Legacy of Lies

by Jillian David

Shifting to the edge of her seat, she stabbed the stack of papers with her index finger. “Don’t you get it? This discussion matters because your son matters. If he needs help dealing with his mother being gone so that he can continue being a good student and a good kid, I want to get him that help.”

  “Fine. I’ll take care of it.” Blotches of red crept up his neck and face, and a muscle jumped in his neck. Good. Hopefully he felt as uncomfortable with this conversation as she did.

  “I’m not telling you this information so that you’ll simply ‘handle it.’ Zach’s a good kid, but his behavior suggests there is something more going on inside of him that needs to be addressed. I recommend we get Zach in for regular sessions with the school counselor.”

  “Absolutely not,” he gritted out from beneath a tight jaw. “My kid doesn’t need a head shrink.”

  “Okay, welcome to the modern age. They’re counselors, not head shrinks. And it might be nice to have someone for Zach to talk to outside the family.”

  “Son of a— Why would he need that?” He bit off the epithet like he was ripping through a piece of jerky. He froze, brows pulling together. “Is he behaving uh, weird or something?”

  Her head came back. “No, not strangely. Look, Zach’s acting out suggests that he might be internalizing the turmoil of his mother leaving. He may be feeling insecure. If we don’t help him now, he could have problems down the road.”

  “Suggest? Could have? May be? Sounds real definite.” Garrison snorted. “My family and I give him all the support he needs.”

  “Of course you all do. I just—”

  “Is there anything else important that we need to discuss, Ms. Lopez?” The way he said her name ... like it tasted foul.

  Heat climbed her face. How the hell had she lost control of this meeting? No question, the train was well off the tracks. “No, but—”

  The chair scraped backward as he stood, towering over her and the child-sized desks surrounding him. Stunned, she stood with him and circled around her desk.

  “Thank you for your time.” He shoved the hat back on and headed toward the exit as she followed. As he grasped the doorknob, he spun around, his thundercloud expression turning darker. “Say, don’t you date Hank Brand?”

  An imaginary fist tightened around her throat. Did they date? What a joke.

  “I used to. What business—”

  “What? You can pry into my past, but you don’t like that dish served to you?”

  “No, it’s not—”

  “Didn’t you get your teaching job here a year or so ago?” His loud voice cut through the room, loud enough for other teachers or her principal to hear. She fought the urge to shush him.

  “Yes. The beginning of last year.” Before Hank dumped her.

  “Isn’t Hank’s brother, Butch, the principal of this school?” Garrison pressed his mouth into a harsh line.

  “No, that has nothing—” Blood drained to her feet until her head swam.

  He strode back to her until he stood a foot away. “So. Let’s see if I understand. You say my son’s acting out and you think my kid needs professional help to fix him. There are bullies involved, and the principal hasn’t stepped in to help. This same principal whose family doesn’t like mine? That’s pretty damn convenient. Hell, ol’ principal Butch Brand probably wants my kid kicked out of school, out of spite. And this is the same Principal Brand whose brother you were dating? Who probably got you this job? Interesting.”

  Sure, she knew what it looked like. Didn’t matter that her hiring had nothing to do with any family connections and everything to do with her obligation to repay her university loans to the school district. But at the end of the day, all that mattered were appearances, same as before. All her work, useless in the court of public opinion. If Garrison thought her job came from favoritism, other folks thought the same thing.

  “Interesting? No,” she whispered. “Listen, I care about your son. And for your information, I got here on my own merit and hard work, damn it.”

  No one, but no one, had worked harder to climb out of a past full of bad choices and zero family support to create a solid career than Sara had. Now this rancher with his anger issues tried to negate her efforts and accuse her of benefiting from preferential treatment? Not happening.

  As she opened her mouth to rebut him again, his intense golden stare slammed into her like an invisible wall, stopping her in her tracks. All of her muscles locked up. She felt sucked into a whirlpool but couldn’t look away from the swirling gold flecks in his eyes. A roar, like rushing wind, engulfed her mind, and a stabbing pain made her blink back tears. Pressure built up beneath her skull, as if her brain swelled and ached.

  What the heck? Maybe the stress of the day had given her a sudden migraine.

  A brief spasm twisted Garrison’s expression into something like sadness and resignation. Pain creased his brow, and then his features hardened into cold, impassive stone again.

  The throbbing in her head eased by half, and her shoulders clenched, like she couldn’t properly stand upright.

  With the briefest motion, he nodded. “I know what you’ve said is true.”

  As if she would lie about his son? Or her job? What the hell had happened to this guy that he didn’t even trust his kid’s second-grade teacher?

  “Of course it’s true,” she snapped. Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she willed the headache to go away.

  “I’m sorry.” He lifted his hand halfway to her, then dropped it back to his side.

  Funny, it almost sounded like he apologized for her pain. She lifted her head and willed her shoulder and neck muscles to relax. Testing her legs, she made sure they worked before shifting her weight from one foot to another.

  “Mister Taggart, my personal life has nothing to do with my professional life.”

  “You’re right. Again, I apologize.” He brushed his hand over his forehead, almost mimicking her movements. “Now you understand why I feel the same way about you prying into my family’s business.”

  She flattened her palm on a nearby locker for support. “No. It’s not the same. Just because I’m concerned about Zach and my recommendations are unpopular does not make the information less valid. His well-being has everything to do with his history. And my personal life has not a thing to do with any part of this discussion, thank you very much.” Damn it, her voice had started to crack. Stupid nerves. She should have known better than to try to go toe to toe with this man.

  His smile twisted into a cruel sneer. “Sure, your personal life has nothing to do with this discussion, Ms. Lopez. You keep right on thinking that. As for me, I’m going back home to my kid who, by the way, has nothing wrong with him, and I’m going to forget that this unpleasant meeting ever happened.”

  He spun on his boot heel, stomped to the door, and slammed it. As his footsteps faded away, she walked backward and bumped into the edge of her desk in an effort to reach her chair before her legs gave out on her. Slumping in her chair, she put her face into shaking hands. She pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and wiped her sweaty face. Tiny pieces of white tissue balled up and drifted onto her black pants.

  After brushing the remnants of tissue onto the floor, Sara fished around in her purse for a compact. The high color in her cheeks reflected in the mirror had nothing to do with the morning’s makeup application and everything to do with the furious woman staring back at her. Who now had bits of tissue on her forehead. She groaned and flicked the pieces away.

  One day, she’d learn not to react when someone pushed her buttons. One day, but clearly not today.

  Taking several deep breaths, she envisioned her stress levels dropping, but that didn’t stop the tension pulling her nerves to their limits. With any luck, another teacher wouldn’t drop in to investigate the shouting and door slamming.

  She touched up her makeup and snapped the compact shut, tossing it back into her purse. What a day. God, only Monday.

  Even better news: four more mont
hs until the next parent-teacher conference day.

  Chapter 2

  Garrison squeezed the handle of the open truck door like he clutched a roped steer. The familiar scents of the ranch welcomed him home. Dirt, hay, fresh air, and the sting of frigid air that heralded the cold front coming in tonight.

  The Gros Ventre mountains with their snow-topped peaks reached up to the heavy, gray skies. Snow due tonight. Too early this year.

  Shit. He had way too much to do before winter hit. The fresh air soured in his chest, and he let it out with an unhappy whoosh. Outside waited cold and endless work. Inside the sprawling ranch house, with its large, handcrafted logs and glow of light, were more tasks he would rather avoid.

  What the hell was he supposed to do about Zach? Was his son starting to manifest an ability like Garrison’s? Damn it.

  He lurched out of the truck and slammed the door, resting his forehead on the icy metal.

  Son of a bitch, he didn’t have time for psychology mumbo jumbo. Any rational human could see that Zach was perfectly fine.

  Anyone but his nosy teacher.

  Worst of all, he’d bent his own rules today and used his ability to detect the truth back in that classroom—the same ability he should have fully used on his ex-wife last year. But who would have thought his wife would betray him?

  The same guy who thought his son’s teacher would lie to him.

  Hell, he didn’t care how bad Sara’s and his heads had ached afterward; he needed to know if she was telling the truth about Zach and about her relationship with the Brands.

  Damn it all if her aura didn’t glow a bright, confident pink. Not lying. Utterly sincere.

  Sara Lopez. From the hint of a mischievous dimple in one cheek down to her ample curves, she personified everything Garrison wasn’t.

  He had no rounded edges. No gentle approach. No soft touch.

  And he’d hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.

  Wretched power. Good only for invasion of privacy and continuous paranoia. Great.

  So Sara was completely correct: What she did in her spare time was none of his goddamned business.

  Even if he found himself a little curious about her personal life.

  But not jealous.

  He curled his hand into a fist and pressed it into the icy metal of the truck.

  Bottom line: he had doubted someone. Again.

  Sparing a brief glance at the cloud-covered mountains to the north and west, he pushed off the truck. On his way up the steps to the porch, he paused.

  Instead of enjoying the clean mountain air and the lowing of distant cattle, instead of appreciating the handcrafted knotty wood beams and soaring roofline, all he saw was the looming to-do list from hell. And problems. Craploads of problems.

  Stomping up the front porch steps, he pushed open the heavy wood door.

  “Dad!” Zach slid on socked feet as he tried to stop near the front door but missed and bumped into the opposite wall. Seemingly unaffected, he bounced back in front of Garrison and grinned.

  How had he not noticed that his son’s curly, red hair had grown into an unruly mop? Time for a haircut.

  Add another item to the to-do list.

  An invisible vice clamped onto his heart and squeezed. His son wasn’t something to check off a list.

  Zach chattered away as he held on to the living room doorjamb and ran in place on the smooth floor. “Did you meet Ms. Lopez? Isn’t she nice? Did she tell you I got two stars on my art project? Did she?”

  Garrison eased the door closed, placed his hat on the hook, and took a deep breath. An eight-year-old with unlimited energy was a force to be reckoned with. What he’d give to harness that exuberance.

  He rubbed his neck. “Yes, son. She is a very nice lady. Smart, too.”

  “Does she like me?”

  In spite of himself, he smiled. “Of course she likes you.” He crossed his arms. “But she also talked about your behavior.”

  Zach’s open, grinning face crumpled.

  “What behavior?” Zach said. “I listen. I have good marks for staying in my seat. Um, and I only get marked down for talking sometimes.”

  Shit, he sucked at this parenting thing. “Uh, did she ever say anything about you acting up with the other kids?”

  Zach stared at the floor. “No.”

  “Want to try that answer again?” He would not use his ability to find the truth on his own child. Thankfully, he could read his open-book son without the help of any extra powers.

  “Maybe.” Zach slid his socked toe in an arc on the floor. “Some kids aren’t that nice.”

  “Are they picking on you?”

  “Naw.” The corners of his mouth drawing down canceled out the attempt at a light tone. Bony arms peeked out already from the sleeves of the shirt Shelby had bought Zach at the beginning of the school year.

  “Really?” Garrison asked.

  “Well, a couple of kids were kind of mean.”

  “How?”

  “Nothing.” He stared at the floor, puffed out his cheeks, and blew out the air. “They said stuff about how I don’t have a mom.”

  When Zach raised his head, the depth of sadness in his light brown eyes nailed Garrison like a sucker punch to the jaw. How much had his kid been hiding? How much had he dealt with on his own? What kind of father didn’t see how much Tiffani’s leaving had hurt Zach?

  His son toed the base of the wall. “And about not having a mom? That’s crap.”

  Garrison snapped. “Who taught you to swear like that?”

  His son’s head whipped around, and he flushed red. “No one,” he mumbled.

  “Zach ...”

  “Well, Kerr was saying ‘crap’ a bunch when he and Eric were breaking that new horse.” He dropped into a whisper and darted a glance behind him. “They said badder words, too.”

  Damn it, Garrison would have to talk with his younger brother, Kerr, about his language in front of Zach. Again. Add that item to the growing to-do list.

  “So don’t use that word. Just because other people say bad words doesn’t make it right, okay?”

  Zach’s pale brow furrowed. “Okay.”

  “So. What about these kids in school? What happened, and what did you say back?”

  “I said they were dumb, and ...”

  “And what?”

  “And I maybe sort of pushed one of them.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Really did,” he whispered. Even his ears turned red.

  “Remember what we talked about, duck and water?”

  “Yeah, their words are water and I’m a duck, and those words just slide right off me and go into the pond.”

  “So can you work on that more?”

  “Yeah.”

  Even though Zach had agreed with him, why did he feel like his son was still going to slug the next bastard who mocked him? Garrison’s college major was business, not child psychology, damn it.

  Silence stretched between them.

  Zach licked his lips. “So, um, want dinner?”

  Good grief, now his son had to throw him a bone. Garrison wouldn’t win parent of the year any time soon.

  Chapter 3

  They followed their noses through the silent dining room into the bright, cheery kitchen. The moment he set foot on the shiny red-and-white tiles, his spirits lifted. Memories of past meals, family crowded around the kitchen table, chattering and laughing, anchored him to this room. Better times, back then.

  “Hi, boys!” Garrison’s sister, Shelby, blew an orange curl off her forehead and waved the hand that didn’t hold a spatula. She flipped burgers in a skillet and stirred a steaming pot. The sizzling pops and scents of hot, fresh food tantalized his ears and filled his nostrils as his belly growled loudly.

  “No calls? You’re on dinner duty tonight?” he asked. “Thanks.”

  With a grin, she answered, “Yup, stupid hiker season ended a month ago, and the snows haven’t started yet. So search and rescue gets a break before s
tupid skier season starts. I’m technically on call, but it’s unlikely I’ll be needed for another few weeks.”

  Garrison crossed his arms. “No one’s happy you’re still going into the Tetons, especially with the increased earthquake activity.”

  She shrugged. “Even more reason to get in there and help folks. Look, just because some mountain on the West Coast exploded is no reason to assume the Tetons are going anywhere.”

  “The Tetons don’t worry me. It’s the earthquakes kicked off from that caldera of lava next door that sits on a fault line: Yellowstone.”

  When she glared at him and flicked her gaze at Zach, Garrison clamped his mouth shut against any more misgivings. Didn’t matter if she was a grown woman, Shelby was still his baby sister.

  Straightening, she said, “And about dinner? You’re welcome. If I don’t cook once in a while, you all would never get anything green to eat, ever.”

  “Yuck, green stuff.” Zach pulled a face.

  Shelby crossed her eyes, looking even funnier with the wild curls that had escaped her ponytail and framed her face. A fake tuxedo apron engulfed her tall, slim frame.

  “Broccoli.” She raised the spoon in a mock menace at Zach between stirs.

  “Oh, no!” Zach said in a high-pitched voice as he pretended to cower.

  “But with ooey-gooey awesome cheese all over it!”

  His son licked his lips again. Hook, line, and sinker. Shel was pure manipulation when it came to Zach, and Garrison loved her for it. She’d filled in as best she could over the past year after Tiffani left.

  “Cheese! That sounds great, Auntie Shelby.”

  She pressed the ground meat patties with a spatula. “How about you quit your drooling, little man, and set the table?”

  “Okay!” He ran around the kitchen like a dervish, slamming drawers and clanking plates so hard that Garrison cringed.

  Damn, if only he could get that sort of enthusiasm out of Zach. How great would it be if things were easier between them? They would have good, solid father-son talks while riding horses or eating dinner. But good parenting took time and practice.

  Time. Something else he lacked.