Page 24 of Destiny Reclaimed
"The Duponts are formidable foes and don't care about anyone but themselves. They'll do anything to steal our family's decorated military history to hold as their own. Anything. Not caring about the consequences. Because they'll stop at nothing, it requires unremitting vigilance on our part to preserve history. Not preserving it could create a ripple effect...butterfly effect, possibly causing more chaos to others—the world—than we can get control of if we fail. There’s a larger cause, greater good at stake with preserving history than just our family line. Because the Duponts are willing to do anything to change history, we need to be willing to as well. Do you understand what I'm saying, son?"
Jack swallowed hard. He’d basically had told him that come hell or high water, he'd better find a way to fend off the Duponts no matter what it takes. Focus. Stay on the ready.
Jack stood tall. "Yes. I understand."
His father reached out and patted him on his shoulder blade. "The good news is that we don't have to do this alone. The Gods provide Protectors to help."
His dad told him this as if it was new information to him. Did he not know he'd time-traveled yesterday to WWII? Did he really not recall seeing him? Or Blake, his grandson? Was it some sort of fluke that two groups of Preservers, Protectors, and evil, thieving relatives traveled at the same time to the same place?
"So, the Protectors, like us, fully understand what's at stake, right?" Jack asked, knowing full-well they did, but he needed it confirmed.
"Yes. They do. They know it's their destiny."
His dad returned his gaze to Simon Dupont's gravesite. His tense facial muscles eased slightly. "As a child, I had heard the horror stories about Simon, his son Edgar, and grandson, Lewis—the Dupont about my age. At times, I felt sorry for that side of the family, thought maybe they just had a run of bad luck. But as I traveled through the years, I came to understand luck had nothing to do with it." His jaw set then loosened a few seconds later. "They are just pure evil. Selfish. They have no desire to put anyone, or the common good of our great country, before themselves."
Jack furrowed his brows and studied his father’s taut facial muscles. It was uncommon to hear his father speak ill of anyone. Let alone go on about it for so long.
"It probably started before Simon, but who knows for sure. But anyone who would do what he did, even at the young age of fifteen, should have spoken up, tried to find a way to get help, but instead, he just went along with...well, he was young and only did as his commanding officer ordered."
He knew what his dad meant. He'd heard Simon's story before. A war criminal. He'd been part of a Union Prisoner of War camp for Confederate soldiers. They tortured the prisoners, mainly by starvation. They were fed barely enough to keep them alive, and they weren’t allowed any fruits or vegetables to help ward off infection. They’d even been made to drink from the same creek from which they bathed. It was a horrible situation.
Eventually, Simon's commanding officer was tried, court-martialed, and hanged for murder. A few of the other men under his command were imprisoned, but Simon and another young boy were simply sent home. They’d been just kids.
As the story goes, Simon never recovered from his part in the torturing. He turned to booze for comfort and lived the life of an abusive alcoholic. And started that ripple effect on the Dupont side of the family.
Next to him, his father closed his eyes and sighed. His shoulders slumped.
Jack was exhausted, too.
"So, this brings me to now.” His dad pointed at his head. "The spirit is willing but the body is too weak to keep fighting these battles." He let out a deep chuckle. "Though, I will say the ride has been an interesting one. At any rate, rest assured, the power doesn’t pass until both parties are ready." A little glint shone in his dad's dark eyes as his gaze drifted over to Jack’s left ear. "That's a nice stitch job to your ear. I couldn't have done any better myself. Scars make memories and lend to reminders of what is important."
That confirmed it. So, he did know.
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but his father held his hand up.
"It is yours now, son. The secrets are yours to hold. Do your best is all I ask."
Thrill snapped through him like a whip followed by a tinge of apprehension at the secrets he needed to keep, and the lie he'd already told to the person he was about to marry.
And so it begins, a life of secrets and lies.
