Low Country Hero

by Lee Tobin McClain

  At that, both Cash and Liam looked up. Scaring a woman, even accidentally, was no joke to any of them, not with their genetics. “Why would she be afraid of you?” Cash asked.

  “Because she could tell I wanted to know who was visiting her.” Sean waited while Rita, the waitress, poured their coffee. “There was a car outside her place I didn’t recognize. I guess she thought that was intrusive.”

  “Depends on your motive,” Liam said. “Did you want to make sure she was safe, or did you want to keep her away from other men, other people?” They all remembered their father’s insistence that no friends—theirs, but especially, their mother’s—come anywhere near the house.

  “Both,” he growled.

  “Makes sense.” Cash tapped the letter he’d been scanning. His skin was pale. “And apparently you were always like that. She has me pegged, too, and Liam.”

  “Who has us pegged?” Liam grabbed for the letter. “Gimme that.”

  Sean blocked Liam’s arm as Cash held the letter out of Liam’s reach. “Careful!” they both snapped at the same time, too loud, and the murmur of voices in the café died down for a moment. “We only have the one copy,” Sean said in a quieter voice.

  Cash handed the letter to Liam. “From our mom. It doesn’t say much. Seems like she was writing fast.” His voice sounded a little choked.

  “This was in the box?” Liam asked.

  Sean nodded. “In an old dictionary. I guess that’s why we never saw it. I know I didn’t crack a reference book in high school.”

  Liam unfolded the letter carefully. “We could run forensics on this, see if we could find her based on handwriting.”

  “We’re not going to find her,” Cash said.

  “She probably didn’t make it.” Sean forced out the words. “We’ve always thought that.”

  “I want to.” Liam took the letter and scanned it. “She says here that if anything happens, she’ll move heaven and earth to...” He broke off, shrugged, looked away.

  Sean clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder, gave him a rough squeeze. Yeah. It wasn’t like there was much to say about a letter like that. A line about each boy, advice to them based on their personality. She was sorry about their father. She loved them so much. All in messy, scribbled-across-the-page handwriting.

  But it was a link they hadn’t had before.

  “Here you go, boys.” Rita placed a breakfast in front of each of them. “I’ll get you more coffee, too. And—” she pointed at Sean “—ketchup for you, hot sauce for the other two. Right?”

  “You got it.” They all dug in, or pretended to. Liam kept looking at the letter, and Sean and Cash watched him. At a time like this, they both worried about him; he was the youngest, had always been the most vulnerable.

  “Hey, I saw Tony at the Pig again last night,” Cash said before putting a forkful of eggs Benedict into his mouth. He was trying to distract Liam, Sean could tell.

  It worked. “With the Mahoney brothers?” Liam glanced up from the letter.

  “No, he was alone. But the place was full of lowlifes.” Cash shrugged. “Nobody I knew, but a couple of ’em were from out of town. Montana plates.”

  Sean’s entire body tensed. He looked at Liam. “That’s where Anna’s from.”

  Liam pushed the letter away and, just like that, snapped back into police mode. “Why don’t you give her a call?”

  “I would,” Sean said ruefully, “only I don’t think she’ll answer it. She’s pretty mad at me. Could you call her?”

  “Will do.” Liam scrolled through his contacts and clicked. When she answered, he asked, “You okay?”

  There was a rapid exchange, and Sean wished he could hear Anna’s side of it. Liam didn’t tell her about the Montana plates, only that there were some strangers in town, some rumors.

  “Okay, well, call me if anything comes up.” Liam looked up at Sean. “Or even better, call Sean. He’ll be close by.” He clicked off the call. “I did what I could for you, man,” he said, giving him a fist bump. “You’d better live up to it. Keep an eye on her.”

  The hairs on the back of Sean’s neck tingled. He intended to do just that.

  * * *

  THE CAFÉ WAS QUIET, aside from the three brothers talking so intently, so Rita gathered up her courage. No time like the present to finish her talk with Abel. She checked in with her few customers, brought checks and carried out a meal, and then headed into the kitchen.

  Abel’s cleaver moved rapidly over a heap of peeled potatoes, chopping them into small, symmetrical slices. He turned to the grill, drizzled oil from a plastic bottle and then set the potatoes to sizzling. He was picking up a large tin saltshaker when he saw her standing there watching.

  “Want a turn at cook?” he asked, offering her the spatula.

  “No way. Can’t live up to your reputation. But I’d like to talk to you when you get a minute.”

  He shook seasoning onto the potatoes and then gestured to a young guy in a baseball cap. “Keep an eye on these, would you?” Then he waved a hand toward the back door. “We can chat outside.”

  They got out there and he looked at her in that all-knowing way of his. “What’s up, Miss Rita?”

  She forced herself to open her mouth. “Was there anyone with me?” she asked through a tight throat.

  He studied her for a moment and then gave a slow nod. “Yes, ma’am, there was.”

  Her heart leaped. “Who was it? What kind of person?”

  He looked off down the alley and then back at her. Patted her shoulder with a long-fingered, bony hand. “You had three young boys with you.”

  She stared at him. “Three boys... How young? Were they mine?”

  “Boys about, I don’t know...ten? Twelve? Fourteen? They were stairsteps.” He held up a flat hand to indicate successive heights, as high as her chest, then her shoulder, then her chin.

  She felt like she was choking. “Abel. Were they mine?”

  “I have no way of knowing for sure,” he said quietly. “But if the way you looked at them was any indication...then yes. I’d have to guess they were yours.”

  A voice called from the kitchen, and Abel called something back. Then he took her arm and led her inside, through the kitchen, to a counter stool at the back of the café. “Sit down here and get your bearings. You’ve had a shock.”

  She sank onto the stool at his gentle push. The world seemed to reel around her, and her stomach burned with anxiety and hollowness.

  She crossed her arms over it and leaned forward, staring at the restaurant’s tile floor, trying to breathe.

  Finally she caught her breath, but kept her arms clutched across her middle, the realization nudging its way throughout her body.

  I carried three boys in here. Not one, but three.

  And then I lost them.

  Confusing emotions and images swirled through her mind, kaleidoscope-like. She swallowed and looked around for a glass of water, but of course, there wasn’t one. Terrible help here.

  She gripped the edge of the counter and leaned forward. Mustn’t fall, mustn’t create a scene.

  Mustn’t upset the boys, no matter how much it hurt... Mustn’t upset the boys...mustn’t upset the boys...

  “Rita!” The voice next to her ear was low and kind.

  Jimmy.

  “Let’s get you back to my office. Abel said you were sick.” He slid an arm around her and lifted, and she tried to get her feet under herself, but still ended up leaning most of her weight on him as he helped her through the door that led into the kitchen. They walked through the frying and boiling and curious stares, and then into his office.

  He eased her down onto his padded desk chair.

  Abel, his face wrinkled with concern under his white chef’s hat, looked in. “She okay?”

  “Could use a glass of sweet tea.” Jimmy
threw the remark over his shoulder, felt her forehead and then knelt beside her, hand on her wrist. “Do you have a doctor in town yet?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. Not...that kind...of sick.”

  “Here you go, boss.” Ice cubes clinking, a few low words she couldn’t understand.

  The next moment, Jimmy held a straw to her lips. “Take a little sip.”

  She did, and swallowed, and then all of a sudden tears were coming out of her eyes. A lot of tears. Tears like she hadn’t cried since way before T-Bone died.

  She felt Jimmy’s arms go around her. “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not!” She shut her mouth against the confession that wanted to come choking out.

  His arms tightened, and he stroked a hand down her hair, which had to be altogether out of her ponytail at this point. “Whatever it is, I’ll help you deal.”

  That made her cry harder. Who was this man, that he was so good to a woman he knew nothing about? That he was letting her cry onto his white work shirt, now a mess of mascara and lipstick and tears?

  Finally her tears slowed and she pulled her head back. He reached over his shoulder and found a box of tissues and held it out to her.

  She blew her nose and wiped her eyes and gestured at his shirt. “Sorry about that.”

  He shrugged, smiled a little. “I’ve had worse things happen than holding on to you.”

  That was when she realized how close together they were, and something primitive took over. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

  Just a gratitude kiss, but he gave a little growl and cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer.

  Her wrung-out, cried-out body woke up and begged for notice. And then there was nothing but this man, his strong arms, his warm lips.

  Finally, he came up for air, turned his head to the side and pulled her to his chest. “I’m sorry.” Then he put her away from him, holding her by her shoulders. And then he backed away and stood.

  She wiped her eyes and nose again, not sure where to look. Not sure what to feel. All her emotions were a big tangled mess inside of her.

  Jimmy cleared his throat. “Take the rest of the day off,” he said. “I’ll walk you out to your car when you’re ready.”

  “I didn’t drive,” she managed. “I can make it home. Just...give me a minute.”

  She went to the ladies’ room and got herself cleaned up enough that she could walk down the street without people calling the cops. And then she headed out the almost-empty diner’s front door, hoping Jimmy was too busy in the kitchen to see her leave.

  Outside the restaurant, the biggest of the brothers she’d waited on, Sean, stood beside his truck, looking like he was trying to decide something.

  Jimmy came striding outside the restaurant, putting an arm around Rita. “I can walk you home.”

  Sean looked over. “You live at Magnolia Manor, right?” he asked. “I’m going that way. I can give you a ride.”

  “Thanks—that would be great,” Rita said, adding to Jimmy, “Go back to work. They need you in there.”

  Jimmy looked back at the restaurant and then at her.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, and squeezed his arm. “Thanks for giving me a hand in there.”

  His gaze was steady and warm. “I’m here for you. Hope you know that.”

  She nodded, and as he strode back into the restaurant, she turned to Sean. “Thanks for this,” she said.

  “Sure, no problem.” Sean held the door for her.

  Once inside, it only took a moment. That smell. She remembered it.

  Was she hallucinating, or was that the scent of her own child?

  Covertly, she watched Sean as he drove, comfortable and capable, someone to be proud of. She had no memory of any child she’d borne, just a few flashes and feelings.

  And this sweet scent, and the awareness that, yes, Sean had two brothers and had been eating breakfast with them. She cleared her throat as hope rose in her. “What were you and your brothers arguing about back there?”

  “There’s someone I need to help out,” he said, “only she’s not speaking to me.” He flashed her a rueful grin. Making light of a situation that must be heavy on his heart, in the joking way you did that when talking to an acquaintance, not a real friend.

  Not your mother.

  A deep, sorrowful ache spread through her chest. If he were her son, surely he’d remember her.

  “Want me to help you up the stairs?” he asked as he pulled up to her apartment building.

  “No. I’m fine. Jimmy’s a worrier.” And she was about to start bawling.

  “Stay there. I’ll get your door.”

  When he opened it, she let him help her out, and something compelled her to address him seriously. “Listen, none of us knows how long we’ve got. If there’s something you need to say to your friend, some way you need to help her, don’t wait. Do it now.”

  He grinned. “Thanks for the motherly advice,” he said. “You sure you’re okay to get yourself inside?”

  She couldn’t speak, so she gave a little wave and hurried off toward her apartment door. Cleared her throat hard so she could call a respectable “thank you” over her shoulder.

  Then she went into her apartment and fell apart.

  * * *

  ANNA PUSHED THE wheelbarrow of seedlings in garden-store flats toward the cottages’ newly restored kids’ playground, hoping the heavy physical activity would calm the anxiety that had licked at her stomach ever since Liam’s phone call two hours ago.

  Why had Liam called her? What was going on? He’d been completely vague, said there was probably nothing to worry about, which had freaked her out more than if he’d said what he was really thinking.

  Had someone been watching her as they’d left Ma’s last night? Were she and the girls safe?

  Where was Sean?

  She stopped the wheelbarrow beside the strip of garden she’d prepped yesterday and scratched Blackie’s head, grateful for his peaceful presence. He’d warn her of any trouble, and for sure, at his size, he’d scare off Beau.

  Then she dug another hole, took a purple vinca seedling from the wheelbarrow and patted it carefully into the sandy soil. It was a perfect South Carolina day, the sun warm, the breeze from the sea keeping the humidity away, the sky a rich azure blue. It was satisfying to plant flowers around the benches and play structures, to imagine guests enjoying the beauty once the seedlings had grown into flowers.

  But instead of relaxing into her work, she had a sick feeling in her stomach. She kept stopping to look behind her, squinting into the dark low country vegetation.

  Which was ridiculous. Beau didn’t know this part of the country; he wouldn’t be able to sneak around like some native hunter. He’d be arriving in a loud truck and stomping through the brush, cursing when he tripped over a root or got a boot sucked into the mud.

  She was so glad the girls were safe at the library program, not isolated here. Last night in the car, when she’d thought there was someone in the swamp near Ma Dixie’s, had been ten times more terrifying because she’d felt the girls were at risk.

  Come to think of it, no way could Beau have been behind the light and boat out at Ma Dixie’s place. He didn’t know how to sneak around the swamps and bayous in a rowboat or canoe. He was Montana born and bred. He could barely swim.

  The thought cheered her. She’d been happy that they could stay away from Ma’s isolated place, since the library program was all day for the length of spring break. But actually, they were probably safe out there, too. After this week, they could go back.

  Unless they all moved on.

  She continued planting, thinking about her upcoming Skype interview. Rafael had shown her the job description, and Miss Vi had agreed to be a reference; with Yasmin’s help, she’d fin
ished the application last night and emailed it in. Amazingly, they’d already called her this morning.

  So if she passed the GED exam and did well in the interview, Anna had a chance at a job as an aide in a GED support program in Charleston. Something way more professional than she’d ever dreamed of doing.

  In Charleston. So she could get away from Sean O’Dwyer and all the pain he brought just by being near her.

  As fast as the worry had faded and the relief had come in, tears arrived, making her blink away the blur before she could place another plant. She’d fallen hard for Sean—she could admit that now. He’d seemed so kind, so good to her and the girls. So sexy, when you got down to it, with his muscles and his rugged looks and his gentle, slow touch.

  Just over there, at the cottage visible through the pines, they’d started getting to know each other, clearing away brush and doing renovations.

  How had they gotten so at odds so quickly?

  Stop thinking about it.

  She tried, but couldn’t. His face, his deep-pitched voice, the way it had felt when he’d touched her—all of it washed through her mind, as repetitive as the distant surf she could hear pounding rhythmically against the shore. Her heart filled with a terrible loneliness.

  She’d valued his friendship and she’d loved working side by side with him. She’d never met anyone so companionable in her isolated life. That he was handsome and sexy and about as male as you could get, that was awesome, but it was the loss of his friendship she was going to miss the most.

  Blackie gave a friendly bark of greeting, lifting his head but not getting up.

  “Anna?” came a voice from behind her.

  She brushed dirty knuckles underneath her eyes and turned. Yes, it really was Sean. She hadn’t conjured him out of her imagination. She cleared her throat. “Hey.”

  He didn’t speak, but tilted his head to one side, studying her.