The Other Brooks Boy (Texas Wildfire Series)

by Diane Roth

  "That's crap, Ryan. And you need to stop putting Dad on some stupid pedestal, like he was perfect. He wasn't."

  "None of us is perfect," Cara said, trying for the middle ground, smoothing the fracas a little.

  "Dad was pretty damned close. And he wouldn't have done this to you, Mom. If you had been the one who died, Dad would never have dated your sister if you'd had one," Ryan told her.

  "Whatever, Ryan. You have no idea what you're talking about," Maddie said dismissively.

  "Bullshit, Maddie. Dad was honorable to a fault. This shit is just jacked up," he said, flinging a hand in Cara's direction.

  Maddie's eyes went hard. "Just who do you think that woman was? The one in the car with Dad the night he died, Ryan?" she asked, making Cara's heart drop through her stomach. The silence roared in her ears in the quiet of the car.

  Ryan looked back and forth between his sister and mom. "What are you talking about?"

  Cara looked at Maddie intensely, her breath held, heart stammering in her chest. She shook her head slightly, a small but powerful signal to Maddie to stop. Maddie shook her head right back, reading her mother's mind.

  "It's time he found out, Mom," she said, sounding so certain and grown up. She turned back to look at her brother. "The woman in the car with Dad the night he died was his girlfriend, Ryan," she said. She didn't coddle it and clean it up. She didn't even temper her voice, but delivered it with a straight face and more honesty than Cara had used in her dealings with Ryan ... maybe ever. It humbled her to be so championed, so protected by her daughter.

  Ryan turned a fierce expression on his mother. "Is that true?" he demanded.

  Cara closed her eyes, wanting to delay the inevitable for a heartbeat longer ... for forever.

  "Answer me, Mom. Is it true?"

  She opened her eyes and nodded. "It's true, Ryan. I'm sorry. I didn't want you guys to ever know it."

  Ryan leaned his head back against the cushion, eyes squeezed shut, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and they were all quiet for a moment, as if they were noting the passing of an era. And it was in Cara's mind. A passing of her children's innocence. After a time, Ryan sat up and shook his head sadly. Without another word, he got out of the car and went into the house, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Cara and Maddie sat in the dark now, the automatic light on the garage door opener having timed out. Hushed and cocooned from the rest of the world, Cara leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes for another moment.

  "When did you find out?" she finally asked.

  Maddie shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I don't remember. It just sorta came to me that that's who she was. The paper reported she had the same address as Dad's work apartment up there. It made sense."

  "I'm sorry, Maddie," Cara said, reaching across the console for Maddie's hand.

  Maddie dashed her other hand at tears streaming down her face. "It's not your fault, Mom."

  "I know, but I didn't want you guys to ever know."

  "But it's really not your fault. You know that, right?" Maddie turned to face her, and Cara could see the trail of tears on her face from the porch light's dim offering beyond the open garage door.

  "Well, I know that you didn't hear it from me. I've never told a soul what I figured out ... what I knew about her."

  "No, I didn't hear it from you. I used to hear Dad talking on his phone to someone sometimes when you weren't around. I could tell it was another woman. And he was always pretty secretive about it. I had my suspicions then. And when there was a woman in the car with him in the accident ... well, I just couldn't let go of needing to know who she was. It was something I had to know."

  Cara sighed for the loss of naiveté, her heart breaking for her children's grief. "I'm sorry, Maddie."

  "Don't be, Mom. It's really, really not your fault. I quit believing Dad's BS a long time ago." Maddie wiped her nose and sniffed.

  "Your dad had his faults, Maddie, but he loved you and Ryan so very much," Cara told her, trying to undo some of the damage she hadn't even known Maddie was dealing with all these months.

  She nodded. "I know he did. And I loved him, too. But I don't want you to ruin the rest of your life sitting here mourning him like he was some perfect specimen of honesty and fidelity and goodness. He was just a man ... and far from perfect. I think you ought to move on, Mom."

  Cara studied her for a long moment, wondering when her daughter had grown up, had become this level-headed young woman who, at the moment, had more wisdom than her mother.

  "Thank you, Maddie for coming to my defense with Ryan."

  Maddie rolled her eyes. "I'm so sick of him. He's been a brat forever and needs to quit treating you the way he does. It's ridiculous the way you baby him, Mom. And it's even worse how he works you. It makes me angry."

  Cara thought about Greg telling her much the same thing. Sometimes the truth is hard to see about relationships right under your nose ... the forest for the trees thing, she guessed. She smiled softly at Maddie. "How'd you get so wise, my darling?"

  Maddie squeezed her hand and smiled back. "Good raisin', I guess."

  Chapter Thirteen

  The interview went about as Greg had expected it might. These schools knew all they needed to know about you long before they sought to interview you. It was more, then, about personality than anything else. Either they felt him a good match for their program, or they didn't. He wasn't sweating it much either way. And he sure hadn't put much energy into making a decision about whether he'd accept any position offered, wouldn't until it was necessary to do so. If they offered him the position, he'd think about it then. Until then, he was trying to get through each day without killing someone, or getting fired from the job he had now, or calling Cara and begging her to take him back on whatever terms she wanted.

  God, his life sucked.

  He had survived the last month, getting by on anger and principle, but all that evaporated into the ozone layer the minute he heard her voice on the phone Thanksgiving Day. He'd managed until then, but talking to her, pretending it wasn't killing him, and spending Thanksgiving Day holed up in a hotel alone had shot him down a vortex of self-pity and depression, and he hadn't managed to find a foothold up yet.

  He'd tried. He'd reconnected with Rand, who was always a good ear, just searching for a way out of the black hole. And he'd been great medicine, recognizing the mess Greg was in and arranging to meet him in Waco. They spent a fall Saturday golfing together, and Rand had shared some astonishing news with Greg about his long lost daughter, given up for adoption nearly twenty years ago who had recently found Rand. It made Greg feel better. At least he knew someone who had some happy news, some good stuff going on, but it wasn't the panacea he was still looking for.

  Maybe it would be best for all concerned for him to take the job in California. It would be a fresh start. It just might be the thing.

  It wasn't home. That was for sure.

  And he'd be out there without a friend or ally to his name. Funny, he'd not ever been in that sort of situation. He'd been born and raised right here in Austin and surrounded by family, life-long friends, and familiar enemies. If you were gonna make them, they'd damn sure better be known to you.

  Maybe, just maybe it would be a good thing to start fresh in California.

  ***

  Ryan was ruminating on things, Cara could see. Frequently, he had a quiet, wool-gathering quality about him that wasn't normal. What he was making of any of it, she couldn't have said. But the very fact that her fifteen-year-old son thought of anything outside of girls and sports was bound to be an improvement over the usual.

  His sixteenth birthday arrived on the tenth of December, and Cara took him to get his driver's license. It was just something she was going to have to learn to live with, his driving. He passed the written exam with flying colors and made only one deductable error on the driving exam, so she felt a little better about it.

  He had searched the Internet an
d found a used, small SUV he was asking her to buy for him, but she knew next to nothing about cars and felt so out of her element with the purchase. It had fairly low mileage and seemed to be in good running condition, but she might have been buying a pig in a poke for all she knew. Still, he was thrilled with it and washed it that very day in the driveway despite chilly winds and overcast skies that threatened rain later in the day. It did her good to see him happy for a change.

  Happy, in fact, would have been a lovely change in her, but she didn't seem to be able to hold on to any for more than a few minutes of distracted time. It always came back to her that she was in no position to be happy without Greg.

  She'd heard nothing about the job in California, and Barbara had no news to share about it either. Cara considered asking Maddie to call him with something benign, some uncle advice type thing and ask him about it while she had a captive audience, but she couldn't quite bring herself to drag Maddie down into the pathetic abyss with her. She only hoped that no news was good news.

  Christmas was approaching. Cara bought a few gifts: new rims for Ryan's new vehicle and a new laptop for Maddie. The rest of her shopping she did online and with very little excitement for the season. They did manage to get their Christmas tree out of the attic, assembled, and decorated with about two weeks to spare.

  "I love it," Maddie declared, her eyes full of the promise of the season, twinkling reflections of the lights on the tree. "Don't you?" She turned that dazzling look on Cara, and Cara felt a vestigial tremor of the excitement she used to feel about her kids and Christmas.

  "I do love it, Maddie," she said. The tree was past its prime, having been stored one too many summers in the hot attic, but with a little fluffing, it spread its branches as always there in the corner of the den near the fireplace and wore well the twinkling lights, homemade ornaments from Christmases past, and a few newer ones Cara had bought at a day-after-Christmas sale a few years back.

  Ryan was half-in, half-out of the decorating game, enthralled in a basketball game on television instead, but they finally coerced him into placing the angel on the treetop, a job Jason had always performed with the help of one of the kids on his shoulders. Ryan needed nothing more than a step stool to reach it easily, and perched the familiar white angel with the golden halo up there proudly, then stepped back to take in the big picture. "Looks like Christmas around here finally," he said, and smiled broadly. It made Cara smile, too.

  She was cleaning up a few dishes in the kitchen a while later when Ryan walked through and stopped, turned her around by the shoulders to face him, and enveloped her in a bear hug the likes of which she hadn't had from him in months. She placed the backs of her forearms around his back, careful to keep her wet hands from dampening his shirt, and hugged him back, laughing at the sheer unexpectedness of it. He kissed her cheek.

  "I love you, Mom," he said, then turned and headed back toward the den.

  "I love you, too, Ry," she said, still bewildered as to why he felt inclined to hug her and tell her that, but she enjoyed it utterly. He stopped at the doorway and smiled back at her, an unusually poignant and tender offering, then winked and left her there with her heart in her throat. Her kids were growing up so fast.

  ***

  Barbara called the week before Christmas to make plans for the holiday. Cara had decided that she'd have the meal at her house, as Barbara had hosted Thanksgiving. They had always traded off in that fashion.

  There was an unusual pause at the other end of the line following her announcement though.

  "Or, not. Would you rather host it?" Cara asked.

  "No. It makes sense, of course, for us to celebrate Christmas at your house. The kids will want to play with their gifts and all. It's not fair to make them leave all that to come over here," Barbara said.

  Cara didn't remind her that her kids were well past that stage. "Well, what's wrong then? I can tell you have some hesitation."

  "It's Greg."

  "Oh." Strange that Cara hadn't thought about him coming. The estrangement had become her norm. Her unhappy norm, but her norm, nonetheless.

  "He won't come, Cara," Barbara said sadly.

  It made her heart hurt. "You've talked about it?"

  "No, not precisely. But he was relieved, I think, when his interview took him away at Thanksgiving so he didn't have to make that decision," Barbara told her.

  "Yeah, and what's happening on that front?"

  "You know as much as I do, dear. He's told me nothing about the job, or whether he'll take it."

  "I see," Cara said. She didn't know what to do, fully aware that the situation put Barbara in a bad place. "Barbara, I know this is hard for you. If you feel you should cook there and not come be with us, we'll try to understand. We did, after all, get to have Thanksgiving with you, and he didn't."

  "Would you prefer that?" Barbara asked. Cara could plainly hear a measure of hurt in her voice.

  "Absolutely not. What I want is for us all to be together. You have no idea," Cara said, but stopped herself from saying more, not sure her voice wouldn't break like her heart was.

  There came another long pause, then Barbara sighed. "I'll talk to him and get back to you. In the meantime, you plan to do it there. Your kids deserve to have a normal Christmas, just like always."

  Cara might have laughed at that, had it not been so preposterous. There was nothing around here that was like always. Nothing.

  ***

  Greg walked across the crowded parking lot of the mall toward his truck, Christmas gifts in hand. Shopping was not his forte, but he'd knocked it out in one day, thankful to have it behind him. Arms full, he struggled to fish his keys out of his pocket and became aware of a car trolling along behind him, probably waiting for his parking spot. He quickly stashed his purchases in the cab of his pickup and waved at the waiting vehicle to indicate he was hurrying. Everybody was so damned impatient this time of year.

  "Hey, Greg," someone called, stopping him from climbing into the truck. He turned to find Ryan behind the wheel of an unfamiliar SUV pulled up close behind Greg's truck.

  "Hey, Ryan," Greg said, uncertain about the mood. Ryan's expression didn't give much away, but he might have driven right on by with Greg none the wiser. Greg took it as a good sign that he hadn't.

  "Saw you walking across the parking lot and thought I'd stop and say hello," Ryan said, hanging one elbow out the lowered window.

  "Glad you did. Guess you got your license, huh?"

  "Yeah. Passed with flying colors," Ryan told him proudly. It almost felt like old times when they'd been close, when something as legion as getting a driver's license wouldn't have passed without some celebrating between them.

  "No doubt." Greg looked over the vehicle. "And this is your new ride?"

  Ryan beamed like a pair of brights coming at you on the highway. "Sure is. What'da you think?"

  "Sweet," Greg said, smiling. He remembered his first car, wished, from time to time that he still owned it. He walked over to the SUV and leaned a hand on the door frame. "So how are you? How's school?"

  Ryan shrugged noncommittally. "Okay, I guess. Ready to be out for winter break."

  "That means finals this week, right?"

  "Yeah. Sucks."

  Greg laughed a little. "I'm sure."

  "Heard you were thinking about moving to California." Ryan's expression was a mixture of inquiry and dread.

  "Still pondering," Greg told him.

  Ryan nodded a little, then looked off through the windshield, and they were quiet for a time. "You have time to catch a burger or something?" Ryan finally asked.

  The olive branch in all its glory. Greg grabbed it with both hands. "You bet," he said, then grinned. "You driving?"

  Ryan grinned, too. "Sure. Hop in."

  They went to a little burger dive around the corner from the mall, which was, thankfully, not too crowded, and chose a booth in the back where they could talk.

  Greg couldn't help but grin at Ryan across the tab
le, so glad to be back in touch with him. He seemed so different, certainly more so than two month's worth of absence might have brought. There was a centered calm about him that was new. Greg liked it.

  "So, how have you been?"

  "Okay. Been doing a lot of thinking lately," Ryan told him.

  "Don't hurt yourself, man."

  Ryan grinned a little lopsidedly. "Yeah, some of it was kinda painful."

  "That right?" Greg asked, losing his smile.

  "Yeah. There's been some heavy shit goin' down at home." Ryan messed with a napkin wrapped utensil pack on the table top, his gaze on that instead of Greg.

  "Everybody okay?"

  Ryan looked bemused. "Depends on what you mean by okay."

  "You know what I mean," Greg said.

  Ryan finally met his gaze. "Then, no. Everybody's not okay."

  Greg waited patiently for Ryan to say what he needed to say, but his gut was churning, and a hundred thoughts went tumbling through his mind. Was Cara sick? Was she seeing someone new? Someone else Ryan didn't like?

  "Who's not okay, Ry?" Greg asked when the wait became too much to bear.