Flames from Ashes

by Caitlyn Willows

  Sandy slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as he did her. “We’ll eat. I’ll clean up while you have your family meeting. Then we’ll head down to Palm Springs to see your mother. We can stop at Target while we’re down there, so I can buy some clothes.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He lifted her chin on the crook of his finger to kiss her. A knock at the door stopped him before their lips could touch.

  “I’ll dish up our food while you get that.”

  Clint still took his kiss, then hurried to the front door when a second series of knocks rang out. A peek outside revealed his dad standing there. Though clean shaven and dressed to head to the hospital after this stupid meeting, it struck Clint for the first time how beaten down his father looked. His skin was brown and leathery from years of roofing. Deep lines etched his face. His shoulders were hunched and his fingers knotted. Cuts and scrapes marked his arms, all as a result of his work.

  His parents were major pains, specifically his mother. They bitched more than they supported, and they were always complaining about something. Still, his mother’s brush with death had hit home for Clint. They weren’t immortal. They most likely had less time left on earth than they’d already lived. They were tired and stressed out. Disillusioned with life and everything about it and feeding off each other’s negativity until it poisoned them and everyone around them. Seeing…realizing how old his dad was twisted Clint’s heart in a way he hadn’t expected. At some point, he’d allowed their negativity to infect him too. He’d tried to stop that train more times than he could count over the years. All to no avail. He didn’t know if he had the energy left to keep trying, but for the sake of their baby, maybe he should.

  Forcing a smile he sure as hell didn’t feel, he swung the door wide open. “Come on in, Dad.”

  “I know I’m early, but I wanted a chance to talk to you before the others got here.” His father walked in, favoring his left leg as he had for years—a knee gone bad he refused to have taken care of.

  He shut the door and motioned his father farther into the house. “We were just sitting down to dinner. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

  His dad cast a sidelong glance toward the kitchen as if pondering his decision.

  “How’s Mom?” Clint herded him forward. His father might not be hungry, but Clint’s belly button was gnawing at his spine. He wanted dinner done before the vultures descended.

  Dad allowed himself to be led. “The bullet went through, breaking her shoulder blade and two ribs. Any lower and it would have hit her heart. They’re keeping her overnight and possibly through tomorrow.”

  “There’s risk of infection.” Sandy’s comment pulled Dad’s head up. She was braced against the breakfast bar, arms crossed. “They’ll want to monitor her carefully. After that, it’ll be at least eight weeks of recovery and possibly rehab afterward.”

  “If I don’t put a contract out on her myself by then.”

  Clint laughed. It’d been years since he’d heard his dad’s dry humor, or maybe years since he’d paid any attention. “It’s definitely going to be challenging.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Dad stepped forward, hand extended Sandy’s way. “Raymond Clifford. You must be that woman.”

  Sandy accepted the handshake. “Nice to know my legend precedes me.”

  “Anyone who can snatch a phone out of my wife’s hands and tell her to shut up wins definite points in my book.”

  “But I’m willing to bet not with her.”

  “Afraid not. She and Annie will be raking you over the coals for a while.”

  Sandy shrugged. “I’ve suffered worse.”

  “So I’ve heard. Once the baby’s born, Eleanor will come around. That’s how she was with Annie, and she hated Annie with a passion. Annie, well, she’s a pot-stirrer. Always has been. Always will be.” He shook his head, then managed a smile. “I look forward to the new little one. Clint’s always wanted kids. Considering how you handled my wife, I know you two will be much better parents than Chuck and Annie.”

  Sandy waved him into the kitchen. “Sit down and have a bite with us, Raymond. My mom made dinner before she and Dad left for home. There’s plenty.”

  His father sat on the stool she pulled out for him.

  “You wanted to talk about something, Dad?” Clint took his seat while Sandy filled their plates.

  “Yes.” He planted his fingertips on the marble. “I heard your mother’s overexaggerated and rambling account. I want to know from you what the hell happened. Why was she out there in the first place with the fire department?”

  Clint started the story. Sandy picked it up from their arrival at the homestead. Dad listened without interruption, digging into the meal Sandy had placed before him with a gusto that proved he was hungrier than he’d let on. Though his father tried to hide it, Clint could see the war in his eyes when he heard about the house. He prayed no one accused Tommy without proof. He wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “You said this detective is coming here to talk with us?” Dad asked.

  “He thought it would be a good time with all of us here.” Clint lifted a forkful of chicken and rice. The chicken was so tender it fell off the bone. He was loving every bite.

  “Do you think we’ll have some kind of liability here?” Worry deepened the lines in his face. “I’ve heard of property being seized because of drugs.”

  “It would have to be on a grander scale than that, and you would have had to have some culpability to have it seized. I think.” He’d warned them time and again of things that could go wrong. Throwing it in their faces now wasn’t going to help the situation. “The place was secured. Chuck even welded the cooler door closed in the store.” Though he’d bitched the whole time about doing so, until the kids had gotten trapped in there. “You’ve done your due diligence and paid the taxes on time.” Technically Clint paid the taxes on time, because his parents never seemed to have the money to do so.

  “I don’t know.” Dad mopped his plate with a biscuit, then popped it in his mouth. “We weren’t diligent enough to realize these people had the electricity back on.”

  Fork halfway to his mouth, Clint glanced up. “They didn’t turn it on. They couldn’t have without a rental agreement to show to the electric company. Only one of us could do it.” That meant Chuck or Tommy. Considering the activity found at the place…

  Dad pushed his plate aside and rested his forearms on the bar. “In any event, this is all too much. I agree it’s time to let the place go. Before someone gets killed, or we get sued and lose what little we have. Your mother’s made her wishes clear. Let’s do it. The sooner, the better. You let the others know. I’m going to head off to the hospital to see your mother.”

  “No, Dad. I can’t. It’s too contentious an issue. You need to make it very clear to Chuck and Annie in person and by your actions that this is what you want. All this talk about a family vote is ridiculous. The property is yours. The decision is yours. End of story.”

  “I know, but it’s been a family decision from the start. I can’t backtrack on that now.”

  No, in that his father had honor. He’d meant it to be a legacy, something to pass on for generations to come. Instead, it was more of an albatross around their necks. Most especially Clint’s, since he’d accepted the responsibility of paying the taxes to help his father’s legacy remain. Like their parents, Chuck never seemed to have any money—though he and Annie got new vehicles every year. Which made his insistence on keeping the property a mystery. Once sold, the proceeds would be divided equally between his parents, his brothers, and himself as per his father’s wishes.

  “Then stand firm, Dad. I’ve got your back.”

  Dad tilted his head to one side, studying him. “Yeah, I guess you have. Wish I could say we’ve given you the same support. Seems like we’ve always taken but never given back.” He turned his attention to Sandy. “You’ve got a good man here. He’s always been the stable,
levelheaded one of the bunch. Always rising to the top, no matter what gets thrown at him, and he’s hit a lot of bumps in the road, had a lot of disappointments and things to overcome.”

  Though he appreciated his father’s praise, he also feared what was going to come out of his mouth next. Sandy’s gaze trapped Clint’s. Questions danced in her eyes. So many things he hadn’t thought mattered suddenly did. He hoped they wouldn’t matter to her when she heard about them.

  Sandy placed her hand on his dad’s arm. “I’ll be careful with his heart.”

  How was it possible to love her more than he already did?

  Dad covered her hand with his. It was the most affection he’d seen from his father in ages.

  A knock at the door intruded. The others were here. Clint braced himself for turmoil and prayed he was wrong.

  “I’ll clean up in here.” Sandy gathered their plates. “Mom made a batch of brownies. I’ll bring them into the living room for everyone to share.”

  If Chuck and Annie’s kids caught sight of them, there wouldn’t be any to share. Clint hurried to get the door and was relieved to find they’d left the kids elsewhere. He didn’t want them to hear the family bickering again. As with his father, Clint noticed things about them he’d glossed over before. Neither had aged well, both looking a good ten years older than they were.

  Chuck’s brown hair had turned dull gray and was starting to thin. His voice was raspy from chain-smoking that had yellowed his teeth and fingers. He was also perpetually angry and quick to ignite. Although that was nothing new. Why the hell he thought he could get on the city council was a mystery to Clint. A bigger mystery was why Martin Hall supported his campaign.

  At some point over the years, Annie had ceased to care about her appearance. Maybe it was the hard living on the homestead, raising three kids, trying to make ends meet, or having Chuck for a husband. Clint didn’t give a shit either way. He couldn’t even manage to feel sorry for her. Life had etched a permanent scowl on her face. Nothing good ever came out of her mouth, and he swore she lived to create trouble and set people against one another—rather like his mother. She’d gotten thin to the point of being gaunt. Gray shadows created half-moons under her puffy brown eyes. It didn’t help that she kept her white-blonde hair slicked back in a tight, stringy ponytail. A lot of the time Clint wondered if she was using. She had the look of an addict.

  Tommy hovered behind them, hands in his khaki pockets, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else than here. He’d cleaned up from work, something Clint had yet to do. He’d even shaved. Tan slacks and a light-blue pullover enhanced his slender frame, and Clint realized how much of a turnaround his little brother had made in the last couple of years. If this was a man doing drugs, he’d found an excellent way to hide it. He glowed with health, and for the first time in his life, Clint could see the resemblance between them everyone talked about. The connection made him feel good.

  “Could we please get this over with?” Annie pushed her way inside. “I was called in to cover someone else’s shift tonight. Plus, we left the kids with my sister. She can only take so much.”

  Clint almost told her she’d be surprised how well the kids behaved when their parents and grandparents weren’t around. He never had a problem with them, except the fact he didn’t get to spend as much time with them as he liked. Once Chuck and Annie had realized how much he cared, they’d limited contact to the bare minimum.

  “Join the club. I’m with them all fucking day.” Chuck stomped in behind her.

  Tommy rolled his eyes, winked at Clint, and walked in, keeping as much distance as he could between him and them.

  Dad took a seat in Clint’s recliner. Chuck and Annie commandeered the couch, Tommy took the big chair, and Clint stood before the entertainment center, the room’s focal point. No way in hell he was going to sit between Chuck and Annie. All eyes turned to Sandy when she entered, bearing the plate of brownies.

  “She’s here?” Annie’s eyes shot daggers at him. “She nearly got your mother killed!”

  “She and her fire captain saved Eleanor’s life,” Dad responded.

  “Which wouldn’t have been in danger if they hadn’t been there in the first place.” Chuck vaulted to his feet. “Why the hell were they out there?” He sliced his hand across the air, cutting off any response before it was given. “Yeah, I’ve heard the song-and-dance answer about Mom wanting to burn the place down and letting the fire department do it. What I want to know is why you”—he thrust his finger in Clint’s direction—“weren’t there? What was so god-awful important that you let Mom go there? You know how much she hates the place.”

  Clint crossed his arms to keep his hands unclenched and his temper in check. It wasn’t easy when all he wanted to do was grab Chuck’s finger and bend back until he crumpled to his knees and cried like a baby. “I didn’t let her. She chose to go. She wanted an answer before tonight. I had an appointment I had to keep.”

  “With who? What was more important than protecting Mom?”

  “Divorcing Marjorie so I can marry Sandy!” Clint damned himself the second the words were out. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to propose to Sandy. He’d planned a drive to their favorite spot in the national park, a picnic to die for, the ring, the speech, laying his heart at her feet. That blank stare she leveled his way told him how badly he’d fucked up.

  “Because you always do the right thing,” Chuck sneered.

  Clint’s temper flared. He clenched his fists at his sides and took a giant step back to keep from taking a swing at his older brother.

  Tommy leaped up and put himself between them. “You’d think you’d be grateful,” he told Chuck. “You wouldn’t have what you do right now if Clint hadn’t done the right thing.”

  Chuck snorted and returned to his perch on the couch, as far from his wife as he could get.

  Clint shrugged the tension from his shoulders and unfurled his fists.

  “Are those brownies?” Smiling, Tommy reached for the plate in Sandy’s hands.

  “Yes. My mother made them.” She relinquished the plate to him. “Would anyone care for something to drink? Ice tea, water, coffee?”

  “Whatever’s ready.” Tommy aimed for the coffee table, one brownie already in his hand. “I love sweets—probably too much—and I’m starving.”

  Sandy clamped her hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “Then put the brownie down and come eat a decent meal. There’s still plenty of dinner in the Crock-Pot.”

  “Considering the grip you have on me, I’m thinking I’d be foolish to refuse.” Winking, he shoved the plate Clint’s way.

  “Wait one.” Dad’s hand went up. “This isn’t going to take long. But I will have one of those brownies and some ice tea.”

  Clint put the plate on the coffee table. Dad wasted no time snagging two brownies for himself. Before he could take the first bite, Sandy had a glass of ice tea by his side.

  “We had an agreement from the start that anything to do with the property would be a family decision,” Dad said around a bite. “I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for the place. Chuck trying to make a go of the land. Clint stepping up to pay the taxes when we couldn’t. Enough’s enough. We’re taking the SunSpots offer.”

  “So much for this being a family decision.” Chuck scooted to the edge of his seat. “What happened to the vote?” He stabbed his finger into the table hard enough to rattle the plate.

  “I vote yes.” Tommy raised his hand, then headed for the kitchen.

  “Yes,” Clint added.

  “That goes for your mother and me too. That’s a majority. As we promised, the money from the sale will be divided equally.”

  “This is bullshit!” Chuck smacked the table again.

  Clint sank into the chair Tommy had vacated. “What’s bullshit is your attachment to a piece of property that’s brought you nothing but misery.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand.” Spittle formed in the corners of C
huck’s mouth. “You’ve never worked the land the way I did. It gets in your blood. It’s a part of our history.”

  “Then why am I the one paying the taxes for Dad and Mom and not you?”

  Chuck snapped forward. “Because I’ve got three goddamn kids to support!”

  “Then you’d think the money from the sale would be welcome.” Dad brushed crumbs from his shirt and reached for his tea. “Clint, I really want you to handle this for us. With work and your mom in the hospital, it’s too much. It’ll go quicker if you do it.”

  Like Clint didn’t have a life of his own and more than enough stuff to handle. Hadn’t that been how it always was? He was the one to take care of stuff?

  “How the hell can Clint handle this?” Chuck asked. “Everything’s in your name.”

  “He’s got general power of attorney.”

  Deep red suffused Chuck’s face. “Of course he does.” Harsh laughter filled the room. “I worked my ass off, trying to make a go of the place, while Clint took off.”

  “Cut the crap, Chuck,” Tommy said from the bar, a full plate before him. He shoveled in a bite. “He didn’t take off. He joined the Marine Corps.”

  “And left me holding the bag.”

  Annie’s spine straightened. If looks could kill, Chuck would be dead right now. “How dare you? I chose you.”

  Clint felt a little more of his world with Sandy crumble. She braced against the kitchen doorjamb, arms crossed, eyes wide, watching the family drama unfold.

  Chuck twisted around. “You didn’t choose shit.” He jerked his thumb toward Clint. “He walked out and left your ass. To this day, you still can’t get over the fact that he chose the Marine Corps over you, and I got his leftovers.”

  Annie slapped him hard enough to make his head turn. Clint was more than tempted to land a fist from the other side. Chuck pressed his hand to his palm-reddened cheek and glared at his wife.