for while Glenna aged, I did not.
Now I must continue on without her giving, warm nature and unconditional love to sustain me. I am leaving this light keeper life behind. Lucas Madden will cease to exist. As tempting as it may be to cloister myself away for however long a subsistence I must endure, I promised Glenna more than once I would not hide from life. Or love.
But I have had my happy ending. I’ve known passion, desire, and companionship. Deep down I understand I will never experience such again. For who else could love a beast?
Chapter 1
London
March, 1943
Luke Newman shifted his 1939 Triumph Twelve into third gear as he rounded the corner heading for the Riddlesdown area and a visit he was not looking forward to. Professor Reed Parker’s health was failing, and his son, Fred—Luke’s nephew—made the not-so-subtle suggestion if he wanted to see him once more, this would be the chance to do it. At age eighty-nine, Reed had lived a long, full life, and his eventual and close passing made Luke melancholy. Reed was one of the last ties to his former life as Lucas Madden, Viscount Ravenswood, and one of his last ties to Glenna.
A sharp stab of pain curled under his ribs at the thought of his late wife. Though eleven years had passed since her death, the emptiness still remained. The circumstances of her untimely demise still haunted his dreams. But he would not ruminate on it today. A flat bit of road stretched out before him. Luke shifted to fourth gear, slammed the accelerator to the floor, and all 11.81 of horsepower roared to life, pushing the vehicle to its maximum speed of sixty-five miles per hour.
Of all the inventions and advances in technology and science since the late 1800s, the automobile fascinated Luke the most. He tried to buy a new one every few years, though thanks to the war, production had all but halted. Only sixty-six of these cars were made, he was lucky to have purchased one before the war began. The way things were progressing, he may be stuck with this sedan for some years to come.
The war. Perhaps Fred should have encouraged Reed and Clara to stay in Charlwood. The small village was more than an hour away by train or auto, and certainly safer than living in the outskirts of London. But with both parents in various stages of declining health, Fred wanted them nearby where he could check on them on a regular basis. His nephew was a case officer with SIS, the Secret Intelligence Service, or as it was becoming referred to more often, MI-6. Luke could not blame Fred for wanting his family close.
Since Fred was well aware of Luke’s secrets, he had given Luke a new identity, along with accompanying identification. A sardonic smile curved at the corner of his lips as he recalled the conversation he and his nephew shared shortly after Luke left Cornwall.
“Have you thought of a name?” Fred asked.
“Why not Lucas Deadman? Seems appropriate in more ways than one. Was I not brought back from the dead? Am I not dead inside, now that Glenna…?”
“Give over, Uncle. Enough of the self-pity. You promised Aunt Glenna more than once you would live on and embrace life.” Fred rubbed his chin, deep in thought, an action his father used. “You are a new man…that’s it. Newman. How do you like the sound of it?”
In truth, Luke liked it. The name fit him well. During the past eleven years he and Fred had grown close, more like best mates than uncle and nephew. Luke often assisted Fred with his assignments, especially where his particular talents could be useful. Being a case officer, Fred was responsible for recruiting and running existing agents. Luke was currently on the payroll of SIS, working with Fred exclusively in London. Only Fred’s ranking supervisor knew of the arrangement. Luke did not need the extra coin; he’d turned the money he procured from his father into a small fortune thanks to shrewd investments at the turn of the century in a little known American fountain drink called Coca-Cola.
Shifting down into third, then second, Luke slowed the vehicle as he neared the small Tudor style cottage Reed and Clara resided in. Once he parked the car in front of the dwelling, he turned off the ignition and glanced around the quiet street. No one about, but he would not take the chance nosy neighbors peered out from behind their blackout curtains.
Luke pulled his gray fedora low over his eyes and turned the collar of his trench coat up to obscure his face. Close to fifty years since his reanimation, explaining his appearance remained difficult in most circumstances. After he grabbed the brown paper bag from the passenger seat, he locked the car and headed up the walk to the front entrance.
Clara answered the door and immediately embraced him. “You came at a good time. He is sitting up in the parlor, a little stronger today than he has been.”
Luke kissed her cheek affectionately and handed her the bag. “My rations of tea, sugar, and butter. I have no need of them. There is some government cheddar, not the best, but I know Reed enjoys cheese and biscuits.”
Clara’s lower lip quivered. “Thank you for thinking of us. He will be pleased to see you. It’s been a good long while.”
Too long. Not since Christmas and he had no excuse except when in Reed’s company, the pain of losing Glenna came roaring to the surface. Also, his relationship with Reed was complicated at best due to the fact the man used him in a bizarre experiment. At times, Luke resented Reed’s arrogant interference. Luke’s life had been over. He was dead and should have stayed dead. But then, he would not have fallen in love with Glenna and would not have enjoyed thirty-seven years of utter bliss.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Clara said, pulling him from his thoughts. He gave her a brief smile. As he stepped into the parlor, he tamped down any lingering bitterness. Reed looked every bit of his eighty-nine years. Since he’d seen him last, the rapid decline was evident.
Hunched over and covered in a shawl, Reed lifted his head to meet Luke’s gaze. Yes, I can see it. Death stood nearby clutching his scythe with his bony hand. Reed’s skin was nearly the same shade of light gray as Luke’s and pulled tight across his fragile frame with nearly every vein visible. His heart was failing. Even his lips showed the slight blue tinge of a man not getting enough oxygen in his blood.
Luke removed his hat, tinted glasses, and unbuttoned his trench coat. “Good afternoon, Reed.”
“Luke.” Reed smiled. “Sit here close by. My hearing is not what it used to be.” Luke sat in the wingchair. Though in a weakened condition, Reed’s voice was steady and his intellect sharp as ever. “I am glad you came. Fred called, he’ll be here soon. We will have a bit of a family reunion.”
“Yes. Family.” Luke leaned forward and patted the old man’s withered hand. “Listen to me, my friend, and know this. For as long as I exist, I pledge I will watch over the Parker family and their descendants. No harm will come to them.”
Reed’s eyes grew moist. “Thank you. It is more than I deserve. Though at thirty-four, Fred had better get married or there will not be any descendants to watch over.”
Sitting back in the chair, Luke crossed his legs. “His career and the war keep him busy.”
“That it does. Life does go on; you know better than anyone, Luke.”
“Yes, a bitter pill to be sure.”
“Since this may well be the last time we meet, allow me to apologize. You know what for. I had no business messing about with life and death, nor for using you as a test subject.”
Reed
