Montana Homecoming

by Jillian Hart

  It was totally her perspective. She buckled up, put the SUV in gear and waited for a break in traffic. Or maybe it was her experience that made her quick to judge and leap to the wrong conclusions.

  Don’t think about Liam, she told herself as she pulled away from the curb in front of the courthouse and maneuvered into the street. Do not think about the man who played killer volleyball, who made you feel welcome in a group of strangers and who obviously was respected and liked by a gym full of teenagers. She couldn’t help but notice how many kids talked to him, high-fived him and looked up to him.

  Don’t do it, Brooke. She kept her gaze firmly on the road ahead of her, where her thoughts ought to be. She signaled, squinted against the sun, noticed the few handicapped spaces in the lot were filled and kept going. Her phone rang, buried in the depths of her purse. She couldn’t dig for it so she kept going, wondering if it was Liam. They hadn’t agreed on a time for Oscar’s training today.

  Liam. She grimaced, frustrated with herself. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about that man? She had defenses to keep fortified and she couldn’t do that if she thought too hard about how he’d opened up to her last night.

  She spotted a space along the curb and swung into it awkwardly. She relied on the bus in Seattle, so her parallel parking skills were just a tad rusty. First she jimmied back and then forward, spun the wheel all the way to the left and back to the right. Wheels bumped the curb. Oops, a little too far. She jimmied a little more and leaned across the front seat to open the passenger door. Appropriately close to the curb.

  Whew. Her parking skills could only get better from here and at least this was one less thing Colbie had to do. She pulled the parking brake, grabbed her purse and dug by feel. Lip gloss, hairbrush, phone. She plucked it out, trying to pretend she wasn’t anxious to see who was listed on her screen.

  Not Liam because the number had an Oregon area code. Could it be about a job? Anticipation shook through her as she dialed her voice mail. This had to be good news, right? Or why else would they bother to call?

  “Miss McKaslin, I’m Ellen Chambers. I would like to schedule an interview in the next few weeks.” A pleasant, no-nonsense voice paused and paper shuffled. “I’m quite pleased with your experience. You are just the person we are looking for in our program. I hope I hear from you.”

  Yes! She saved the message, raised her arms in victory and laughed out loud. Things were looking up. Maybe she wouldn’t be unemployed for much longer. Woo-hoo. She dropped the phone in her purse, unhooked the seat belt and a knock on the window scared her to death.

  “Dad.” The word squeaked out of her tight throat. Joy drained from her in an instant. Air puffed out of her lungs, leaving her shocked as she stared at the ragged, unkempt man on the other side of the glass.

  “Brookie.” The withered person was a pale imitation of the man she remembered. He hauled open the SUV’s door. “Thought you were Colbie until I got up close. Why, girl, I haven’t seen you since your trial.”

  “I remember.” She could still hear the last thing he’d said to her in the courtroom after her conviction. Guess this is goodbye. It wouldn’t look good for me to be caught hanging around with a felon, even if it is my daughter.

  “What are you doing here?” She slipped from the seat. Her feet hit the pavement so hard, the impact ricocheted up her legs and her teeth clacked together. “I thought Hunter and Luke told you to stay away from the trial.”

  “Sure, sure, I know. I was just passing by. I’m concerned about my girl in there.” His bushy brows frowned. His hair had gone gray and his face was hollow. “Been following it on the news. It just isn’t right. I ought to be with family. That’s why I came back here after I was released.”

  “Your being here upsets Bree. It hurts Lil.” She couldn’t muster up anger at her father, at the sad old man he’d become. But that didn’t mean she would lower her guards against him. “You need to go.”

  “I thought you would understand out of everyone, Brooke.” Mick McKaslin shut the door for her and trailed her around the back of the vehicle. “You know how hard it is to get on your feet after doing time. No one wants to hire an ex-con.”

  “Are you in a program, Dad?” She stepped onto the sidewalk, heavy inside. It hurt to remember the vibrant, charming father he’d been when she was little, when her family had been whole. He opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped him. “Don’t even think about lying to me. You smell like whiskey.”

  “You lost him, too. I shouldn’t have to tell you what that does to a man to bury his son.” He swiped his face with his hand, a little dramatic. Probably working up to ask her for money.

  “Don’t bring up Joe’s death.” She could barely stand to think about the younger brother she’d lost. No one in the family could endure mentioning it. It hurt too much. “Don’t you blame this on him.”

  “I didn’t even get to go to the funeral. I was locked up.” He gulped in air, thin, worn, his handed-down clothes a few sizes too large and badly wrinkled. Probably he’d slept in them. “You know how it was. You were also behind bars when it happened. When he died.”

  Why did he have to keep mentioning it? It was too much. Not even the steel walls around her heart could withstand the pressure. Memories rushed in like water through a crack in a levee, rushing forward, bringing more with it. Time reeled backward and she was in the prison courtyard with the summer sun burning on her back and splashing across Lil’s flowery script, feeling the rock of grief hurl into her. She hadn’t attended the funeral. “Stop it, Dad. I don’t want to remember.”

  “What? You’re too good to hurt? Think you’re better than your old man?” Mick McKaslin’s face twisted, quick to anger. Every life’s blow had driven him lower in life, when he’d been raised better than this. She didn’t know why he’d made the choices he had, but he didn’t look like a man dedicated to changing. He scowled, his tone scolding. “I expected more from you. You’ve been locked up. Remember when that jury turned on you?”

  “You need to go, Dad.” Her stomach tumbled. Sweat popped out on her forehead. Something in her chest began to collapse. Maybe it was her heart. She jammed her fist into her bag, desperate to find her phone before the memories hit. She tried to breathe but couldn’t find any oxygen nor could she stop the images from rising up. Once again she could feel the fluorescent lights beaming down on her as she stood beside her attorney. The verdict rang out in the silent courtroom.

  Guilty. The rush of her denial, the shock racing through her system, the sound of her mother’s sobs battered her. When the truth had sunk in and she’d realized that they hadn’t believed her, her knees gave out and she collapsed into the chair at the defense table. Shattered. She shook her head but the memory clung to her.

  “You need to go, Dad.” The words tore out of her. “You upset everyone and you do it on purpose. And no, don’t even think about asking for money.”

  “I didn’t expect you to turn on me, too.” He might act sorrowful but that wasn’t the emotion glinting in his eyes. His jaw worked angrily. “You and me, we’re just alike, Brookie, two ex—”

  A footfall sounded behind her, followed by a man’s booming voice. “Is there a problem here?”

  “Liam.” She choked, terrified, relieved and embarrassed. What had he overheard, or had he been too far away?

  “Looks like you’re having a little trouble. Hi, Mick.” Authority boomed in Liam’s voice. “You’ll be moving along, right?”

  “Just saying howdy to my daughter. There’s no law against that.” Mick’s chin went up, defensive, but he edged back a few paces. “I moved here to be close to my kids. This not being able to see them ain’t right.”

  “It’s what your kids want.” Liam stood by her side, loyal.

  “Get into a program, Dad. Sober up. Nothing is going to change between all of us until you do.” Shame shadowed her as she spun on her heels and hit the sidewalk, not seeing where she was going, her gasps grating her throat like sobs. How much had
Liam heard? Why had she let the past get the best of her? It was over and gone. She had to stop letting it have the power to hurt her so much.

  “Brooke?” A deep-noted voice rumbled with concern. His footsteps tapped behind her on the sidewalk, closing in. Liam.

  Again.

  She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut, dreading what he might say. His shoes tapped hollowly against concrete, her skin tingling as he drew nearer. Her pulse skipped and her soul whispered in reaction. She opened her eyes to his reassuring presence.

  “Are you all right?” His words threatened to soothe her. His tone vibrated richly, dipping deeply, comforting. If he’d heard her conversation with Dad, then he wouldn’t be looking at her that way. Like he cared. “I’ve heard from Gram how your dad can be. I also remember my Grandfather Knightly mentioning that he covered Mick’s arrest and trial years back.”

  “I’m sorry you had to see that.” She’d never seen kinder eyes. They warmed like the sky at noon, bluer than dreams and full of honest caring. It would be so easy to tumble, to let down her guards and lean on him. Her chest twisted tight with an emotion she couldn’t name.

  “I’ve seen worse.” Gentle humor tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I told Mick to move on or your brothers and I would help him. No one wants Bree or Lil upset, not today.”

  “Court’s in session by now. You’re missing testimony.”

  “Roger will fill me in.” He shrugged his dependable shoulders and laid one hand on the small of her back. He swallowed hard at the surprising zing of pure emotion. The comfortable distance between them vanished and he felt too close, but could he move away?

  No. Brooke was hurting. Pain shone in her eyes and somehow arrowed into his heart. That was a problem. He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge that pesky emotion. “I’m more concerned about you.”

  “No, I’m okay.” She lifted her chin, strain telegraphing through her. He could feel her muscles bunched beneath his palm.

  “You don’t look okay.”

  “It was nice of you to intervene.” She bit her bottom lip, still trembling, unguarded. Giving him a glimpse of the real Brooke she worked so hard to protect.

  “Least I could do for the woman who taught Oscar to sit.” He smiled, battling a wash of gentleness filling him.

  “You could have taught him if you would have bought a dog book or watched a TV show on dog training.” Some of the tension eased beneath his hand. She tilted her head, gazing up at him, those shutters slipping back in place.

  But she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been hurting or that he hadn’t seen.

  “True.” He couldn’t argue with her or ignore the weakening around his heart.

  Don’t go soft for the woman, he tried to tell himself. He’d be smart to hold his ground and reinstate distance between them. Except it was hard to ignore the pain he’d seen in her.

  “Don’t worry, Mick’s almost to the end of the block.”

  He glanced down the street, watchful. He knew an addict when he spotted one. Drugs and alcohol took their cost from a person. He knew at least part of the story. A proposal to Lil that Mick had never made good on while he’d still been married—a terrible discovery for Lil who found out the truth too late. Another marriage to the twins’ mother, ending in divorce. Time served on a counterfeiting charge. Life on the streets.

  Brooke deserved a better father than that. Liam’s hand remained on her shoulder. She wasn’t alone. He wanted her to know that. “He’s turned the corner. He’s gone.”

  “For now.” Worry moved across her heart-shaped face, crinkling the corners of her eyes and tugging down her pretty mouth.

  Not that he should be noticing how pretty her mouth was, soft and expressive. As lush as newly blooming roses in June.

  “I’m worried about Bree seeing him. And Lil. She gets so upset.” Another piece to the puzzle of Brooke McKaslin. Even terribly upset, she was quick to care about others. Hard not to be touched by that.

  “He didn’t look good.” He steered her forward. He guided her off the curve and pulled her to his side. She felt slight against him, just a fragile slip of a woman, all sweetness and heart. He swallowed against the feelings building in his chest, refusing to let them rise. “Is he homeless?” Liam asked.

  “Staying at a shelter, I think. We’ve all been burned by him so many times, we’ve had to cut ties.”

  “It’s called self-preservation.” And it would definitely be self-preservation to pull away from her now and put a little distance between them. But did he?

  No. Warmth crept into his chest as he saw her safely across the street. This isn’t tenderness, he told himself. He was just being a gentleman, that was all. He didn’t want to start caring about her.

  Please don’t let this tenderness I feel for her grow, Lord, he prayed for good measure. “Dad wasn’t always like this.” Brooke looked at him, drawing him in with some sort of gravitational pull and made the warm feeling in his chest rear up.

  It’s not caring, he told himself stubbornly.

  “He used to be kind and funny and an involved dad when Hunter, Luke, Joe and I were very young.” She stepped out of his arms naturally, stepping onto the curb.

  His hand felt empty. He was hollow without her at his side. “Joe?”

  “My younger brother. He’s gone now.” Hard to miss the grief jumbling up her words. She hung her head and took a deep breath. The pain was still fresh.

  “That’s right. I was overseas at the time. Gram told me.” He stepped slightly ahead of her, nearing the coffeehouse’s front door. “It was years ago.”

  “Yes. Joe’s death hit all of us hard, but Dad’s clearly gone into another downward spiral. Maybe that’s why, maybe not.” Joe, a firefighter for the state, had lost his life battling a wildfire. He’d been the best of all of them, good and stalwart and full of promise. “Truth is, my mom spiraled, too.”

  “You don’t talk about her much.”

  “We’re not close.” How did she begin to talk about why, especially after seeing her father? She tried not to think of all the letters she’d written in prison to her mom that had come back marked “Return to sender.” “These days Lil is more of a mom to me.”

  “You couldn’t do better. I’m glad you have her.”

  “Me, too.” His gaze searched hers as if he could see glimpses of her secrets, seeing so deeply in that her instincts shouted to turn away. But did her feet budge? Not a chance. And why was her heart galloping as if she’d run ten miles? She cleared her throat, caught by him. “Thanks for being here. For listening.”

  “It’s what friends do.” He tugged open the shop door, waiting for her to enter.

  “That’s what we are? Friends?” Her feet managed to carry her forward into the bustling shop.

  “Yep, friend. One hundred percent. You might as well put me on speed dial.”

  “Wow, that’s just what I was trying to avoid.” She breathed in the comforting scent of coffee.

  “Sorry to break this to you, but you’re stuck with me for now.”

  “I don’t have a choice?” She eased into the back of the line at the counter.

  “Not really. You’ve got a little color back in your face. Feeling better?”

  “For now.” She glanced over her shoulder at the crowded shop. She caught a glimpse of the street and a corner of the courthouse. How was Bree doing this?

  “Is that why you live in Seattle?” He pulled out his wallet. “To stay away from your dad?”

  “No. It’s where I got a job.” She studied the menu tacked on the wall behind the register. The truth spilled out of her. “I had a hard time finding work. A halfway house in Seattle was the only place offering, so I took it.”

  “You are in social work. I can see that.” He tossed a casual grin at the clerk behind the counter. “I’ll have a regular latte. How about you, Brooke?”

  “A mocha. I can’t say no to chocolate. I try but my will is weak.” Social work? Guilt twisted through her. That sound
ed more elevated than her job had been doing basic cleaning and helping out in the office. But how could she tell Liam that? If he knew, he’d turn away and that was the last thing she wanted. She watched as the clerk rang up the sale. “It looks like I finally have a shot at a new job.”

  “That’s great.” He dropped all his change in the tip jar. “Any chance it’s here in town?”

  “No. Portland.”

  “Colbie is going to be crushed.”

  “She’s not the only one. This place is starting to grow on me.”

  “I know the feeling. When my grandfather first got his diagnosis and I came back to help out, my foot was itching to get back on the road and pick up my old life. I loved what I did.” He took the two cups from the barista with thanks and handed Brooke’s over.

  She did her best not to let their fingers touch. “Why did you end up staying?”

  “When it came down to it, I didn’t want to leave.”

  “I get that.” She walked through the door he held for her, letting the sweet May sun shine on her face. She stopped, waiting for him as he held the door for two elderly ladies, standing there so strong and polite. Against her will her heart gave a little flutter.

  Don’t start thinking he’s a gentleman, she told herself, but it was too late.

  “I’ve always been comfortable staying away from here,” she confessed when he joined her on the bustling sidewalk. “Living in Seattle made it easier to start over. To put my past behind me.”

  “There’s only one thing that can make you want to pack up, leave town and start over.” His gaze found hers, looking so deep she felt as if he could see everything. “I know because I almost did it.”

  “You did?” She swallowed hard. Had he somehow guessed the truth? What was he going to say?

  Chapter Ten