by Lisa Bingham
“Aw, hell,” Jace muttered, bringing his own truck to a more controlled stop next to the spot where the skid marks disappeared off the side of the road. Behind him, he heard the semi’s air brakes whining as the driver attempted to stop on the opposite shoulder. Grabbing his phone, Jace called the county dispatcher to report the accident and request an ambulance, then jumped out of the truck, grabbing his medical kit from the back.
His boots sent a shower of gravel down the embankment as he scrambled toward the spot where the sedan had landed, inexplicably, right side up. The hood was dented and askew, the driver’s-side door was a mangled heap of metal in the middle of the creek, and Phillip was nowhere to be seen.
“Damnit,” Jace muttered to himself. How had the bastard managed to escape a rollover and still have the strength to run?
But then, Jace heard a low moan. Veering toward the sound, he saw a pair of battered trainers poking out of the matted underbrush.
Altering his path, Jace waded through the weeds to the spot where Phillip lay, stunned but conscious. Dried blood caked his face from where Jace had punched him, but there were newer streaks and smears from a gash on his forehead and a dozen smaller cuts and abrasions all over his face.
Phillip looked up, a flare of relief touching his eyes, then a hint of panic when he recognized Jace.
“I should leave you here to the buzzards,” Jace growled. But he moved forward, crouching in the grass and opening his kit.
Phillip tried to rear back, but hissed and became still again, his eyes squeezing shut. He panted softly and Jace figured the man had broken ribs to add to his other injuries.
“Jace!”
He recognized Bodey’s voice and quickly shouted in return, “Down here!”
From above, he heard his brother skidding down the slope, so Jace leaned down toward Phillip.
“You’re a lucky man, Cupacek. If you weren’t injured and bleeding, I’d probably beat the shit out of you myself.” Knowing his time was limited, Jace leaned closer, his voice adopting an ominous, steely thread. “But if you ever do anything—anything at all—to hurt Bronte or her girls again … I will kill you. Then I’ll put your body somewhere even the buzzards won’t be able to find you.”
Again, Phillip’s eyes widened and he began to tremble violently. But this time it wasn’t just from his injuries and the need for a fix.
*
BRONTE added a notation to the margins on the latest poem she’d written, then looked up, her gaze scanning the yard and the lane again. It was growing late and Kari hadn’t arrived home from school yet. Since getting her phone, she’d been so good about telling Bronte if she was going somewhere, but today, there’d been no word.
Sighing, Bronte shoved her notebook back into her bag, knowing that she wouldn’t be writing any more today. Not when her nerves were jangling and an aura of dread seemed to hang over everything she did.
The days since Phillip’s appearance had begun to run together for Bronte. At P.D.’s insistence, she hadn’t gone to work but spent her time at home, tending to her grandmother and Lily, and trying to patch up the recent damage that Phillip had flung their way.
There were interviews with the police, calls with her lawyers, appointments with a pediatrician, counselor, and other crisis professionals. Through it all, Bronte was never alone. Either P.D. or Helen or one of Annie’s friends would arrive to offer whatever support she needed. Her freezer mysteriously filled with casseroles, and if she arrived home late, there would be one waiting in the oven.
With only two weeks of school left, Bronte spoke to Lily’s principal and teacher and arranged for her daughter to receive her lessons through a “homebound” instructor, who visited Lily every other day. Bronte didn’t know if the lessons were of much use since Lily had sunk back into the same silent depression that had plagued her for weeks. The only difference was that Bronte knew the cause.
No, that wasn’t the only difference.
Lily was also refusing to see Barry.
Bronte knew that Lily’s self-imposed silence was devastating to Barry. P.D. had told her that Jace had tried to explain the situation to him. But each time the boy rode to the house after school and Bronte was forced to turn him away, it was clear that he didn’t understand. He only wanted to help. He promised that he wouldn’t even talk to Lily; he’d merely hold her hand.
More than anything, Bronte wished her daughter would talk to Barry. Maybe he could do something for Lily to ease her pain.
But then, Bronte supposed she wasn’t being much better than Lily. Several times, Jace had tried to call or text, but Bronte hadn’t answered. Not when, in one awful day, her husband had completely shaken the foundations of her new life. She was no longer confident about her ability to make proper decisions. Where mere days ago, she’d been sure that coming to Bliss, beginning a new life, and becoming involved with Jace had all been positive events, now she wondered if she’d tried to do too much, experience too much, when she should have been focusing on her daughters.
Even more unsettling was the fact that Jace had been witness to the very worst that her life had to offer. And even though she hadn’t planned on keeping anything a secret from him, she had thought she could make those revelations on her own time and in her own way.
Which left her feeling emotionally naked and unsure of herself. She wasn’t sure she was ready to discover Jace’s reaction to everything he’d learned about her. She didn’t think that she could bear it if he thought less of her. Even though there was a part of her that whispered she should call things off with Jace—or at least cool things down—she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t know how she would carry on if he wasn’t out there, waiting in the wings.
*
IT was getting dark when Jace pulled the empty feed wagon to a halt next to the shed and jumped from the cab of the Case 290 tractor. As he strode toward the house, he noted that there weren’t any lights on in the Big House—not that he’d expected any. Bodey had gone on the road early that morning, beginning his season of competitive cow cutting. When Barry had come home dejected after another failed attempt to see Lily after school, Elam had invited him to stay overnight at his cabin.
Which left Jace alone.
He ruefully shook his head. Two months ago, he’d bemoaned the fact that he never had any time to himself. He’d thought that some solitude and self-indulgence would solve all of his problems.
Now he was beginning to realize that his analysis of the problem had been fairly shallow. Instead of looking to the roots of his discontent, he had erroneously decided that, in order to be happy, he needed to return to one of the happiest periods of his life.
Despite his reasons for leaving home and escaping to Europe, it truly had been an adventure. Not only because he’d traveled to exotic locations, eaten new foods, and saturated himself with art and culture, but it had also been a time of self-discovery. He’d learned the length and breadth of his endurance, emotionally and physically. He’d tested his abilities to solve problems and organize creative solutions. He’d been hyperaware of every moment because he didn’t want to waste a single experience.
In the process, he’d discovered that there was a season to every exploit in life. By the end of the two years, he’d known that it was time to come home. Time to begin a new adventure: returning to his birthplace to perfect his role as a rancher and a son.
But even as that decision had been made, Fate had other ideas. His parents and little sister had been killed, his youngest brother injured, and Elam …
Well, Elam had been flung into his own brand of hell.
Somehow, they’d all managed to fight their way back to a form of happiness again. For a time, the ranch responsibilities had been enough for Jace. He’d been content. He’d been challenged. Only in the last year or two had the dissatisfaction begun to grow.
Looking back on it now, Jace realized that part of his problem had come from ignoring the fact that work would never be enough.
His brother Elam was a physical man. He loved running, shooting, and working out. After joining P.D. for last year’s Wild West Games, it was clear that he’d like to try his hand at winning again.
Bodey lived to compete—cow cutting, Single Action Shooting Society, even women.
Jace …
Well, Jace needed to create—whether it was the perfect field of corn, or an iron sculpture. Now that he’d allowed his artistic nature free rein again, he was discovering that it gave him a new way of viewing his surroundings, infusing everything he did with a measure of joy.
But even that wouldn’t have been enough if Bronte hadn’t walked into his life.
It wasn’t until he’d met her that he’d realized that his unhappiness had begun when Elam and P.D. had become a couple. Subconsciously, he’d begun to long for that same kind of connection, that sharing of minds and emotions and bodies. He didn’t want to play the field, didn’t want to be lined up, didn’t want to do the bar scene.
He wanted to belong.
He’d had a taste of that with Bronte. He still longed for that with Bronte.
But he was out of his depth here. He didn’t want to push her—and he certainly didn’t want to scare off her children. He just needed her to know that he was here for her.
“Mr. Taggart?”
As if summoned from his own imagination, Jace thought he heard a familiar voice. But when he glanced up, it wasn’t Bronte who sat on the shadowy porch swing. It was Kari.
“Kari,” he said softly, stopping when he saw the way she gripped her arms in front of her. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, then bit her lip. In that unconscious gesture, she looked so much like a younger version of Bronte that his heart twisted in his chest.
“How’s Lily?”
She lifted her shoulder in a shrug.
“Is Annie doing okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. They’ve got a physical therapist coming to help her learn how to get around.”
Jace stopped, not wanting to crowd Kari by getting too close. Her tension was palpable even from several feet away.
“How about your mom?”
“She’s …” Kari rolled her eyes, but for once, the gesture wasn’t one of teenage pique, but more a quick self-reflection. “I don’t know.”
“Can I help you with something?”
Kari rubbed her hands on her jeans, then stood. “Actually, I came for a couple of reasons.”
When she didn’t immediately continue, Jace said, “Okay.”
“First, I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Jace couldn’t think of anything he’d done to deserve Kari’s approval. When he remembered the way he’d lost his temper and nearly broken Phillip’s nose—right there in front of Kari and Lily—he winced.
Kari’s chin tilted and she forcefully stated, “I want to thank you for punching my dad.”
Jace couldn’t help a burst of ironic laughter. Whatever he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Maybe,” Kari said. “But I’m glad you did. It’s what I wanted to do.”
She looked down at her toes, seeming to mull something over in her mind. “Are you busy?” Before he could answer, she hurriedly added, “I mean, I know you’re probably busy, but … could I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure.” Jace gestured to the house. “But it’s getting chilly out here. Why don’t you come in where it’s warm.”
Her relief was apparent, making Jace wonder how long she’d been waiting. With a storm front moving in, the temperatures had dropped about twenty degrees in the last couple of hours.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as he opened the door.
Kari stepped into the hall, glancing suspiciously over her shoulder. “That depends on what you’re offering. I don’t think I could face another casserole.”
Jace chuckled. “How about a hamburger?”
She looked like he’d proposed a filet mignon after a weeklong fast.
“I’d love a hamburger.”
Jace led her through to the kitchen.
“Does your mom know you’re here?”
Kari shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Mind if I let her know?”
“I guess not.”
Removing his phone from his pocket, Jace quickly texted Bronte—realizing that it was the first time he’d done so in several days. When Bronte hadn’t responded to his overtures earlier in the week, he’d told himself that he wouldn’t bug her until she reached out to him. Now, he was relieved to have an excuse.
Kari my place. Wants 2 talk. I’ll make her burger then bring home.
The response was almost immediate.
Thank you! Been worried.
There was no personal addition to her text, but Jace refused to worry about that now. At least the silence between them had been broken.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it and his hat on the hook by the back door. Then he checked the refrigerator.
As usual, there weren’t a lot of choices there, but a package of beef patties had been left on a plate to defrost. He had buns and condiments galore, lettuce, and most of a tomato. After placing the burgers in a frying pan, he rounded up a bag of chips and grabbed some corn from the freezer.
Sensing that Kari didn’t want to talk about anything serious until the cooking was done, Jace asked her about school and her friends. Since he knew so many people in the valley, he was subtly trying to determine if she was hanging out with a fairly responsible crowd. So far, he could tell that she’d collected a pretty good group.
“If you or your friends would ever like to go riding, let me know. There’s a path heading into the mountains above Elam’s cabin. It’s a fairly easy ride. There’s a clearing toward the top with an artesian spring where you can get an icy-cold drink of pure water and have a picnic lunch. Then, on the way back, there’s a watering hole in the creek where you could cool off. It’s not too deep, but it’s still fun.”
“Really?” Kari’s burger hung in midair. “I know you said I could do that before, but … You’d really let us do that?”
“Sure. Why not? We might not have Starbucks and a subway, but there are some great things to do, especially in the summer.”
She set her nearly finished burger down on the plate. “Did my mom tell you that?”
Jace frowned. “Tell me what?”
“About the Starbucks and the subway?”
He shook his head. “I’m not following. I don’t remember your mother saying anything about that.”
Kari pushed her plate away. “My mom wanted to bring us here ever since we were little. But every time she brought up the subject, my dad would say that any place without a Starbucks and a subway wasn’t worth seeing.”
“No. She didn’t tell me that.”
Kari twisted her glass, watching the milk make cloudy designs against the sides. “When we came here, I gave her a hard time. I kept thinking that if Dad didn’t like it … why should I?”
Jace knew better than to comment. He merely nodded to show he’d heard.
“I was pretty wrong, huh?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Everyone gets nervous when they experience something new. I can’t imagine that it was easy to pack up everything and come to Utah. Especially so close to the end of the school year.”
“Yeah. I was pissed.” When she looked up, it was easy for Jace to see the remorse in her eyes. “Why would my dad let that creep do that to my sister?”
Her change of subject was so abrupt that Jace nearly missed its significance. But he took the time to think about his answer carefully. “Your father … has a serious drug problem,” he countered instead.
Kari scowled. “It’s pretty obvious, huh? I think my mom tried to shield us as much as she could, but it’s not hard to see what’s going on when you walk in on your dad and he’s stoned. Even the other day, I could see he was starting to tweak. He wouldn’t have made it a
nother twenty minutes without a fix. But that’s not an excuse for what he let happen to Lily. It’s not like he’s stupid. Geez, the minute Lily told him what was going on, he should have done what you did to him. He should have run up to Jeremy and hit him in the face.”
Clearly, Jace wasn’t going to live that event down anytime soon.
“You’re right. He should have done something. Right then. Right there.” Jace proceeded as carefully as he could. “Your father loves you both—”
“He loves his drugs more!” Kari interrupted forcefully.
Jace dipped his head, conceding to her point. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t change.”
“Get clean, you mean.”
“That would be a start.” He sighed. “I’m not an expert on any of this. I know that addiction is incredibly complicated—and there are no easy answers on how to overcome it. I wouldn’t presume to tell you how you should think or feel about the way your dad has … let you down.”
Kari’s eyes grew bright with unshed tears.
Jace leaned forward to rest his weight on his forearms. “But there is something that maybe I can speak about with some certainty. And that’s what it means to be a man.”
She blinked up at him and somewhere, deep inside of her, he could see the scared girl hidden behind her teenage bravado.
“A man takes care of his loved ones. He doesn’t hurt women and he doesn’t hurt children. He fights like hell to keep them safe and if something or someone threatens their well-being, he does everything he can to protect them. If he somehow screws up, a real man admits his mistake and makes things right.”
As much as he hated to even speak of the prick, Jace forced himself to say, “Maybe one day, your dad will find a way to get clean and get better.”
“And man up?”
“Yeah,” Jace said softly. “I think you deserve that much, don’t you?”
She nodded, a tear plunging down her cheek.
“Just don’t judge every male you meet too harshly, okay? Some of us are trying our best to be among the good guys. If you’ve got a boy that needs vetting, my brothers and I would be happy to stand in as your welcoming committee.”
