for inner-city housing and free childcare that I think we can tackle.”
James Cullen’s mind had always moved faster than his emotions. Once he understood the shape of a problem, he filed away the shock and began mapping the consequences. Dwelling had never been his way—action was.
“Take it to Kenzie and work it out,” Elliott said. “Decisions like this are in yer area of expertise and ability. If ye need my stamp of approval, I’ll give it, but ye won’t need it.”
James Cullen pushed his chair back, stood, and gave Elliott a fist bump just as David sat down and poured himself a drink.
“Are ye holding court?” David asked Elliott.
James Cullen gave David a crooked smile. “Yeah, he is. You got something for King Solomon?”
“Just a minor split-the-baby issue,” David said.
“Good luck. Dad will just tell you to talk to Kenzie.” James Cullen picked up his glass. “I’m going to find Emily. Enjoy the party.”
David watched James Cullen walk away. “Did ye tell him about Violet snatching his sperm?”
“He said cool and that he was glad to help her out.”
“That’s a very mature response. Don’t ye think?”
“I’m afraid he’s looking at it through rose-colored glasses and doesn’t appreciate what he’s up against.”
David’s head shot back. “If anybody appreciates what he’s up against, it’s that lad.
He might seem nonchalant about what happened to him, but he’s keenly aware of how that’s affecting him now.
He’s seen evil firsthand, and he won’t let it control him.
There are no rose-colored glasses in his glass case. ”
“If ye say so.”
“I do. Now, stop worrying about that, but since ye’re in a worrying mood, I’ll tell ye that one of the bodies we dumped at sea from the helicopter a few months back washed ashore.
The man’s DNA matches a high-powered banker in Philadelphia.
There’s no way to trace it to us, but I asked Alistair about the man.
He was second-in-command at the Philadelphia branch of the Illuminati in 1927.
With Ofello’s help, we uncovered a great deal about the family’s wealth.
If we bring them down, we’ll make a huge dent in the worldwide operation. ”
“Well played, David. It’s good that Rick, Tavis, and Clay’s injuries weren’t wasted effort.” Elliott steepled his fingers on the tabletop, his gaze steady and unblinking. “What else is bothering ye?”
David took a slow sip of his drink, obviously stalling. “I’ve been thinking about this since the meeting in the conference room and then at the clan meeting. Ye never mention Erik. Why?”
“Violet said he could come back if he wanted to, but if he did, he could never return to their time. I didn’t want to mention it because the possibility is remote.”
“Why do ye think that?” David asked.
“Because he told Clay he wouldn’t be back.”
“And he came back the next morning. He couldn’t stay away for twenty-four hours. Ye can’t keep this a secret, Elliott. Ye should tell Sam and Erik’s other children.”
Elliott rolled his shoulders, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“Look at Sam waltzing in here with Alistair. Suppose I tell her there’s a possibility Erik will come back.
In that case, she might walk away from possible happiness with Alistair for the slim chance that Erik will show up.
She’s waited for him for more than half her life. I won’t do that to her.”
“Ye need to reconsider.”
Elliott let out a short huff, the sound halfway between frustration and surrender. Then something in him shifted. The tension eased—not because the problem had been resolved, but because he finally accepted the truth.
“This isn’t my decision to make,” he said quietly. “I’m only peripherally involved.” He lifted his gaze, meeting David’s eyes fully now. “Erik’s yer father. If ye want yer siblings—and Sam—to know, I won’t stop ye. But if ye do, put their feelings above yers.”
“I thought I was,” David said in a gruff voice. “I’ll talk to Kenz about it.” David finished his drink. “Bastien and I are playing a duet, and I need to rehearse.”
Elliott reached for David’s arm to stop him from leaving and then released it. “What ye want matters more than what I want in this situation. After talking to Kenzie, ye decide.”
“If I had decided I wanted to tell them, I would have told ye it was my decision to make. So, we agree on that.”
Elliott gave him the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper.”
Meredith sat down beside Elliott and made the same salute.
“I saw ye standing over there at the bar,” he said, nodding back toward it. “Were ye directing traffic to my table?”
“Of course.” Meredith’s mouth curved faintly as she rested her forearms on the edge of the table. “I always do. I like to give people who need time with you a few uninterrupted moments.” She tipped her head, studying him. “Did you have pleasant conversations?”
“I did.” He turned his glass slowly between his fingers. “Especially the last one. David said his siblings and Sam should know Erik might come back. I told him if he thought they should know, the decision was his—even though I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Because you’re afraid Sam might stop herself from falling in love with someone else if she thinks Erik’s coming back.”
“Aye.” He didn’t argue it. “And I don’t want that to happen.”
Meredith’s gaze softened, but her voice stayed steady. “Sam will have to sort that out for herself. You can’t make that choice for her.” She paused, then added gently, “Even you’re keeping hope alive. Is that fair to you?”
He looked away, eyes drifting toward the river. “I miss him, Mere.”
“I know.” She reached out, her fingers brushing his wrist—brief, grounding. “And for your sake, I hope Erik comes back. I’m not sure about the rest of them.” She exhaled. “But where would he live?”
“On his boat, probably.”
Meredith followed his gaze, the lights skimming dark water. “What kind of shape is it in now?”
“It looks the same as it did the day he left.”
She glanced back at him, one brow lifting. “Is that because you go out there, drink whisky, smoke cigars, and dabble in boat repairs?”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t know anybody knew that.”
“Of course I did.” Her smile turned knowing, almost amused. “You live on an estate with security cameras everywhere—and a very interested spouse.”
He pushed thoughts of Erik aside and watched James Cullen and Emily talking to Kevin and Jenny Lynn. “The older Kevin and James Cullen get, the more they look alike.”
“The more they look like you,” Meredith said. “I see little of their mothers in them.”
“James Cullen might not look like you, but he’s got yer intelligence and problem-solving skills.”
“I’d give up the problem-solving abilities for a nose like mine or the shape of my eyes.”
“So when ye look at the lad, ye know he’s yers?”
“That might sound egotistical.”
“It’s natural to want to see a part of yerself in yer child. There’s a sense of continuity in that and the feeling that ye’re passing something of yerself on to the next generation.”
“And I thought I’d never see him grow up.”
Elliott leaned over and kissed her. “I would never have allowed ye to die on me.”
She crinkled her brow. “As strong-willed as you are, dear, I believe you could have kept me alive.”
Elliott patted her arm as his gaze shifted to Remy and Skye entering the pavilion. They looked relaxed, glowing—like they’d spent the past twenty-four hours in bed, which they probably had. Remy was fully recovered now; they had a lot to make up for.
Meredith leaned in. “Remy looks better than I’ve ever seen him. Fit, tanned, rested. Their Italian vacation did wonders. They look like they stepped off a Milan runway.”
“That’s what falling in love looks like—and they both wear it well.” He watched them make the rounds, chatting easily with family. Remy’s attention never strayed far from Skye: soft eye contact, a light touch at her arm, his hand settling at her back.
Meredith leaned back, studying Remy. “He’s not drinking,” she said.
Elliott shifted slightly in his seat, brow creasing. “Remy’s not? Why?”
She gave a small, knowing smile. “A promise to Skye. If she couldn’t drink, he wouldn’t either.”
Elliott frowned, confusion flickering across his face before realization dawned. “Why can’t Skye—” His breath caught. “You mean…?”
Meredith rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth curving.
“Pregnant?” he blurted, half in disbelief, half in awe. His voice rose before he caught himself and lowered it quickly, glancing toward the others in case anyone had overheard. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“They were keeping it quiet until Remy finished chemo—until everything felt stable again,” Meredith said, her tone gentle, almost protective. “She wanted him to have—”
Elliott’s eyes narrowed, teasing. “The attention?”
Meredith’s smile turned wry. “No. The concern.”
He exhaled, the corner of his mouth lifting as he shook his head. “So, it’s still a secret?”
She lifted a brow, her voice low but edged with that familiar warmth. “You know it now. So what does that tell you?”
Elliott huffed a quiet laugh, deriving more joy from the exchange than he intended to show.
“That she doesn’t mind if the news gets out,” he said, settling back into his seat.
His hand brushed hers briefly as he reached for his whisky.
“But it’s not coming from me.” He counted back the months since Remy and Skye met. “When’d she get pregnant?”