All or Nothing

by Deborah Cooke

  There might as well have been lions at the door, because entering his father’s retreat had been forbidden except by invitation. Those invitations had tended to be issued to Zach when he was in trouble and summoned by his father to hear his punishment. The trial always occurred in his absence and he was, as far as he’d ever been able to tell, always guilty.

  That wasn’t why he didn’t want to see the room, though.

  His father had killed himself in his study. Robert had stood at his desk, in his military dress uniform, and put his service revolver into his mouth before firing it. Zach knew all of this but hadn’t seen the result.

  His imagination had done pretty well conjuring images all by itself. If he’d been the one to take possession of the house, he would have barricaded off the study, or maybe the whole corridor, or maybe even had this chunk of the house physically removed. It had to be better than cleaning that up.

  But Matt walked straight toward the study, each step making it less and less likely that he could be going anywhere else. When there was no other possible destination and the closed study door loomed at the end of the corridor, Zach halted in the hall. “I appreciate the thought, Matt, but I’m not sure I want to go into Father’s study.”

  “It’s my study now,” Matt said firmly, so firmly that Zach looked at him in surprise.

  “You can work in there? After what happened?”

  Matt paused, his hand on the doorknob. His smile was rueful. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t even come down this corridor for about three months and I never thought I’d willingly cross the threshold again. I was going to therapy—” He nodded to Jen, who was very quiet and still. “I’m sorry, Jen. You’ve been tossed into the middle of this. Our father killed himself in this room. I discovered his body, which was his intention, and met with a therapist for the better part of this year to deal with the shock.”

  “I see,” Jen said softly. “That was probably a good choice.”

  “It was less of a choice than a necessity once the nightmares started,” Matt acknowledged. “Anyway, the therapist said it wasn’t healthy to have this room here, effectively sealed off. She said it would create its own ghosts if we gave it that kind of power, and that we had to reclaim it from tragedy if we were ever going to live normal lives in this place.” He gave Zach a hard look. “It helped me a lot, and both James and Phil have seen it as well. I thought it might be good for you to see it, too.” With that, he threw open the door.

  Zach wasn’t hot to cross the threshold, but Jen tugged his hand. “Chicken,” she said under her breath, softening the word with a smile.

  “Damn straight,” Zach breathed and she chuckled.

  “I promised to protect you.” When she smiled so encouragingly, Zach couldn’t resist her. He folded his hand more tightly around hers, took strength from her surety and followed Matt.

  “Oh!” Jen said. “It’s lovely.”

  It was. To Zach’s surprise, the room had been completely changed. It might have been in a different house altogether.

  The Persian rug was gone, as was his father’s desk and the heavy old oak chairs. The dark green walls had been repainted in a caramel color and the bookshelves had been stripped and stained in a honey tone. The floor was polished hardwood and the new rug was black and gold.

  The desk looked like something from the 1930’s and the swivel desk chair was stainless steel with black leather upholstery. The draperies were lighter and simpler than the old festooned velvet ones had been, just pleated honey-hued cotton.

  He walked around, admiring what Matt had done. The room looked bigger and brighter, and had a positive feel to it. The fireplace surround had been changed to a bronze Art Deco one, maybe salvaged from somewhere, and a modern painting hung over the mantle. It was elegant and chic, updated but not too much of a contrast with the rest of the house. Zach liked it a lot.

  “Was it that bad?” he asked, surprised that they would have had to get rid of all the furniture.

  Matt shook his head. “No. There are services that clean up crime scenes after the police are done, and they did a pretty good job. It was just that the room was so evocative of Father and of what he had done.” Matt smiled and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “I had to kick out his ghost, and you can believe that half-measures weren’t going to evict him from here.”

  Zach smiled. “No, I’d bet not. This is amazing.”

  “It’s very bright, but warm, too,” Jen said, running her fingertips across the top of Matt’s wood desk. “I can imagine that it’s a good place to write.”

  “It is,” Matt said. “I can pull back the drapes and the room is filled with sunshine. You can see all the trees behind the house and hear the birds when the windows are open. Or at night, with a fire, it’s good too. It’s quiet back here and I can put some jazz on the stereo and be in another world.”

  “I like when it snows,” Leslie said, having appeared silently in the doorway. “We light the fire and turn off all the lights, and watch the snow fall.” The couple shared a smile that heated the room a bit and Zach imagined that other activities also happened in this room. There was, after all, a couch upholstered in a nubby caramel cotton that faced the French doors.

  “You’ve claimed the space for your own,” Jen said with a smile and Matt nodded.

  “Exactly.” He sighed and looked around, then met Zach’s gaze. “I hope it doesn’t offend you that we’re making changes at Gray Gables. It’s important to Leslie to make the house her own in some ways, and it was critical to me to reclaim this space from Father.”

  “It’s not up to me,” Zach said. “It’s your house now.”

  Matt smiled. “No, until I pay all of you off, it’s still in joint possession. Given the schedule we worked out, it’s going to take a long time.”

  “You’ll get there.” Zach shrugged. “You needed to be able to carry the debt.”

  “You’re right: we’ll get there.”

  “I think it’s good that you’re making changes,” Zach said, liking the room more with every passing minute. “Houses shouldn’t be museums, Matt. They have to change, to reflect the people who live in them. I like this a lot. I can imagine you here.”

  “Thanks.” Matt frowned. “That’s not the only reason I wanted you to see this, Zach. I believed that it was my fault that Father killed himself and that’s why the therapist said I had to address that.”

  Zach stared at his brother in shock. “But how could you think that?” he demanded. “It was my fault that Father killed himself.”

  “Be serious. I lost the Laforini case that very day—”

  “No.” Zach interrupted Matt firmly. “No, it wasn’t your fault. It was my fault. I called from New Orleans that night. I called from jail to grovel. I called to ask for help after getting myself into a situation that would demand his attention.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, echoing his brother’s pose. “And oh, did I get it.”

  “You can’t think it was your fault,” Matt argued. “You were thousands of miles away. You’d been gone for a couple of years.”

  “No.” Zach shook his head. “You did me the favor of handing out some truth in New Orleans, so let me return the favor.”

  “Okay.”

  “I finally pushed Father too far: that was what he told me on the phone. I had pot in my possession when I was busted; I was trying to sell some to an undercover cop, if you recall, which was the reason why I did get busted. There was no avoiding the truth about my being the black sheep of the family any longer, and he really let me have it on that phone that night.” Zach frowned in recollection. “I really thought he was going to have a heart attack while we were on the phone. He told me that whatever shook out of my stupid prank would be all my fault.”

  Jen came to his side and looked up at him with concern. “So when he killed himself, you blamed yourself.”

  Zach took her hand. “It was only logical.”

  “But wrong,” Jen said. “Suicide is a p
ersonal choice.”

  “Maybe he was fed up with all of us,” Matt said. “He gave me an ultimatum when he summoned me here to meet him. He said we’d never talk about the Laforini case again if I came, which sounded like a pretty good deal. I had no idea that he meant to kill himself while I was driving out here to make that be true.”

  Jen looked between the two of them, her eyes wide and her expression horrified. Zach thought a bit late that she might conclude that insanity ran in his family.

  “Our father was battling depression,” James interjected, stepping through the doorway. Zach could tell from his expression that he’d been listening, that maybe he’d followed along to check on things like the big brother he was proving to be. “Robert didn’t ask anyone for help. He simply solved the issue as he saw fit and left all of us blaming ourselves for what he had done.”

  “Well, that’s not unreasonable,” Beverly said, appearing behind James. “I did leave him and insist upon a divorce, which he found very embarrassing. It certainly put an end to his political ambitions and it wasn’t foolish for me to think myself at least partly responsible for Robert’s choice.”

  “You don’t anymore,” James asked and Beverly shook her head.

  “No. But Robert had a talent for ensuring that everyone felt guilty for his own choices.”

  “And he didn’t like me marrying Nick,” Phil said, easing her way into the room, as well. She bounced her baby on her hip and nodded at Jen. “My father had firm ideas of which kind of people counted and Nick’s family, the Sullivans, weren’t on his list.”

  “But you married him anyway,” Jen said with approval.

  Phil’s lips curved. “I was too much in love to do otherwise.”

  “Good for you.” Jen and Phil smiled at each other in complete understanding. Zach watched and hoped that meant that Jen might be feeling at least a fraction of what he felt for her.

  Meanwhile, Beverly tapped James on the shoulder. “Discovering that you weren’t his biological son was very difficult for Robert, seeing as you were the only one who had followed in his footsteps.”

  “He didn’t accommodate anyone but himself, Mom,” James said quietly. “You can’t blame yourself for what he chose to do.”

  “I know,” she admitted with a sigh and a smile.

  “None of us can blame ourselves,” Matt said with resolve. “He made his own choices.”

  Beverly smiled across the room at Zach. “Just as we have to make our own choices.” They all smiled at him then, seemingly approving of the changes he was trying to make in his life. Jen stood close beside him and he felt as if he really had finally come home.

  Because he was in love.

  He realized as much standing in his father’s study, watching Jen smile, seeing his mother’s cameo on Jen’s finger. He probably should have realized as much sooner, because his feelings for Jen had been driving his actions pretty much since the day he’d met her, but introspection wasn’t one of Zach’s hobbies.

  And in a way, it was more fun to be struck by lightning like this, to be standing on Christmas Day, surrounded by family, and abruptly realize that his heart was gone. It was in the keeping of one Jen Maitland, and she’d have it forevermore, whether she wanted it or not. Even more incredible, Zach knew that what he had done so far was only a tiny increment of what he would do to make Jen happy, or to coax her to love him. He stood there and looked at her, and yearned for her, and knew that everything in his life had led him to this moment.

  Jen glanced up, maybe feeling his gaze on her, and met his gaze. Zach smiled a little and a twinkle lit in her dark eyes. She smiled a small smile that could have been a laser weapon, given its ability to dissolve his few inhibitions from any distance, and he hoped again that the electricity he felt was mutual.

  One thing was for sure: he was going to find out.

  “I love this room,” Beverly said with resolve. “It was always a depressing little hovel, even before Robert did what he did. I could just walk in here and get the blues, probably because it was so oppressively dark.”

  “The French Deco look was your idea, Mom,” Matt acknowledged. “And it was a great one.”

  “Thank you, dear. I’d toast you with a little digestif, but coffee will have to do, at least for me.”

  “You’re doing great, Mom,” James said, squeezing her shoulder.

  “I’ve been forced to do well with all of you watching me like hawks,” Beverly said, but there was laughter in her voice. “It does get easier, although I would love that coffee.”

  “I’m sure it’s ready by now,” Leslie said, then led them all back to the dining room for dessert. When Jen would have followed, Zach snagged her hand. The others continued down the corridor to the kitchen, leaving the pair in the study that had been reclaimed by Matt.

  * * *

  “Do you need a moment alone here?” Jen asked, unable to read Zach’s mood. He seemed quiet and thoughtful, which made her wonder what was in his thoughts. Was he troubled by his father’s study, or by his brother’s renovations?

  “No. I need a moment with you,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  She went willingly, liking his embrace. He didn’t seem as concerned as he had earlier. He smiled down at her and she wasn’t sure what to think. “Are you okay?”

  “Never better.” Zach took a deep breath and nestled her more tightly against him. “So, I’ve been wanting to know, are you the kind of warrior queen who has arcane magical powers?”

  Jen smiled, unable to guess his point but knowing from his playful tone that he was teasing her. “Arcane magical powers like what?”

  He shrugged. “Like spell casting or super voodoo.”

  “Super voodoo?” Jen echoed skeptically. “That sounds like something you could pick up at the brain store. Who could be into super voodoo?”

  “I think you’re pretending ignorance to put me off the trail,” Zach said. “I think you want me to underestimate your awesome powers.”

  “I don’t have any awesome powers.”

  “No? Then explain my family today.”

  “I think they’re nice…”

  “My point exactly. Someone cast a spell on them, compelling them to act like nice, normal people when in reality, they’re bonkers.”

  Jen laughed. “I think you were putting me on about them. I think that they really are nice, normal people. Otherwise, it would be a really complicated trick.”

  “See? They’ve got you fooled.”

  When Jen laughed again, Zach bent and quickly kissed her. She caught her breath in surprise, then kissed him back.

  When Zach lifted his head, he gave a low whistle. “Weapons grade Jockey annihilator,” he teased.

  “Speak for yourself.”

  He grinned wickedly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He winked, then continued in a more serious tone before Jen could say anything. “I think they’re changing, actually. Say what you will, warrior queen, but I think you’re the catalyst responsible.”

  “Be serious! I’ve only met your family today…”

  “Then that’s some potent magic you’ve got in your pocket.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “I meant for me.” He was so serious that she looked up at him. He was watching her, marvel in his gaze, so intent that Jen’s sucker heart skipped a whole bunch of beats. “I love you,” he said and she was shocked into silence.

  Zach bent and slowly kissed her, stealing every thought out of her head with his own persuasive magic.

  When he lifted his head, the intent in his gaze made her knees go weak. His words were husky, convincing Jen that she wasn’t the only one left dizzy by their kiss. “You’ve got some other magic brewing too, warrior queen,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear and kissing her temple.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never had an out of body experience before the other night, but I’m pretty sure I saw Pluto.”

  “I think you were in your body when you w
ere sharing it with me.”

  Zach grinned. “Then maybe you were out of body with me.”

  Jen frowned as if in thought, just to give him a hard time. “I did wonder if that was Pluto on the right, just before the second orgasm.”

  “I wonder whether that’s where it always is,” Zach mused.

  Jen swallowed, feeling audacious and not really caring. “I suppose there’s one way to find out,” she said slowly, watching Zach’s smile broaden. “So, want to see about riding moonbeams?”

  “Are you propositioning me, warrior queen? Or is this a command performance?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No. I’m yours to command.” Zach laced his fingers through hers and led Jen back toward the kitchen. “How fast do you think we can eat dessert and get out of here?”

  Jen felt again that sparkle of anticipation, the lightheartedness that she was coming to associate with Zach’s presence, and she abandoned herself to the moment. “Not fast enough,” she said, laughing at Zach’s rueful smile.

  “You’ve got it in one, warrior queen. I’ll give it forty-five minutes.”

  “An extra orgasm if you manage it in thirty,” Jen dared him.

  Zach slanted her a look. “You’re on. You know, maybe you should look into motivational speaking as a career option,” he teased, and they strolled back to the kitchen together. “Because you’re motivating me in a major way, and I don’t even think you’re really trying.”

  “Yet,” Jen said and he laughed.

  Jen felt radiant with happiness when they joined his family. She wasn’t going to question anything or think too much about anything or allow doubt to ruin a wonderful day.

  She was going to go with this and savor everything that resulted from it.

  * * *

  Zero. An abstract concept, a mathematical trick nicked from the Arabs—did they tell the authorities that nothing was taken?—the digit zero is worthless in itself but adds an order of magnitude to any other digit it joins. 1 becomes 10, 10 becomes 100, quantities gain in magnitude all because naught cozied up next door.

  So, on the one hand, zero makes something from nothing.