by Brenda Novak
“WANT SOME more potatoes, Mike?”
Mike shook his head at his brother’s question. Josh had asked him twice if he wanted another helping of potatoes. Rebecca had offered him seconds, too, before she left the table to see if she could get a cranky Brian to nap in the back room. Mike would have pointed this out to Josh, except he knew his brother was only trying to compensate for their father’s morose silence. Larry sat brooding over his meal and had barely spoken to Mike all evening.
“What about salad?” Josh said. “You get enough of that, too?”
Mike glanced up. “I’m fine on salad, Josh. Thanks.”
Josh sent him a lame grin. “Sure thing.”
“What are your plans for New Year’s, boys?” Barbara asked. In the face of Larry’s surliness, her false cheer seemed more forced than ever.
“I thought I might take Rebecca to Boise for dinner,” Josh said. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been to Asiago’s. She loves that place.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Any chance you’ll be available to baby-sit?”
“Of course.” She poured herself a third glass of wine. Mike couldn’t help noticing that she was eating little and drinking much, far more than usual. “What about you, Mike?”
“No plans,” he said.
“I’ll bet Mary Thornton’s free. I ran into her at the grocery store and she seemed pretty sad that you don’t call her anymore. Maybe the two of you could go to Boise with Josh and Rebecca.”
If Mike had needed proof that his mother wasn’t quite herself, this suggestion would have confirmed it. Josh had dated Mary before he’d married Rebecca, so Mary’s company wouldn’t be very appealing to his sister-in-law, and Barbara knew it.
“Maybe,” he muttered. Mike had taken Mary out a few times, too, very casually. He wasn’t interested in seeing her again, no matter how obvious she made it that she’d like a relationship with him. But he thought it wiser to sidestep the whole issue.
Barbara finished her wine and began clearing away the plates. Mike pushed back his chair so he could get up and help her, but the moment she disappeared into the kitchen, Larry finally gave him some attention—in the form of a cold stare. “Lucky?” he said through gritted teeth. “Lucky, Mike?”
“Don’t start, Dad,” Mike said. “You don’t really know her.”
“I don’t want to know her. And I can’t believe you’d bother making nice to her, either.”
Josh spoke. “Maybe we should wait a few days to talk about this.”
Larry ignored him. “After everything your mother’s done for you, how could you knowingly hurt her? And start the whole town talking about it, besides?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, and I certainly wasn’t trying to start a scandal.”
“Excuse me if I find that a little difficult to swallow. You slept with her, didn’t you? What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how many men she’s probably been with?”
Mike felt a muscle twitch in his cheek and couldn’t help the hard edge that entered his voice. “I know exactly how many men she’s been with, Dad. She’s been with one. Me.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
“She’s not what you think,” Josh said.
Larry glared at Josh as malevolently as he’d been glaring at Mike. “Whose side are you on?”
Josh’s eyebrows shot up. He’d never been asked to choose between his parents and his brother before, and Mike didn’t want him to have to choose now. “Stay out of it, Josh.”
“I think we should all let it go,” Josh said. “No one’s perfect. And Lucky told me herself she’s leaving town in a month or two. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You don’t see anything wrong with what Mike’s done?” Larry said.
Josh scowled. “He cares about her, Dad.”
Larry shook his head in disgust. “You two stand together on absolutely everything. But this is one time you both should’ve stood with us.” With that he tossed his napkin onto the table and stalked out of the room.
As Mike watched him go, he was tempted to follow him and finish the argument. But he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. He hadn’t planned on getting involved with Lucky. He hadn’t planned on caring about her. But Josh was right—he did. And he was sure his father wouldn’t approve.
“What’s wrong?” Barbara asked as she returned for more plates. “Where’s your father?”
One look at the empathy in Josh’s face, and Mike figured it was time to go. “I guess he’s not comfortable with the company I’m keeping,” he said and headed for the door.
MIKE SPOTTED Gabe’s truck outside the Honky Tonk on his way home and decided to stop. He needed a beer and some time to think. After what he’d learned about Gabe’s father, he also felt he should connect with his best friend, make sure Gabe was still okay—as okay as Gabe ever was since the accident.
“How’s it goin’?” Mike asked, approaching the table where his friend sat, nursing a beer.
Gabe gave him a rueful smile. “From the rumors spreading all over town, I’m probably a hell of a lot better than you are.”
“You heard about me and Lucky, then.”
“Everyone’s heard about you and Lucky. You told Orton, for God’s sake. He might wear a uniform, but he’s the biggest gossip in town.”
“I had to tell him.” Mike waved to the bartender, indicated he’d have a beer, too, then sat across from Gabe.
“Why?”
“Because Jon and Smalley were saying crazy things about her.”
“So you rode to the rescue.”
“I told the truth.”
“Too bad you didn’t take my advice and stay away from her.”
“Your advice came a little too late,” Mike said, but he suspected it wouldn’t have made a difference, no matter when Gabe had warned him off. Mike had known from the beginning that he should stay away from Lucky. He just hadn’t been able to do it.
“What do your folks have to say about the situation?” Gabe asked.
“What do you think?”
“I’m sure they’re not happy.”
“My mom’s in denial. My dad’s mad as hell.”
“What about Josh?”
“Josh is playing the middle man.”
“And Lucky?”
Mike scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d told her he’d call as soon as he found his mother, but he couldn’t do it from his parents’ house. The situation had been too volatile, too tense. Excusing himself to give her a call would’ve been like tossing a match into a puddle of gasoline.
He could call her now, he supposed, but he didn’t want to feel the craving he felt every time he heard her voice. He couldn’t go from his father’s accusing words—After everything your mother’s done for you, how could you knowingly hurt her?—straight into Lucky’s arms.
“None of this is fair to Lucky,” he said.
Gabe took another drink of his beer. “My mom actually likes her.”
Mike chuckled. “Your mom likes everybody.”
“She said you and Lucky came by earlier. What was that all about?”
“I met someone from Pocatello who might be willing to make a campaign contribution,” Mike said, spinning the lie as quickly as possible, then hiding his face in his beer.
“You think he might be a heavy hitter?”
Someone played “Long Black Train” on the jukebox, and Mike felt as though he’d gotten on a long black train to somewhere. He just didn’t know where. “Sounds like it. I guess we’ll see,” he said. “What are you doing in town so late, anyway?”
Gabe toyed with the matches in the ashtray, turning them over and over between fingers callused from maneuvering his wheelchair. “Trying to decide whether or not to go home.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Mike asked. “You love that lonesome cabin.”
“I don’t know.” Gabe sighed. “Something’s going on with my dad. It’s driving me crazy. He hasn’t been himself for a couple of weeks now.”
&n
bsp; Mike tried not to fidget uncomfortably. “What does he say when you ask him?”
“He says he’s fine. But then he adds little comments he doesn’t typically make.”
“Like…”
“Like how proud he’s always been of me.” Gabe stared into his beer, shaking his head. “He loved watching me play football, man. He was there at every game.”
“He’s still proud of you, Gabe.”
“Right.” Gabe rolled his eyes, but before Mike could say any more, he continued. “Earlier, out of the blue, my dad said that Reenie and I are the best things in his life. He said he wanted me to know, no matter what might happen, that he—” Gabe paused, drawing a line in the condensation on his glass “—that he’ll always love me.”
Conner Armstrong, who’d developed the Running Y Resort a few miles out of town and turned it into a tremendous success, came in, along with his wife, Delaney, and some of the cowboys who worked for them. Mike and Gabe waved to acknowledge their entrance. Conner had been a big help with the campaign so far, and Mike had always liked Delaney.
Conner and the others stopped long enough to say hello and chat for a minute or two. When they moved away, Mike went back to his conversation with Gabe. “Garth has been a good father, hasn’t he?”
“The best.” Gabe’s eyebrows lowered. “So why the sudden insecurity?”
“I can’t say,” Mike said, cringing a little at how literally he meant that.
“I’d think maybe he and my mom are having marital trouble or something, but Mom’s more devoted to him than ever.”
“How does he seem to feel about her?” Mike couldn’t resist asking. There had to be problems or Garth wouldn’t have broken his marriage vows.
Gabe shrugged. “He treats her well. I’ve never heard him say a negative thing about her. And he certainly demanded that Reenie and I give her the proper respect while we were growing up.”
“Whatever it is, it’ll blow over,” Mike said. Garth had probably already destroyed Red’s journal. The Smalls hadn’t even known the journal existed. Mike and Lucky were the only other people to know Garth’s terrible secret, and they were never going to say anything. Garth was probably just rattled by what could have happened. Once he calmed down, everything would be fine.
“I hope so,” Gabe said.
“Have you thought about what I said at the diner?” Mike asked.
“God, you’re not going to bring that up again, are you?”
Mike finished his beer. “It might not make me very popular with you, but sometimes a friend’s got to do what a friend’s got to do.”
Gabe studied him for several long seconds and finally nodded. “I guess that’s what makes you the kind of friend you are,” he said with a grudging smile.
MIKE WASN’T SURE what to think as he drove home an hour later. He and Gabe had spent considerable time talking about ways to start a viable business selling handmade furniture, and Gabe’s growing enthusiasm encouraged Mike. Gabe might actually follow through with some of their ideas. But Mike couldn’t figure out what to do about his own situation. Maybe he shouldn’t see Lucky for a day or two, take the physical aspect out of their relationship and try to get to the bottom of how strongly he felt about her.
At least he was leaning that way—until he drove past the Victorian and didn’t see her car peeking out from behind the old fountain. Then he couldn’t help turning in at the drive.
Where could she be? He hadn’t seen her at the Honky Tonk, and except for Billy Joe’s pickup, which was often seen around town in the wee hours of the morning, Jerry’s Diner had been deserted when he passed by. The gas station was about the only other business open so late, and he didn’t think she’d drive into town just to fill up.
Anxiety caused his muscles to tense as he parked and got out. After what had happened with the Smalls, he found himself imagining the worst. He should’ve called her.
The Smalls wouldn’t hurt her again; he was almost positive of that. He’d made it perfectly clear that they’d pay a high price if they did, and he’d meant every word. But revenge would be little consolation if she’d been hurt.
He jogged up the steps, rang the doorbell three times in quick succession and banged on the door. “Lucky? It’s me.”
The house remained dark. He couldn’t hear any response, no movement from within.
“Lucky?” He reached above the door for the key he’d located when he delivered her Christmas tree and was relieved to find it still there. Letting himself in, he glanced around.
The dark, quiet house had grown cool, as if Lucky had turned off the heat. That only increased his foreboding.
He charged upstairs. The furniture was there, but Lucky’s clothes, makeup and shoes—all her personal things—were gone, along with her luggage.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered and hurried back downstairs. Surely she’d left him a note, telling him where she was going and when she’d be back. Depending on how long it’d been since she drove off, she could be just about anywhere by now.
His heart pounded frantically as he headed to the kitchen. He searched the counter, the floor, even the fridge. No note. Nothing. The kitchen and family rooms were as empty as the rest of the house.
Mike couldn’t believe it. He’d been counting on her leaving; he’d thought it would solve everything. But it solved nothing. It hit him like a blow to the chest, nearly knocking the breath from him.
He had to find her. But until she sent him her address so he could forward her monthly check from the trust, he wouldn’t even know where to look.
Walking slowly into the living room, he stared at the Christmas tree they’d decorated together. The ornaments were still there, he noted dully. But the angel on top was missing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GARTH SAT in his study while Celeste slept, the clock ticking loudly on the wall as he stared down at Red’s journal. He’d tried to make himself destroy it at least a hundred times over the past two weeks. He was terrified their housekeeper or Celeste would come across it while cleaning. But he hadn’t been able to burn the damn thing as he’d originally intended. It felt too seedy, too dishonest, to have stolen it in the first place. If he hadn’t found the door to the Victorian standing wide open when he’d gone to speak with Lucky, to plead his case, he never would’ve considered doing this, despite the book’s terrible ramifications.
But the door had been standing open. Seeing it as the answer he’d been praying for, he’d taken advantage of the opportunity—and now he could contain the past. What he did with the journal was his decision and no one else’s. It was better to perpetuate a lie than to let the truth hurt so many, wasn’t it?
He pictured Lucky as she’d looked standing in this very room and sighed. He’d heard a lot of disparaging remarks about her since she’d returned. He’d used them to justify his own feelings and behavior. But he didn’t usually measure a person according to gossip. And the fact that Mike Hill was so supportive of her said something. Garth respected Mike, considered him almost a son.
Mike…Garth shook his head. How was it possible that Gabe’s best friend had become embroiled in one of the biggest scandals to rock Dundee in years? When the real scandal, the scandal that should’ve erupted but hadn’t, was right here in this book.
Slowly, Garth thumbed through the pages again, scanning for his name, the dates of his visits, the gifts he’d bestowed on Red. The sight of it turned his stomach. How could he have been so weak? Red’s notes about his favorite foods, wine and movies made it all so impersonal—as if she were sleeping with such a multitude of men she had trouble keeping everyone straight. It certainly didn’t do his ego any good and completely destroyed her mystique. But what could he say? He’d been a damn fool, and he’d had to live with that for years.
Snapping the book closed, he shoved it back in his drawer. Because he didn’t destroy it, he had to wonder if part of him was hoping Celeste would find it. Then he wouldn’t have anything left to hide. Then maybe
he could wipe the slate clean.
A soft knock intruded on his thoughts. Locking the drawer in which he’d just deposited the journal, he dropped the key in his paperclip holder.
“Come in.” He pulled a stack of papers in front of him to make it look as though he’d been going over correspondence.
Celeste opened the door and slipped inside, wearing her flannel nightgown. “You’re working late again.”
He mustered a smile. “Yes, well, there’s always more to do, it seems.”
“But the legislature isn’t even in session. Can’t you relax a little? It worries me when you work so hard.”
“I’m fine, Celeste.”
“You never come to bed with me anymore.”
He felt fairly certain she used to consider that a blessing. He knew for a fact that there’d been many times when she’d feigned sleep so he wouldn’t expect to make love. After all these years, he supposed her reluctance to welcome any kind of sexual advance had worn him down. He rarely approached her anymore.
“It’s easier to use the guest room. That way I don’t disturb you.”
“Are you seeing someone else?” she asked suddenly.
Garth felt his mouth drop open. “Excuse me?”
“Are you in love with someone else, Garth? Is that what’s going on?”
He blinked, reined in his surprise, and found his voice. “No. No, I’m not.”
“Reenie seems to think it’s a possibility.”
“Reenie’s wrong.”
“I’m glad.” Celeste smiled in obvious relief. “You’re a good man, Garth.”
A good man? A good man didn’t lie. A good man took responsibility for his actions. He’d preached that concept to his children over and over again while they were growing up.
“Good night.” Celeste stepped toward the door.
Turning his face to the ceiling, he fought the panic surging through him. He had the journal; he didn’t need to do this, a voice in his head cried. But in reality he knew he had no choice. Either he risked losing everything he loved, or he lost his self-respect. And who could love a man who loathed himself?
