Page 1 of Viking (Dixie Reapers MC #24)

Karoline

The smell of finger paint and glue clung to my clothes as I trudged up the walkway to my front door.

My shoulders ached from breaking up three separate squabbles over the blue crayon, and my voice had gone hoarse from reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar with all the dramatic inflections my preschoolers demanded.

All I wanted was a hot shower, a glass of wine, and maybe an hour of mindless television before I passed out.

That’s when I spotted an unfamiliar sedan parked in my driveway.

I never got visitors, especially at this time of day.

Unease filled me. I started wondering about when I’d last heard from my parents, my grandma, and even my brother.

But it didn’t look like a police vehicle.

Wouldn’t someone like that come tell me if something happened to my parents or my grandma? That only left…

I fumbled with my keys, nearly dropping them.

As I approached my front porch, I saw the silhouette of two people off to the side.

One was a younger man who stood slightly behind the other one.

The older one removed his hat and stepped closer.

Military. My stomach dropped. No. There was no reason for them to be here unless something had happened to Kris.

My brother wasn’t always able to keep in contact, so it wasn’t unusual for me to not hear from him for weeks or even months.

I’d learned not to worry when there were gaps in either receiving a phone call or letter. Now I felt foolish.

“No,” I said softly, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry, Miss Kringle. I’m here to inform you that your brother, Kris Kringle, died during a mission.”

“No,” I said again, willing his words to be a horrible joke. Not Kris. My purse tumbled from my grasp, the contents spilling across the porch. The man pulled out an envelope.

“He left this for you.”

My hand shook as I took it from him. I opened the envelope and tears filled my eyes.

If you’re reading this, then something went horribly wrong and I’m not able to come home.

I’m sorry, Karoline. There’s so much I wasn’t able to tell you, and some of it will be hard to understand.

I have a daughter. Athena. She’s only three years old, and she needs you right now. Not Mom or Dad, but you.

Someone will reach out to you soon about being her guardian. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to watch over my daughter, shower her with love, and help her remember her dumbass dad who did something stupid and ended up dead.

I love you, Karoline. Now and always.

Your big brother,

Kris

“How did it happen?” I asked.

“That’s classified information, ma’am. But your brother is a hero, and he died for his country.”

Empty words that meant nothing to me right now. I clutched the letter in my hand. “Did you tell my parents?”

“Not yet. That’s where I’m going next. Your brother had things in place in case this happened. You were to be the first point of contact.”

I nodded. As much as I love my parents, I understood.

Kris and I had always been close. Closer than either of us were to our parents.

Which seemed odd considering how much older he was than me.

Of course, now that they were older, they’d moved into a senior community.

Mom had Alzheimer’s and Dad’s health wasn’t so great either.

The last few times I’d been to visit, Mom hadn’t recognized me, and Dad had suggested Kris and I stay away.

It stressed Mom out, and she was his priority.

“Did you know about his daughter?” I asked.

“No, ma’am. I didn’t personally meet him. But I’ve heard about him, and I volunteered for this job. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” He handed me a business card. “Again, my condolences for your loss.”

I nodded, my throat tight as tears slipped down my cheeks. They saluted and walked off, getting back into their vehicle. I gathered my things with shaky hands and went into my house. Then I crumpled to the floor and sobbed until I didn’t think I had any tears left.

“Why, Kris? Why did you leave me?” I asked, looking up at the ceiling, as if he could somehow answer from wherever we went when we died.

* * *

The tea in my mug had gone cold, a thin skin forming on the surface like a barrier between me and whatever comfort it might have offered.

I stared at it, unable to bring myself to take a sip or push it away.

Another military person sat across from me with a folder in her hands.

She slid it over to me, and I flipped it open.

“As I mentioned, I’ve known Kris for a lot of years. He was one of my best friends, and that’s why he entrusted me with this,” she said.

“Tell me everything you know about her,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Inside the folder, I saw a picture of a toddler. She looked like a very small version of me. How had Kris managed to keep a daughter from his family all this time? And why? Was he ashamed or something? As far as I knew, he hadn’t been dating anyone. Had it been a one-night stand gone wrong?

“Athena is three years old, born April fifteenth. She lived with her dad when he was stateside, but when he deployed, she stayed with a woman named Melissa Harper -- apparently a friend of the child’s mother.”

“And the mother?” I asked, finally looking up from my tea.

“We don’t know much about her. From what the caregiver said, the mother hasn’t been in the picture since Athena was born. She abandoned her right after giving birth.”

“And Kris never told us. Any of us.” The hurt was sharp, unexpected. How could my brother have kept something so enormous from me? We’d told each other everything. At least, I thought we had.

I looked at the photo again, even though it was slightly blurry, taken from a distance.

A tiny girl with a riot of copper curls sat on the floor of what looked like an office, clutching a worn, stuffed animal to her chest. Her face was turned slightly away from the camera, but even in profile, I could see the resemblance -- to me, to Kris, to the Kringle DNA that had given us both our distinctive coloring.

“She looks scared,” I whispered.

“She is scared,” the woman said. “Her father’s gone, and she’s with strangers. The social worker said she’s barely spoken since they took her from Ms. Harper’s home.”

I stared at the photo, trying to process that this child -- this tiny, vulnerable person with my hair and eyes -- was my niece. My brother’s daughter. A piece of him that was still here, even though he was gone.

“Why would he choose me?” I asked. “I don’t know anything about being a parent.”

“I can’t say for certain,” the woman replied.

“But if I had to guess, I’d say he trusted you the most. Not to mention, I’ve heard you’re a preschool teacher.

To me, that makes you qualified to handle a three-year-old.

When the social worker reaches out, there will be official documents for you to sign. ”

“So what happens now?” I wrapped my hands around the cold mug, needing something to hold onto.

“Do I just… go get her? Bring her here? I don’t even have a bedroom for her.

I have plants that are probably poisonous.

I work full-time. I don’t know the first thing about three-year-olds outside of a classroom setting. ”

I ran a hand over my face. Sure, I’d wanted kids.

Just not right this minute, and not because my brother had died and left his daughter in my care.

All of this was completely insane. All of it -- Kris’s death, the existence of Athena, the sudden expectation that I would step into the role of parent to a traumatized three-year-old.

“I know it feels impossible right now but think about Athena. She’s lost everything familiar to her. According to the paperwork, Kris wanted you to be her guardian. Not foster care, not adoption by strangers. You.”

I sighed and nodded. My brother had his reasons, even if I wasn’t sure what they were just yet. I’d trusted him with my life, and now he’d trusted me with the life of his daughter.

“The social worker said you can meet with her tomorrow at eleven. Just to get acquainted, see how she responds to you. They’re not expecting you to take her home immediately. Think of it as an adjustment period for the two of you.”

A small mercy, at least. But it only delayed the inevitable decision.

“And if I can’t do it?” I looked at her. “If I’m not… enough for her?”

“Your brother clearly thought you were more than enough.”

I swallowed hard. I still didn’t understand why this woman had shown up today, but she’d claimed to know Kris, had been deployed with him in the past. In all honesty, I was grateful to her.

Maybe she could help me make sense of all this…

or at least feel a little less like I’d been dropped into chaos.

“But he should be here,” I whispered, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. “He should be here to raise his own daughter. To tell me why he kept her a secret. To explain why he thought I could do this when I can barely keep my own life together.”

I looked at the photo again -- that small, frightened child clutching her stuffed animal. Whatever Kris’s reasons had been for keeping her a secret, she didn’t deserve to suffer for them.

“I should go,” the woman said, standing. “It’s getting late, and you need time to process all of this. If you’d like, I can pick you up tomorrow at ten to go meet Athena. Unless you’d prefer to go by yourself.”

“Okay,” I said automatically, still lost in my thoughts. “I’ll accept the ride.”

She hesitated. “You’ll get through this, Karoline.

Kris knew you were the right person for the job.

If there’s one thing I know about your brother, it’s that he always had a reason for everything, no matter how crazy it might sound.

He didn’t do things without thinking them through and considering multiple angles. ”