All This Time

by Melissa Tagg

  It’d been a mistake to open the window. Now the room was hot and muggy.

  Finally, Beckett faced her again. “Maybe it was the wrong move, digging into Bear’s past.”

  “Not maybe. It was.”

  “But all of the rest of that stuff you said . . .” Something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not even frustration. Hurt? “This whole family teases each other. This whole family doles out advice. Has nothing to do with birth order. If Dad was dating somebody who was keeping an entire criminal history from him and I happened to know, I’d tell him.”

  “Bear doesn’t have—”

  “We’re not perfect, Rae. Lord knows I’m not. But I wasn’t trying to demean you.” He pierced her with a look, then reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. “It’s an article I printed out from an Atlanta paper. About Bear’s sentencing. Read it or don’t.”

  He dropped it on the bed beside her, then started for the door. But he turned before leaving the room. “We only see you as ‘the little sister’? That might say more about how you see yourself than how we do, Rae.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  Bear hadn’t moved from the car. He’d parked in Case Walker’s driveway, cut the engine, watched as Jamie slid out the passenger door and jogged to the house. And then he’d simply . . . stayed.

  Sticky air clogged the car’s interior, his open window letting in the evening’s heat and mosquitos.

  Still, he didn’t budge from his seat.

  “I thought I saw Dad.”

  Impossible.

  He’d mentally muttered the word at least a hundred times on the drive out of town. Rio couldn’t be in Iowa. Even Jamie, by the time he was done explaining, had talked himself out of what he’d thought he’d seen.

  “I was waiting for Beckett in the store and I saw this man walk past the window and it looked like Dad. So I ran out after him.” But by the time Jamie made it out the door of Klassen’s Hardware and down the block, the man he’d seen had already turned a corner. And by then, Mr. Baker had discovered the vandalism. Jamie had found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. “It probably wasn’t even him. I’m so stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid, Jamie. I don’t want to hear you talk like that about yourself.”

  “Aren’t you mad that you had to come to the police station?”

  “No.”

  Annoyed at Mr. Baker for instantly accusing Jamie, sure. Trying not to be irked at Beckett for letting Jamie out of his sight, maybe.

  But if he was mad at anyone, it was Rio for putting Jamie in this situation in the first place. For doing whatever he’d done to wind up in jail, leaving a confused, hurting son behind.

  Rio can’t be in Iowa.

  But then, where was he? In some other jail not in Atlanta? Why hadn’t Rosa ever replied to his text yesterday? Why was she letting two, three days lapse between calls to the kids? What was with that blue Taurus he’d seen so many times? And the hang-up calls—there’d been at least three of them.

  Was Bear turning paranoid or did all of this add up to . . . something?

  Helpless confusion spilling over, he banged on the steering wheel with one hand and sprang for his phone in the cup holder with his other. He speed-dialed Rosa, knowing before the first ring even sounded in his ear he’d be speaking to her voicemail rather than her.

  Probably better this way. He could say what he had to say uninterrupted.

  He didn’t bother with a greeting. “I’ve had it, Rosa. I can’t get ahold of you. Rio’s MIA. And every day with Jamie and Erin convinces me the only thing waiting for them back in Atlanta is a mess they don’t deserve. If you know where Rio is, tell me. And while you’re at it, maybe you can tell me what you meant that night in your apartment—about them, whoever they are, finding me in South America.” Because if they had somehow found Bear here, too, if he was only bringing trouble to more people he cared about, then . . . then he didn’t know what.

  He didn’t know anything. And it was suffocating him.

  “You asked me to keep the kids for two or three weeks. It’ll be two weeks on Sunday, but at this point, I’m done counting days. I won’t do it, Rosa. I won’t bring them back if all it means is they return to a shoddy apartment and crappy meals and clothes that don’t fit. I won’t do it.”

  He ended the call and tossed his phone to the passenger seat. Breathing heavily, he leaned his head over the steering wheel. Had he really just done that? Threatened Rosa?

  At the sound of the passenger door opening, he lifted his head. “Rae? Hey. What are you—”

  “Want to go for a drive, Bear?” She dropped into the seat beside him.

  “But—” He thought better of arguing when he noticed the red rims of her eyes. She’d been crying? And what in the world had she done to her hair? With a nod, he pressed the button to close his window and returned the key to the ignition. “A drive. Good idea.”

  11

  Raegan didn’t regret refusing to read the article Beckett had printed out. Nor did she regret not asking Bear about it last night during that quiet country road drive, barely a word spoken between them.

  She was, however, beginning to regret telling Kate about it.

  “You seriously didn’t read it?”

  “I seriously didn’t.” Raegan pulled her plastic-covered sleeping bag from the shelf in Dad’s garage, her arms and neck and back griping at her. She’d spent nearly six hours today working at the mural site, using a roller brush to cover her brick canvas with primer. T.J. Waring and Webster Hawks from the football team had stopped by to help for a couple hours. Raegan guessed she had Kate’s husband—who’d been assistant coaching the team for a couple seasons now—to thank for that.

  But she’d done much of the work herself, and her sore muscles were none too pleased with her for it.

  It was progress, though, and that was gratifying. The primer should be dry by morning, which meant with enough harnessed determination, tomorrow—Saturday—she could finally get started on the mural for real. She’d start with a light chalk outline on the brick, then would come underpainting in bold swatches of color before she got around to any detail work.

  Kate stood on the patio, coating her arms with bug spray, the sickly-sweet smell fogging the air around them. “If it’s a newspaper article, it’s public record. It’s not like you’d be stealing Bear’s private journal and reading it.”

  “If Bear wanted to tell me about . . . about whatever was in that article, he would’ve.” Raegan swiped the back of her palm over her forehead, the late-afternoon sun beating down on her. Maybe suggesting a camping trip on the hottest day in June so far hadn’t been the best idea. Then again, their campsite was a little clearing just down the ravine behind Dad’s house, less than a five-minute walk back to civilization and air conditioning. And at least yesterday’s humidity had gone into hiding today.

  Besides, she and Bear had decided last night—they needed this. Each in their own way had found their lives turned upside down in the past two weeks. Each was desperate for a mental and emotional reprieve. Nothing like a night under the stars, s’mores, and a campfire to hush their anxieties—even if only temporarily. Might even cool off once the sun bedded down.

  Plus, it’d be a treat for the kids.

  Kate finished with the bug spray. “Well, all I can say is, that’s some awfully good self-control. I’d have been too curious to ignore it. Hey, I could read it for you.”

  “Hardly my point in telling you.”

  “Then what is your point?”

  “Beckett. Can you believe he had the nerve?” Raegan hauled another sleeping bag from the shelf.

  Kate picked up a box loaded with camping supplies—bags of marshmallows, paper plates, campfire roasting sticks. “Gonna have to call you on that, sis. Don’t you remember when we first met Colton? You did the online research then. Presented me with his entire backstory in Google form.”

  “That’s different
. You were writing a book about him. He’d hired you to complete his memoir and then refused to open up to you.” She started walking across the backyard and toward the ravine.

  “And you were attempting to help me, just like, I’m sure, Beckett was trying to help you.”

  She should never have brought this up. The whole point of this little camping escapade was to get away from it all. Even if “away” was more mental than physical. Just didn’t make sense to go stake out a campground when they had such a pretty piece of nature just down the ravine.

  But cajoling Kate into helping her dig out all the camping gear in Dad’s messy garage, complaining to her about Beckett’s actions last night—probably not the best idea. Still. Her sister had made two previous treks to the campsite with her, saving Raegan double the solo trips. Bear was already down at the site, setting up tents, watching the kids.

  “By the way, thanks for helping with this, Kate.”

  “There was a subtle ‘drop it’ hidden somewhere in there, yeah?”

  The grass rustled under her sandals. “No point in talking about it. You guys don’t understand Bear the way I do. In our family we’re all over each other’s business. It’s normal to us. Bear’s not used to that. He holds stuff close to the chest and he doesn’t like being poked and prodded.”

  She stepped under the leafy cover of the ravine. She could hear Jamie and Erin’s laughter drifting through the trees. Walnuts and twigs, old gnarled leaves crunched under her feet as she started down the hillside.

  “Don’t poke the bear,” Kate said. “Got it.”

  “Kate.”

  “Fine. No joking or poking. I do get it, Rae. But don’t hold it against Beckett forever, okay? And maybe as long as you’re at it, fix whatever’s up with you and Dad.”

  Raegan barely avoided tripping over a fallen branch. “Me and Dad?”

  “Something’s off and it’s been off for days and I’d bet my next book advance it has something to do with you and that Jaminski woman grabbing coffee the other day.”

  Her sister should win some kind of award for her gift of perception. She didn’t even live in the same house as them. “Kate—”

  “You don’t have to tell me what’s up. I don’t want to be in the middle of anything.”

  “There’s nothing to be in the middle of.” Not yet anyway. But after she told Dad about therapy with Sara . . . if she told Dad . . .

  Of course, she’d tell him. Just not tonight. Just one night away from it all. That’s what Bear and I decided.

  Which would upset Dad more? That she’d found a confidante in the one person he didn’t like? Or that she’d kept her panic attacks from him all these years?

  Not tonight.

  “Also, for the record,” Kate said, “while I’m happy to help you get set up for this little camping spree, you’ll forgive me if I insist on going home to sleep tonight. I’ve never really understood the allure of sleeping under the stars.” She pushed a low-hanging branch out of the way. “Plus, there’s a decided lack of mosquitos in my bedroom that I quite appreciate and it has one very wonderful thing your campsite does not—”

  “Let me guess—”

  “My ridiculously handsome husband.”

  Raegan groaned, shifting the load in her arms.

  “Groan all you want, little sister. Isn’t going to stop me. I fully intend to gush about that man for the rest of my life.”

  “Well, you are a romance writer.” The sound of the creek’s trickle grew closer.

  “Hey, Rae?”

  She stopped at the shift in Kate’s tone. “Huh?”

  Kate set her box of supplies at her feet. “I’m pregnant.”

  Raegan’s sleeping bags hit the grass. “What?”

  “Due around Christmas.”

  “Are you . . . I can’t believe . . . oh my gosh, give a girl some warning before you give her the best news ever!” She pulled Kate into a boisterous hug. “A baby, you and Colton, I’m so happy!”

  And Kate was clearly overjoyed—her smile shining with an unabashed glow. She picked up her box and started walking again. “Dad’s the only one that knows so far.”

  “Dad knows? And he’s kept it a secret?” Raegan followed, shaking her head. “I wonder how many secrets he’s kept for all four of us over the—”

  She stopped mid-step as a thwack rent the air. Raegan peered past the tents toward the sound.

  Bear stood over a stump of a tree, a thick log standing upright and an ax in his hand. That tattoo around one arm peeked out from under a damp shirt that stretched over taut muscle. He lifted the ax high and brought it down again.

  Raegan turned to Kate with her jaw gaping, her voice low. “He’s like a mountain man.”

  Kate didn’t look nearly as impressed. “He’s really sweaty.”

  “He’s . . .” She glanced over once more. Amazing.

  “Shouldn’t we tell him Dad has a whole pile of firewood under a tarp by the garage?”

  “Don’t you dare.” Raegan’s laughter trailed as she turned and started for the tents once more. But when she didn’t hear the shuffle of Kate’s footsteps beside her, she looked over her shoulder. “Coming?”

  “What happens when Bear has to return the kids to Atlanta? Is he coming back here? I know he’s got that job at the ranch but after that . . . what then?”

  “Dunno.” Her voice was flat.

  “What do you hope he does?”

  Raegan couldn’t bring herself to answer. Something told her she didn’t need to, anyway.

  For once, there wasn’t even a hint of a tease in her sister’s gaze. “A close friend once told me that it’s okay to admit what I want.”

  Raegan’s arms tightened around the sleeping bag. “Bear’s future isn’t about what I want.”

  “Maybe not, but what you want matters. What you care about matters. Not just to the people who love you, but to God. And if you care about Bear, if you care for him—”

  “Kate, please, can we not do this now?” Not when the man himself wasn’t all that far away and for all she knew had perfectly decent hearing.

  Not when she’d been trying so hard to smother the willful voice of her heart. She’d been half in love with Bear McKinley for five years. And it’d gotten her exactly nowhere. If the things she cared about mattered so much to God, why didn’t He ever seem to do anything about them?

  Bear. The panic attacks. Mom . . .

  Her attention drifted to where Jamie and Erin stood on the little wooden walkway over the creek, tossing rocks into shallow water. The very spot where Dad had proposed and then decades later, they’d posed as a family for that portrait hanging in the living room.

  “Rae—”

  “I just want to enjoy right now, Kate. That’s all.” She just wanted to enjoy this time with Bear and the kids.

  And forget all the rest of it. Even if only for a night.

  Bear plunged his head into the ice-cold water of the creek, knees sinking into the soggy bank beside the damp shirt he’d peeled off a second ago. He let the water slick over his face and through his hair before lifting his head and shaking it from side to side.

  Erin’s squeals rang out from behind him. “You got me wet, Uncle Bear.”

  “Oh, you think you’re wet now, just wait.” He snaked his arm out and tucked his palm around her waist, pulling her toward the shallow water, her laughter accompanying the splash of Jamie’s footsteps. “Ah, your big brother doesn’t want to be left out, I see.”

  He lugged Erin into water that barely would’ve reached past his knees were he standing, her shrieks and giggles—Jamie’s matching laughter—the best sounds he’d heard all day.

  So much better than the clanging worries pulsing in his brain. He’d taken his frustrations out on piles of broken tree branches and all he’d gotten for the effort was sweat-glistened skin and more firewood than they could possibly need for tonight.

  He should’ve left his phone back at the house. Then Rosa’s text wouldn’t have been
able to disrupt what was supposed to be a one-night break from the mess hovering outside the bubble of this campsite.

  Fine. They’re better off with you right now anyway.

  Check in again in a couple weeks.

  A response to his angry voicemail from last night. But she couldn’t mean it. She couldn’t be as cold and unfeeling as her words tried to sound. He’d seen her that night in her apartment. Behind the angst, behind the frenzy, there’d been a mother’s love. A desperate love.

  And if this was her reaction to his refusal to return the kids, it only proved right his growing conviction that there was so much more going on than merely an apartment eviction. He just wished he had any idea what to do about it.

  I can’t solve anything tonight.

  What he could do was make sure his niece and nephew had the best first camping trip of their lives. So he held tight to Erin as he crawled into the creek, dragging her legs in the water beneath him. She clasped her hands around his neck, couldn’t stop laughing, and then, despite himself, neither could he. Especially when Jamie jumped onto his back.

  The next minutes were filled with splashing and more laughter, more squeals. Erin and Jamie teamed up, pouncing all over him until they’d successfully landed him on his backside on the creek bed below him.

  “Do you surrender, Uncle Bear?” Erin’s clothes clung to her skin, her hair in straggles around her cheeks.

  “Never,” he said through panting breath.

  Jamie splashed a wave of water in his face. “Now do you surrender?”

  Bear shook his hair again, spraying them both with water. “Nope.”

  “Try tickling him.”

  Raegan. He looked over his shoulder to see her standing a few feet from the edge of the creek, hands on her waist and eyes so blue they put this dirty creek water to shame. “What if I’m not ticklish?”

  Jamie lunged at him. “Let’s find out.”

  Both kids attacked his stomach with their fingers, giggling, sending more water flying in every direction. He didn’t even flinch.