“Well, I’m old. I needed my rest earlier. Plus, I’m reading the most interesting biography on Ronald Reagan. Couldn’t put it down.” Kevan kissed his mother and wished her happy birthday, then looked as if he wanted to hug his daughter but she walked to the bar, keeping her back to us as she popped open a soda can. Kevan, as Ardan greeted his mother, turned to me. “You look nice.” I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t changed from my flip-flops to my high-heeled sandals. Instantly even hotter than I had been the moment before, I resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from the end of my nose. What an idiot I was. I’d been so wrapped up in the conversation with Rori and then the strange sensation that we were being watched, that it had completely slipped my mind. I was about to say something to Kevan about it but my thoughts were interrupted when Ardan greeted me with a warm hug, as if we were old friends.
“You two know one another already?” Kevan scowled at me.
“We met today when I was on my run,” I explained, with a slight hint of apology in my voice.
“Running’s such a disagreeable form of exercise,” said Riona. “And I need a drink.” With a disapproving glance at me, she joined her granddaughter at the bar.
Kevan didn’t say anything. He took a sip from his drink, watching me over the rim of the glass.
“How was the rest of your run today?” asked Ardan. “I’m afraid our little chat kept you from your exercise.”
“Quite nice. Thanks.”
Kevan scowled more deeply than the moment before. “What did you two find to chat about?” He looked hard at his brother.
“This and that,” said Ardan lightly. “Mostly how a beautiful woman suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I thought my lonely ways had suddenly created a woman from my imagination.”
“Ardan fancies himself a writer,” said Kevan. “Prone to romantic fantasies.”
“This is true.” Ardan turned to me with a slight smile. “Embarrassing but true.”
“Headmaster by day, writer by night?” I asked.
“Something like that,” said Ardan.
Riona and Rori sat on the couch, sipping their drinks. Riona clinked the ice around in her glass—she drank either pure vodka or water, I couldn’t be sure which—and gestured toward Ardan. “None of my sons but Kevan inherited their father’s head for business. They’d all be on the streets if it weren’t for their rich parents.”
Ardan continued on as if his mother wasn’t there. “I’m supposed to be finishing my novel this summer. I’ve been saying that for a while now.”
“Going on twenty years now, isn’t that right?” said a deep voice behind me. We all turned to look. The last brother in the flesh. Ciaran Lanigan was dark like Kevan—apparently the Lanigan brothers came in two varieties, blond and brown—except his eyes were almost black instead of blue, like the color of strong coffee. I guessed his age somewhere between mid and late 30s, although he could pass for younger. He shook my hand and looked into my eyes like he was searching for a friend in their depths but without the intensity of Kevan’s piercing gazes. Instead there was something merry in his eyes, as if there were a private joke between us, which was unlike either of his living brothers. “Why does this beautiful woman not have a drink in her hand?” He shook his head as if in disgust. “My brothers need to work on their manners.” He offered his hand, which I took as if compelled by a supernatural force. We shook and introduced ourselves. At the bar, he looked at me. “Let me guess. You’re a vodka martini type of girl.”
“How did you know that?”
“It’s a gift.” He reached under the bar and came up with a wine glass. “But tonight you’re sticking to white wine.”
“Right again.”
“I’ll join you then.” He pulled a cold French Chablis from a hidden refrigerator under the bar and poured generous amounts into two wine glasses. He handed one to me and raised his in a toast, moving closer than appropriate and whispering into my ear, “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe it’ll keep us from turning the evening into World War III, like the last time we were all together.” He gestured toward the patio, just outside of the windows. “Let’s talk outside where we have some privacy.”
***
Outside, the late afternoon air was pleasant. The slight breeze felt nice against my overheated skin. We both sat in the comfortable deck chairs and looked out to the beautiful view. The sun, behind the house now, created a golden light that made everything seem almost dreamlike. “Do you want me to explain the pronunciation of my name?” He grinned at me. “Most people do. Women anyway.” This was an attractive man. And he knew it. Although he felt much too young for me, and was, of course. This was a man that women loved, in spite of their best intentions not to.
When I looked at him with what I imagine was a startled expression, he laughed from deep in his chest. “It rhymes with ‘Beer on.’ Like let’s get our ‘Beer on.’ Keer on. Not to be confused with ‘Queer On’ like they called me in high school. Which, by the way, I am not.”
I continued to stare at him, unable to think of what to say, which must have spurred a further disclaimer from this charming and dangerous man. Oh, innocent women of the world, run. I should get him a T-shirt that said so. He continued, apparently unconcerned with my silence. “Queer, that is. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay—but I prefer girls. I’m working through most of the women in America as proof. Planning on Europe next. My mother hates it that I’m somewhat of a male whore but I think she was so relieved I wasn’t gay—I’m so pretty, you see—that she’s decided not to have me killed.” He laughed again. “I’m kidding, of course. My mother’s a battle axe disguised as a queen but she’d never have one of her offspring killed.” He crossed his legs. He wore a soft tan linen fabric, perfectly creased, paired with a shirt made of some kind of cotton blend that hugged his flat stomach perfectly. My sister must never meet any of the Lanigan brothers. She would not be safe here. Nor was I. No wonder I hadn’t been able to forget Finn for thirteen years.
“So is it true what Kevan told Mother? You’re Finn’s Lou?”
I nodded and took the first sip of my wine. It was light and dry. “The wine’s nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He sipped from his glass, still watching me. “What’re you still doing here?” His brown eyes were serious for the first time since I met him. “Other than breaking up the monotony of our lives?”
As I had when asked the same question by the other members of the Lanigan clan, I answered honestly. “I’m not sure.”
He leaned closer, putting his hand on the arm of my chair. “Be careful with Kevan. He’s not what he seems at first glance.” I was quiet, unsure if he would elaborate without me asking a question. He did not. Instead he took a sip of his wine. “Great weather we’re having.” His long finger swiped the edge of his glass.
We heard the low hum of a vehicle. I turned my gaze away from Ciaran to the road. A beat-up looking truck, dust billowing in a cloud behind it, barreled toward us. “Do you know who it is?” I asked.
“Trouble.”
The door opened and closed behind us. It was Rori. “Crap,” she said. “Crap, crap, crap.”
I scooted forward in my chair, alarmed by the tone of her voice. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s Cole.”
“Who’s Cole?” I asked.
“My ex-boyfriend.” She glanced back toward the house.
“Whatever happened with him, Rori-girl? We all liked him,” said Ciaran. “Much better than the douche you’re with now.” He said this quietly but with purpose, as if he’d been waiting to tell her that for ages and hadn’t had the opportunity.
“First off, don’t call me Rori-girl.” She looked at him with cold eyes. “And we all loved one another back then and now we all hate each other. So things change.”
He sobered and put up his hands, his eyes remorseful. “We all love you. That hasn’t changed.”
So this was the woman Ciaran loved, I thought. He loved his niec
e, who now hated him because of what he thought of her father.
Rori walked away from us to stand in the driveway just as the truck came lurching to a stop, a bit of smoke wafting from under the hood. The driver’s side door opened with a loud squeak and a young man, no older than nineteen if I guessed correctly, jumped to the ground. His hair was dark and cut short, and a shadow of a beard smudged his face. He wore a flannel shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. His face lit up when he saw Rori waiting for him. I had the sudden thought that it was a habit, this lighting up at the sight of her. But just as quickly his expression changed to wary and uncomfortable, his face dark with something that floated between them. A past conflict between them caused his first reaction to change from delight to anger. I was sure of it. The opposite of love is indifference. These two were not indifferent to one another. She crossed her arms over her spare chest. “You get back in that truck, Cole Walker, and get on home. You have no business coming out here.” Taken aback, I put my hand over my mouth. In a course of seconds, her speech pattern had changed so that she sounded like she was born and raised in Peregrine, Idaho instead of the generic teenage speak that all the kids seemed to share now, despite their geographic locations. Television and the Internet had changed America this way.
Cole flinched and put his hand on the truck’s door handle. “I just came out to see how you’re doing, that’s all. I’m on break from college for a couple months and wanted to come out and say hello.”
“Well, I’m doing just fine. Don’t need you checking on me or interfering in my business one more minute.” Her usual monotone timbre had turned high-pitched and most certainly emotional. In fact, she sounded like she might burst into tears.
“Listen now, Rori Lanigan, I don’t need permission from you to come out here and see your dad.”
“That’s just an excuse to see me, check up on me. I told you it was over between us. I’m with Blake now and nothing you do is going to change that.”
“Well, I can see that by the looks of you. What the heck did you do that to your hair for? You know how many girls would kill for your natural blond color? Plenty, that’s who. And a tattoo? For goodness sake, you look like a biker instead of a lady.”
“We don’t live in 1950, Cole Walker. This is what normal kids in our generation do. Tattoos. We choose alternative ways to express ourselves.”
“What do you think you’re expressing, exactly?” Both their voices had raised several decibels. I looked at Ciaran to see if he thought we should intervene but he wasn’t there. He must have slipped inside without me noticing.
Just then, Kevan came out of the house. He moved quickly across the deck and yard, grabbing Cole into a bear hug. “Cole, so good to see you, kid. How’s school? You ready to take over the world yet?”
For the second time in the course of several minutes, I felt surprised. I’d never seen Kevan as animated, not even the night at the bar when I’d first met him.
Kevan put his arm around Cole’s shoulder, and they walked toward where I stood on the edge of the deck, lost in the scene like I watched the best show on television. Rori hadn’t moved from where she stood. She picked up a stone and hurled it toward the lake. It plopped into the middle of the water with a robust splash. The girl had a good arm.
Cole and Kevan talked as they walked toward me, their voices clear in the quiet evening. “You have a good year?” asked Kevan.
“Pretty well, thank you, Mr. Lanigan. I couldn’t have attended without your help and I mean to make you proud.” He reached into his jeans pocket and handed Kevan a slip of paper. “All A’s this semester.”
“Well, shoot, can’t ask for better than that. I’m proud of you. Won’t be long before you’re writing code for Microsoft. Or maybe Google, huh? You should stay and have dinner with us. It’s my mother’s seventy-third birthday.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Cole touched the side of his face. “I haven’t shaved and I’m not dressed appropriately. Just came straight out here after driving from Oregon. Haven’t even been home yet to see my mother.”
“She expecting you for dinner, then?” Was it with a hopeful lilt he asked this question?
Cole hesitated, tugging on his ear. “Well, I don’t know. I called and told her I was coming but I’m not sure she’ll remember the phone call.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Kevan. “You know you can stay here with us if you need to. Matter of fact, I could use some help around the place if you’re looking for a summer job.”
“Well, I’ll come work for you but you can’t pay me. You’ve done enough with the tuition and all that.”
“You might need a little money to take a girl out now and then, though. And we have an extra guest room.”
They’d reached us now. Kevan took his arm from Cole’s shoulders and introduced him to me. “This is Lou, er, Blythe,” said Kevan. “She’s staying in the guesthouse for a week or two. Wants to learn how to take care of horses.”
Cole’s eyes widened and he glanced toward Kevan. “The Lou.”
Was there anyone associated with this family who didn’t know who I was? My heart did that achy thing it did every time I realized how much Finn had longed for my return.
“That’s right. Came looking for Finn,” said Kevan.
Cole reached toward the top of his head as if he wanted to pull off a hat. I might have to agree with Rori. This boy was out of another era. “Oh, geez, that’s rough, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was a terrible shock to us at the time.” He looked over at Kevan for a split second before turning back to me. “Hit my mama hard. Finn did a lot of stuff to help us and we missed him bad after he passed. My mama has some problems, which have gotten worse since Finn died.”
“She’s a drunk and a drug addict,” said Rori, coming up behind us. “It’s problems of her own making.”
“Don’t be unkind, Rori,” said Kevan, low and soft.
But Cole shrugged, his eyes pained. “No, Rori’s right.”
“Addictions are terrible things,” I said, feeling lame as soon as the words were out of my mouth. My obvious statement certainly wouldn’t do anything to help this boy feel better.
“Cole’s mama and daddy went to high school with Finn and me in Boise,” said Kevan. “We all spent summers out here and felt a special closeness. Cole’s daddy, Conrad, and Finn and I did everything together. Conrad passed away in an accident in the army, unfortunately, before Cole was born.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to Cole. This time I kept any ridiculous adages to myself.
“Mr. Lanigan’s helped fill in some of the empty space he left.” Cole’s eyes misted over until he saw Rori’s glare, at which point his cheeks flushed bright pink.
Whether it was the statement or his reaction, I couldn’t tell which, something appeared to make Rori even more furious. She looked at her father. “Don’t tell me he’s staying for dinner?”
“He’s not sure he can,” said Kevan.
She turned her full fury onto Cole, her arms crossed across her chest and her feet planted shoulder-width apart, as if she were getting ready for a physical fight. “All those letters you send me. I don’t even open them up, just so you know.”
Cole turned crimson, including the tips of his ears. “Well, I figured, since I never heard back from you. I haven’t sent one in six months anyway, so don’t worry, I got your message loud and clear.”
“Took you long enough to figure out.” She said this to no one in particular, with an awful scoff to her voice. What had happened between these two?
Cole looked over at Kevan. “You know what, Mr. Lanigan, I will stay for dinner.”
But we didn’t have the chance to move inside because just then there was the sound of yet another car coming down the long driveway. This time it was a car, shiny and black, its paint somehow impervious to dust. When it stopped behind Cole’s truck the paint shone in the late afternoon sun.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Cole turned his full gaze on Rori.
> Her fair complexion had turned from white to green and her voice shook despite the haughty look in her eyes. “Blake’s my boyfriend now. You may as well get used to it.”
“What’s he doing here?” Kevan asked this of his daughter in a voice calm and quiet but terrifying nonetheless. I shivered. “I told you he was not welcome in my home.”
She had the good sense, for once, to appear scared. “I don’t know, Dad. I swear I didn’t invite him.”
Kevan didn’t have time to respond because the door to the dust-impervious black car, which I could now see was some kind of sporty, two-door Mercedes, opened. A set of scrawny legs in black jeans and boots of a similar design to Rori’s landed on the ground. It was a boy Rori’s age, with dyed purple hair worn long. His chest went in as opposed to out, and his wrists, just visible below his long sleeve T-shirt, were no bigger than mine. Multiple piercings in multiple places, including his ears and nose, glinted in the sun. Every father’s nightmare, I thought.
“Rori, what the hell? It’s time to go.” Blake strutted toward the patio as if he were here to claim a prize.
“Time to go?” asked Kevan. “Where does Blake think he’s taking you?” The name Blake was said like something foul you might find in the back of the refrigerator from a long forgotten, take-out dinner.
Rori glanced at me with a pleading look in her eyes. What was I supposed to do, I wondered? And really, who did this Johnny Cash on acid kid think he was? Just showing up here on the matriarch’s birthday? Clearly Blake thought a lot of himself or was lacking intelligence. Had he met Mrs. Lanigan? Who would choose to anger the devil on her birthday?
Blue Midnight (Blue Mountain Book 1) Page 17