“You could have come with us. My mother would have taken you in.”
Tony didn’t doubt the truth of that. Dean had gotten his giving side from his mother. “That was your life, not mine.”
“It could be yours now. You don’t have to be our father. Whatever path you take today is one of your choosing, not anyone else’s.”
Tony put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, the first time he’d ever voluntarily touched him. “I want to be the man Sarah believed I was.”
Dean nodded in understanding, then stepped back and said, “Then clean the fuck up, because you smelled an awful lot better when she was here.”
Tony smiled, lowering his hand and releasing some tension in a short laugh. “That might explain why Melanie has been leaving my food and running away.”
Dean smiled back and joked, “Probably had nothing to do with your foul mood, either.”
“Me? Moody?” Tony looked across at his brother in feigned surprise.
Dean’s smile widened. “Come to dinner at my mom’s house this Sunday. She’d like to see you.”
The automatic refusal died, unspoken, on Tony’s lips. The past only had the power he gave it, and Margery, Dean’s mother, was another part of it that he’d denied for too long. “I’d like that.”
Dean left smiling, probably the only time Tony had ever seen him leave happier than when he’d arrived.
Two weeks after leaving Tony’s ranch, Sarah had just returned from a long, cathartic ride in the fields surrounding Melanie’s parents’ home. Her cheeks were still flushed from the rush of Scooter’s ground-covering gallop. She’d smiled through untacking and brushing him down and was cooling him off by hand, walking him on the dirt road in front of the horse barn.
She missed Tony, but she refused to let herself wallow in the feelings that swamped her when she thought of him. She couldn’t hate him. He’d never been anything but honest with her. She was the one who had invaded his home, practically thrown herself at him, ignored all the warnings he gave her, and then left when she’d discovered that he was the man he’d always claimed to be.
Melanie’s parents, Steve and Cindy, could not have been nicer. They set her up in the attached apartment that they said they’d made for Melanie when she was pregnant. Why she hadn’t stayed there and why they had kept it empty weren’t questions anyone offered to answer, so Sarah didn’t ask. She understood family taboo topics.
For now, she helped their three daughters, all in their late teens and early twenties, do the barn chores and clean up after meals. It never ceased to amaze Sarah that the women in Mel’s family were so friendly, happy, and feminine. The way they did their nails, carefully styled their hair, and pored over fashion magazines gave Sarah an instant rapport with them. Vogue was a language Sarah was fluent in.
Things were comfortable at Steve and Cindy’s home, except when Melanie and Jace visited. The first time had that awkward it’s-been-a-long-time feeling to it. But Melanie kept coming to see Sarah once a week and, although the atmosphere felt strained, at least everyone was civil. Sarah wanted to ask what had happened that made them all so uncomfortable around each other, but she didn’t. I haven’t spoken to my brother since I left Tony’s house, so who am I to judge?
Sarah spun at the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires. Can it be? Has he finally come?
A slap of disappointment was quickly followed by confusion. Her brother, dressed like he was going to attend a board meeting in the city, stepped out of a stretch limo with a cardboard box so large it required both of his arms to carry. Sarah rushed to put Scooter in his paddock and returned to the driveway.
Charlie stopped, still holding the box in front him, his sunglasses too dark for Sarah to be able to predict his mood. “I brought you something,” he said gruffly.
Not the warm greeting some might have offered, but considering how they’d left things, it was a promising start. Sarah pointed to the side door of the house. “Come on in out of the heat. I’ll get you a drink and you can show it to me.”
Inside the small apartment that she was temporarily calling home, Charlie set the box down on the table in the small living room and looked around. The furnishings were mismatched leftovers she’d thought were quaint until he stood appraising them.
“How are you?” he asked, surprising her.
“Busy. I’m writing more than I ever thought I could.” But that’s not what you were asking about, is it? She added, “Sad, but I’m okay. At least, I’m determined to be.”
“Have you heard from him?”
Tears pricked Sarah’s eyes, but she forced a brave smile. “No, but I didn’t expect to.”
Charlie sat down heavily on one of the couch’s thick cushions. “He wasn’t the right man for you.”
Sarah went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of water. She handed one to her brother and sat in a chair across from him. “Maybe not, but it was my decision to make, not yours.”
“I know,” he said, removing his sunglasses and pinching the ridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. “I’m sorry.”
Had Sarah not been sitting, she would have sunk to the floor in shock. Her brother never apologized—ever. She was pretty sure he’d been genetically shortchanged on the ability to. Her voice thick with emotion, she said, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
Pocketing his glasses, Charlie turned to face Sarah directly and said, “And I needed to hear what you said to me at that ranch. I didn’t want to hear it, but I needed to.”
Sarah raised a hand and covered her trembling lips. Silent tears poured down her cheeks as she watched her proud brother reach across all that had divided them. “I went home to see Mom and Dad when I flew back. I asked them for pictures of Phil and any albums they had of us all together. It’s all there in that box. They saved everything.”
Vision blurred with tears, Sarah rushed to the box and opened it reverently. Just as Charlie had said, it was full of photo albums and loose photos in clear plastic bags. She flipped one album open and smiled through her tears at the first photo. Charlie at nine years old and she at five, sitting on a hospital bed posing with their newborn brother, Phil. They looked happy and nervous at the same time, like they were afraid they’d break him.
Sarah wiped one of her wet cheeks and said, “Would you look at them with me, Charlie?”
He crossed the room and put an arm around her shaking shoulders. “For as long as you want me to.”
She and Charlie moved to sit side by side on the couch with the box of photos wedged between them. She showed him the first photo and said, “We really were so young.”
Faced with the evidence of his own youth, Charlie said, “Do you remember how everything made him laugh? It didn’t matter how many times we showed him the same puppet, he was just as amazed by it.”
As they turned the pages of the album, Sarah said, “I remember how determined you were to teach him to walk. And then when he learned to, you were sorry because he followed you everywhere.”
Sarah stopped at one photo and smiled. She and Phil were in a wagon that Charlie had tied to the back of his bike and was pulling up and down the long paved driveway of their parents’ house. “I believe you had two shadows you couldn’t escape.”
Charlie looked at her sadly and said, “I did.”
“What happened to us, Charlie?” Sarah whispered.
His face tight with sadness and shame, Charlie said, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I wanted to be as far away from all of this as I could get.”
“We all did. But running away from it never made me feel better. Pretending it hadn’t happened was slowly killing me.” Sarah hugged the album to her chest, her eyes filling with tears again. “Thank you for this. Ignore the tears. You’ve made me really happy by coming here.”
Charlie lightened the mood by referencing the mascara that was sme
ared across the lapel of his suit coat. “Does that mean this is the last suit Texas will ruin? My other one still smells like lemonade.”
Sarah gave him a playful swat. “You deserved that.”
A glimmer of a smile tugged at Charlie’s mouth. “That was one hotheaded housekeeper.”
Sarah sat back and slapped her leg as she realized something. “Oh my God. You like Melanie.”
“No.”
“She’ll be here for dinner tonight with her son, Jace.”
“I’m not staying.”
“You’re going to run away because you like her. You think she’s pretty.”
“She’s not my type,” Charlie growled defensively.
Sarah laughed. “I know, that’s what makes this perfect. The business tycoon and the cowgirl. Both convinced they don’t need the other. Both determined not to change. Then wham, they fall in love and nothing else matters.”
Eyebrows furrowed, Charlie asked, “Did you hit your head on something?”
“No.” Sarah clapped and laughed again. “Even worse. I started writing romances.”
With a groan, Charlie reached for another album. “Let’s go back to why I’m here.”
The mood had been lightened with jokes; Sarah relaxed back against her brother’s side and opened the second album. “I think you need a woman who is not afraid to threaten you with a frying pan.”
“I think you need to drop it.”
“Okay, but if I’m right, you have to learn to ride a horse.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I’ll make you that double-chocolate fudge cake you always used to ask for when we were little. I’m sure Mom still has the recipe.”
“I’d rather ride a horse. I’ve tasted your cooking.”
Sarah laughed. “That’s low, Charlie. Real low.”
He relaxed, too, and laughed next to her. It was the first time she’d seen this unguarded side of him. “You’re all about facing the truth. Hurts, doesn’t it?” he joked.
No. It actually feels pretty damn wonderful.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Mr. Staten will see you now,” the secretary announced, leading the way to his office.
Tony adjusted the tie he’d worn for the occasion. He wasn’t one to dress up in a suit, but the older man deserved the respect that wearing one would pay him. This wasn’t a conversation Tony thought belonged in the workplace, but since it was the only place Evan Staten had offered, it would have to do.
Tall and white-haired, Evan was an imposing figure even in his late sixties. Tony stood in the doorway of the office, but his hesitation had more to do with the photos of Kimberly displayed throughout the room. Looking at those happy images reminded him of her joy the first time she’d successfully ridden the stallion that would later take her life. She’d been an intense young woman who lived 150 percent in the moment, and he had to admit that the day he’d handed the reins over to her had also been a good one for him. He’d been filled with his own sense of accomplishment, having done what many had said was impossible.
“You coming in or not? When I heard you wanted to see me, Carlton, I wasn’t sure you’d actually have the nerve to show up.”
Tony stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He met the older man’s eyes and said, “I appreciate you seeing me.”
Evan stood and walked to the front of his desk. He picked up a photo of his daughter and looked down at it as he spoke, his face twisting with bitterness. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this moment? In the beginning, I used to fantasize about simply killing you—evening the debt. Only the love I have for my wife stopped me. She couldn’t have borne losing me along with Kimberly.”
Tony took a few steps into the room. He stopped several feet away from Evan and remained silent.
Putting the photo down, Evan looked at Tony, his face set in harsh lines. “I would have ruined you, but you destroyed your own career. You cheated me from even that pleasure.”
Tony nodded, still giving the other man free rein to verbally flog him. It was the least he could do, considering what he’d taken from him.
“When I heard that you’d called, I thought about how many ways I’d tell you what a piece of shit you are. You should be rotting in jail. You don’t deserve to have a life after you took my daughter’s,” Evan snarled. “And you did kill her. I might not have been able to prove it in court, but it was because of your negligence that she died. Yet you sat there in court as if it had nothing to do with you. You couldn’t even look me in the eye. You know why? Because you’re a coward, Carlton.”
Tony inhaled sharply, but he met the older man’s gaze respectfully. His temper was fully in check because this was not about him. This was for Kimberly, and for the father who had loved and lost her. Besides, Evan wasn’t saying anything Tony hadn’t thought himself many times over the past five years.
Evan leaned back against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “What would a man like you think he could possibly have to say that I would want to hear?”
Studying the photo of Kimberly on the wall behind Evan’s desk made what Tony had held in for so long easier to say. “Not a day has gone by since your daughter died that I haven’t thought of her, that I haven’t regretted ever agreeing to work with that stallion.”
Voice full of sarcasm, Evan said, “Sounds like a good burden for a guilty man to carry.”
Tony didn’t deny that charge. “I am guilty, guilty of arrogantly believing I could fix an animal that was clearly dangerous. Guilty of letting my confidence blind me to what I should have seen. Your daughter paid the price for that mistake, and I will carry that truth with me for the rest of my life. Words could never express how sorry I am for what I did.”
Suddenly unsteady on his feet, Evan sank into the chair near his desk. His face went white, and Tony took a concerned step toward him, then stopped. “Should I leave?”
With a harsh shake of his head, Evan looked down for a moment. “I’ve spent a good many years hating you, Carlton.”
“For good reason, sir.”
“I waited for you to pick yourself up and try to rebuild your career. I wanted to destroy you as you’d almost done me.” Evan looked up, referencing the office around him. “I used to care about all of this. I built a business and a reputation from practically nothing. What people thought of me used to matter, but I would have thrown that all away just to take you down.” He gripped the arm of his chair. “My men told me you were drinking yourself to death and hiding up in Fort Mavis. Sounds like you made your own prison.”
Tony met his eyes again and said, “I couldn’t live with the guilt, but I suppose I was too much of a coward to take my own life.”
The old man shook his head sadly. “Dying’s easy. It’s living that takes courage.”
“I haven’t done either particularly well,” Tony said quietly.
Pushing himself to stand again, Evan approached Tony and searched his face with sharp eyes. Finally, he said, “Not many people do. I need you to be guilty, Carlton, or I have to face that Kimberly’s death was likely my fault.”
Tony started to speak, but Evan made a sound deep in his throat and waved a hand to silence him. He picked up another photo of her from his desk, one from when she was just a toddler. “Kim was our only child, and she came to my wife and me long after we’d given up thinking we could have children. She was our miracle. I never said no to her. I should have, but I never did. Spoiling a child feels good at first, but you reap what you sow, and Kimberly was impossible to deny when she wanted something. People tried to tell me about that horse’s history and his reputation, but Kimberly wanted him. Hell, I fired the only man who tried to talk me out of buying him. Told him that if he didn’t have what it took to break that horse, I’d find someone who could. Looking back, Harmon was the only one brave enough to stand up to me w
hen he disagreed with me.”
David Harmon? His manager? Is it possible that David had worked for the Statens and never said a word?
“The man I replaced him with hired you. So you see, I carry my own guilt.”
Normally a man of few words, Tony felt that Evan needed to hear something. “Someone recently told me that there are no winners in a tragedy, only people struggling to survive the aftermath.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard truer words spoken.” Evan nodded sadly and rubbed his hands roughly over his face. When he looked at Tony, he looked older, sadder. “Have you said all you came to say, Mr. Carlton?”
“Yes, sir,” Tony said, understanding the dismissal for what it was. He turned and opened the door, feeling there was more he wanted to say, but not knowing for sure what it was. When he closed the door, he saw Evan still looking down at the photo of his daughter and the sight touched his heart.
I wish to God I knew how to ease his pain.
Instead of immediately driving back to his ranch, Tony found himself pulling into a cemetery he’d considered visiting many times but never had. He knew exactly where Kimberly was buried. He’d always known.
With his hat in his hand, he stood before her headstone and softly spoke aloud. “I’m not a praying man and I don’t know if you can hear me, but there has to be more than this. It can’t all be about what we’ve done wrong and those we’ve let down. Your dad says he gave you everything, Kimberly. Give me something for him.”
Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn) Page 20
