Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,107

they were mostly lies. But Mel had gotten them to the Black Rose in time to extricate Maddie from certain death, and he had seemed to know details about Lucy Delaney that agreed with Jameson Tenney’s more trustworthy observations. Those two truths Mel told were undeniable.

Since that day, he’d also filled in a couple holes in a certain nine-year-old kid’s recollections. Not enough for Alex to give him a key to Kelsey’s castle, but enough he was willing to listen and hear the old guy out. Which brought peace back to the castle, as well as story time with Gramps for Lexie, whom he now remembered.

Boston authorities had turned Mel over to Alex for safekeeping. Said they didn’t send Alzheimer’s patients to jail. Which made him Alex’s father, once and for all. Mel was finally home and that was okay.

Alex now knew that Mel’s lucid moments, which was all that their time together in Boston had been, would occur less frequently from now on. Alzheimer’s robbed everything from its victims, and this might be the hardest battle Alex would ever fight. But what else did a person do when their long-lost parent finally came home? For that answer, Alex looked to Lexie.

At the moment, she’d traded Bradley for her Grampa. Mel had her on his knee while she read one of her favorite books to him, a story about a pink ballerina. They were sitting in the dining room, between the stone fireplace and the wide picture window that offered a magnificent view of the Shenandoah Mountains to the West. Whisper, the laziest guard dog in Virginia, and Lexie’s faithful shadow, snoozed on his side at their feet, while Smoke sat alert at the window.

Mel would offer an insincere ‘aha’ whenever Lexie pointed out something he needed to know about one of her beloved characters. She’d shove the book into his face when he dozed off, scolding him to ‘stay awake and listen, Grampa, until I’m through reading.’ That then, only then, could he take a nap. That reading was important; he should try it all by himself sometime.

It was plain to see she adored her Grampa, as much as Alex still adored his Gramps, Patrick Bradley Stewart. Full circle, damn it. Life had come full circle, and Alex was standing back where it all began. With his Gramps, and Lexie’s Grampa, and a whole lot of family between the two headstrong Irishmen.

As far as The TEAM went, Mark was still managing assignments and doling out his brand of leadership. The man was a natural. Didn’t hurt that Harley was now fully engaged and more single-minded than he’d been in years. Which was saying a lot for a man as beset by post-traumatic stress as he’d been when he’d come home from war. But he’d stepped up as Mark’s right hand man now, and didn’t that beat all? Alex had two strong leaders on the job, holding The TEAM fort down.

With all well at home for the moment, he planned to go back to work in a couple days. Where he’d once considered ending The TEAM he’d built from the ground up, he knew now that he’d over-reacted. He had an appointment with Jameson Tenney first thing Monday morning. He still needed to have that chat with Mother. But he’d never been more sure. He’d built a damned solid company of snipers, and ended up with the best family a man could ask for. Life was son of a bitchin’ good.

“Hey, son. Alex?” Mel interrupted from his cozy seat with Lexie.

As usual, his timing was impeccable. Alex jolted out of his first half-pleasant reverie in days, annoyed. “Yes?”

“You do know Pops was my only sibling, don’t you?”

Thank God. “So?”

“Well, err, so… Lucy was his only kid, and you’re my only kid, and—”

“And your point is?”

“They’re, umm…” Mel placed both hands over Lexie’s ears and whispered, “They’re both dead. Him and her.”

“What are you trying to tell me? Spit it out.”

Lexie shook her head, dislodging Mel’s hands with a crabby, “Stop it, Grampa. I reading.”

“Well, Pops had a will,” he told Alex. “Last time I seen it, he left everything to Lucy first. Wanna know who else he named as beneficiary in case something happened to her?”

A pregnant pause filled the lovely stone home, before he begrudgingly muttered, “Not really.”

“What’s a bena-fishery, Daddy?” Lexie asked, her brows furrowed, and her bottom lip stuck forward in a studious pout.

“It’s someone who’s related to a person who dies, sweetheart. Like a wife or