Darren took three cookies; James took two and went to the fridge to get the milk.
“Will they really drug test me?” Darren asked.
“You betcha, and maybe even do a hair follicle test if you manage to dodge the urine screen.” He set the milk on the island while Darren got down two glasses.
“I’m so screwed.”
“Screwed about says it, though not in front of the ladies. What’s your plan?” James poured two glasses of milk and put the jug away while the condemned stared at the cookies in his hands.
“I didn’t have a plan. I just couldn’t let Dad get back together with her.”
James took a stool and popped a cookie in his mouth while he considered that confession. “Why not?”
Darren sat on the second stool, hooking his legs around the rungs. “It’s complicated.”
“It usually is, while ripping up pansies is just plain mean. Scaring Vera is mean, and scaring Twyla is worse than mean. What will you do about it?”
Darren’s plan had, though, ensured that Vera regarded Donal with renewed animosity, which had apparently been the kid’s aim.
Darren sniffed and swiped at his cheek. “Don’t know.”
“Eat up, kid. Never know when you’ll get home cooking again.”
The example of two older brothers intent on disciplining a younger sibling came in curiously handy.
James let Darren stew a while longer, until headlights came bouncing along the lane. He’d hoped Trent would beat Donal to the scene, but MacKay came steaming up the porch steps before James could fetch Vera from upstairs. He was a big guy, broad shouldered, with wavy iron-gray hair and a square jaw. James did not permit himself to envision Donal raising his hand to Vera in anger, lest James coldcock the bastard on the porch.
“Where’s my son?” MacKay’s belligerent stance was belied by the worry in his eyes.
“He’s in the kitchen, having milk and cookies. I’m James Knightley, Vera’s neighbor. You’d be Donal MacKay, and I assume this is Tina?” He held out his hand to the lady, a pretty, aging redhead with kind eyes and a weary smile.
“Are you the lawyer?” she asked.
“He’s the other lawyer,” Donal said. “The barracuda’s brother. I want to see my son.”
“I’m right here, Dad.” Darren stood in the foyer, his hands tucked into his armpits. “Hi, Mom.”
“You—” Donal pushed past James to stand right in front of his son. “Get in the car, and we’ll deal with you at home.”
“Not going to happen,” James said. “Vera wants to hear an explanation, and I want to make sure she gets the same explanation Darren gives you two.”
“Just who the hell do you think you are to—” Donal started, but Tina put a hand on his arm.
“Donal, it’s a sensible suggestion.”
The man calmed at her touch, which was interesting. “Where’s Vera?” Donal asked, his tone approaching civil from the back side. “We’ll be having this explanation, and then taking our son home with us.”
“Unless the cops are called,” James said, not looking at Darren’s mother. “He was caught in the act of vandalizing Vera’s property, and I’m fairly certain fingerprints we took off her computer will match his. If we get the cyber detectives busy on Darren’s computer, we’ll probably find interesting things in the server archives from his sent email queue too.”
“They can do that?” Darren’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Hello, everybody.” Vera came down the front stairs. “I’ll ask you to keep your voices down. Twyla is sleeping upstairs.”
Vera ushered the small crowd into her living room just as Trent and Hannah arrived, leaving James nowhere to sit.
“What’s the barracuda doing here?” Donal asked.
“My name is Trent, and you will recall I am the attorney who got the restraining order against you, among other things. This is a domestic relations situation, and Vera asked me to be present.”
“And the lady?” Donal’s eyes flitted over Hannah, who was in jeans and a black turtleneck.
“I’m Hannah Stark, Trent’s wife, and the firm’s professional mediator. My job is to help keep tempers in check and make the discussion as productive as possible.”
Tina MacKay took Donal’s hand in hers as they sat side by side on a love seat. Darren took a wing chair, Trent and Hannah had the sofa, while Vera took a place on the floor. James lowered himself beside her without asking her permission.
“I count three attorneys here, while my son has no representation at all,” Donal said. “Nobody has read him his rights, and I won’t let him say anything incriminating. We’re wasting our time.”
Darren shifted back in his chair. “I want to talk.”
“Do you want to go to jail?” Donal shot back. “Do you want to contract AIDS while you’re behind bars with men twice your age and twice your size?”
Donal’s question was not, alas, far-fetched. Darren’s pallor suggested he grasped that.
“I have a suggestion.” Hannah’s voice was quiet, as relaxed as her posture. “Why not see where this goes, Mr. MacKay? If Vera is satisfied with what she hears, she might not press charges. We can start with asking James to describe what he saw, and that won’t incriminate anybody. It will just be James’s recollection.”
Donal shot a look at the woman holding his hand, then nodded.
“James, from your perspective, what happened?” Hannah asked.
“I was out walking in the woods—the tree frogs are singing, and the moon is almost full tonight—when Vera called and said she thought someone was outside her house. The alarm system hadn’t been armed for the night, but she’d locked the doors, so I knew she and Twyla were safe upstairs. I approached the house and found Darren systematically pulling up the pansies. Twyla helped me plant those pansies for her mother after the last time the house was vandalized.”
Vera’s leg tensed against James’s. Had he shifted closer to her, or had she been the one to move?
“What did you do then?” Hannah asked.
“I apprehended Darren and brought him into the house. He’s made no admission of guilt about the flowers, but said he can explain. Vera went upstairs to check on Twy, and Darren and I got into the milk and cookies in the kitchen.”
“What last time?” Donal asked.
Donal might have made a passable lawyer, which James did not consider to be a compliment, in his case.
“The last time the house was vandalized,” James said. “A few weeks ago, windows were broken, and a threatening message was left on Vera’s computer in forty-eight-point type. She’d wiped the keyboard down when she logged off for the night, so clean prints were taken by the evidence tech.”
“Glover mentioned something about this. The police were involved?” Donal’s voice was a tad less pugnacious, and his beefy hand rested snugly in Tina’s.
“They were,” Vera said. “Not for the first time. I’ve received threatening phone messages and threatening emails, all of which have been turned over to the state’s attorney. The voice leaving the messages sounds like yours, Donal, but in hindsight, I realize you and Darren have similar speaking voices.”
Donal sounded like the Scottish Inquisition when he addressed his son. “What have you to say for yourself, boy?”
“Just a minute,” Trent said. “Donal, are you saying none of this is your fault?”
“Listen, barracuda, I’ve told Glover I had nothing to do with this, and I’m telling you. The last thing I want to do is give Vera more reason to shut me out.”
“Mr. MacKay, my husband was introduced to you as Trent. It would be helpful if you’d refrain from the name-calling,” Hannah said, but she was almost smiling, and James realized she liked the idea that to Vera’s ex, Trent was a barracuda.
“Fine, then. Trent,” Donal said, “I had noth
ing to do with the mischief here, except insofar as I probably sired the whelp responsible.”
“Can you prove that?” Trent pressed.
“Of course, he’s my son—”
Donal fell silent. James gave him credit for protectiveness toward his family, and for grasping the seriousness of the situation.
“You mean prove my innocence?” Donal asked. “Now see here, bar—Trent. You’ve tried to find me guilty of breaking the damned order, and failed miserably, and you’ll not accuse a man of—”
“Donal?” Tina’s voice broke in softly. “You can tell them.”
“I’ll not air family linen before this pack of jackals, Tina.”
“Then I’ll tell them.”
Something passed between Darren’s parents while James watched and waited and Vera remained quiet beside him.
But when had she tucked herself so close?
“Donal has been spending a great deal of time with me,” Tina said. “We’re considering a reconciliation, but it’s a slow process. We’re in counseling every week, Donal has completed nearly a year of anger-management classes, and that was two nights a week, and two of the remaining nights we often go to support groups, or share a meal.”
“You’re getting back together?” Darren’s voice cracked.
“We’re considering it,” Donal said. “If your mother will have me.”
Darren was on his feet. “But you dumped her! You tossed her over when she hit bottom, and took her children away, and went to live in a big, fancy house, and you married her”—he jabbed a finger toward Vera—“and you forgot all about Mom, and wanted me and Katie to forget her too.”
“Now that’s enough!” Donal was on his feet too, glaring at his son. “Your mother and I agreed mutually to separate, but it’s the stupidest decision I ever made. She needed inpatient treatment, I couldn’t afford that again, and she’d qualify for more services on her own. I needed to think…to just…to get some perspective.”
“Donal.” Tina’s voice was soft. “This is our son.”
“Ah, shite.” Donal sank back into his chair. He took Tina’s hand again, then swung his gaze to his son. “I gave up, Son. You’re right, but your mama was losing the fight with the liquor, and I couldn’t stand to watch it. Vera was alone and mopey, and I saw a chance to further everybody’s interests. Or so I thought.”
“Divorcing was also a way to reduce the cost of my treatment,” Tina said. “The outpatient treatment was a Band-Aid. What I needed was more intense, and the sliding scale put it within my grasp when I no longer shared a household with Donal. Then Donal took out a line of credit against the house to pay the portion I couldn’t manage.”
“While you were married to her?” Darren flung a hand toward Vera. “I don’t get this at all.”
“I’m not sure I do either,” Vera said from James’s side. “Why stay married to me if what you really wanted was to reconcile with Tina?”
“I’d dug myself too big a hole,” Donal said, sounding weary, old, and defeated. “Treatment is expensive, and Katie needed braces, and the lad must have his car, and pretty soon… You were my golden goose, Vera, and I damned near killed your music, for which I am so sorry. You deserved better.”
“This is why you’re suing me, because I deserve better?” Vera demanded. “Did I deserve for you to backhand me in front of your children?”
She didn’t raise her voice, but James could feel the tension vibrating through her. Behind her back, where the others could not see, he rested his hand below her shoulder blades.
I’ve got your back. If you’ll let me, I will always have your back.
Chapter 18
James kept up his slow caresses, though he was ready to jump into the verbal affray on Vera’s behalf too.
“I was wrong,” Donal said, looking Vera right in the eye. “I behaved shamefully toward you when you were under my roof, Vera. I lost my temper, lost my wits, lost my reason. The idea that my Katie, my little girl, was out with a boy of nineteen, and I hadn’t even known—and you defended her behavior. I couldn’t tolerate that, and you were leaving, and I walloped you, and I’ve hated myself ever since. You did not deserve to be treated that way—nobody does.”
He shifted his gaze to Tina, who said nothing, but kept her hand in his.
“What about tonight?” Hannah asked, looking at Vera. “What was it like tonight, Vera, to be afraid in your own home, again, your daughter sleeping upstairs while you waited for James to get here?”
“It was bad,” Vera said. “When you’ve been assaulted, it takes a long, long time to deal sensibly with fear again. You doubt yourself, then you overreact, then you chastise yourself for overreacting. It’s rough. Every time I got one of those emails, every time I came home to a nasty message on my machine, I started down the same damned road. I considered medication, and I considered moving. I am considering moving, in fact. So I really want to know, Darren, what the hell you thought you were doing. Do you really hate me that much?”
James stroked Vera’s back, though he wouldn’t blame her for going after the kid with every legal, emotional, and moral weapon at her disposal.
“I don’t hate you,” Darren said, shoving a mop of red hair out of his eyes. “I wanted to hate you, but you were a good stepmom. I know Katie misses you, but she doesn’t want to be disloyal.”
“What about you, Darren?” Vera used a tone any prosecutor would have envied. “What was all that visiting with Twyla and me about?”
“Dad said how much easier things were when he was agenting you, and I thought that meant he’d try to get back together with you. He talked about it and you said you were willing to be civil.”
“I talked about agenting her, ye dimwit. I never said—”
“Mr. MacKay,” Hannah cut in coolly.
“You’re not a dimwit,” Donal said. “Except this scheme you concocted, it was dim-witted, lad. Why didn’t you ever talk to me?”
Darren straightened, stole a glance at his mother, then glared at his father.
“When was I going to do that, Dad? Was I supposed to tell you when you were yelling at me for how I dress? For who I hang out with? For cutting classes I’ve already passed? When was I supposed to talk to either you or my own mother about how stupid it would be for you to get back together with Vera? You don’t love her, and she doesn’t love you. It was stupid of you to marry her, and if I’m a dimwit, maybe I inherited the tendency.”
“Maybe you did,” Donal said. “But you also inherited my backbone. Make your apologies to Vera.”
“Sorry.” The word was muttered, and Darren was back to staring at the floor. Nobody said anything, and James nearly felt sorry for the kid.
An alcoholic mother whom he loved, no dad on duty, nobody to help him sort out anything. Well, hell.
“What are you sorry for?” Hannah prodded gently.
“I’m sorry I scared you, Vera, and sorry I didn’t just ask you whether you’d ever take Dad back. You would have been honest with me.”
As Darren’s own parents hadn’t been.
“Yes, I would have,” Vera said. “I accept your apology, but because of what you did, Darren, I spent thousands on a home security system I don’t need. I wasted time making reports to the state’s attorney’s office, and talking to cops who probably think I’m the crime victim’s version of a hypochondriac. I started neglecting my email because I was afraid of what I might find in it, and now I have to question my judgment all over again, because I gave a key to my house to a young man not worthy of my trust.”
He nodded and kept his head down. The kid wasn’t entirely stupid after all.
“So, Darren,” Vera went on, her tone softer, “I want to know what you’ll do to earn back my trust.”
Another silence, while the rest of the room waited, and Darren shifted in his chair, the chains clipped to his jean
s jingling.
“I’ll pay you back,” Darren said. “I can get another job. They won’t give me the hours where I work now, but I can find something.”
“It’s several thousand dollars, Darren,” Vera said. “That’s just the security system.”
“I can work all summer. I was going to put the money away for college, but college will be there or I can go to the community college for a couple years first.”
Be a whole lot easier to make the family therapy sessions if the kid went to the local community college. James kept that observation to himself.
“I know something that pays pretty well,” he said instead. “It’s brutally hard work and dangerous sometimes, but it does pay. My neighbor will be taking on help for the summer, and he has four hundred acres under cultivation or pasture. If you can drive a tractor, he’ll work your ass off.”
“I can drive anything.”
“You can landscape this property,” Vera said. “That won’t take much more than manual labor, and once the grass starts growing, you can keep it cut.”
“You must have three acres of grass,” Darren said.
“Fortunately for you,” Vera shot back, “I have a riding mower in excellent repair.”
“I can keep after your property,” Darren said, “but are you going to the police?”
James would have recommended lenience, but the decision wasn’t his. Trent—the only other dad in the room—spoke up.
“I’ll advise my client not to go to the police as long as you hold up your end of the deal, Darren. Hannah can draw up a contract between you and Vera, and part of the contract will be that Vera won’t pursue formal charges as long as you’re making progress on the restitution and doing the work around this property you’ve agreed to do. Is that acceptable?”
Darren wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “That’s fine.”
“Then we’ll be taking him home.” Donal rose and drew Tina to her feet. “Miss Hannah, our thanks, and, Vera”—he fell momentarily silent, frowning at her—“I did sue you, didn’t I? Now you’ll be turning the bar—the barrister loose on me, and it will be the divorce all over again. I brought suit for two reasons, the first of which is simply money. At my age, I won’t have an easy time of it, finding new talent, and that’s the truth, though it shames me to admit it. You would never have discussed those dates with me civilly, but perhaps our lawyers can discuss them for us, aye?
The First Kiss Page 31
