by Jane Porter
“Yeah, I pretty much figured that out.”
“So turn around!” she begged, heartsick.
“Darlin’, I’m already screwed. Everybody in that church knows what happened. I’ve no doubt in my mind that Larry or one of your brothers has alerted the police. It’s not a question of if I’m going back to prison, it’s just a matter of when. So, since I’m going back behind bars for another couple of years, I want a Christmas to remember. A Christmas when we were almost a happy family.”
“Trey.”
“I understand you don’t love me. I won’t ask you to love me. But I will ask you to let me be my son’s dad for a few days. That’s all I want.”
She looked at him for a long minute, taking in his hard beautiful profile, a profile that glowed in the light of the dash.
He was bad….he was trouble…and yet whenever she’d needed him, he’d been there. When she’d been terrified of the dark, scared of the bad buys, scared that she’d be attacked and murdered, he’d held her and protected her, vowing to keep her safe.
And he didn’t just do things like that for her. When Neve Shepherd had disappeared in the river after the 1996 prom, he and Troy had driven their pickup back and forth along the river bank with Trey at the wheel, shining their headlights in the water for an hour, trying to find her. Trey had driven with huge skill. He hadn’t wanted to give up. He’d hated that neither he nor anyone else had managed to save her.
As long as he lived, he’d promised McKenna, no one would hurt her.
As long as he lived, he’d vowed over and over, she’d be fine.
And she’d believed him.
She’d felt so safe with him…
McKenna turned her head away and stared out the window again, unable to see anything through the hot tears blurring her vision.
She’d once loved him so much. He’d been her everything.
McKenna blinked back the tears. “I hate you,” she whispered. “I hate you, Trey Sheenan.”
He was silent a long moment and then he sighed. “As you should.”
Chapter Six
‡
They drove through Livingston, and continued north for nearly another hour, the highway a dark ribbon beneath the rising moon. TJ broke the silence to ask if he could play a game on McKenna’s phone.
“I don’t have my phone, TJ,” she answered.
“It’s not in your purse?”
“I don’t have my purse.” She shot Trey a glance. “I don’t have anything but what I’m wearing.”
TJ was silent a moment, processing, and then he looked at Trey. “Do you have games on your phone?” he asked hopefully.
Trey grimaced. “I don’t have a phone.”
TJ’s brow creased. “Here?”
“At all.” He looked down at TJ. “You can’t have one where I was.”
“Ah.” TJ pursed his lips and thought about this for a few seconds. “But you’re out now. Don’t you want one?”
“Yes. I just haven’t had time to get one.”
“Didn’t you have one from before?”
“I did. But it’s old now. Technology changed while I was away.”
TJ nodded. “There’s a new iPhone out now, you know. Mom wouldn’t get it though. She said her old one still works. But I’d like one—”
“How do you know all this?”
“Commercials. TV.” TJ shrugged nonchalantly. “And from Mom and Lawrence talking. He wanted to get Mom a new phone but she said no.”
Trey glanced down at TJ again. “Are all five year olds as smart as you?”
TJ thought about it a minute then shrugged. “Some. Some aren’t.” He thought about it some more. “Lawrence thinks I’m too smart. He says I’m going to end up just like you.”
McKenna winced, even as Trey exhaled hard.
That couldn’t have felt good to hear, she thought. But what did he expect? He’d never been Marietta’s model citizen, but going to prison and leaving her alone with a baby certainly hadn’t endeared him to the community.
“I hope you don’t end up like me,” Trey said after a long pause, his voice pitched low and heavy. “I want you to be better. I want you to be successful. Be a good man. Be strong and smart. Do good in school. Be the man your mother is raising you to be. Make her proud, TJ. Make her happy.”
*
For the next thirty minutes no one said much of anything, but after a while, TJ got restless and he shifted on the seat, drawing his legs up and then down, leaning first against McKenna and then on Trey.
“I’m hungry,” he said grumpily. “And I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Me, too,” McKenna agreed, thinking that if they stopped she could use a phone and call Lawrence and let him know what was happening. She didn’t want him calling the sheriff or the police. The last thing TJ needed was to see his father arrested in front of him.
“We are almost to White Sulphur Springs,” Trey said. “There’s a little diner just a mile or so from here. Nothing fancy, but food’s warm and the floor’s clean.”
“Do they have chicken?” TJ asked.
“Yes,” Trey answered.
“And buttered noodles?”
“I’m sure they do.”
“Good. Let’s go there.”
The diner’s parking lot was empty except for a couple of pick ups and a lone big rig parked in a far corner of the lot.
A few evergreens hugged the broken asphalt, and years of snow and ice and heavy trucks had pitted the parking lot’s surface.
Climbing from the truck, McKenna’s heels caught in the cracks and ruts, making her stumble.
Trey scooped up TJ who was still wearing Trey’s suit coat, and came to her side. “TJ, what if we give your mom the coat? She’s not wearing much and it’s cold out.”
“No, thank you, I’m fine,” she answered crisply. “Let’s just get inside. It’ll be warm there.”
“So stubborn,” he muttered, putting his hand at her elbow to help guide her across the icy parking lot, but she wasn’t having that, either, and tugged her arm free.
“I’m not an old lady, Trey. I can manage.”
But this time he ignored her, and took her arm again. “It’s dark and slippery and you’re wearing high heels and right now I don’t feel like rushing you to a hospital should you fall and break something.”
“I’m not going to fall and break something!”
“And I’m not going to argue.” His fingers closed around her elbow. “Let’s just get inside.”
*
In the diner bathroom, a shivering McKenna shut the stall door behind TJ and turned around to face the mirror. She blinked when she caught sight of her reflection.
Oh.
Oh. Wow.
She knew she was in white, knew she’d been driving for an hour and a half in her dress and pearls and veil with the sparkling tiara. But she’d forgotten the impact of so much white, had forgotten she looked so very…bridal.
TJ emerged from the bathroom stall, struggling to close the zipper on the little black trousers that matched his tuxedo jacket. “Can’t get it,” he said, frowning.
“Let me,” she answered, crouching in front of him, and fastening the snap at the waist band and then pulling the fabric taut and away from him, not wanting to catch his boxers or boy parts in the zipper. She’d done that once, when he was two. She’d never forget it, either, and ever since always zipped him up oh so carefully. “There. All boy junk safe and sound.”
TJ grinned, a lopsided grin that was so Trey it made her heart ache. “You’re crazy, Mom.”
“I know.” She chucked him gently under the chin and stood up. “Wash your hands while I use the restroom. Use plenty of soap and water, okay?”
“Okay.”
In the narrow stall it took some maneuvering to get the full skirt and tulle petticoats up, and the silky fabric and train out of the toilet, but she managed without damaging the dress too much, although the hem was dirty in places, probably from the walk acros
s the parking lot caked with packed dirty snow and salted ice.
She’d woken up feeling emotional this morning. She’d felt jittery at the church, and worried about everything going well, but it had never crossed her mind, that this was how today would go…
Practically kidnapped at the altar by Trey.
TJ was waiting for her by the sink, his brow wrinkled and expression brooding.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Lawrence said after you marry him I have to call him Dad. But I don’t want to. He’s not my dad.”
“He’s going to be your step-dad. That means you’re lucky. You get two dads—”
“He’s not my dad,” he stubbornly repeated.
“I think you’re being a little mean to him because your real dad’s home, but that’s not fair to Lawrence who has always been really good to you.”
“Because he likes you.”
“Lawrence likes you, too.”
“Not that much.”
“Oh, TJ, that’s not true. He cares a lot about you!”
“Then why does he smile weird when he talks to me? Like he’s got to poop and doesn’t want anyone to know it.”
“Trey James!”
“It’s true.”
“You are being ridiculous!” She turned to the paper towel dispenser and took a paper towel to dry her hands. “And rude.” She shot him a disapproving glance. “I won’t tolerate you being rude to him, either. He hasn’t done anything to deserve disrespect.” She held his gaze. “You know what disrespect means, don’t you?”
He hung his head. “Yes.”
“You’re to be polite, and kind. You’re to listen and follow the rules. Understand?”
He hung his head lower. “Yes.”
She threw away the towel. “Now let’s go have dinner and I’m going to call Lawrence and Aunt Karen and let everyone know we’re fine. Lawrence will come for us and we’ll go back to Marietta and tomorrow everything will be normal again.”
She started for the door but TJ hung back. McKenna glanced over her shoulder. He was still standing there, small and dejected. She suppressed a sigh. What was the matter now? “TJ?”
He looked up at her, worried. “Are they going to arrest him? The police? Are they going to take my dad?”
Her chest squeezed. She felt a flutter of panic. “I don’t know—” she broke off, grimaced. “Maybe.”
His eyes filled with tears. “Will they handcuff him, like they do on TV?”
Her heart fell. “I hope not.”
“’Cause he’s bad?”
A lump filled her throat. Her eyes felt gritty. “He’s not bad…not really.”
“I heard you say that he’s going back to jail and he’ll be there forever.”
Of course TJ was listening to everything. TJ was her little silent sponge. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to your daddy, but let’s not talk this way. It makes me sad.”
“But you hate him. I heard you say that in the truck. Two times.”
“I shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t nice of me. It wasn’t kind.”
“But you do hate him.”
“TJ, he’s your daddy. He loves you a lot. And we’re here right now because he loves you so much, so let’s go have dinner with him and not worry so much, okay?”
He stared at her a long time, expression brooding.
“TJ?” she prompted.
“I just don’t understand,” he said.
“Understand what?”
“If he loves me so much, why do you hate him?”
“It’s complicated.” She hesitated. “And I don’t hate him.”
“Then why did you say it? It was mean. It hurt his feelings.”
They exited the bathroom to find Trey was waiting for them by the hostess stand, a red flannel shirt bundled under his arm. “I remembered I had this tucked behind the seat. It’s been sitting there for a long time, but it should keep you warm.” Trey gave the large cherry red flannel shirt a shake, and held it out to her.
She opened her mouth to say she was fine, but she wasn’t fine. She was cold and tired and sad, worried about Lawrence and TJ and how everything had changed so fast that she couldn’t get her head around it.
Right now she should be at the wedding reception at the Graff, finishing dinner, or perhaps having the first dance. Instead she was here, at a rustic diner outside White Sulphur Springs, a town with a population of less than a thousand.
She was definitely over dressed and over exposed for a Montana diner that was pretty much in the middle of nowhere.
“I’ll take the shirt, even if dusty.” She slipped the soft flannel over her shoulders, pushing her arms through the sleeves, buttoning the front and tying the long shirt tails around her waist to keep her warmer. And she was warmer, and she did feel better. “Thank you.”
“By the way,” Trey said, “there is only one waitress on tonight and the regular cook didn’t show so service will be slow and the meal questionable.”
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asked.
“I was wondering about that.”
“I just want to eat now,” TJ said. “I’m hungry.”
McKenna glanced around the mostly empty restaurant. Just a half dozen tables were filled. It couldn’t be that much of a wait here. And then she spotted the phone by the cash register. She could call from that. As soon as they ordered, she’d ask if she could borrow it. Lawrence and her family must be frantic. She didn’t want them sending out search parties. “Let’s just stay.”
The waitress, an older woman in a red checked apron, emerged from the kitchen’s swinging doors, flushed but smiling. “Sorry to keep you waiting. A bit hectic in the kitchen but everything is good. Homestyle cooking at its finest.”
McKenna smiled. “Sounds great.”
“And it looks like congratulations are in order,” the waitress added. “We don’t get many wedding parties here. You all look so nice.” But she frowned for a moment at the ill-fitting red flannel shirt. Reaching for menus from the hostess stand, she chucked TJ under the chin. “Especially you, little fellow. You look very sharp.”
“My mom was going to marry Lawrence but then my dad came so now we’re here.”
“Sounds like a great day,” she answered, obviously not understanding anything TJ was saying.
McKenna managed a faint, weak smile. “It’s certainly been a day of surprises.”
The waitress grinned back. “Aren’t those the best kind?”
*
Trey took a seat on one side of the burgundy booth tucked along the wall, and McKenna and TJ sat on the other. Trey barely glanced at the plastic coated menu but TJ wanted to have all his options read to him, even though McKenna knew he’d order chicken and buttered noodles.
The waitress returned a few minutes later with glasses of water and to take their order. Trey wanted a steak sandwich and TJ chose his chicken and buttered noodles. McKenna was more stressed than hungry and asked about the diner’s soup.
“It’s vegetable beef,” the waitress answered. “It’s from yesterday but it’s good. I had some earlier.”
“I’ll have a cup of that,” McKenna said, closing her menu. “And coffee, please.”
The waitress put away her notepad. “Cream with that?”
“No, thank you.”
“Is the coffee fresh?” Trey asked.
“Brewing a new pot now.”
“I’ll have a cup, too,” he said.
“Two coffees coming up,” the waitress said. “And what about the little guy? Milk, chocolate milk, juice?”
“Milk,” McKenna answered. “Thank you.”
The waitress headed to the kitchen and McKenna glanced to the register and phone. She needed to call. She should do it soon.
As if reading her mind, Trey said, “You need to call. Everybody’s going to be worried.”
McKenna nodded. �
�Yeah.”
“I’m sure the waitress will let you.”
McKenna nodded again. She was dreading the call. It wouldn’t be easy. Nothing about this was easy.
Trey was studying her face. “What’s wrong?”
She shrugged. “It’s going to get messy. Fast.”
“It’s already messy,” he answered.
“Yeah, but—” she broke off as the waitress returned with their coffees and the milk for TJ.
“Anything else?” the waitress asked.
“Would it be all right to use the phone?” Trey asked. “It’s a call to Marietta.”
“Sure thing, hon. You know where the phone is? On the counter, up front? Help yourself. Just dial normally.”
“Thanks.”
The waitress moved on and McKenna looked at Trey. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have handled it myself.”
“Just trying to help you.”
“Mr. Helpful, that’s you.”
His blue eyes sparked, lips curving slightly. “I can be good.”
“Mmm.”
“I was instrumental in making Deer Lodge’s ranch program successful.”
“You’ve always been a good rancher. That was never the problem.”
“I always loved you, and TJ.”
“Your love wasn’t the problem, either.” She sipped her coffee. It was surprisingly strong and hot. She sipped again. “I think you know what the problem was.”
“You’ve always known who I am. I’ve never hidden it from you.”
“It’s one thing to fight at seventeen, and another when you’re a thirty-one year old man with a fiancée and a baby.”
“Who did you kill?” TJ blurted.
“Who told you he killed someone?” McKenna demanded.
“Lawrence.” TJ shrugged. “He said he wasn’t supposed to say anything, and so I shouldn’t say anything to you ‘cause it’d upset you.” He looked across the table at Trey. “Did you really kill someone?”
“Yes,” Trey said bluntly. “I did. I didn’t mean to kill him though. We got into a fight in a bar.”
TJ clasped his milk, more intrigued than scared. “How you’d do it?”
Trey held his gaze. “I punched him.”
“You punched him to death?”
“No. I hit him three times. On the third punch he went backward, hit his head on the edge of a table. He died a couple of days later.”
