Prologue

1949

"Oh! He kicks and punches and—" Cindy Ferguson broke off with a gasp and a shriek "—he's either a football player or a soccer star!" she finished. She shrugged through the pain and said softly, "Or a rock star, like his dad! You know, you're supposed to be doing studio work right now—"

"Hardly a rock star—just a studio musician. There are other studio musicians," Aidan Ferguson assured her. "This kid has one mom—and one dad. I'm a so-so musician. I intend to be a great dad!"

"You're already a great husband," Cindy assured him. "And don't kid yourself, a great musician. You could play with so many groups, but you stay with me!"

"Pain meds are making me look good," Aidan teased.

"If only I had some pain meds!"

Her water had broken; they'd rushed into the ER and were assured her doctor would be right there.

Aidan watched his wife in distress, trying to return her smile. He reminded himself that childbirth was a natural event.

The pain that came with it was natural, too. Cindy would be fine.

But he was worried. They had come to the hospital too late. Cindy was already in heavy labor, fighting the pain. The nurse had been in, but along with his worrying, he was growing nervous and angry—where the hell was the doctor?

As if on cue, Dr. Jamison walked in, wasting no time on small talk. He gave Cindy a lightning-quick examination and shouted, "Delivery room. Now!"

Cindy was whisked out.

Aidan was left to pace the room until a nurse showed him out and into the waiting room where it seemed he joined a cavalcade of marchers: fathers, others, just pacing in circles as they awaited news of the births of their children. He thought about how his phone was probably ringing: his world was a good one, and even though he was just a studio musician he knew that big names would be calling to congratulate him. That made him smile, and, of course, thinking about them helped make the time go by. And he'd been warned that even now, it could be a while.

He was stunned when the doctor who had so recently left with his wife appeared again almost immediately.

"Mr. Ferguson?"

"Yes, yes!" Aidan wasn't sure why the mere mention of his name frightened him so much. He didn't mean to be a pessimist. But...

"Something happened, something is wrong!" he said anxiously, reaching the doctor.

"Uh, no, Mr. Ferguson. They're seeing to your wife and child now. A little boy, sir. Or, should I say, a big boy. He's ten pounds one ounce. Mother and son are doing fine. You'll be able to see them soon."

Aidan thought he muttered a thanks—he wasn't even sure. He sank into one of the chairs, his head falling into his hands.

Ten pounds. Kind of giant for a newborn? A boy. Every dad's dream, ten pounds, big and strong, maybe he was going to be a star football player!

In thirty minutes, he was allowed to see Cindy and his newborn son.

And the baby was beautiful. He looked as if he was a few weeks old already, as if he could walk out of his bassinet. He had a full head of dark hair.

He kissed his wife, shaking his head as he sat next to her, stroking her hair, leaning over to give her a gentle kiss. "Thank you, thank you," he told her. The emotion welling in him was almost unbearable.

"Thank you, Dad," she teased. "I couldn't have done it alone."

He grinned. "Well, you had the hard part."

"No, actually, you had the hard part!" she teased.

A nurse cleared her throat from the doorway and they both looked up, reddening.

"Um, sorry. I have papers here. Have you thought about a name yet?" she asked.

Aidan looked at his wife. She smiled. "Jake. For your dad," she said.

"Jake. For my dad," he agreed. And nurse or no nurse, he leaned over to kiss her again.

"Thank you. That boy is like...my life!"

"He is our lives," she corrected. "Our beautiful boy."

Jake Mallory Ferguson did become their lives. Cindy Ferguson was diagnosed with cervical cancer a year later; her life was saved, but their son was to be their only child.

And for years, he was their beautiful, beautiful boy. He had a thick thatch of dark hair, amazing, riveting blue eyes and a smile that could charm the coldest heart.

Through grade and middle schools, he was a wonderful student, popular and smart.

He did play football, even through his senior year, when he found two things: that he loved the guitar, which was great, and drugs—not so great.

In fact, the alcohol and drugs had gotten so bad that when he graduated, he knew his father was going to let him be drafted.

Aidan and Cindy were deeply distressed. A neighborhood boy had already been killed in Vietnam.

But a neighborhood girl had already died of an overdose as well.

And all their efforts, punishments, encouragements to get help...all had done nothing.

Aidan had served in World War II himself. Jake had been born as part of the baby boom that had come when the war had finally ended. Aidan had seen bad action: he knew the price of war. And he knew, too, he was still glad he had fought, that he had been privileged to help liberate one of the concentration camps.

And so, when Jake came to his father, begging for the money so he could opt out of college, Aidan hesitated just briefly in agony before giving his answer.

"Son, if you're going to kill yourself, you might as well do so for your country."

Of course, Jake hated him. But he went off and enlisted in the navy before he could be ordered into a different branch of the service.

And in the service, he found help rather than death. He found others who had suffered from his same addictions and an organization that helped in a way no lecture or punishment could.

He still loved his guitar. And when he emerged from the service, he decided to make it his focus.

A truly beautiful boy. And in time, well, in time he became something Aidan had never imagined for his son. Something wonderful, and scary, of course.

He followed his dad into music.

But he didn't become a studio musician.

He somehow became a rock star.

Amazing. Terrifying.

But the lifestyle didn't alter the joy he had learned with his group in the navy, it just put him in a great position to write songs, to handle the band's business, to live...wonderfully.

He bought his parents a great new house in Palm Beach with a heated pool and a Jacuzzi. He lived down the street.

But Aidan continued to worry as the years passed.

Not because Jake fell back—miraculously, he never did. But neither did he fall in love. Oh, well, of course there were women in his life. Some stayed a while. But it seemed he was never really going to fall in love.

He'd never know what Aidan and Cindy had now been sharing all these years, through World War II, Korea, the sixties—being kind of flower children—the seventies, tragedy in the country, days of peace, days of faith...

The eighties, when Jake's band became about the biggest thing in history—well, after the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and a few others—maybe.

The nineties, the Gulf Wars...

And then, a bit before the millennium...

It was only then, when Jake Ferguson was about to turn fifty, that he found the love of his life. He and his group had been playing at Madison Square Garden and she had been with the backup singers for their opening group. They'd gone for coffee together, and in the days to come, they went to the Met, to the Museum of Natural History, for long walks in the park, to the zoo, to the theater...

He brought her home to Florida and announced to his parents he was going to be married at last. Her name was Mandy Mannix, and she wasn't as old as Jake, but she was a respectable thirty-eight. They teased Aidan and Cindy about heading to Vegas to be married by an Elvis impersonator, but they were married at the church the family had gone to forever, even if it was a quiet affair for their families and closest friends. Jake hadn't wanted a media frenzy.

He went on to write, play and perform with his band—with Mandy singing backup for his group, Skyhawk.

Then something that seemed miraculous happened. Jake and Mandy had their own baby.

A little girl, a beautiful little girl with dark hair and stunning blue eyes. Because of those eyes, and partially because of the name of Jake's band as well, the baby was named Skylar and called Sky. Sometimes, Sky Blue.

She became everyone's life, and Aidan was beyond grateful both he and Cindy were still alive and well—old as dirt, but alive and well—to see the birth of that baby. They both got to see her first toddling steps, hear her first words, hear themselves called Nana and Papa.

They both made it until their loving little granddaughter arrived at her fifth birthday.

Then, in Aidan's arms, Cindy passed away, whispering her last words.

"I love you."

He knew that he would follow her soon enough. In return Aidan whispered, "I will find you in clouds of peace and beauty."

It was another six years before Aidan was to join her.

And while it broke Skylar's heart to see her beloved grandfather die, she was almost grateful after another six years had passed because he didn't have to witness what happened.

Because then, she lost her beloved father...

His father would have been devastated by the way it all happened.

When she received the strange call seven years after his death, she was reminded. And she was as angry as she had been devastated and determined that she would find out what had really happened, and she would clear his name for the ages.

Jake Ferguson had been an incredible man. A legend, a rock legend, and yet a wise man who had turned his life around and become an amazing human being as well. And he deserved to be remembered in all the best ways.

So...

Yes.

She would join Skyhawk for a special anniversary performance.

She would take her father's place.

And maybe, just maybe, she could figure out what the hell had really happened.