Always a McBride

by Linda Turner

  The roar of her blood loud in her ears, Sara hardly heard her. Gus. Dear God, he looked like Gus! The way he tilted his head and the cut of his angled jaw. And his eyes—they were a hard, steely brown, not Gus’s laughing, kindly blue—but the shape of them was the same. She could almost see him looking out at her through this man’s eyes.

  “Who are you?” she cried hoarsely, shrinking back from him. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  “He’s a guest here,” Phoebe answered for him. “Didn’t Gran tell you she was turning the place into a bed and breakfast? Taylor’s been staying here all month, doing research on a book. He’s a writer. Are you all right?” Frowning at her, she started to rise to her feet. “I think I’d better call an ambulance, after all.”

  “No!” Her eyes searching Taylor’s face, she tried to convince herself that her imagination was just playing tricks with her mind, but there was no question that he favored Gus. “Are you from around here?” she asked him, frowning. “Do you have family in the area?”

  “Not any that claim me,” he retorted dryly. “Why?”

  “You just look so familiar,” she admitted. “That’s why I fainted. When I saw you up on the ladder, I thought…”

  When she hesitated, Phoebe said, “What, Sara? What did you think? Whatever it was, it must have been pretty upsetting. You fainted!”

  For a moment, Phoebe didn’t think the older woman would be able to answer her. Tears misted her eyes, and she looked as if she was going to burst into tears any moment. Concerned, Phoebe slipped an arm around her. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, Sara. Just say it.”

  “I thought he was Gus!” she blurted out. “The light wasn’t good, and he looked just like him.”

  Surprised, Phoebe glanced over at Taylor. She didn’t see the resemblance, but she didn’t expect to. Gus McBride had died when she was just a child, and she’d only seen a few pictures of him.

  “Gus was—”

  “I know who Gus was,” Taylor said gruffly when she started to explain. “I’m sure seeing me was a shock.”

  Over the past few weeks, he’d tried to plan how he was going to tell the McBrides who he was, but he hadn’t been able to come up with anything. Never in a million years had he thought Sara McBride would give him the perfect opening to end the lies and reveal his true identity.

  “He was Sara’s husband and the father of her children,” he added coolly, never taking his gaze from the woman who was, technically, his stepmother. “He was also my father.”

  For a long moment, the words hung in the air, echoing like a scream. From the corner of his eye, Taylor saw Phoebe stiffen and could just imagine what she was thinking. Don’t! he thought fiercely. Don’t judge me until you know the full story. But he couldn’t explain anything to her yet, not until he’d dealt with Sara McBride Michaels.

  Even though he didn’t know his father’s wife, he’d had plenty of time over the course of the last few weeks to imagine what her reaction would be when she learned of his existence, and she didn’t disappoint him. Pale as a ghost, she ignored the helping hands he and Phoebe held out to her and pushed quickly to her feet, her blue eyes snapping with fury. “I don’t know what your problem is, sir, but you’re not my late husband’s son. He only had two sons—my sons.” Dismissing him, she turned to Phoebe. “Who is this man, Phoebe? What’s he doing here? Why is he saying such outrageous things?”

  “I’d like to know the answer to that myself,” Phoebe replied tightly. “All I know is what he told me—that his name is Taylor Bishop and he’s a writer working on a book about the history of the local ranchers. He never mentioned anything to me about Gus or about being his son.”

  “Because I knew you probably wouldn’t introduce me to the McBrides if I did,” he said, defending himself. “My name really is Taylor Bishop, just as I told you it was, but I’m not a writer. I’m a lawyer from San Diego. I just found out who my father was in April, after my mother died. She left me a letter.” Taking it out of his wallet, where he had carried it since, he held it out to Sara.

  For a long moment, he didn’t think she was going to take it, let alone read it. Her blue eyes dark with mistrust, she stared at the letter as if it was a snake that was going to strike her. Then, just when Taylor was sure she was going to tell him to go to hell, she snatched the letter from his hand and unfolded it with fingers that were far from steady.

  Watching her as she began to read, Taylor knew every word she read. He’d memorized the letter’s contents months ago.

  To my dear son,

  You’ll never know how much I love you. You’ve been the greatest joy of my life, a blessing I thanked God for every day. I know how difficult it was for you, growing up without your father, and I’m sorry for that. But your father wasn’t the unfeeling monster you think he was, dear. He was a good man who had no idea you even existed. His name is Gus McBride, and when we met, he lived in Liberty Hill, Colorado….

  It was obvious when Sara reached the words naming Gus as his father. She stiffened like a poker and the little bit of angry color that tinged her cheeks drained away. Stricken, she shoved the letter back into his hands and choked, “I have to go!” Whirling, she ran for the door. A split second later, she was gone.

  With her leave-taking, silence fell like a cold and heavy shroud. His face carved in grim lines, Taylor couldn’t have said how long he stood there, staring after her. For weeks, all he’d thought about was the satisfaction he would feel when he revealed to Sara McBride Michaels just what kind of man she’d loved and had children with. It was something she needed to know, and he was just the person to tell her, he’d reasoned. The truth had to be told—he’d convinced himself it was the only just thing to do.

  But as Sara drove off as though the hounds of hell were after her, all he could see was the pain in her eyes when he’d told her the truth. He’d hurt an old woman. The last thing he felt was satisfaction.

  Beside him, Phoebe stood as still and cold as a statue, and for a moment, he didn’t think she was going to say a word to him. But then her eyes met his head-on, and she only had one question for him. “Is it true?”

  Cornered, he knew she wasn’t going to be able to handle the truth any better than Sara had. Considering that, he should have talked his way out of trouble. It would have been the smart thing to do, and relatively painless—after all, he was a lawyer and had ample experience at slanting the truth in whatever direction he wanted. But he was tired of the lies, tired of hiding who he was. He’d known when he’d decided to come to Liberty Hill that he was going to make his share of enemies when the truth came out. He hadn’t thought he’d care. He’d been wrong. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now. The deed was done—it was too late to turn back the clock. Like it or not, he’d have to live with the consequences of his lies.

  His mouth hardening into a flat line, he nodded curtly. “Yes. Gus McBride was my father.”

  “And you knew that when you came here?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you lied…to me and everyone else in town. There was never any book, no research to be done. You never gave a rat’s ass about the history of the local ranchers. It was all just a lie to get close to the McBrides.”

  She had him nailed. Again, he nodded curtly. “Yes.”

  “You used me.”

  She didn’t yell and scream at him the way most women would have—that he could have handled. Instead, she looked at him with eyes full of reproach. With nothing more than that, she made him feel guilty as hell. “Phoebe, sweetheart, if you’d just let me explain—”

  He took a step toward her, but that was as far as he got. Abruptly stepping back, she gave him a look that warned him not even to think about touching her. “There’s nothing to explain,” she said coldly. “You kept your identity a secret because you came here to cause trouble. Congratulations. You succeeded. You just devastated an old woman who never did anything to hurt you. Are you proud of yourself?�
��

  Stung, he growled, “Of course not!”

  “Why not? You couldn’t hurt your father, so you hurt his widow. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “I did what had to be done,” he said stiffly. “I’ll admit I was angry when I came here. I had every right to be. While Gus McBride was living the life of a cattle baron and giving the four children who carry his name everything they wanted, he had another son who was being raised by a single mother in the projects in San Diego. My mother worked two jobs just to put a roof over our heads and food on the table when I was growing up, so don’t tell me who’s hurt here, Phoebe. You don’t have a clue!”

  Arching a brow at him, she gave him a look that made him feel like a worm. “Want to take a bet on that?”

  Cursing his choice of words, he sighed in frustration. His communication skills weren’t usually so poor, dammit! “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to set the record straight. After all these years, I felt it was time. These people robbed me of a relationship with my father. I had the right to confront them.”

  “If all you were interested in was a confrontation, you would have been up-front about who you were from the beginning,” she retorted. “This was about revenge, Taylor, pure and simple. Why don’t you just admit it and be done with it?”

  Guilty that she was right, he snapped, “Okay, so I’m human! My whole reason for coming here was to make Gus pay for everything he put my mother through. But that changed after I got to know Zeke and Joe and the girls. I like them and I want them to know who I am—their brother. That’s why I told Sara the truth. Not to hurt her, but because I want a relationship with my brothers and sisters. And she made the connection between me and Gus the second she laid eyes on me. The truth would have come out eventually. It just seemed better to do it now and get it over with.”

  Her eyes searching his, Phoebe wanted to believe him, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to take his word for anything again. Hurt, suddenly furious with him, she said, “You lied to me, you used me and now you want me to believe you? How can I? While you were kissing me and making love to me, you were planning to hurt my friends. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I trusted you. And what did you do with that trust? You stomped it into the ground.”

  To his credit, he didn’t offer her empty excuses. “I’m not proud of what I did,” he said huskily. “All I can say is I’m sorry. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

  “Then why did you?”

  He didn’t have an answer for that, but to Phoebe, the answer was obvious. He’d never cared for her—she’d just been a means to an end. He’d needed to meet the McBrides, to find out all he could about his father’s family while he plotted his revenge, and she’d made that possible. While she’d been foolishly falling in love with him, he’d just been using her.

  And it hurt—more than she’d ever thought possible. Sick at heart, she felt tears sting her eyes and desperately tried to blink them away, but she was fighting a losing battle. Her vision blurred, and before she could stop it, a single tear spilled over her lashes. Horrified, she tried to gain control. She wouldn’t cry in front of him! she told herself furiously. She wouldn’t let him see just how devastated she was by his betrayal, wouldn’t let him guess how much she cared.

  “I have nothing more to say to you,” she choked, pushing past him. “Just stay away from me.”

  Hurrying outside, she rushed over to her grandmother’s antique store next door, and had barely unlocked the front door and stepped inside before the tears started to flow. As a child, she’d always loved the store. Packed with old furniture and items from the past that had been strange and fascinating to a six-year-old, she’d found ways to entertain herself for hours, playing games of make-believe and what-if. While her grandmother tended to her customers, Phoebe had imagined herself in another time, another land, another life.

  But she was no longer six, and as she escaped into the quiet shadows of the closed shop, she found little solace in the games of make-believe she’d played as a child. All she could think of was Taylor…and how much he’d hurt her. How could she have been so stupid? she wondered, furious with herself. She’d actually begun to hope that he was falling in love with her, just as she was with him. Fat chance. The only thing Taylor Bishop loved was his need for revenge.

  So she wanted to be left alone, did she? Taylor fumed as he put the ladder away and retreated to his room. That was fine with him. She was quick to defend the McBrides because they were her friends. Well, he was her lover, dammit! The least she could have done was consider his position. Did she think it was easy, growing up not knowing who his father was? And what about his mother? She could have at least sympathized with her and the hardships she’d endured.

  But, no! he raged. She’d only been concerned with the McBrides and their pain. Well, here was a news flash for her. He was a McBride! And his half brothers and sisters had a right to know that. Granted, he’d hurt her and Sara McBride, and he deeply regretted that. The truth was finally out, though, and he wasn’t sorry about that.

  Even though you hurt an old woman? a voice chided in his head. And Phoebe? Are you really that cold?

  He readily admitted that there’d been a time in the not-too-distant past when he’d had a reputation for having ice water in his veins. He’d been ruthless when he was in court, sometimes even with his own clients, and he hadn’t apologized for that. The only thing that had mattered was winning. He hadn’t cared about anyone…except his mother.

  But that was before he’d come to Liberty Hill, before he’d let down his guard with his brothers and sisters, before Phoebe had showed him a side of himself he hadn’t known was there. He’d let himself care, dammit, and he was afraid he was going to live to regret that. Because he may have just blown any chance he’d ever have of having a relationship with any of them. He’d hurt Sara, and in all likelihood, her children would never forgive him for that. He couldn’t say he blamed them. His father had hurt his mother, and he couldn’t forget it, let alone forgive it.

  As for Phoebe, he didn’t think he’d ever forget the look in her eyes when she’d realized who he was and just how much he’d used her. If looks could kill, he’d have dropped in his tracks right then and there. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she never spoke to him again. He’d given her every reason to hate his guts.

  “What is it? Are you all right?”

  “Mother, what’s wrong? You sounded frantic on the phone.”

  “You’re as white as a ghost. Are you sick?”

  “Dan, do you know what the problem is? How long has she been this way?”

  “Ever since she got back from Myrtle’s,” Dan told Zeke, frowning worriedly at his wife. “I tried to get her to talk about it, but she insisted that I call a family meeting. She was only going to talk about what was bothering her once—when the entire family was all together.”

  Shooting his mother a sharp look, Joe growled, “Mother? What’s going on? What happened at Myrtle’s?”

  In spite of her paleness and the agitation she wasn’t quite able to hide, Sara had been in relative control of her emotions up until then. But when all four of her children looked at her with such love and caring, tears welled into her eyes. “I—I don’t know how to tell you all this….”

  “Whatever it is, it’s okay, Mom,” Merry said, stepping forward to hug her. “Just tell us. We’re here for you.”

  “I know, dear,” Sara sniffed, giving her daughter a watery smile. “I—I have always been so proud of all of you. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Geez, Mom, we know that,” Zeke said gruffly. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly. So what happened at Myrtle’s? What were you doing there, anyway? She’s not back from her trip yet, is she? Phoebe said she’d be gone at least another week.” Suddenly frowning, he growled, “Did Phoebe say something to you that upset you? That doesn’t seem her style at all—”

  “Let her talk, Z
eke,” Janey cut in quietly. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Sara said thickly, reaching for Janey’s hand to give it a squeeze. “This is just so hard! I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Who upset you, sweetheart?” Dan asked huskily. “Did someone say something to you? Or do something? I’ve never seen you so agitated before.”

  “It was that man at Myrtle’s,” she choked, fighting and losing the battle to hold back tears. “He was changing a lightbulb in the entry—”

  “What man?” Joe interrupted, scowling. “Are you talking about Taylor Bishop?”

  “Taylor did this to you?” Zeke demanded, shocked. “I thought he was a nice guy. He certainly seemed likable enough when he went camping with us. What did he say to you?”

  Sara hardly heard his last question. Stunned, she gasped, “You’ve met him? When? How? What did he say to you?”

  “We’ve all met him,” Janey said, frowning in confusion at the panic she heard in her mother’s voice. “Phoebe introduced us. He’s writing a book on the ranchers in the area.”

  “What do you mean… What did he say to us?” Merry asked, perplexed. “What do you think he said? What’s going on, Mom? And don’t say it’s nothing. I’ve never seen you so upset before.”

  Wanting to protect them, knowing she couldn’t, Sara would have rather cut off her arm than hurt her children, but she couldn’t protect them from Taylor Bishop’s claims. He would have his say, and the only way she could counteract the damage he was determined to cause was to tell Zeke and Joe and the girls first.

  But it hurt, dammit! Gus should have been there to deal with Taylor Bishop. He should have been the one who had to tell his children the truth and give them the explanation they deserved. After all, he was the one who created this mess! Instead, it was left to her.