felt bound to do, he would have shared it with her. They were a unit. Isn't that what you felt, what we both felt, when we were in the clearing?"
"Yeah." He couldn't deny it, Cal thought. "That's what I felt."
"Going off that, Ann knew, and while she may have told her sons when they were old enough, that part of the Hawkins's oral history could have been lost or bastardized. It happens. I think she would have written it out, too. And put the record somewhere she believed would be safe and protected, until it was needed."
"It's been needed for twenty-one years."
"Cal, that's your responsibility talking, not logic. At least not the line of logic that follows this route. She told you this was the time. That it was always to be this time. Nothing you had, nothing you could have done would have stopped it before this time."
"We let it out," Fox said. "Nothing would have been needed if we hadn't let it out."
"I don't think that's true." Layla shifted toward him, just a little. "And maybe, if we find the other journals, we'll understand. But, we noticed something else."
"Layla caught it right off the bat," Quinn put in.
"Because it was in front of me first. But in any case, it's the names. The names of Ann's sons. Caleb, Fletcher, and Gideon."
"Pretty common for back then." Cal gave a shrug as he pushed his plate away. "Caleb stuck in the Hawkins line more than the other two did. But I've got a cousin Fletch and an uncle Gideon."
"No, first initials," Quinn said impatiently. "I told you they'd missed it," she added to Layla. "C, F, G. Caleb, Fox, Gage."
"Reaching," Fox decided. "Especially when you consider I'm Fox because my mother saw a pack of red foxes running across the field and into the woods about the time she was going into labor with me. My sister Sage? Mom smelled the sage from her herb garden right after Sage was born. It was like that with all four of us."
"You were named after an actual fox? Like a...release-the-hounds fox?" Layla wanted to know.
"Well, not a specific one. It was more a...You have to meet my mother."
"However Fox got his famous name, I don't think we discount coincidences." Quinn studied Cal's face, saw he was considering it. "And I think there's more than one of Ann Hawkins's descendents at this table."
"Quinn, my father's people came over from Ireland, four generations back," Fox told her. "They weren't here in Ann Hawkins's time because they were plowing fields in Kerry."
"What about your mother's?" Layla asked.
"Wider mix. English, Irish. I think some French. Nobody ever bothered with a genealogy, but I've never heard of any Hawkins on the family tree."
"You may want to take a closer look. How about Gage?" Quinn wondered.
"No idea." And Cal was more than considering it now. "I doubt he does either. I can ask Bill, Gage's father. If it's true, if we're direct descendents, it could explain one of the things we've never understood."
"Why it was you," Quinn said quietly. "You three, the mix of blood from you, Fox, and Gage that opened the door."
"I ALWAYS THOUGHT IT WAS ME."
With the house quiet, and night deep, Cal lay on Quinn's bed with her body curled warm to his. "Just you?"
"They helped trigger it maybe, but yes, me. Because it was my blood-not just that night, but my heritage, you could say. I was the Hawkins. They weren't from here, not the same way I was. Not forever, like I was. Generations back. But if this is true...I still don't know how to feel about it."
"You could give yourself a tiny break." She stroked her hand over his heart. "I wish you would."
"Why did he let it happen? Dent? If he'd found a way to stop it, why did he let it come to this?"
"Another question." She pushed herself up until they were eye-to-eye. "We'll figure it out, Cal. We're supposed to. I believe that."
"I'm closer to believing it, with you." He touched her cheek. "Quinn, I can't stay again tonight. Lump may be lazy, but he depends on me."
"Got another hour to spare?"
"Yeah." He smiled as she lowered to him. "I think he'll hold out another hour."
LATER, WHEN HE WALKED OUT TO HIS CAR, THE air shivered so that the trees rattled their empty branches. Cal searched the street for any sign, anything he needed to defend against. But there was nothing but empty road.
Something's in the wind, he