Blue Midnight (Blue Mountain Book 1)

by Tess Thompson

  “My girls’ father is in Washington. It would make it difficult for me to move here.”

  “Dad could move to Seattle.”

  I smiled. “There’s lots of college choice in Seattle.”

  The hum of a car drew me back to the window. It was Kevan’s Range Rover, coming up the driveway.

  “Go wash your face and hands. I’ll need help peeling the potatoes.”

  “What about Minnie? And Grandmother?”

  “Tonight I’m cooking for you, just us.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “You decide. Do you want him here with us?”

  She put her arm over her eyes. “I can’t stand the thought of him alone with his mother, hurting over all this, thinking I don’t love him.”

  I went to her, sitting close, and smoothed the bit of hair from where it hung over her eye. “Rori, whether you know it yet or not, that’s one way of defining love.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you can’t bear to think of them hurting, especially by something you do or don’t do.” I pointed toward the bedroom. “Now go wash up.”

  She smiled, just slightly, but it reached her eyes, and she left for the bathroom.

  Kevan came in with a bag of groceries in his arms. I greeted him just inside the door. We stood in an almost hug, the bag between us, and I wanted to kiss the spots under his eyes where the dark circles betrayed his recent grief.

  “Is she all right?” he asked, whispering.

  “Yes. We had a good talk. She’s hurting and confused, but we can’t expect anything else at this point. But she’s talking to me, which is what matters most.”

  “Yes, that’s good, I suppose.”

  “She’s washing up now. I told her she wasn’t allowed to meet Blake tonight and that she must have dinner with me. She wants you here too.”

  “Me too?” His eyes glazed over. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  I looked at him, and the old habit of stacking bricks around me so that my feelings were hidden remained lurking, but I was stronger now, buoyed by my mother instincts and my love for him and the raw chicken in the bag and the ice cream growing soft. I let myself look at him without any bricks in the way. “I will always tell you the truth, no matter what. I’ll expect the same from you.”

  “You have my word.” He smiled and kissed me again, then stepped away, putting the bag of groceries on the table.

  After I put the ice cream away and poured us both a glass of wine, I told him about my conversation with Rori, specifically what I had learned from her about Blake.

  “Do you think he’s been covering for his father all this time?” asked Kevan, sounding incredulous.

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Dr. Sloane followed them and ran them off the road.”

  His face clouded over. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot this afternoon and I still can’t figure out where they were going.”

  “The computer will have answers for us. I just know it.” There was the sound of footsteps coming toward us. “Hug her,” I whispered in his ear. “Whether she acts like she wants you to or not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I do, you know. And that fact surprises me, given everything.”

  I smiled at him and he smiled back. I felt triumphant. The two most stubborn of the Lanigan clan obeying my requests—perhaps miracles existed after all.

  ***

  Rori, holding Belinda Bear in her arms, came out of the bedroom a few seconds later, looking fresher and more composed. Kevan, as promised, greeted her with a hug. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she stiffened at first and then appeared to soften, resting her cheek against his chest. “You okay?” he asked her.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” They pulled apart but stayed close. Rori put Belinda Bear on the couch. She promptly fell over, as if exhausted, her plastic eyes glassy, with fatigue?

  I set a bag of potatoes and the peeler on the table. “Rori, you’re in charge of the potatoes. Peel four of them. I need to fatten you up.”

  She picked up the peeler and turned it around in her hand. It was the old-fashioned kind, with a steel blade and plastic handle. “What do I do?”

  “You’ve never peeled a potato before?”

  “No. Minnie cooks, not us.” She glanced at her father, as if for help. “And my mother never cooked, so I guess no one taught me.”

  “It was the opposite for me,” I said. “I learned to cook because my mother would never do it. Don’t worry, it’s easy.”

  I showed her how to run the blade down the potato, and advised her about the right amount of pressure and to keep the blade pointing away so as not to cut her fingers.

  Kevan sat at the table, watching the two of us with a half-smile.

  Rori peeled the potatoes, slowly. I patted the chicken and stuffed the cavity with garlic and the fresh oregano, then sprinkled salt and pepper over it. “What about you, Dad?” asked Rori. “Aren’t you supposed to have a job too?”

  He gestured at me with his glass of wine. “I brought the groceries. That’s all I’ve got.”

  I put the chicken in the oven, cut the potatoes and carrots, and left them in the sink. The chicken would take a while. We needed something to do. I didn’t want either one of them to leave. They needed to be together. I’d noticed a pack of cards in the desk drawer. I went to get it and asked if anyone wanted to play.

  They both shrugged like they could take it or leave it but I knew them both well enough by now to know that was only bravado. The real answer was in their eyes, which no matter how they tried to dull told me how much they both desperately wanted to stay together.

  “What should we play?” I asked.

  “Old Maid, like when I was little?” asked Rori, in a shy voice.

  Kevan smiled and glanced over at me. “We used to play it all the time.”

  “And I always won,” said Rori.

  “I always let her win,” said Kevan. “She’d always put the old maid higher than the rest of her cards so I knew exactly which one to take.”

  “Sometimes Cole played with us, remember?” asked Rori.

  “I do.” Kevan shuffled the card deck. It made the sound of a fan in the quiet room.

  “We could see if he wanted to come over,” I said, knowing neither of them would offer up the idea, yet I knew they wanted him here.

  Rori’s eyes darted to Kevan’s. “Well, if you want to.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  ***

  Kevan called Cole, and he arrived fifteen minutes later, with wet hair and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. The minutes passed quickly. The four of us played as the chicken baked, filling the house with the smell of garlic and oregano. After several rounds of Go Fish, we changed to Crazy Eights.

  After the chicken was ready, we stopped and ate our dinner, the four of us around the small table, like a family. I missed my girls then in that physical way one does. Rori put her fork down and looked at me. “You miss them, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “You could have them come here, you know, when their trip to Hawaii ends,” said Rori. “Spend the rest of the summer here. That’d be okay, wouldn’t it, Dad?”

  “Fine with me.” He said this without looking at me.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  Kevan reached for my hand across the table and held it for the remainder of the dinner. Eating with one hand enclosed in another’s is quite fine.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE NEXT MORNING the Fed Ex truck arrived just after ten. It came up the road just as I left the house for my morning run. Kevan met the driver in the yard and signed, then walked toward me holding the package. “Cole’s inside waiting in my office for it. Go on your run. I’ll come get you if we find anything.”

  I agreed, kissing him on the cheek. “Whatever we find, it will give us answers and that’s what we both want.”

  I’d been back from my run for an hour wh
en Kevan crossed the yard to the door. He carried the “Rori” file and didn’t knock, simply came inside and grabbed me into his arms, holding me for a moment. I heard his heart pounding against my ear. “Blythe, you won’t believe what we found.” He sat on the couch and handed me the file. His face was grim. “We found an email in Finn’s ‘draft’ box. It was never sent. It’s dated the day he died.”

  I opened the folder. On top of the two previous emails was a new printout. The email subject was: We should talk…

  Kevan,

  I don’t really know where to start with all this. I’m sitting here in my office in the middle of the night, the nearly full moon over Blue Mountain outside my window. I was thinking about when we were kids and how close we were. Do you remember how I used to finish your sentences or say what you were thinking so you didn’t have to? Do you remember our folk duo idea? I hadn’t thought of it in years but it came back to me tonight. We’ve let a couple of things come between us since then. They were big things, as you know—Meredith and the business. It’s ironic that Father worked so hard all his life to make sure we were taken care of, but the business has caused us nothing but hard feelings and misunderstandings. Anyway, all that said, I love you. I hope you know that, especially given what I’m about to say.

  Recently I received an email from Barry Sloane. He told me Rori is my biological daughter. Meredith knew it all along and he’d kept her secret all these years.

  According to Meredith, it goes like this. The weekend I first brought her here she planned on ending it with me as well. She knew there was not enough chemistry between us. Of course I knew that as well. We’d developed into nothing more than friends at that point. All that was confirmed when she took one look at you and knew she had to have you. She didn’t know then she was pregnant. She found out several weeks later, after the two of you had started dating. She knew by the timing, however, that the baby was mine. What to do? Get you to marry her fast, which you did. I want to say at this point, also in Meredith’s words, she loved you very much and all the choices she subsequently made were to keep you.

  After the two of you were married, she went to see Doctor Sloane in Boise, per your request. His father had brought us all into the world and it was the obvious thing to do to have our local doctor and friend bring in the next generation of Lanigans. Well, he figured out right away that Meredith was already eleven weeks pregnant. She begged him to keep her secret. He agreed.

  But it turns out the good doctor has a serious gambling problem. The ponies, games, poker—you name it and Barry Sloane bets on it. Sometimes he’s up but mostly he’s down. He was down when he learned of Meredith’s pregnancy. A week or so later, he took Father to lunch and told him what he knew and asked for a “loan” of fifty thousand dollars, or he would tell you the truth about the baby. It surprised me to learn that Father agreed to it, although it shouldn’t when I think through the dynamics of our family. Father loved you the best. You were his favorite, the one most like him, and the only one of the four of us boys who cared about the business. You’d devoted your life to it and to him. He knew how much you loved Meredith and how much it would devastate you to learn the truth. After telling Meredith that he knew, Father agreed to provide the blackmail money. From then on, when Doctor Sloane was down, he called Father and asked for money. All this went on for years—at least a million dollars exchanged hands—until Father died so unexpectedly. Mother knew nothing about the blackmail. There was no one for Doctor Sloane to go to for money except Meredith. She couldn’t get ahold of that kind of money without you knowing but Doctor Sloane became more and more impatient. He needed money to pay off debts and needed it now.

  He became more and more insistent that Meredith find money for him. She didn’t know what to do and therefore did nothing. Sloane, frustrated and desperate, told me the truth, and asked for money.

  I confronted Meredith, of course. She admitted everything and begged me to take care of Sloane and to keep it from you. But the secret felt too big. I didn’t know how I could sit across from you at holiday dinners and lie to you. I felt strongly you and Rori should know the truth. I did not think it would change anything, really. You are her father. I was her favorite uncle. Did anything else matter? I don’t know the answer to that question as I write this. I know only that life is messy and the only thing that truly matters is who we love and who loves us. Will it hurt Rori to have both of us love her? It hadn’t so far, regardless of what she calls us. But it should be up to you, Kevan, to either keep this secret or not. I will support you either way. My love for Rori won’t change. My love for you won’t change. I want you two happy—that’s all.

  Anyway, I called Sloane and told him that the truth of Rori’s paternity was a family matter and would be handled as such. It would have no bearing on the fact that I planned on going to the police and having him arrested for extortion.

  Last night I told Meredith my plan to go to the police and get everything out in the open. We argued long into the night. She wanted to continue as she had been for so long, paying a sick man to keep her secret. But she knew it was no use. I had to go to the police and I had to tell you the truth. Finally, she relented. She agreed we would go to the police but that afterward she would not be able to face you. She’s packed bags tonight, anticipating staying at your house in Boise, knowing you’ll already be here in Peregrine when I tell you the truth. In her words, again, she believes strongly that you’ll never forgive her and will want a divorce. She cannot face you in person and has asked me to be the one to tell you everything. Thus, I wrote this email. I won’t send it until tomorrow, after we’ve met with the police, but I wanted to write it all out now in case something happens to me. I have an eerie feeling, brother. I’m so very sorry, too. We can get through this. I’ll be here for you no matter what.

  One thing to remember

  The email ended abruptly. I looked at the time of the draft email. 12:37 a.m. Something had happened to cause alarm before he could finish. I looked at the date and time of BSloane’s “I warned you” email: It had come in when Finn was writing to Kevan. It had caused him to stop writing.

  I looked up at Kevan. He sat across from me, his elbows on his knees, staring at me. “He was taking her to Boise,” said Kevan. “Not running away with her.”

  “Finn was who we thought he was.”

  “Yes.” He hesitated, glancing at his hands. “And my wife loved me. You were right, Blythe. The truth has given me peace.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Thank you for pushing me to look at all this. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “You’re welcome.” My mind fast-forwarded to the next question. “But we still don’t have any proof that Sloane had anything to do with the car accident.”

  “It’s enough to get an investigation started, though.”

  I nodded in agreement and started to speak but didn’t because he peered at me so intently. “What is it?” I asked.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “I’m a mess.” I’d cleaned up and changed out of my running clothes into a pair of loose shorts and a blouse. My feet were bare. I had only minimal makeup applied and my hair was combed but unwashed. Surely not my best moment, I thought, imagining what Alphonse and my sister would say if they could see me now.

  “No, absolutely stunning in every way. You’re simply beautiful, Blythe Heywood, inside and out.” Kevan rose to his feet and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Despite everything, I haven’t felt this free, or this alive, in a long time.” He leaned down and touched my mouth lightly with his, lingering before drawing back to look into my eyes. “You’re a gift, just this unexpected gift and I’m grateful.”

  “I’m grateful too.” I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing my chest against his.

  “Will you let me love you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “For as long as you want me.”

  “Forever, then?” Drawing me tighter, he kisse
d me, pulling and pressing against my mouth with a delicate dart of his tongue along the inside of my upper lip in a way that made me gasp. He reached under my blouse with both hands, caressing my sides with his thumbs and trailing down my neck with his tongue before moving his hands inside my shorts. I could no longer think, my breathing rapid, as he picked me up in his arms, like I weighed nothing, and took me into the bedroom. Setting me down on the bed, he covered my body with his and kissed me, long and hard. He snapped the back of my bra open with one hand and tugged my blouse off with the other. I removed my shorts and panties (I still hadn’t had the courage to wear a pair of the thongs) while I watched him undress. There would never be a time I didn’t crave the sight of his body, I thought, as he joined me on the bed.

  We kissed again. I loved the way his mouth invariably tasted and smelled of mint. I sighed with pleasure as he moved his mouth to my neck, then nibbled along my collarbone. Next, he teased my nipples with his tongue, his hands running up and down my thighs, until I thought I might lose my mind. Finally, when I was almost ready to beg, he entered me, slowly, his mouth on mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him in as deep as he could go. We moved together at a slow pace. When he whispered my name with his mouth at my neck, it was too much. My climax came hard and fast, in a rush of tremors. I arched my back, and cried out, just as he exploded inside me.

  Afterward, he lay on his side, looking at me with those eyes that penetrated the decades-long wall I’d stacked with bricks around me. And those bricks? They’d crumbled by now into a million pieces of red dust. All remnants of my brick walls were gone. Not even miniscule saffron-hued particles lingered in the Idaho breezes, or in the needles of the Blue Mountain pines, or in the lines around my eyes. I was unprotected, my soft underbelly exposed. This was love, I thought. The poets were right. Love is the opposite of fear. Because giving oneself to another human being without fear of loss, betrayal, or even death, was the ultimate vulnerability.