To Be or Not To Be

Chapter One

Kate Coffey stood within the infamous Bloody Tower where the Princes had been murdered and reminded herself that there were no such thing as ghosts. That didn’t stop goosebumps from crawling up her arms as the young guide led them through the vast stone tower and continued with another gruesome tale.

“The Bloody Tower gained its present name in the sixteenth century,” the guide said, “because of the murderous deeds which took place in its dark rooms. There are many areas of the tower that are off limits to the public for it is said that the ghostly haunts within are easily angered by unwelcome intruders. When the moon is full and the bells sound, people have been known to disappear—”

Kate leaned forward in hopes of hearing better, but the young lady’s words were drowned out by another voice. A man’s voice.

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

It was Jack’s voice.

As the group continued on, Kate stopped and looked around. A dozen or so people milled about, speaking to one another in low voices as they pointed to weapons and costumes locked behind thick glass cases. Kate searched the crowd, her heart racing at the idea that Jack, her husband of nineteen years, might have followed her to England. She and Jack had married straight out of high school. They had raised two beautiful children together. They used to be happy. At least she’d thought they were until their kids went off to college and she decided to return to school and pursue a career in criminal justice.

Clearly, she and Jack were lacking in the communication department. She’d always assumed that after their children left, Jack would be by her side every step of the way—supporting her in her endeavors, rooting her onward, proud of her undertakings as she took each new step toward accomplishing her long-awaited goals. He’d known since the day they married that she planned to go back to school someday, but six months ago, she realized she’d been living in a fantasy world. She and Jack began to bicker about the time she spent at school. Before long they were arguing over the simplest of things. She moved into the guest room to teach him a lesson, and he moved out of the house before she had a chance to catch her breath. It all happened so fast.

One minute they were one big happy family, and in the next, everybody was gone—the kids, Jack, and even their dog, Shakespeare. Talk about empty nest syndrome. She missed the dog. She missed her kids. Mostly, she missed Jack. She'd been so certain he’d come back that first night…certainly within the first week. But he didn’t. And he hadn’t. And her pride hadn’t allowed her to ask him to come home. He was the one who left. She had done nothing wrong. If he loved her, truly loved her—he would come back to her.

Kate sighed. Coming to Europe had been a lifelong dream. Her children had surprised her with a ticket to London. Although Jack had never been fond of traveling, she’d always hoped that someday the two of them would visit Europe. See the sights. Smell the history. Until this moment, she’d thought she was handling the separation pretty well. But then why were her insides doing flip-flops every time she thought she heard his voice?

Maybe because Jack Coffey was the first man, the only man, she’d ever made love to. He was the father of her children. Maybe if she’d let loose in college and played a wider field, she wouldn’t be standing here now thinking about one man. She’d be thinking about five men instead. She rolled her eyes. Who was she kidding? She missed Jack. She ached for him. She just hadn’t realized how much until now.

There it was again—the deep timber of his voice, closer now, right behind her. Chills raced up her arms. Certain her mind was playing tricks, she swept about. Jack stood a few feet away, discussing medieval armor with an elderly woman.

A smile curved her lips. He looked better than ever.

Jack Coffey, a workaholic, a man who had no desire to travel, had come to London.

A prickling sensation ran up her spine. Her heart melted as she realized Jack had followed her to London. He loved her after all. Always the charmer, she thought as she watched him explain how the blacksmiths shaped the plates of armor in such a way as to deflect an opponent's blade. He looked trim in tan slacks and light blue button-down shirt. With his dark hair and deep tan he could easily pass for thirty instead of forty.

Warm memories filled her, causing her to further question the reasons for their separation, something she did more often than not these past months. She didn’t have to look at old photographs to remember sitting in the stands and watching him make his first touchdown in college when he played for the Wild Cats. It had been more than pride she felt when he strutted off the field in his football uniform. Nothing better than watching a gorgeous man in tight pants take down a couple of opponents.

Kate noted the joy in the elderly woman’s eyes as Jack complimented her on something or rather. An overwhelming urge to walk up to him and wrap her arms about him struck her. She wanted to kiss his neck and feel the warmth of his flesh against her lips. How safe she used to feel wrapped in his arms. So wonderfully safe that the mere thought of it brought tears to her eyes.

He still hadn’t noticed her.

Where did they go wrong? After Jack left, weeks turned to months and it wasn’t long before her good friend, Peggy, told her that Jack had moved on with his life. He had a snazzy new apartment, Peggy had said, and he was dating a string of pretty women.

Whether Jack dated or not, shouldn’t have bothered her. She had let him go, hadn’t she? More than once these past months she’d dreamt of him following her to the ends of the earth to tell her he couldn’t live without her, assuring her that he’d made a horrible mistake and would support her in whatever path she chose.

And now here he was.

Not a dream, but here in the flesh. He had followed her not to the end of the earth, but to England.

Close enough.

Knowing full well he was a man keenly aware of his surroundings, she wondered if he knew she was watching him at this very moment. Warm shivers coursed over her.
How long would he torture her before he acknowledged her presence? Every muscle ached for him to lift his head, turn her way and greet her with a smile. Warm heat pulsated through her body. How long had it been since she’d felt the stirrings of desire? Much too long.

She didn’t need to hold him to know how he would smell—crisp and clean, manly and heavenly all at once. Her mouth became dry as she realized the anticipation of a mere smile from him was almost too much to bear. He had come all this way. The least she could do was make the first move. Tell him she loved him, missed him, and wanted to work things out. She took a step forward. She could hardly breathe.

He lifted his head and looked right at her. Her heart did the Rumba.

His smile lit up his eyes, just as she’d imagined it would. His teeth looked whiter, his smile brighter. The fine lines at the corner of his eyes told her he was extremely happy to see her.

She felt frozen in time, as if all the world suddenly held still. She stood there watching him, wanting to soak it all in, remember this moment forever…remember the way he looked right now and the way she felt--because she never wanted to make the same mistake again. They belonged to one another. If there were ever two people meant to be, it was she and Jack. She should have gone after him the first day he’d left, told him how much she loved him and how she couldn’t bear to be without him…not for one day…not one moment.

They were partners of the soul. He was hers, and she was his.

So why had his smile turned to a frown? His face appeared suddenly pale as if he’d seen a ghost. And that’s when she realized he wasn’t looking at her at all, but someone else—

She turned just as a young woman swept past her and threw herself into Jack’s arms. The woman's red lips pressed against his, sucking the very life from him. As if sensing Kate’s unwavering gaze, the woman with the carefree blond wispy curls unlatched her lips from Jack’s mouth long enough to follow his gaze.

Kate’s stomach turned. “Peggy? Is that you?” It couldn’t be Peggy Sue Blanchard, her very best friend, the one person on this earth she’d confided in after Jack packed his bags and moved out. The same woman who had convinced her that Jack didn’t deserve her, wasn’t good enough for her, declaring enthusiastically that men like Jack were a dime a dozen. The same woman who had told her confidently that Jack had gone on with his life and that it was time for her to do the same.

Peggy’s face turned nearly as white as Jack’s newly bleached teeth.

Without another word spoken, Kate turned and walked away, afraid of what she might say or do if she didn’t.

Her tour group had long since abandoned her. They were probably headed on to the next tower. Kate walked onward, the clicks of her heels sounding hollow against the uneven stone floors as she headed down some unknown path, her only goal being to get as far away from Jack and Peggy as possible.

She felt numb. Empty and numb.

She needed to find an exit out of the damn building. That’s what she needed to do. Her prayer was answered when she spotted an oddly shaped wooden door within a darkened alcove to her right. The brass knob felt cool within her palm. She turned the knob and pushed on the old wood planks. The door didn’t budge. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack closing in on her with Peggy close behind. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? She grasped the knob harder and gave it a jerk, this time leaning her entire body into the heavy wooden planks. Nothing. Damn. She shoved harder.

For the love of God let me in.

The door creaked open, enough to allow her to squeeze through. She didn’t bother trying to shut the door. Instead, she turned and found herself at the entrance to a very dark tunnel. A dark never-ending tunnel framed by high, windowless walls awaited her. She hesitated. But the sound of Jack’s voice on the other side of the door prodded her onward.

Each footstep echoed off the dense stone that formed the narrow path through the tunnel. She brushed her fingertips against the wall to help guide her. The rough stone felt cold and damp to the touch. Something skittered across the ground and brushed against her ankle. Ack! She jumped then took a deep breath and continued onward. She wasn’t sure if Jack had followed her inside, but she wasn’t going to stop long enough to find out. She needed to get away from him. She needed time to collect herself.

Minutes passed before a hazy light appeared at the other end of the tunnel and she could see again. She was inside a large circular room, dimly lit by rays of light filtering through one small window ten feet above her head.

A wisp of cool air breezed across the back of her neck making her wonder if the ghost stories she’d heard earlier were true. Get a grip. Breathe.

Footsteps sounded. Kate turned about and found herself face to face with Jack.

“Kate,” he said. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Go away. I didn’t want you to follow me.”

“Obviously.” He raked an agitated hand through his hair. “I was afraid that in your rush to get away from me you might not have seen the sign on the door.”

“What sign?”

“The one that said ‘trespassers will be prosecuted by law.’” He moved closer, shaking his head at her as he reached out to remove a cobweb from her hair.

Caught off guard, she stepped back, afraid he might touch her.

“There was another sign, too,” he said with a smirk. “It said, ‘Beware…the screams of a thousand tortured souls rise from the bowels of this castle dungeon that you are about to enter.’”

She crossed her arms tight against her chest. “Funny.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of humor?”

“I lost it less than five minutes ago…about the same time I saw you slip your tongue down my supposed best friend’s throat.”

“Hmm…that. It’s not what you think.”

She laughed. “Now that’s funny, Jack. Maybe I didn’t lose my sense of humor after all.”

After a short pause she sighed and said, “Please go. I can take care of myself.”

“We all know you’re self-sufficient and independent Kate. But I’m not leaving this place without you.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But the kids will never forgive me if I leave their mother in some darkened dungeon within the bowels of the Tower of London.”

Ah, so that was it. The kids would be angry with him. She should have known. “Is that where we are? In the dungeons?”

“That would be my guess.” He gestured with his chin behind her.

Sure enough, the curved walls were lined with rusted iron shackles. Thick chains came out of the wall and dropped to the floor in heaping piles. “Fascinating.” She headed across the room for a closer inspection. A wooden bench had been built into the wall. On the bench sat a dented metal cup covered with cobwebs. She could practically hear the faint cries of more than a few tormented souls who had died in this very room. A cool breeze swept over her as she slid her fingertips across an iron shackle. “When Amy drove me to the airport she said something about one of your ancestors being kept in these dungeons.”

“So that’s what we’re paying them to teach our daughter.”

“It’s a project for her genealogy class. She’s learning about her family history.” Kate walked slowly onward, sliding her hands over the cold damp walls. Jack was probably dying to get back to Peggy. The thought of her best friend betraying her in such a way, made her nauseous. How could Peggy do this to her? Jack wasn’t any better.

She’d never felt so betrayed, so humiliated. Her insides churned. She didn’t want to think about all of this now. She just wanted him to go away and leave her alone.

“This place gives me the creeps,” he said.

Kate looked over her shoulder at him. “Understandably, since your ghostly relation is probably hovering over us right now—one of many ghosts haunting the towers.”

Jack came up behind her. “Running into my ancestor’s ghost holds no appeal for me whatsoever,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

He stood close and he smelled good—just as she knew he would.

There was an awkward pause before Jack’s mouth quirked and he said, “The kids surprised me a few weeks ago with a ticket to Europe.”

“Oh.” And to think she had thought he had come after her. What a fool she was.

“Looks like we’ve been set up,” he said.

“Parent Trap,” Kate agreed.

“What?”

“Parent Trap. It’s a movie. Amy loved watching it when she was small.” Crossing her arms, Kate rubbed her palms against her sleeves as another faint chill swept over her.

Jack shook his head. “One minute I’m walking through the Tower of London for a tour supposedly set up by my daughter, and the next thing I know I see you.”

“I hope you’re not implying that I had anything to do with getting you to London, because if you are—you really don’t know me at all.”

“I wasn’t implying anything,” Jack said. “But you’re right, Kate. I don’t know you. I lived with you for eighteen years and I have absolutely no idea who you are.”

“Nineteen years, but whose counting? If you had bothered to come home once in a while and spend some time with your family, you would know me.”

“For two years you were so caught up with the kids going off to college, you distanced yourself from the world—and from me. Christ,” he said. “When I did come home early you saw right through me, Kate. It’s not easy being a one-way mirror day after day, month after month.”

She flinched.

“You’ve become as cold and rigid as these stone walls.”

“Ridiculous. I’m no different than when we first met.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know exactly when it happened, Kate, but somewhere along the way you became obsessed with worrying about what other people thought. Funny though, you sure the hell never cared what I thought.”

“You became distant,” she shot back.

“Because you wouldn’t let me in.”

“You didn’t want in.”

“That’s not true.” Jack exhaled. “After the kids left you never once reached for me…in bed or out of bed.”

“You were hardly ever home. How could I reach for someone who wasn’t there?”

A twitch set in his jaw. “Your own self-criticism has become everyone else’s problem because you expect perfection from anybody who comes near you." He pointed a finger for emphasis. "You can’t worry about every little thing, Kate. You need to let something go.”

“I did,” she snapped. “I let you go.”

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there.

It was quiet, eerily so, her anger and frustration palpable. To think he blamed her for their troubled marriage.

With a long sigh, Jack looked back at her, unblinking, then finally he directed his gaze toward the tunnel that led back to the main section of the tower. For a fleeting moment Kate thought she'd glimpsed a touch of sadness within his eyes. But the dimly lit room kept throwing strange shadows across his face, causing her to doubt what she had seen.

“We need to talk,” he said, breaking into the silence.

Before she could respond, Kate felt the ground rumble beneath her feet. Looking about, she waited for any tell-tell signs of an earthquake. “Did you feel that?”

“No.” He looked about. “What?”

“I felt a tremor. You’re right. We should go back.” She headed for the tunnel. Instead of one path, there were two. “I don’t remember there being two paths before.”

“Stay to the left,” he told her confidently.

She didn’t budge. “Something’s not right. There was definitely only one path when I first entered the dungeon.”

“It was dark. Your eyes probably hadn’t adjusted yet.”

“Are you sure it’s the one to the left?”

“If not, we’ll come back and take the other path.”

True. They could always come back and start again. She followed the path to the left, ignoring her instincts screaming for her to go right. But she wasn’t in the mood to argue with Jack. He would think she was trying to be difficult. After another few feet, Kate stopped.

Jack knocked into her. “What is it?”

“Look at this.” She kicked up dust. “The floors are packed with dirt. These floors were covered in stone when I entered, I’m certain of it.”

“Keep going. Let’s get out of here.”

The further along she went, the stranger things appeared. Instead of becoming enclosed in pitch blackness as before, the tunnel became hazy enough for her to see dust motes, as if moonlight were pressing through cracks and crevices in the stone walls. She stopped again to take a closer look at an iron wall sconce where a thick candle had left strings of melted wax on the limestone walls. True, she’d been in a hurry to get away, but she would have noticed these things.

“Jack,” she said, touching a blob of hardened wax. “This is definitely not the same way we originally entered.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He grabbed hold of her hand and headed back the other way.

Having Jack’s warm fingers wrapped around hers felt strange after all these months apart, and yet comforting as the path before them grew longer and narrower. Instead of arriving back at the circular dungeon, they came to a halt before a solid wall of dirt.

Jack let go of her hand and slid his palms over the dirt wall, looking for a way out.

Kate slipped her hand into her purse, retrieved her cell phone and opened it. The phone glowed, giving off enough light to see that there was no way out; no windows or hidden door.

Her chest tightened. The air seemed suddenly thick and heavy. The walls were closing in around her. Not now. She staggered backwards until she felt the hard dirt wall against her back. Slowly, she slid downward until she was sitting on the ground.

Her lungs burned. Don’t panic. Stay calm. Breathe.

A few feet away, Jack must have sensed her fear. He turned toward her. “Kate, are you all right?”

She gestured with one limp hand for him not to worry. He came to her side anyhow, bent down on his knees and promptly began shuffling through her purse that hung from her shoulder. “You’re having an asthma attack, aren’t you?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on taking one breath at a time. She’d left her inhaler back at the hotel, but she couldn’t find her voice to tell him. Before she could count to ten, she felt Jack drop the purse and slide down next to her. Strong arms wrapped around her, his voice soft as he said, “Breathe, Kate. Let your body relax.” His hand smoothed the hair out of her face. “Everything is going to be okay,” he told her. “You’re not alone. Breathe.”

His voice soothed her. Her head rested in the crook of his arm. Little by little her lungs opened up.

“Where’s your medicine?” he asked as his thumb brushed against her arm.

“In my hotel room,” she managed, her eyes still closed. It felt good to be in his arms again. An image of Peggy’s lips pressed against Jack’s stirred her. She drew away from him, embarrassed at how weak she must seem. She took another reassuring breath as she propped herself against the wall.

They sat for a moment longer as she collected herself. She reached for her cell phone and opened it again. “I’m not getting a signal.” She held the dim glow of light toward the wall. This time she noticed a jagged piece of wood sticking out from the dirt.
“Jack, look at that.”

She put her phone away, crawled to the area where splintered wood poked out from the packed dirt and began pulling chunks of dry mud from the wall. Jack was beside her in an instant, clawing through the dirt at a much faster pace. Two planks of wood appeared. Little beams of light darted through the crack where the planks met. After removing a large mound of dirt, Jack was able to twist one of the boards loose and yank it free. Moonlight, along with a cacophony of sounds, flooded in from the outside.

“Thank God!” Kate said.

Jack smiled. “It sounds as if all of London is celebrating."

Kate leaned close to the hole, winced, then drew back. “What’s that horrible smell?”

A dog barked in the distance.

Jack pulled the second board loose and peeked through the narrow opening. “Looks like we’ve dug our way into an alleyway. Judging by the smell, this is where the garbage is stored until pickup day.”

People were laughing and shouting. A high-pitched shriek sent chills scurrying up Kate’s arm. The sound of cow bells temporarily drowned out the wail of a young child. It was as if the city had gone suddenly mad.

Jack didn’t stop working—loosening more dirt until he was able to free another board.

Kate put a hand on Jack’s shoulder as he worked. “Do you hear that? It sounds like horse hooves and carriages. Do you think there’s a parade?”

“Let’s find out.” Jack yanked another board loose and then kicked through hard-packed dirt with his foot.

Kate worried that Jack wouldn’t fit through the opening, but he managed to twist his body through without any trouble. She heard the soft thud of his feet hitting the ground. “I’m fine,” he told her before she had a chance to ask.

Kate exited feet first and would have fallen on cobblestone slick with the slime if Jack hadn’t grabbed hold of her waist and helped her out.

She covered her nose with her sweater. “Sounds like the city is reenacting another era. If you ask me,” she added, waving a hand toward the heaps of garbage, “they’re taking it all a bit too seriously.”

“It smells as if a dead animal has been rotting for months,” Jack agreed. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jack took the lead and headed for the street. Despite the awful smell, Kate was thankful to be out of the cramped tunnel. “The people in charge of the Tower are going to hear about this,” she told Jack. “To think visitors are subjected to—”

Jack came to an abrupt halt. She stopped too.

She looked at the moon. “This isn’t the same London I toured only hours ago. What happened to daylight? We couldn’t possibly have been in those tunnels for an entire day.”

Jack just stood there, staring.

Buildings were crammed together, and although the night was dark, torches burned brightly, lighting up streets that were nearly as filthy as the children running in circles, chasing after an exhausted chicken. Not too far away, a man and woman fondled one another in a public display of lustful drunkenness. Carriages and their reckless drivers nearly ran people over as heavy hooves and wooden coach wheels whirred by at regular intervals.

To Jack’s left was a wooden trough filled with dirty water. Mice skittered around the edges, trying to figure out how to get a drink without falling in and drowning.

Shivers coursed over her, but her heart didn’t race in earnest until she caught sight of the London Bridge—only this London Bridge was made of stone. Buildings lined both sides. And at the entrance was—she gasped. “It can’t be.”

“Traitors,” Jack said under his breath.

“What?”

“The tour guide said they used to stick the heads of executed traitors on spikes and leave them at the entrances of the London Bridge as a warning to others.”

Kate tried to take it all in…tried to breathe…tried to keep the bile from rising to her throat. “What’s going on, Jack?”

“Get back to the tunnel,” he said, but she didn’t need to be told—she was already headed back into the alleyway.