"I robbed Cut Rate Liquors down on Franklin Street with a stolen M-16. The judge kept me behind bars while I awaited trial, so I had to detox cold turkey in the maximum security prison in Cumberland—"
Wade stopped speaking when Georgia's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak.
"You mean—” she started to question, but cut herself short.
"That's right,” Wade confirmed with a nod. “I know exactly how you feel right now, Georgia; how you've been feeling the past five days. I can't help you with the physical part of your detox; that's something your body needs to go through. I can't stop it, and I can't make it better. I can't do much about the mental part, either. The issues and anger you feel toward your father need to be worked out with a professional.
"What I can do is help you with the emotional part. I've been where you are; know all the questions you have and the answers you need."
He stopped talking then, but kept his eyes on her, watching, waiting for some kind of indication that she was at least considering his offer.
"You can trust me, Georgia. Not only are my lying days over, but a man would have to be crazy to try and put one over on you knowing what your brothers are like. Those boys are three of the biggest bad asses in the county, and someone would have to be crazy to cross them. They sure do love you a lot. They wouldn't have called me if they didn't."
"They might like me,” she said, breaking her silence, “but they can't love me. They don't even know me."
Wade actually laughed, causing Georgia's expression to turn sour.
"Sorry,” he apologized, “I didn't laugh because what you said was funny."
Never changing the look on her face, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and squinted at him, which showed exactly how angry she really was. “Then why did you?"
Well, at least she's talking. “Look, I know you're new to Hagerstown and the McCassey family, and that you don't know much about how things are around here, but trust me when I say that your brothers love you."
"Why should I trust you? I don't even know you. We're not family, Wade. You and I aren't related; you're my brothers’ cousin, not mine."
"You can trust me because Blackie, Judd, and Rebel trust me. They wouldn't let me within a hundred yards of their sister if any of them thought for one second that I would hurt her."
Still looking as though she didn't believe a word he'd said, Georgia continued to play devil's advocate. “They don't know for sure that I'm their sister."
Wade laughed again; this time with no apology. “Are you kidding? If that royal blue color of your eyes wasn't enough to give you away as a McCassey, then the fact that you look enough like Judd to be his twin certainly does.
"Christ, Georgia, I did a double take when I first saw you. Sure, you're a little scrawny, your face is sunken in, and you have dark circles under your eyes, but even looking as bad as you do right now, a blind man could see you're their sister."
"Blackie said the same thing."
Wade nodded. “He was right."
Georgia was staring quietly at him again, and he wondered what that meant this time. Maybe she was angry about how he'd described her looks. Even though the description he'd given her was dead on, he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. Hopefully, her temper wasn't anything like those of her brothers. Georgia might not be feeling well right now, but that didn't mean she wouldn't muster all her energy and blow up at him. One high-pitched shriek from her, and every man down in the garage would come running. In that case, Wade would have no choice but to dive out the window.
Death by concrete would be far more merciful than anything Blackie, Judd, and Rebel would unleash on him.
"Do I really look that bad?” she asked, shocking Wade. And at that moment, Wade got his first glimpse of the real Georgia, the girl who was probably in the bathroom earlier staring at her reflection in the mirror, unable to recognize the person staring back at her.
"For a heroin addict suffering through withdrawal, you're not bad at all. Your appearance isn't anything a little food, sunlight, and about thirty or forty pounds of weight gain couldn't take care of."
Georgia was quiet for a minute as she seemed to be considering what he'd said.
"If I let you stay and help me, will you do something else for me, too?"
"Maybe,” he told her. “If I can. What is it?"
"I want you to tell me about my family ... about the McCasseys; not only my brothers, but my aunts, uncles, and cousins, too. I want to know who they are, what they've all done, and why the boys are so widely feared. I want to know everything."
Wade let out an extended sigh. She had no idea what she was asking. “That's a tall order, Georgia. Everything? Are you sure?"
She nodded.
Wade wasn't so sure her brothers wanted her to know everything. Although chances were, if she hung around Hagerstown long enough, she'd hear all the stories and then some. He didn't know every gory detail of the McCassey's lives, but would be able to tell Georgia enough so that she'd have a fairly good idea about who and what her family was, and why they were both feared and hated at the same time.
"It's a deal,” he agreed, knowing that in the end, her health was far more important than whether or not she knew the truth about her family's past. “I'll tell you what you want to know."
"Now?"
"Yes,” he reluctantly agreed, “now. But not until you promise to trust and listen to me; do what I tell you when I tell you to do it, keeping in mind that I'm here to do what's best for you."
She considered his offer for all of a second and a half before nodding and extending her hand, shaking his with a surprisingly firm grip.
After they let go of each other, Wade reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his pack of Winston's. He removed one, set the pack on the bed, then leaned forward and snagged the longneck off the nightstand. No doubt this was going to be more than just a one-cigarette conversation. “Where do you want me to start?"
Georgia picked up one of the extra pillows and hugged it to her, then rested back against the headboard, making herself comfortable. With what Wade knew was a genuine smile—and he was right, it was beautiful—Georgia simply said, “At the beginning."
Damn, that was a long way back.
Good thing he had an extra pack of Winston's in his other pocket.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 12
Georgia had decided to let Wade help her long before he agreed to tell her about the McCassey family history; she'd just thrown that in as a bonus because she knew her brothers would never tell her what she wanted to know.
Now, she wasn't so sure that'd been a good idea.
After listening to Wade talk almost non-stop for nearly three hours, Georgia's head was spinning. She'd paid close attention to everything he'd said, gasping and wincing inwardly at some of the horrifying, violent stories.
Georgia honestly hadn't expected to hear that a good number of her ancestors were army deserters and outlaws. She was also shocked to learn that a lot of the women in the McCassey family had named their children after American outlaws since so many of them grew up to be criminals and felons.
What surprised her most were the stories he'd told about Blackie, Judd, and Rebel. No wonder people were scared to death of them. “They've all ... killed people?” she'd asked when Wade finished telling the tale of how her brothers, two of their uncles, and three of their cousins had rescued Gypsy from her father.
"There was a heavy gun battle up at Ten Acres that day, Georgia. They had no choice; it was either kill or be killed."
"Were you there, too?"
He shook his head. “No, but Brady and Kane had too much to drink one night while we were sitting at Digger's bar a few years ago and told me all about it. The story in town is that Rebel, Frank, Jimmy, and Flynn took on Gypsy's father and all his men by themselves. It had to be hidden from the law that Blackie, Judd, Brady, and Kane were there, too, because they were all either on parole
or probation."
Wow. “And when the guys went to the Renegades’ camp to find Angel, they killed men then, too?"
"Everyone knows that Angel doesn't like to kill, but she took out a couple that day, too, including Prince, the leader."
"Because he was about to shoot Blackie, right?"
Wade nodded. “I told you your brothers were tough, didn't I? The three of them are the stuff legends are made of."
Interesting. “It sounds like you admire them, too."
"I do,” he admitted. “To a point. I'm not as wild as they are. Never was. Most, if not all of the trouble I got into happened during the days of my addiction. But I do admire the love and respect they have for each other, their loyalty toward one another, and the fact that they're all happily married."
"But?"
"But nothing. Aside from most of the townspeople looking down on them, a fact that none of them seem to give a damn about, they pretty much have it all."
"It almost sounds like you're jealous."
"Not jealous, just envious. I like to think that if my brother had lived, we'd have the same kind of relationship that Blackie, Judd, and Rebel have."
Brother? “I didn't know you had a brother."
"He died a long time ago."
"What,” she asked hesitantly, “what happened?"
Georgia watched closely as Wade seemed to be debating on whether or not to elaborate. After a good thirty seconds of silence, he dropped his cigarette butt into the longneck bottle, shook his head, and stood. “Sorry,” he said, returning the bottle to the dresser. “That's a story for another day. I'm all talked out."
Disappointed, Georgia nodded, wincing inwardly after realizing she'd probably overstepped her bounds and offended him by asking such a personal question. Unsure of how to correct her mistake, she changed the subject. “So what now?"
Wade dropped his cigarettes into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, but didn't bother buttoning the flap. “What do you mean, ‘what now'?"
"I ... thought you were supposed to help me."
He chuckled, but Georgia got the feeling his heart wasn't in it. “I am going to help you, Georgia, and I'm happy to do it. But I'm not your fairy godfather. I don't have a magic wand that I can wave and make everything all right. It's going to take time and a lot of talking."
Georgia was confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. Feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her sails, she relaxed against the headboard and tried to come up with something to say. Anything. But her mind was blank. Should she ignore it? Apologize? “But—"
"I told you,” he reminded her as he made his way toward the door, “I'm all talked out."
What was his problem?
"Get some rest,” he ordered, “I'll be back soon."
Humph! If he thought for one second that she was going to take orders from him after ... wait a minute! The two of them had just spent ... what ... nearly four hours talking, and she hadn't felt sick once. She hadn't even thought about feeling sick. She'd been so distracted by their conversation that her own problems hadn't once crossed her mind.
Had that been Wade's motive all along?
Is that what he meant when he said her recovery was going to take a lot of talking?
Surely not. There had to be more to it than that.
Suddenly very tired, Georgia did nothing to stifle her yawn, and slid down under the covers, resting her head on the pillow. Surprisingly, her last thoughts before drifting off to sleep weren't of her brothers and all she'd learned about them today. They were of Wade Pickett and the strange, yet familiar connection she felt they shared.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 13
"You've been staring up those damn steps for days, Blackie. What gives?"
Blackie sidestepped the rag Judd playfully threw at him, allowing the wad of dirty material to land on the floor at his feet. “What the hell do you think they're doin’ up there?” he asked, referring to Georgia and Wade, who he hadn't seen or heard from in days.
Judd shrugged, which annoyed Blackie even more. “How the hell should I know, bro, I'm not up there with them."
That's right, no one was. Wade Pickett was upstairs, alone, in a bedroom, with their sister. “Well maybe one of us should be."
"Stay away from those stairs, Blackie,” Rebel warned, obviously picking up on the thoughts running through Blackie's mind, “and stay away from the apartment. I talk to Wade everyday when I take food up there. He's fine, Georgia's fine, everything's fine. Leave them alone."
Blackie backed away from the car he was working on, slammed the hood shut, and turned to face his youngest brother.
Angry because he felt like he was missing something, he lashed out at Rebel. “Well how come you're the only one who gets to go up there? What's wrong, Judd and I ain't good enough to bring food upstairs and check on our sister?"
Rebel smiled, which irritated Blackie even more. “You want to know why you can't go upstairs?” Rebel chuckled, unknowingly inching himself that much closer to being slugged. “Are you listening to yourself, Blackie? You can't even say Wade's name without getting angry. Georgia needs help, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you chase away the only person who seems to be able to give it to her."
"Well, what about him?” Blackie waved his hand wildly, motioning toward Judd. “He don't hate Wade. Why ain't you lettin’ him up?"
"Because he's too damn soft-hearted, that's why."
With a deafening ‘thud', Judd threw down the box of tools he was carrying and turned on Rebel with a scowl so menacing, it rivaled any one Blackie had ever come up with. “Care to explain that?"
Now thoroughly amused, Blackie turned his full attention to his brothers.
Looking frustrated but ready to fight, Rebel rolled his eyes and took a defensive stance. “Don't start with me, Judd. I'm not in the mood to go rolling around this concrete floor throwing punches at you today."
Blackie watched closely, doing his best to keep from laughing. When Judd and Rebel were little, their constant fighting used to piss him off. There were many times he actually picked them up, threw them outside, and locked the door, refusing to let them back in until they were finished yelling at and beating on each other.
But he didn't mind the bickering so much today. Their escalating argument was taking his mind off his own worries.
"You've seen how Georgia looks at you,” Rebel started to explain, “we all have."
"Oh yeah, and how is that?"
Rebel actually laughed. “Hmm ... kind of like you're the one who's responsible for the inventions of teenage boys, fashionable clothes, and puppy dogs. God knows why, but Georgia thinks the world of you, Judd. You're the one she responds to the best, the one she looks to when she feels she needs an ally."
Judd relaxed a little, crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “So what's your damn point?"
"My point is that you know how Georgia feels because you feel the same way about her. We all love her, Judd, but the two of you seem to have some special kind of connection. You seem to understand her in a way that Blackie and I don't. If she tried hard enough, that girl could talk you into anything. She wants Wade gone, and there's no doubt in my mind that five minutes alone with you, Georgia would have you convinced to toss the guy out the window."
Judd opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again.
To Blackie, Judd's silence spoke volumes. He had definitely noticed the strong bond that had formed between Judd and Georgia. Apparently, Rebel had, too.
"I wouldn't let her talk me into getting rid of Wade, Reb,” Judd finally said, his voice now quiet and void of anger.
Looking a little lost, Judd reached down and grabbed an empty bucket from beside one of the tool cabinets. He turned it over and sat down right there in the middle of the floor, then bent down and rested his head in the palms of his hands. “I want what's best for her, just like you and Blackie do."
Rebel walked over
to stand behind Judd, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Then my suggestion would be for you to stay clear of the apartment until Wade thinks she's made a little more progress; until he thinks it's safe for big brothers who have a soft spot for their little sister can visit without being talked into doing something they know they shouldn't."
Judd turned his head and looked up. “Am I that bad?"
Hearing the doubt that Judd suddenly seemed to have in himself made Blackie feel sorry for him. Stuck in the middle of him and Rebel, Judd had been trying to find his,'place'—something to define who he was—his entire life. Blackie knew that living in his and Rebel's shadows, trying to live down their infamous reputations, hadn't been easy on Judd.
Now, with the appearance of Georgia, Judd seemed to have found what he was meant to do. It pained Blackie that Judd thought he was doing something wrong by being close to their sister.
"You bein’ the one Georgia likes best ain't a bad thing, Judd. You two obviously understand each other. I don't know what the hell made her choose you,” he joked, “but whatever it was, I'm glad she's attached to at least one of us."
"Yeah,” Rebel added. “You know, I thought Gypsy was crazy when she accused you of having a heart way back when she first met you, but damned if she wasn't right."
"So what about you?” Judd asked Rebel. “Why do you get to be the one who goes upstairs and checks on them?"
Blackie glanced at Rebel and knew instantly the meaning of the look his brother was wearing. It wasn't often that Rebel was puzzled or unsure of himself, but he had been a time or two. Still, it always took Blackie by surprise when he was at a loss about something.
What, Blackie wondered, was troubling Rebel about Georgia?
"I go because she doesn't really seem to care one way or the other whether I'm there or not,” Rebel admitted in a low, seemingly hurt tone. “All the time I spent with her when she first arrived, she hardly ever talked to me. She looks at me like she doesn't trust me, and when I go up there, she has Wade answer the door, and doesn't say anything to me unless I approach her first. What the hell do you suppose that's all about?"
The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] Page 9