Michael chuckled. “I can promise you, Cody MacCarron is the least lonely dog in Langley Park. Kate Fisher walks him almost every day. And she brings you treats, doesn’t she old boy?” He patted the dog’s protruding belly.
Em and Michael untangled their bodies, and Cody pranced around the room. Michael adjusted his pants and looked at his watch. “Christ, it’s past six o’clock. Let me put Cody back in the house. Kate must have left his dog door open.”
Em finished dressing. “I’ll go with you. I haven’t been inside your house once since I got back.”
Michael’s shoulders tensed as he pulled his T-shirt over his head.
“What is it?”
“The house isn’t in great shape.”
She took his hand. “You know I don’t care about that.”
Sensing it was time to go, Cody scurried through the carriage house doggy door and bolted toward the main house. Michael tightened his grip on her hand as they neared the front door.
Michael’s American Foursquare was nearly a carbon copy of hers except instead of red brick, his was a muted lemon yellow color. As a girl, she had known it like the back of her hand. Mrs. MacCarron always kept sweets hidden away in a drawer under the dishtowels. She and Michael would tiptoe their way into the kitchen, slide the drawer open, and swipe the treats like cat burglars on a big-time heist. She smiled as the memory grew warm in her chest. Mrs. MacCarron must have known what they were up to. Knowing her, she probably left the sweets there on purpose.
She entered the foyer and stopped in her tracks. Just like in her home, the staircase was situated directly in front of the foyer. Except, the staircase in the MacCarron house was wrecked. The handrail was missing, and slats of espresso-stained wood that once served as the steps sat in a pile. Someone must have come through and tried to fix the missing stairs, but they’d used regular plywood giving the structure a misshapen quality like a child’s art project.
“What happened to the staircase? Did you do this?” Em asked, spotting the espresso posts resting against the wall.
“No, this was all my dad.”
“Why did he do this? Was he trying to repair something?”
Michael didn’t answer. He walked past her and into the kitchen. A low mechanical hum pulsed for a few seconds, and Cody let out a high-pitched whine. Doggy dinnertime.
Em crouched down and took a closer look at the slats. The boards were sharp and ragged as if someone used a crowbar to yank them out of place.
Michael came out of the kitchen and crossed his arms. “I told you the place was a mess.”
“This isn’t a mess. This is…”
“Insanity?” he offered.
She met his gaze but didn’t take the bait. She remained quiet, giving him space to talk.
“Want to sit?” Michael asked and tilted his head toward the living room.
She followed him to the love seat.
“I knew something was off with my dad after my mom passed away. He’d forget little things, a meeting here, a filing deadline there. I told him he needed to hire a legal secretary. But you know my dad, he liked doing it all himself. He prided himself on being self-sufficient.”
Michael wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close. She rested her head against his chest, feeling his throat constrict as he swallowed.
“He didn’t come into the office one day. I called the house, but he didn’t pick up. I had to cover all of his meetings as well as my own. So, I wasn’t able to stop by the house until late. When I got here, I walked into this,” he said, his gaze locked on the staircase.
“What was he doing?”
Michael’s embrace tightened. “He was looking for my mom. He thought she was trapped under the stairs. I walked in, and he looked so relieved to see me. He said, ‘Michael, we have to help mom. She’s been calling out to me all day. She’s stuck under the staircase.’”
Em laced her fingers with his. “What did you say?”
“I tried to tell him mom was dead, but he just stared at me like I was crazy. He became belligerent, started ripping off the railing, hitting the posts with an ax like a lunatic. I watched him for the better part of an hour.” Michael let out a weary breath. “Finally, I decided to help him. I figured, if I helped, I could try and take the stairs apart without completely damaging them. So that’s what we did until my dad ran out of steam and passed out on the sofa. I moved back in with him two days later.”
Em squeezed his hand. She had been so wrapped up in her anger, she never once asked her father about Michael; and, when her father had made even the briefest comment about Langley Park, she would change the subject.
A sickening lump ripe with shame and guilt weighed heavy in her chest. “I’m sorry I never reached out to you, Michael.”
He rested his chin on her head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. You know my dad’s reputation. He was a legend. People loved him. People trusted him with everything: their money, their dreams, their secrets. I wasn’t about to let anyone know that E. Noland MacCarron had fucking lost his marbles.”
“What did you do? I mean, you had to know that he couldn’t work?”
“I took it all on. It was a slow decline. At first, it was just these crazy episodes. He would come into the office and seem like his normal self, then I’d look at whatever he was working on, and it would be gibberish. I started giving him pretend clients so he could feel like he was working.”
“Oh, Michael,” she said, pulling back from his embrace to meet his gaze.
He gestured to the dining room table stacked with papers. “Today was the first time I’ve slept past five in the morning in years. I’ve been working my ass off, first to keep my father’s condition a secret, and now, to keep the firm going. My dad doesn’t even recognize me, but I don’t want to let him down. Law was never my dream, but I’ll be damned if I let the MacCarron reputation go to shit.”
Em understood. She was just about to tell him that when a framed photograph on the coffee table caught her attention. She stared at two young women reclining side by side in Adirondack chairs on the MacCarron’s porch. Each woman was holding a tiny bundle. The words Better Together were written in her father’s handwriting across the top of the photo.
Em picked up the photo. Her mother had a copy of it sitting on a shelf in her study half a world away. Years ago, Em had moved the pictures around, obscuring this photo behind books and knickknacks, so she didn’t have to look at it. But she always knew it was there.
Michael traced his mother’s smiling face with his fingertip. “I’m glad you’re back, Em.”
“Me, too,” she answered as a tremor of disbelief passed through her because it was true. She was glad to be home, glad to be with Michael. All her jagged edges smoothed out when she was in his arms.
He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”
Em closed her eyes. His words washed over her in a wave of spearmint lemongrass bliss, but her empty stomach replied before she could. The loud lurch of sound emanating from her stomach made her gasp with embarrassment. They had spent most of the day in the carriage house without breaking to eat. Her belly wasn’t pleased.
Michael laughed an easy laugh and gathered her back in his arms. “Let’s get some dinner. We can’t let Langley Park’s Wunderkind starve.”
She broke free of Michael’s hold and tried to give him her best “screw you” stare, but they both broke out into giddy laughter when her stomach growled again. This time, the sound was even louder. Em wrapped her hands around her stomach.
Michael lifted her off the couch and threw her over his shoulder. “Come on, growly bear. It looks like you can’t survive on sex alone. Let’s get some food into you.”
She pounded his back and laughed as her stomach let out another chorus of growls.
* * *
“MacCarron! We need you to break a tie.”
Em and Michael hadn’t even passed through the thre
shold of Park Tavern before someone was calling out to Michael. She scanned the restaurant. A few patrons sat at the bar while a group of men sat at a high-top table. She recognized Zoe’s brother, Ben Fisher, and Sam Sinclair, but she didn’t know the other two men.
Michael leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Looks like we walked in on the weekly meeting of the Star Wars Rebel Legion.”
“The rebel what?” Em asked, but Ben was quick to break in.
“MacCarron, you know very well we’re not part of The Rebel Legion.”
Michael chuckled and shook his head. “The Rebel Legion is a group of Star Wars super fans who like to dress up and creep people out.”
Ben threw Michael a mock incredulous glare, then met her gaze. “Michael’s got it all wrong, Em. From time to time, we get together and talk Star Wars.”
“Or Jenna kicked Ben out of the house for making her ears bleed listening to all of his Star Wars theories,” Sam said, laughing and flinching as Ben gave him a playful punch to the arm.
Sam wrapped her in a bear hug. “It’s good to see you, Em. I was wondering when you’d come to say hello.”
Em’s chest tightened as she stared up at the gentle giant who had been like a big brother to her with his unruly auburn locks and warm smile.
“And I see you’ve dragged my good-for-nothing little cousin away from work. Way to go,” Sam added and slapped Michael on the back.
“Your ugly mug couldn’t do that, that’s for damn sure,” Michael shot back with a cheeky grin.
Sam gestured to the table. “Let me introduce you to the other non-members of the Rebel Legion.” He nodded toward a man with short cropped hair. “This is our Peace Officer, Detective Clayton Stevens.”
“Just Clay will do,” the man said, shaking her hand.
“And our resident Amelia Earhart, Nick Kincade,” Sam added, slapping the back of a man who looked more like a movie star than a pilot.
“Are you the Nick that Sam met the summer he built schools in Honduras?” Em asked.
“That would be me,” Nick answered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Em.”
“Captain Nick flies airplanes for UPS. So, if one of your packages gets lost in transit, it’s probably this guy’s fault.”
Nick shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I take from this guy. If it weren’t for all the free beer, I’d be…”
“You’d be where, Kincade?” Sam asked, eyes dancing. “Over at The Scoop grabbing a soft serve with six-year-olds?”
Nick glanced out the window, weighing the option. “You know, a triple scoop doesn’t sound too bad.”
Sam shook his head. “Well, if you go, bring me back a pint of mint chip. In the meantime, I’m going to steal little Miss Mary Michelle.”
Michael met her gaze. “Not for too long,” he said, his green eyes darkening.
“I’ll bring her back in one piece,” Sam said over his shoulder as he led Em over to the bar.
“This place is gorgeous,” she said, admiring the gleaming Cherrywood bar and the rows of spirits glowing gold and amber under the bar’s warm lights.
Sam stepped behind the counter and wiped at a spot with a dishtowel. “It’s a labor of love,” he replied, but his voice had lost its teasing edge.
Sam leaned his forearms on the bar. “I hear you’ve been making trips to Sadie’s Hollow?”
“Zoe told you?” Em shot back.
“Don’t get angry. She cares about you, Em. I know she would do anything to help you.”
“I know. I know you’re right, Sam. It’s just…”
“It’s just that it’s hard to let go of the anger, the disappointment, the loss?” Sam offered.
She nodded. There was no use denying it. “I need to know what happened to me that night.”
“And Michael’s helping you figure that out?”
“Yes.”
Sam stared at the tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves. “That’s good. He needs this. All he does is work his ass off and care for his father. That is not a life.”
Em glanced away, unsure of what to say.
“He needs you, Em. He always has. And I’m pretty sure you need him, too. You two are the great hope of the ginger race,” he added with a wry smile.
“Gingers conspiring to rule the world,” Zoe said, walking toward them.
Sam popped the top off a Boulevard Pale Ale and handed it to Zoe. “Hiding out in the bathroom again?”
Zoe released an exasperated breath. “I love Star Wars. Don’t get me wrong. I mean, I was freaking Princess Leia for Halloween for like five years in a row when I was a kid. But I cannot handle another debate over which order you’re supposed to watch the episodes.”
Ben’s voice carried through the tavern. “You’ve got to watch episodes four through six, first.”
“And then watch one through three,” Nick chimed in. “Otherwise, you miss the big reveal of Luke being Vader’s son.”
Ben and Nick clinked glasses like they’d solved global warming.
“Ben has Star-dar. He can sense a Star Wars discussion anywhere in a five-mile radius,” Zoe said, blowing her big brother an exaggerated kiss.
Sam left the bar and headed for the men’s table. “Dudes! No way! Chronological is the way to go. It’s the natural order. Stevens, MacCarron, back me up, guys.”
Zoe leaned in toward Em. They watched as the table erupted into a heated debate.
“Don’t even mention that Jar Jar whatever—you’ll be stuck here for days,” Zoe said with a shaky laugh.
Em knew that awkward laugh. Her heart twisted knowing that her old friend was nervous.
Zoe pressed on. “Did Sam introduce you to the guys?”
“Yeah, the police detective, Clay, and the pilot, Nick.”
Zoe leaned in. “Did Sam tell you that Nick used to date Ben’s wife?”
“No, he didn’t mention anything like that. I knew Nick was Sam’s friend from a long time ago, but nothing about Ben’s wife. Jenna, right?”
“Yep, that’s her. And, yeah, it’s a crazy coincidence.”
“And they get along?” Em asked.
“Not at first, but, it turns out, Nick is as big a Star Wars geek as Ben. You know guys, within seconds of learning they both camped out to buy the first ticket for the last Star Wars movie, they became buds for life.”
“So,” Em asked, shifting the conversation, “are you and Sam…”
Zoe’s smile fell a fraction, but she pasted it back in place. “We’re great. We’re great friends.”
That wasn’t the whole truth, but Em nodded. She’d seen the way Zoe had been watching Sam on Halloween night. In that brief moment, she knew Zoe’s feelings for Sam went far deeper than just great friends.
A waitress walked up carrying a grilled cheese sandwich. It was toasted to perfection and oozing with melted cheese. She set the plate on the bar along with a chocolate milk. “The guy over there thought you might be hungry. He ordered you this.”
Em looked over at the guy’s table and met Michael’s gaze. He watched her with a wide grin. She shook her head and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Zoe swiped a french fry from her plate. “He remembered your favorite meal. Chocolate milk and all.”
A warm blush heated her cheeks.
Zoe didn’t seem to notice and took a long pull from her beer. “I’m glad I ran into you tonight. I wanted to see how the bridge hunt was going. Anything jog your memory?”
Zoe wanted to help her. She could see the need shining in her old friend’s eyes. “No, we visited a few bridges, but nothing clicked. Something weird did happen, though. Two things, actually.”
Zoe leaned in. “Something you remembered?”
“No, we saw Kyle Benson. He was taking pictures of some of the old gravestones at the little cemetery near Sadie’s Hollow. He said it was for some historic society thing.”
Zoe nodded and swiped another fry. “Now that he’s sort of being groomed to run for state office, I’
ve noticed him taking on more Kansas-centered community projects—probably trying to pad his résumé. But, I’ve got to tell you, I don’t know if he really wants to run for anything. The guy’s pretty content with just taking pictures. It does seem pretty important to his mom. She’ll tell anyone who will listen. You remember her, Nurse Ratched.”
Em chuckled. Her old friend’s blunt humor was bubbling back up to the surface. “Yes, we’ve had a few rocky run-ins since I returned. But she was kind to me the other day. And I know she’s been good to my dad.”
“I’m glad,” Zoe said. “Maybe she’s mellowed out. And the second thing?”
Em gave Zoe a confused look.
“You said two weird things happened when you visited the hollow.”
“Yeah,” Em said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Do you know the name, Tina Fowler?”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “I do. We did a story about her for Kansas Public Radio a few years ago for the ten-year anniversary of her death. If I remember right, she died in a hit and run accident, and they never caught the perpetrator. The little town she was from still raises money for the local 4-H Club. It didn’t make the Kansas City papers when it happened. The town’s done so much to keep her memory alive—that’s what attracted KPR to the story.”
Em’s thoughts drifted. Something about Tina Fowler’s death scratched in the back of her mind.
“What made you ask about the Fowler hit and run?” Zoe asked.
“Michael and I stopped at a diner in Garrett,” Em replied. “We met a waitress who knew the girl.”
“That area has been hit hard. They used to have a cement plant that employed literally everyone who wasn’t a farmer out there. The plant went bankrupt or got closed down. I can’t remember. It happened years ago. Anyway, then this Tina Fowler was killed. She was some kind of golden girl to the community. Her picture is still up in most of the little shops and restaurants.”
“Yeah,” Em said. “You should have heard the waitress talk about her.”
The nagging sensation in her mind had turned into a buzzing hum. Something was there, but she couldn’t harness the thought long enough to process it.
The Sound of Home Page 16
