Cavanagh - Serenity Series, Vol I (Seeking Serenity)

by Eden Butler

  “You can’t tell them anything, Mollie. For their own good.”

  Vaughn doesn’t like this, doesn’t want to leave Viv vulnerable. “I’m not going to leave you after you were attacked.”

  Viv snorts. “You were gone from the time you were seventeen, little brother, and I managed to look after myself just fine. Besides, Sammy won’t let me out of his sight and the D.A. has put three uniforms on the house. I’ll be fine.” His sister hesitates. It’s only for a moment, a brief turn of her head that reminds Vaughn of her sneaking out of the house at seventeen and making a nine year-old Vaughn swear he wouldn’t rat her out. She’s got something on her mind and Vaughn doesn’t like how subtle she’s trying to be. “Listen, Mollie, you mind if I talk to my brother for a second? Family stuff that will only bore you.” Mollie sets down her cup and Viv walks her to the door. “Sammy will watch over you until Vaughn gets back. Don’t buy into his bull, though. I can pretty much guarantee he’s going to try to sell you on the many and varied benefits of dating an older man.” The women exchange a smile that is brief, but polite and Vaughn watches Viv’s back as she faces the closed door.

  “Oh shit,” he says as she walks toward him and soundly whacks him on the back of the head. “Ow. What’s that for?”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  When Viv nods toward the door, Vaughn sits back on the sofa, drawing his arm over his eyes. “Don’t start with me.”

  “You’re fucking her.”

  He jerks his arm away to glare at his sister. “No I’m not.”

  Again, Viv’s eyes narrow and the way she watches his expression has Vaughn nervous. “Oh my God, you are.” She collapses next to him. “Vaughn, I swear…”

  “Nothing has happened… not yet.” He slips her a sideways look. “How did you know?”

  Viv’s expression softens. “I haven’t seen you look at a woman like that since you were nineteen, on leave and Caroline brought you an apple pie at that diner where she worked.”

  A flash of Caroline comes to him then. She was so beautiful, so young with her dirty blonde hair pulled into a bun and her apron covered in flour and raspberry puree. When she smiled, her eyes lit like a flame the second she looked at him, Vaughn knew he was done for. But it changed. She changed and the worse things became, the longer he spent away from home and on duty, the more fragile the tether of their relationship became. He’d failed Caroline. He swore he wouldn’t fail Mollie. “It’s not like that.”

  Viv nudges him, makes him scoot over so she can stretch her legs onto the sofa. “Then tell me what it’s like.”

  He doesn’t want to have this conversation with Viv. There are some things that he doesn’t want his sister to know, but when he glances at her and sees the worry wrinkling her forehead, Vaughn knows her concern reaches further than the case. “I like her.”

  “Well thank you, Captain Obvious, for that insight.”

  Vaughn looks up at the ceiling, to the small cracks near the windows and the small spider web around the light fixture. Housekeeping has been slipping. He can almost hear Viv’s words before they leave her mouth. She’s going to lecture him. She’s going to tell him he isn’t being smart. Like he doesn’t know that. Like he needs Viv to state the obvious. Resigned, Vaughn moves his head, watching the way his sister moves the silver band around her finger. “What do you want me to do?”

  Several emotions flit across her eyes; Vaughn knows them well. He sees her fear, the very real possibility that Vaughn letting his emotions guide him might threaten the case. But he also sees the small glimmer of hope Viv has held for him this past year. She wants him to heal. She wants him to be open to something he decided long ago would only hurt him. Instead of focusing on that, Viv deflects, pulls on her professional mask. “Mojo finds out you’re doing his daughter and he won’t like it.”

  “I’m not—”

  “But you want to. That much I can tell.” She rests next to him, putting her head on his shoulder like she did last year when their father’s death had left them both empty. “She’s a pretty girl. Not like I thought she’d be at all.”

  “Why? Because Mojo’s a haggard bastard?”

  “Oh, ho, little brother…” Viv sits up and Vaughn isn’t sure what to make of that wide grin on her face. “You’ve never met Mr. Nicky ‘Mojo’ Malone. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen him, but he’s not haggard at all.” Her breath releases in a tiny wisp that has Vaughn questioning who is being unprofessional here. “A little rough around the edges, but that man is something to behold. How do you think he got that nickname?” Vaughn shrugs. “Because, they say his dick is like magic.”

  Vaughn wrinkles his nose. “Please tell me you’re not vying for conjugals with that old man.”

  “Nah. Not allowed in Mississippi, besides, I’m just trying to work a case, but I can appreciate a handsome man when I see one.” Viv pulls Vaughn off of the sofa and picks up her bag on the way to the door. But before she opens it, she turns on him, that serious hint returning to her face. “Promise me.”

  “Viv—”

  “You have to promise you won’t touch her until this case is settled.” Viv pulls the bag onto her shoulder but doesn’t lose the stern frown working across her mouth. “I’m all for you finding someone again, but if you touch her now, she’ll mess with your head and I need you concentrating.”

  It’s something he told Mollie that night she woke him from the nightmare. The sins he visited on his former wife weighed him down so that he would do anything to earn her forgiveness: touch her when he knew that was impossible, apologize, beg, kiss away all his failings. Vaughn knows his sister is right. He knows that this case would be over soon, that he needs to keep Mollie safe; the best way to do that is to not let her touch him, to keep himself on guard, alert. He can’t do that if he kisses her, if he touches her again like he had tonight.

  When Viv’s eyes return small and expectant, Vaughn scrubs his face, giving up, yet again, on what he wants. “Fine. I won’t touch her.” He only prays he can keep that promise.

  “So, let me get this right… Autumn’s dad raised Declan in Ireland and then they both came to Cavanagh and Declan starts dating Autumn without knowing that they’re related?” When Vaughn says it like that, even to Mollie’s ears, it sounds weird. Vaughn’s hands grip the steering wheel as Mississippi’s never-ending Interstate whips past them. Mollie lets that cringe on his face pass. She knew she’d have to clarify a few things or Vaughn would think her friends were something out of a bad, completely gross porno.

  “Not related. Well. Not really. I guess technically they’re step-siblings. But that tie was severed when Declan’s mom died.” Vaughn’s nose wrinkles and Mollie sighs at his ridiculous, confused frown. “It’s not that complicated, really.” She clears her throat. “So Joe, Autumn’s dad, grew up in Ireland and got married young when the girl he was seeing tells him she’s pregnant.” Vaughn nods. “Then, when Declan is born two months too soon and comes out a fat, healthy baby boy, Joe knows he’s not the father.”

  “So Declan’s mom lied?”

  “Yep. But don’t ever, ever mention it to Declan. He’s fiercely protective of his mom.”

  The frown deepens, but Vaughn nods his understanding. “Right.”

  Rain starts to collect on the window and Mollie traces one long drip with her index finger, trying not to think about how close they are to the prison. Outside, Mississippi is a long row of tall pines and very little variation from the line of trees and the patches of filled-in pot holes.

  “So?” Vaughn asks and Mollie rests her hand in her lap.

  “So, Joe leaves Ireland all mad at the world and ends up in Cavanagh. He meets Autumn’s mom, Evelyn, and they get married and have Autumn.” Small flashes of Evelyn come back to Mollie; her bright eyes, the pale skin, the smile she always wore; it was welcoming, sweet, but Mollie remembers thinking of the sadness that never quite left her features. Her own mother was horrible. Evelyn made up for what she missed at home
with hugs that were tight and words of encouragement Mollie knew weren’t spoken just to make her feel better. She blinks, looks back out at the wet window before she continues. “But when Autumn was a kid, Joe gets word that Moira, that’s Declan’s mom, anyway, Moira is dying and since he didn’t bother divorcing her, he’s legally responsible for her estate and all that stuff.”

  Vaughn whistles and it is a low, amazed sound. “He didn’t divorce her?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, Autumn’s parents weren’t really married?”

  Mollie gives Vaughn a sideway nod and his mouth drops a bit. “Apparently not.”

  “Man, that’s messed up.”

  “It is.” She grabs his arm, squeezing it as she remembers that time a few months back when Declan and Autumn fought because of more of Joe’s secrets. “But don’t mention that around Joe because it’s a touchy subject.”

  “I think I’m gonna have to make a list.”

  She waves her hand, as though the drama of her friends’ family history isn’t that hard to understand once you’ve spent time with them. “So, anyway, Evelyn finds out about the whole not having a divorce thing and gets highly pissed.”

  “Naturally.”

  “And she tells Joe to leave, go back to Ireland and be with his dying wife.”

  “And he does?”

  “He does.” Mollie thinks of Evelyn again, of the pain she must have felt at the loss of her family, of the man she loved and her chest twinges a bit. At the time, Mollie knew nothing about it. She and Autumn had been friends for a couple of years but the girls had not yet reached that “we must be with each other always” point in their friendships. If they felt that pain, both Autumn and Evelyn kept it to themselves. “By this time Declan’s almost legal, sixteen or seventeen, I think, and Joe steps in, takes care of him and Moira dies. Joe figures that Evelyn won’t have him back and so he stays with Declan for eight years.”

  “Until they come here?”

  “Yeah, I’m not real clear on that part.” That’s something that Autumn never really spoke about, neither had Declan. She didn’t know what happened during those eight years and never felt it was her place to ask. “I know Declan was in Utah for a while and then later, after he came here, Joe followed.”

  “Why then? Why not before?”

  “I guess because of the accident.” Vaughn frowns, confused. “Couple of years ago, Evelyn and Autumn get t-boned by this huge truck. Evelyn dies instantly and Autumn almost loses her leg. In fact, she almost died herself.” Mollie takes a breath, thinking about that time, how scared she was, how close they’d all came to losing Autumn. A weird, sudden shudder works up her spine. “It was bad.” Her voice is low, soft and Mollie’s eyes unfocus as she remembers Autumn in the hospital, bruises and scrapes covering her body and her leg rigged up and extended in the air. “It was really the worst thing we ever went through,” she says, a bit louder, voice clearer. “I guess Joe heard about Evelyn’s death and didn’t want Autumn to be without any family.”

  “And Autumn and Declan?”

  She smiles. “They were so stupid. So annoying. He was a total asshole to her at first and then her ex comes back and Declan hated him, hell, we all did, and I suppose by that time Declan wanted her.”

  Mollie looks at Vaughn, thinking about how desire can shift your behavior; how it clouds all logical thought and reason. How, she hopes hers won’t undo whatever it is between them. Vaughn hasn’t touched her, not since that night in the hotel. For two days he’s stayed away from her, willingly not looking too hard at her, certainly not getting close enough to touch her. It all changed that night in his sister’s office. Mollie knows Viv told him something and whatever that something was, had put Vaughn off of touching her.

  When he seems to catch himself looking a bit too long at her, Vaughn returns his gaze to the road. “But Declan didn’t know that Autumn was Joe’s daughter?”

  Mollie isn’t surprised at the reaction, doesn’t bother responding to his quick deflection. “Nope. And when he found out, Joe made him swear he wouldn’t tell her. It caused a lot of grief.”

  “I bet it did. And now they’re all one big happy family?”

  “Yeah. They are. Joe had a heart attack. He almost died and it brought them all together. It wasn’t all hugs and kisses, but they got over it.”

  “So really all that was Joe’s fault?”

  “Yeah, but Joe’s a good guy.” Mollie doesn’t like the quick snap of Vaughn’s gaze or how the expression on his face tells her he thinks she’s a little naïve. She was used to that reaction. Mollie and her friends garnered the same look by association. Their classmates just didn’t understand about Declan and Autumn, thanks in part to Heather and Tucker—the two people who wanted Declan and Autumn apart most in the world. “Ever do something stupid to protect someone?” He nods and she wonders about that flash in his eyes. “Well, that’s what Joe was doing. Trying to protect everyone from the past. He just went about it the wrong way. Don’t get it twisted, they’re a family and Autumn and Declan, well, for them family is everything. Declan only had his mom and then she died. Autumn only had her mom and she died, so for them to be together, sharing a dad, well, it means a lot. It hasn’t been easy, but they make it work.”

  “You said she’s your family.”

  Again, Mollie looks out the window. The girls are her family, all of them. They accepted her, took in this harsh, blunt little thirteen year old girl with a bitchy mom and a father who had landed in prison. They never judged her, never questioned why she was still so loyal to her father. People accepting you despite your flaws, loving you sometimes even more because of them? Yeah, Mollie thought. That’s family. “She is. All of them are. We sort of became an instant family when we were kids. To Autumn, family is everything, same with Deco. That’s why he’s so protective of us.”

  “I thought he wanted you.” Mollie makes a face and mocks a gagging sound. “What?”

  “I’m not blind. Declan’s gorgeous, but ugh, no. That’s never, ever going to happen. Besides, those two were married the day they met. Well, after he got over her kneeing him in the balls.” Vaughn barks out a laugh, and stares at Mollie as though she can’t get away without telling him how her sweet, gentle friend was able to cripple Declan with one knee to the groin, but then the gates of the prison come into view and the pleased smile on Mollie’s face disappears. “That’s another story for a different day.”

  The gate is large, a steel structure with looming lines of razor wire and fencing that circles the prison. Vaughn and Mollie pass over their I.D.s and a fat guard with tight buttons threatening to pop off his gray shirt waves them through. Three sharp turns and they are parked in the center row staring up at the dark gray building. Dread collects in Mollie’s stomach. It always does when she visits this place.

  Vaughn’s hand rests on the door handle and Mollie can feel his gaze moving between her face and the mammoth building in front of them. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  “Yeah… why?” She didn’t realize she was staring straight ahead, eyes losing focus as she tries to guess what her father would tell her today.

  “It’s been a while, right? When was the last time you saw your dad?”

  “A year.” She turns toward him, resting back against the headrest. She just needs a moment; a small pause before she faces her father. “A little over that, actually.” She takes a breath, eyes back through the windshield again. “I hate it here.”

  “That’s not surprising.”

  She looks away, blocking out the building and Vaughn next to her who speaks to her with his voice easy, with a concern that vanishes any distance he’s shown her for the past few days. Outside her window a slim woman with tight curls drags along a young boy toward the prison. Visiting day was always like this: mothers pulling their kids inside, parents old or aging taking quick steps to their sons, waiting for a visit that’s monitored by guards in gray uniforms. There was little privacy, little ease in these visits, bu
t most families managed a smile, seem to take the small moment of comfort despite the unwelcoming air of the prison.

  “He doesn’t laugh anymore.” Mollie tries to remember the last time she heard an honest, genuine laugh from her father. It had to be before he went away. “I haven’t heard my dad laugh in ten years, not really. He’ll chuckle, he’ll find something funny, but it’s not the same.” She runs her finger along the window seam, feeling the cool chill that has covered the summer heat. “Like he doesn’t really mean it.”

  In the back, to the left, the concrete yard is visible. Vaughn watches a group of inmates, some shirtless, some sweating with bodies that shine against the sunlight, playing basketball. Periodically, an inmate will look toward the parking lot, eyes searching, hopeful, like tigers itching to be released from a confining cage. “I can’t imagine this place offers much room for laughter.”

  “No. I don’t guess it does.” Mollie takes another breath, steeling herself. “Let’s go. They’re not going to give us much time.”

  Vaughn is walking just a step behind, not touching her, not leading her and the distance barely registers as they move through one gate with an intercom system, controlled remotely by the guards within, then into the lobby of the visitation room. Vaughn will be unable to get beyond this point, Viv told them that much, but for the first time in ten years, Mollie will have a private room with her father. Viv didn’t want the guards knowing that her brother would be there; she was still so suspicious of anyone knowing what Mojo was doing for them. But the Warden was a friend of their father’s who owed her a favor.

  When Mollie reaches the last guard station, with cameras moving in every conceivable corner of the room and guards glancing at each visitor as though they are suspicious, she pauses for the metal detector, then turns when a wand moves over her body. She sees Vaughn beyond the glass, watches the way he eyes her, how he attempts a comforting smile before he sits on a chair just near the entrance.

  A guard bigger than Vaughn, uglier, with less confidence in his stride, leads Mollie to a private room down the cement hallway and she waits for her father. The table is a solid poured piece of metal that is bolted to the floor. Stools, also bolted to the floor, surround the table; no cushions, no comforts at all and there are no walls of glass or mirrors, no closed circuit cameras to afford the authorities a glimpse into what goes on in this room. Deals, pleas, the usual business of getting someone out of this place, or keeping someone in, all happen in this room—it’s were the attorneys meet with their clients.