Zanna tugged her coat back on. “Listen, I should head home. You two obviously need to talk. Or sleep and then talk. I can just take the old pickup and bring it back over tomorrow if that’s okay.”
Zanna’s mother had been the accountant for all three Hollow families over the years, but most recently for Taggart Sr. and Mack Ramsay, as the elder Sinclairs now spent most of their time in Florida. She’d moved herself and her infant daughter to a small cabin on Ramsay property after her husband died, had raised Zan there, staying on alone after her daughter went off to college. Zan had only recently moved back to Marshall County, reuniting with her high school flame, Jace, on her way in, in fact.
Frances had moved closer to town when old man Ramsay had retired and moved south, leaving his share of the Hollow to his only son, Mack, the current town sheriff. And now mother and daughter were joining forces and opening up an accounting firm in town, hoping to cater to the small but steady influx of new business as the county took baby steps toward new growth. Zan was staying at her mother’s for the time being, but Tag had an idea that she and Jace might be looking at some joint property before too long.
Which brought him back to some decisions he’d made in the wee midnight hours. “Don’t head out in this mess, Zan,” he told her. “I do need to talk to you,” he said to Jace, “but it can wait until morning. Or later this morning at any rate. Can you give me say, thirty minutes before heading in to meet with Wayne?”
“No problem. You sure you don’t want to talk now?”
“Positive.” The dull throb behind his eyes had grown more insistent. He needed sleep and a clear head before broaching Jace with his proposal. “ ’Night.”
“ ’Night,” they both echoed.
Tag pulled the office door shut as he walked past, not bothering to lock it, much less tuck away the cherry-wood box that still sat on his desk. Jace was going to be rolling in the sheets with Zan for what was left of the night. It was high season for yachting in the tropics, so Burke had already headed back to crew his next island charter tour. And Austin was on a cover shoot in Milan, showing his favorite haunts to his new love, Delilah Hudson.
Tag’s mouth quirked. Jace going all moony-eyed was one thing. He’d always had a soft spot for Zanna York and it was no big surprise to anyone that the two of them had picked up where they left off, despite their long separation. But he still couldn’t get over Austin plunging headlong off the love pier right after him. Tag had already decided to make a point of meeting up with them somewhere so he could get a look at the woman who’d brought down the man who made his living taking pictures of half-naked cover models.
But even if all three of his brothers had still been there, he needn’t have worried they’d go nosing about. Not in the office. Never there.
Surprisingly, it hadn’t been as uncomfortable being home again. In general, anyway. It was rare they were all under the same roof, but they’d never once been together under this one since he’d left. In fact, all of them had been gone the moment they were of age too, and in some cases before. Not one of them had ever looked back. They kept in touch with each other, but not with their past.
There had been a tacit, unspoken agreement the moment they’d all finally made it in a month ago, to not discuss the harsher aspects of their childhood. None of them wanted to revisit that horror. But it had been a welcome surprise when they’d all sat around the kitchen table and dredged up any number of good times they’d spent, growing up in the Hollow. Memories of times shared as brothers, not as the sons of Taggart Morgan, Sr. Laughter had been rare under the Morgan roof, but it hadn’t been nonexistent. Tag remembered wondering how long it had been since that sound had echoed inside these walls.
They’d talked fondly of swimming, fishing, and ice-skating on old man Ramsay’s pond, once the center of their social universe. Sighed in post-adolescent harmony about parking up on Black Willow Ridge with the girl of the moment Pointed fingers of blame over who had stolen the most eggs from Mrs. Sinclair’s chicken house when they’d camped out. And laughed over the pranks they’d pulled on each other, and their Hollow “cousin” Mack.
They didn’t talk about the lectures. The whippings. The whispers in town when they showed up at school with another unexplained bruise or welt. Of what it had felt like, being constantly berated for never measuring up to their father’s rigid expectations. Being told time and again what a disappointment they were. And never once having their dreams listened to, much less respected or treated as worthy goals.
No, Tag didn’t have to worry about locking the office door. No Morgan son went into that room unless it was absolutely necessary. He’d done so tonight, sat at that desk, propped his feet up on the polished surface, as a final act of defiance. It was his office now, after all.
Yet he knew all he’d get for it would be a sleepless night, filled with memories that were a lot fresher than he’d believed possible. Some scars, he realized as he climbed the wide wooden stairs to his bedroom, never did heal.
Chapter 2
Sleep hadn’t come easy, when it had come at all. Something Jace and Zan didn’t seem to have any problem doing. Coming, that is.
Grumpy and feeling surprisingly resentful, Tag washed down three aspirin with his morning coffee. Sex had been the last thing on his mind of late. But it had been rather hard to ignore the contrast between Jace’s rather active sex life and the wasteland that was his own social life.
Ordinarily this didn’t bother him. He liked sex as much as the next guy, but he’d gotten used to putting his needs aside. Which was handy considering his prospects for sex were usually limited to college coeds volunteering on a dig, or women from whatever neighboring village was nearby. And considering the locales of most of his recent digs, this was generally not a teeming metropolis. Or even a one-mule town. Tribal came closest to describing the usual local social scene.
And, as he was too old for the coed crowd, that left the occasional seasoned colleague who was up for a no strings roll in the hammock. And even then he had to be careful. Passions generally heated up and cooled way down long before the dig was over. Which could make life uncomfortable for everyone. Tag preferred things to go as smoothly as possible. Day-to-day life generally being enough of a challenge for him.
He massaged his closed eyes, hoping the headache he’d woken up with would fade quickly. Normally he dropped off to sleep the instant his head hit the pillow and woke up refreshed and ready, whether he’d slept for one hour or ten. Apparently dig survival training didn’t hold up under his childhood roof. At least his father had long since converted their old bedrooms to guest rooms, he thought. It could have been worse. He could have had to stare at the remnants of his childhood as he lay, gritty-eyed and awake, listening to the muffled giggles and long, satisfied groans coming from across the hall.
Actually, he should thank his baby brother for the diversion. Thinking about sex, even the sore lack of it, had kept his thoughts from veering back to this most recent surprise. Taking another sip of the bitter coffee, Tag reminded himself, as he had most every morning since Austin had taken off, taking his mad coffee-making skills with him, that though he wasn’t any better making a decent pot with a top-of-the-line machine rather than the tin pot they used in camp, he didn’t have to drink it black.
He was pouring in milk and adding way too much sugar, wondering how to broach his discussion with Jace, when the object of his ruminations trudged into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and tumble-haired, scratching his bare chest.
“Morning,” Jace grunted, reaching blindly into the cupboard over the sink.
“Coffee’s strong, but hot,” Tag told him.
“Bless you and everyone that looks like you. ”
Tag smiled a little. “You get no sympathy from me. I didn’t get any sleep either, only I didn’t get the side benefits.”
Jace pulled a mug down, smiling now despite the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Well, you have me there.” Though the bedrooms had changed and some
of the furnishings in the main rooms had been updated, the kitchen was still pretty much the same as it had been when they were young. Same woodblock countertops, same glass-front cabinets. The dishwasher was new, as was the fridge, but the old gas stove was the same one Tag had warmed soup on every day after school. And the round pedestal table was the same one he and his brothers had sat at every evening doing homework. Praying none of them would be summoned.
Some kids were afraid of being sent to the principal’s office. Not the Morgan boys. They knew the long walk of dread down the school hallway was nothing compared to the terror a person could feel in the few short steps it took to get from the kitchen to their father’s office.
“So,” Tag said, gladly shoving those memories away as Jace took a seat and reached for the sugar, “you and Zanna are getting serious pretty quickly.”
Jace shrugged. “I guess it looks that way. Doesn’t feel that way.”
Tag raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Meaning?”
Jace snatched Tag’s spoon and used it to stir in his sugar. “I don’t know if I can explain it. It is serious. But it doesn’t feel rushed or too quick. It’s not like we could just pick up where we left off after high school or anything. A lot has happened over the intervening years. To both of us. But it wasn’t time wasted. And now this feels perfectly right for us. I guess we don’t want to waste any more time. It took us this long to figure things out.” He shrugged again. “So why wait, you know?”
Tag understood what his brother was saying, even though he couldn’t fathom feeling that way himself. “Have you made any long-range plans?”
“You mean like marriage plans?” Jace smiled, laughed a little. “Nothing specific. Not yet. We’re in no rush. Although, we, uh, we are going to look for a place in town. Together,” he added unnecessarily.
Tag glanced up now, his mouth quirking. “My baby brother, shacking up? And you being the good Morgan boy. What will the townfolk say?”
“I haven’t been back that long, but the town doesn’t seem like it’s exactly remained stuck in a time warp all these years.”
“Wouldn’t have surprised me,” Tag said dryly. “How’s Frances feel about this?”
“You know Zan’s mom. Hopeless romantic. She’s very happy we’re together. Pushing for a wedding, of course. And it’s likely that’s where we’ll end up, but not right yet. We might raise a few eyebrows around town, but it won’t cost me the teaching position, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He took a sip, noted Tag’s expression and smiled. “What’s so funny? Hell, if Austin can get all moony-faced over a woman, me thinking about getting married shouldn’t shock anybody. Now, you going ass over heartstrings? That would be headline news.”
Tag took the teasing in stride. Jace was right after all. He’d dated some through school—okay, a lot—but he’d kept his heart to himself, and that pattern hadn’t changed much over the years. Austin was the one who provoked and taunted, always looking for trouble. Girls were drawn to his bad-boy image. Burke was blessed with a glib tongue and quick wit. He could smooth talk his way out of any scrape… and into any girl’s pants. Jace had been the quiet one, the perfect student with perfect grades, perfect kid, careful to draw only positive attention. Tag hadn’t been any of those things.
Well, he’d gotten into his fair share of scrapes, but mostly he had just tried to be normal, because he’d felt anything but. He’d just turned eight when his mother died, old enough to be excruciatingly aware that being motherless was not normal. He remembered her as being soft and reserved, bowing to her husband in most things. She’d been sick as far back as Tag could remember, so it was hard to tell how she might have been if she’d been healthy. But that hadn’t lessened the grief that had walloped her sons when she’d passed away. If Taggart Sr. had grieved, he’d done it in private, sending an unmistakable signal to his young sons that they, too, were to deal with their loss privately. And that included not involving their father. Which left Tag to help his younger brothers through a task he’d been woefully unprepared to take on.
Tag had dealt with his own grief by not getting too close to anyone outside his siblings, lest they find out the normal kid with the normal looks, normal grades, and normal friends felt anything but normal on the inside. Or that his home life was anything other than the picture of success and stability their father worked so very hard to portray. It was hard enough living up to his father’s endless expectations without inviting new ones from outside influences.
“I guess you have a point there,” Tag said, not particularly upset by it. He enjoyed companionship, but he'd generally been so busy that he’d never dwelled on the lack of it in any sort of continuing fashion in his life. He supposed he’d gotten good at being alone. He’d started young enough. “I was just trying to imagine what Dad’s reaction would have been to your coed housing plan,” Tag teased.
“Jesus, I know,” Jace said, still turning a bit pale, despite knowing it was a battle he’d never have to wage. “I thank God every day I don’t have to deal with that. Although, truth be told, I’m not sure I would have considered the offer here if he were still alive.”
“I know,” Tag said. In public, around townspeople, they’d been respectful of their father’s passing, accepting the stream of condolences with sincere thanks. But here, alone with each other, they didn’t have to pretend. It had been a profound relief to them all.
“I’ve wanted to come back to the rest of it, though. I feel like I’d run long enough. Like it was time to come back.” Jace looked across the table at Tag, his expression earnest. “You know, I was never sure how I’d feel with him gone. If I’d regret… I don’t know, not trying to get to know him. As an adult.”
Tag knew that none of his brothers had made contact with their father since leaving home. Nor had their father ever contacted any of them. “Do you?”
Jace shook his head. “I keep waiting to feel guilty about it. Hasn’t happened yet. What about you?”
Tag shook his head. His emotions might be a raw jumble, but he knew better than to dwell on things he couldn’t change.
They both sipped their coffee in silence for a few moments, then Jace said, “You know, Frances says Dad changed a lot, toward the end.”
So, Tag thought, Jace was wrestling with it a bit more than he’d let on. “Knowing you’re dying can make a person rethink a few things I guess,” Tag said, with no particular inflection to his tone. “Nine months gives a person a long time to sort things out.”
Jace nodded. “Yeah, I suppose it would. Although, I don’t know, the man I remember… well, I figured he’d stare even death in the face without flinching. Berating it for daring to take him before he was ready.”
Tag studied his younger brother. “Does it bother you? That he might have, I don’t know, mellowed or something?”
Jace held his gaze easily. “No. Although I have to admit I’m curious about it. I try to picture it, imagine him more… laid back, if you want to call it that.” His mouth curved at one corner. “Can’t seem to picture it.”
Tag had wondered about that, too, during those long hours in the office last night. Zan’s mother wasn’t the only one talking about how Taggart Sr. had been a changed man. Mick had mentioned it, too, though briefly. Tag knew his father’s friend had wanted, maybe even needed, to talk about it. Stunned by Mick’s initial news, Tag hadn’t exactly been open to that kind of conversation. Apparently whatever changes his father had made didn’t include reaching out to his only family before he died. Tag supposed he shouldn’t care, seeing as that indifference had always gone both ways. Mercifully, after a few awkward attempts, Mick had let the conversation drop and taken off. And Tag had left the cherry-wood chest unopened.
“But I think this change, or maybe the start of it, goes back farther than the cancer diagnosis,” Jace was saying, pulling Tag from his thoughts. “Something happened a few years ago, though I’m not sure what. Zan’s mom didn’t know.” He smiled a little. “Which means no on
e knows.”
A few years ago. That would have been right around the time the land in Scotland had been deeded to him. If what Jace said was true, Tag doubted it was a coincidence. And he hated to admit it, but the puzzle provoked him. After all, that’s what he made his living doing, solving the puzzles of the past. His job was to put the pieces together from the clues people left behind after they’d gone. He figured out how people lived, why they’d chosen to live where they did, the way they did, how they’d died, what they’d left behind. And why. That he had a deep-seated need to solve these puzzles didn’t surprise him. He hardly needed a degree in psychology to figure that one out.
But his desire was based on the need to solve these puzzles for others, for the sake of a greater understanding of humanity in general. Yes, his childhood had sucked, and yes, his father hadn’t been a very nice man. But Tag had never felt compelled to dig any deeper than that. His father was who he was. Tag counted himself fortunate he’d gone on to discover something in life that was both rewarding and enjoyable. Despite flirting briefly with a major in Celtic history, his ancestral past, much less his father’s recent one, had never been a puzzle begging to be solved. And Tag didn’t want it to become one now.
And, if it was possible, he resented his father that much more for even momentarily making him feel otherwise.
“I have a proposition for you,” Tag said abruptly. Time to move forward. “And Zanna, too, I suppose, since it will affect her as well.”
Other than leaning his chair back on two legs, Jace didn’t react to the sudden change in topic. They’d all become adept at rolling with the punches at a very early age, with nary an outward sign of reaction. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about last night?”
Tag nodded. “I’ve been going over all of the papers, trying to figure out the best way to settle the estate.” He rested his weight on his elbows, cradling his mug. “You’re just starting out here in town, teaching P.E., coaching the high school basketball team.”
Catch Me If You Can Page 2
