Broken Promises

Broken Promises – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Eight)

by

Terri Reid

*

PUBLISHED BY:

Terri Reid

Broken Promises – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Eight)

Copyright © 2012 by Terri Reid

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

The author would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this book. Richard Reid, Sarah Reid, Debbie Deutsch, Jan Hinds, Ruth Ann Mulnix, Lynn Jankiewicz and Liz Solomon.

And especially to the wonderful readers who walk with me through Mary and Bradley’s adventures and encourage me along the way. Thank you all!

The sky was the soft turquoise that slowly slips into the starry blackness of a spring night. Henry Madison climbed the porch stairs deliberately, leaving a residue of the day’s accumulation of dirt and dust from his leather work boots. The spicy sweet scent of lilac drifted on the calm breeze from an overgrown bush next to the porch. He stood in front of the door and inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance fill his lungs and ease the stress of the day. His shoulders sagged slightly and he slowly rolled his neck, closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment of peace. Then he reached forward, grasped the doorknob firmly and let himself into his home.

“Daddy!”

The piercing scream of his seven year-old daughter, Clarissa, echoed in his ears and blossomed in his heart. He dropped his tool box on the bench just inside the door and squatted down, waiting for his very own brown-haired, hazel-eyed, human cannonball to hurl herself into his arms. It was his favorite part of the day.

Her tiny body thumped against his chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo and soap.

Her father was her hero. She loved the way his smile crinkled his whole face, even around his eyes. She loved the way he smelled, like wood shavings and fresh air. And she loved the feeling of security she felt once he stepped in the door. Daddy was home, he would take care of everything.

“I missed you so much,” she said, and then moved closer and whispered into his ear. “Mommy had a sad day today.”

Folding her into his arms, he held her for one more moment, and then he gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Let’s go in and see if we can’t make Mommy feel better.”

He stood, grasped her tiny hand in his and together, the large man and the tiny girl, walked through the house to the small sunroom in the back. The floor was scattered with Legos and it was clear Clarissa had been constructing some kind of architectural masterpiece for her princess collection to live in.

His wife, Becca, was resting on a small couch with a knitted afghan over her legs and a book, faced down, in her lap. She looked up and smiled at him.

She still took his breath away. Even after ten years of marriage, her ethereal beauty, her tranquil smile and her hesitant, almost fearful nature, engendered feelings of love, protectiveness and awe. It was as if he had somehow captured a woodland nymph and brought her to live in man’s world.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, sitting on the corner of the coffee table next to the couch and taking her hands in his.

Meeting his eyes, she shook her head slightly, holding his questioning for a moment. “Clarissa, darling, could you do me a favor and go upstairs and get my pink sweater?” she asked.

Clarissa nodded dutifully. “Okay, mommy,” she responded immediately and raced out of the room.

“She’s so grown up,” Becca said with regret, “Too grown up, she hasn’t had much of a chance to be a child.”

“She’s fine, she’s great,” Henry argued. “She just loves you and is concerned, like I am. What happened today?”

She tightened her grip on his hands. “He called again today,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “He must know about me and he’s going to try and take her away.”

Henry leaned closer and pulled his wife into his arms, holding her, as he had his daughter only a few minutes before. “Darling, he can’t take her,” he crooned softly. “She’s legally ours. He gave her up. He has no rights to her. Just because you’re a little under the weather doesn’t change anything. I promise, you don’t have to worry about this. You just have to worry about getting better.”

She leaned away from him and met his eyes. “He said he was coming to town and he wants to meet with us to convince us to give her up,” she explained.

Tenderly caressing her long, blonde hair, he guided her back into his arms. “I’ll meet with him. I’ll go to Sycamore and let him know, in no uncertain terms, that Clarissa is ours and he has no legal rights. And, if he continues to harass us, I’ll have a lawyer contact him.”

She sprang back from his embrace. “But we can’t afford...”

He kissed her forehead. “We won’t need to call a lawyer,” he reassured her. “All we have to do is threaten and he’ll back away. He’s a smart man; he knows he doesn’t have a legal leg to stand on. He just thinks he can intimidate us.”

“But, he’s a dentist and he has a lot of money,” she argued.

“Maybe,” Henry said. “But you’re a fairy queen and I’m Prince Charming, so who do you think is going to win?”

She relaxed against him. “You really are my Prince Charming,” she sighed.

“And you are my fairy queen,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

“So, what does that make me?” Clarissa asked, entering the room with a pink sweater in her arms.

Henry reached over and pulled her into their hug. “Um, the frog princess?” he teased.

“Daddy!”

“A dwarf?” Becca asked.

“Mommy!”

“Well, let me think,” Henry said, rubbing his hand over his chin, “How about a fairy princess?”

“A double special fairy princess,” she replied.

“Double special?” her mother asked.

“Yes, ‘cause I’m a fairy princess and I’m ‘dopted,” she said.

Henry pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, you were the treasure we found to make our family whole.”

“So I’m a fairy princess treasure?” she asked.

“Exactly,” her mother said, “Our priceless treasure.”

###

A few hours later Clarissa lay under the covers in her bed trying to keep her eyes open for just a few more minutes.

“Just one more story, please Daddy?” she asked.

Henry, seated on the side of the bed, leaned forward and rustled her hair with his hand. “You will keep me here, begging for one more story until it’s morning time,” he teased.

She shook her head. “No, I promise,” she replied sincerely, a big yawn escaping from her lips. “Just tell me the ones about the angels. Then I’ll go to sleep.”

“Okay, just that one and then you will close your eyes and sleep, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When God created the world he had a plan,” he began.

“That all of us would come down here and be borned, right?” she interrupted.

Grinning, he nodded. “Right. We would all take our turns and be born and grow up and work really hard to be good.”

“Yep, and the jobs of the mommies and the daddies were to take care of the children so they would learn how to be good, right?”

“Exactly right,” he said. “But God knew that sometimes people would need extra help.”

“So he made angels,” she said, her voice soft with awe.

Henry nodded. “Yes,” he replied, lowering his voice. “There are angels all around us, just waiting for the right time to help us. They are closer than you think and they often disguise themselves like regular people.”

“So how can you tell if they are angels?” she asked.

“They want you to do good things; like God and Mommy and Daddy would want you to do,” he said. “Angels would never have you do something bad.”

Clarissa yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Will I ever meet an angel, Daddy?” she asked, as she snuggled into her pillow.

He leaned over and kissed her on her forehead. “I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” he said. “You just have to watch for them.”

She nodded sleepily. “Night Daddy, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, to the already sleeping child.

A fierce feeling of protectiveness struck him as he watched her sleep from the doorway.
There is no way anyone is going to take her from us
, he vowed silently.
Not while I’m alive.

###

Henry hated to take a day off work; they really needed every dollar he earned. But Dr. Gary Copper was not only an annoyance; he was also affecting Becca’s health and so he needed to be stopped. The look of relief on her face that morning when he explained what he was going to do was enough to reassure him that he’d made the right decision.

The drive to Sycamore took a little over an hour and, if he had been in the right frame of mind, he might have enjoyed the trip down the country lanes surrounded by fields of corn and soybeans. Instead, he rehearsed what he was going to say to Dr. Copper over and over again.

When he finally arrived at the lovely home in the middle of the subdivision, he realized Becca was right. Dr. Copper had money. He had enough money to fight for Clarissa and he had enough money to get the best lawyers and perhaps win.

He stomach began to clench as he walked up the sidewalk to the home and he tried to calm himself down.
I may not have money, but I know Clarissa is where she is supposed to be. She is my daughter, not his. She loves me, not him. She needs me and she needs Becca and no amount of money can replace the love we give to her.

He thought about Becca’s comment the night before, Clarissa growing up too quickly because of Becca’s illness. He mentally shook his head.
No. That’s what families do. They sacrifice for each other, they learn from serving each other and their love grows. We’re
giving Clarissa all she needs; love, encouragement and stability.

With firmer resolve, he confidently strode up the last few steps to the door and pressed the doorbell. A few moments later the door opened and revealed a kindly looking middle-aged man.

Well, this shouldn’t be too hard
, Henry thought.

“May I help you?” Dr. Copper asked.

“Hello, I’m Henry Madison,” he said, noting the look of surprise on Dr. Copper’s face. “I’d like to speak with you about my daughter, Clarissa.”

Dr. Copper’s face broke into a wide welcoming smile. “Well, of course, of course,” he said, opening the door wider and stepping aside. “Please come in. Let’s have a chat over some light refreshments.”

Henry stepped forward into the house. “Well, I don’t want to put you out.”

“Oh, no, it’s not a problem,” he replied. “I have an iced tea that’s to die for.”

“Ohhh, cake,” Eight year-old Maggie sighed happily to Mary O’Reilly as Police Chief Bradley Alden approached the table juggling three plates of wedding cake, forks and napkins.

He placed the largest piece of cake in front of Maggie and earned an adoring smile from her. “I never get the biggest ‘cause I’m the littlest,” she confided in them, just before she inserted a large forkful of cake into her mouth and smiled in delight, frosting coating her lips, “Mmmmmmm.”

Bradley sat down next to Mary and placed her piece in front of her. Then he followed Maggie’s example, helping himself to a generous piece. “This is really good cake,” he said, and leaning over to Mary whispered, “This is the second best reason for having a wedding.”

“What’s the first one?” Maggie asked.

Bradley turned a little red, nonplussed for a moment.

“Why the lovely dress, of course,” Mary said, laughing at Bradley. “What do you think is the best part, Maggie?”

“The kiss,” Maggie said, “When they say ‘and now you may kiss the bride.’ That’s the best part.”

Maggie turned back to Bradley. “What do you think is the best part?”

“I agree with you,” he said. “The kiss is the best part.”

“The kiss is the best part of what?” Katie, Maggie’s mother, asked as she joined them at the table.