The Quartus Family Saga is an unforgettable tale of a family's love and strife. In this third book, Redeemed, the tormenting battle of the family's struggle to remain together bursts forth as new threats and old consequences bombard them. Will past events like murder, mayhem, and kidnapping ever be put to rest? Katie attempts to juggle fame, fortune, faith, family, fairytales, frailty, and the fear of the unknown and worse - the known. Life's evil attacks - can love redeem them?

Redeemed

The Quartus Family Saga Book 3By Kerr Barkley

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Kerr Barkley
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-8732-3

Chapter One

Ten Minutes

May 1997

It is 3:22 a.m. when the cell phone rings and Adam rolls across the silk sheets to grab it. Katie snatches the phone, wrapping it tightly in her long slender fingers. "Don't you dare!"

"It's probably nothing, now give me my phone, please." His tone is steady.

She throws it at him. As he opens it, she wonders which of his sixteen languages he will speak in.

"Hello, Harvard here."

"Harvard, my butt." Katie mocks.

He begins speaking briskly in a foreign language that sounds Middle Eastern. Then he is out of the king-size bed and pacing, then dressing. Katie slides out of bed and follows him across the room and into the large dressing room. There he gathers odd-looking things out of the safe, puts a few guns with the various unknowns in a duffel bag, and finally says goodbye to the caller. He closes the phone and faces Katie.

"You said no more missions," she accuses.

"I said no more assassinations."

"Same thing."

He laughs. "I told you it isn't cut and dried. I can't stop being James Bond overnight any more than you can instantly stop being the Great Miss Susannah. Baby-steps mostly, giant ones when we can. I'll be gone two weeks at most." He combs his jet-black hair with swift, repeating strokes.

They head back into the huge black and gold sparsely decorated bedroom. Every move his muscular frame makes is with military precision. He's already in government mode. "Is it espionage? Overseas?"

"You know I can't tell you."

Her head droops in frustration. "Say no. You promised me you would be the best husband and father you can be. If you leave here tonight you're breaking that promise." Tears stream down her face. "I'm sick of living alone, of being strong. I need you. The boys need you. Every time you leave I worry you'll never come back. I'm tired. Please don't go. Let someone else."

Gently he lifts her chin with his index finger and stares into her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm the only one qualified."

His dark eyes mesmerize her. "You're the only qualified husband and father this household has. Does that mean anything?"

He kisses her. "Everything. Two weeks."

"Last time you said two weeks, you left me standing at the altar and I ended up marrying Wes."

He grins briefly. "Fourteen days. Don't marry anyone else while I'm gone. I'll be back, I promise, and I don't break promises.

Made my first one at five and ruined my life to keep it. I haven't broken one since." His eyes close and reopen as if remembering.

That promise must be bothering him. That's three times he's mentioned it recently. He's never told her what it is. "You're breaking a promise by leaving tonight."

He lifts her long auburn hair off her shoulder with a quick sweep of his hand. "No, dear. I promised to be the best I can be within the limits of who I am and what I do. My ride's here. Fourteen days. Now come, let me love you, love of my life. Etched in my soul, forged in my heart – all that I am. God, Katie, I love you."

"Then don't go," she pleads.

He holds her tightly, kissing her lips firmly, then her forehead, and then he is gone.

It is 3:32 a.m. when he kisses her goodbye. Ten minutes between the ringing phone and goodbye.

She tosses in bed. The dry night air smells stale and she considers opening a window but rules it out knowing there is no breeze. She wishes he had worn cologne; then his scent would have lingered. Fear thumps behind her eyes, promising a headache. She has to keep her eyes open to watch the nothingness of the night.

She prays for his safety. Her brain searches for a Bible quote for comfort. Her Bible, like her bicycle, is the history of her childhood. Her mind wanders to the last visit to the ranch when she saw her bicycle in the trash, its chain hanging carelessly, its tires flat, its spokes poked out where colorful little straws once twirled when the wheels headed on endless adventures.

She feels old in her mid-thirties tonight, sick of endless escapades. She was looking forward to their retirement to the ranch, but tonight he chose to ride away on another adventure and leave his sidekick behind. Again.

She prays for his safe return and that this will be the end of his need to venture off. Like the bicycle chain, her faith has grown rusty. Still she knows she must have faith and finally Hebrews11:1 comes to sooth her. Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Adam will return safely. She must, absolutely must, believe he will be home in two weeks.

She repositions herself again, still in search of sleep. She wonders if morning will ever come. After hours of clock surveillance, daylight arrives. She stumbles down the long hall lined with mirrors and heads down the stairs, her mind heavy with questions.

Is he winding down? Can he ever stop responding to the call to action? That powerful draw charges his life battery the same way walking out on a stage and hearing thousands of people cry "Susannah" charges hers. On stage her heart beats thump-thump-thump in the air surrounding her rather than inside her body. She's not sure she could describe it to someone who never stood in front of 20,000 screaming, adoring people at a concert.

She begins her descent down the spiral staircase with the seven-foot wide steps and recalls strutting the red carpet at the Academy Awards, as she does every year. Millions of people tune in to see the spectacle and to see her. Every aspect of that night is planned months in advance, what designer for her dress, who will get the exclusive interview, and oh! The thrill of the acceptance speech. And I'm worried about Adam's call to adventure. Can I give all that up to stay home and perform for an audience of one? Her stomach churns and a wave of nausea travels right up to her throat.

She enters the kitchen on auto-pilot and grabs a bowl with a gaudy design and some utensils for making eggs. When she opens the stark white refrigerator she is met with a cool blast that settles her nausea.

Her eldest son joins her. "I heard him leave. When is he supposed to be back this time?" Weston Allard Reese, Jr. asks. It's just in time to spare her from her own insanity.

"You know his research, Allard, it's so unpredictable." She noisily whips the eggs.

"You're really upset."

"No, I'm fine dear." She kisses his cheek and gently tugs his wavy blond mid-length hair.

"Really? Then would you mind making some scrambled eggs without the shells? Or maybe I can make them today? What's going on Mom? You don't usually act like this when he leaves? You look like you're falling apart."

Suddenly Katie realizes she is near tears. She excuses herself and hurries back to the bedroom.

How can she possibly go to work like this? Because she's the Great Miss Susannah Archer, that's how. If Adam Bromwyn can go from being her incognito husband to Dr. Jack Harvard, CIA agent, in ten minutes, she can go from being plain basketcase Katie Quartus to the world famous Queen of Hollywood in ten minutes, too. Be tough, Miss Katie.

Into the shower, fancy clothes, makeup, and jewelry and whoa! The transformation is complete and the most famous female entertainer in the world darts down the steps two at a time to join her sons in the kitchen.

Allard has made scrambled eggs for his brother, Little Adam, who proudly shows off the two bucks he scored from the tooth fairy. Both boys are...