Courting Trouble

by Maggie Marr

  “Dad’s coming home, too,” Ash said. She twisted up her mouth and perked an eyebrow. Her eyes held a question. “Do you think we could all have Thanksgiving together—you, me, Mom, and Dad?”

  Tulsa heard the hopefulness in her niece’s voice and she wanted to say yes, but for Savannah to share a holiday meal with Bobby might be a tall order.

  “I don’t know—that’s a whole lot of emotional distance to ask your mother to cover.”

  “She’s actually had it pretty lucky, right? I mean, he’s been in Alaska my entire life and this is the first holiday she’s had to share me. Besides, when we start having the holidays at my house I’m going to invite both of them. They might as well get used to it now.”

  The argument was fairly sound, but Tulsa didn’t know if even Ash could convince her mother and father to share a family meal—not even for their daughter. But then again, Tulsa hadn’t held out much hope that the custody case would settle and it had.

  “You might as well give it your best shot,” Tulsa said. She winced inside at her unintended pun.

  Ash’s iPhone rang and she slipped it from her pocket. She looked at the screen and her giggles met her blush.

  “I gotta go,” Ash said. “I’ll be back for dinner.”

  Tulsa got one more tight squeeze in before Ash bolted for the door and pounded down the staircase. Tulsa heard Ash yell bye to Savannah just before the front door clattered closed. Tulsa parted the lace curtain and peeked out her bedroom window. Dylan Conroy waited in the drive in his pickup. Ash bolted down the porch steps and he hopped out of the truck and opened up Ash’s door. Before she got into his truck, they stood close to one another. Ash’s face turned up and Dylan planted the softest of kisses on Ash’s lips. Tulsa’s heart fluttered with the sight of her niece in Dylan’s arms.

  A half hour later, Tulsa walked into Savannah’s workshop. Savannah wore her welder’s mask and worked on an eight-foot bronze grizzly bear. Savannah cut the torch and flipped up her mask.

  “You’ve got everything?”

  “I do,” Tulsa said.

  “You coming back any time soon?” She tore her welder’s mask from her head and set her mask and her torch on a workbench with a loud clatter. Was Savannah daring Tulsa to say yes or forbidding her to say no?

  “The weekend before Thanksgiving.”

  Savannah tilted her head and her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. She planted her hands on her hips. “You’ll go back to LA, what? That Wednesday then? Before Thanksgiving day?”

  “I thought I’d stay the whole week.”

  The right corner of Savannah’s mouth kicked upward and she met Tulsa’s gaze. Her shoulder’s shifted and the stiffness that inhabited Savannah’s body seemed to relax out of her.

  “You know, I’d like that.” Savannah said. She let out a loud breath and glanced around her workshop—her eyes bouncing from bear to eagle to deer to otter and finally her gaze, now open and vulnerable, rested on Tulsa. “I need to thank you.” The hard edge in her voice had melted into a softer tone. “For what you did. For being here this whole time. I…” Savannah’s voice cracked. “I don’t think I could have gotten through this without you.”

  Tulsa stepped forward and circled her arms around her sister. She pressed her face into Savannah’s curls. “You could have and you would have,” Tulsa whispered. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

  “Yeah right,” Savannah sniffled. “Maybe the craziest.”

  “That too,” Tulsa said.

  They laughed. Savannah pulled away from Tulsa and dug a tissue from the pocket of her overalls.

  “But strong. So, so strong. You raised Ash and managed to create an amazing career.”

  “I wish you were here more,” Savannah shot out. And then, as if embarrassed by her admission, she shoved her hands in her pockets. “We miss you and Ash won’t be here forever.”

  “I promise I’ll be around more.”

  Savannah’s eyes brightened. “Really? Swear it?”

  “Swear it,” Tulsa said.

  “Then I won’t send that to Los Angeles,” Savannah said and jerked her head toward the far wall of the workshop. Tulsa’s eyes landed on the girl picking wildflowers. Tulsa’s hand flew to her heart. She walked toward the sculpture. The beautiful girl that contained bits from every McGrath of the last four generations. Grandma Margaret’s forehead, Connie’s eyes, all their curls. And the cherubic smile that was Ash’s and Connie’s.

  “I made her for you,” Savannah said.

  “For me?” Warmth rushed through Tulsa’s limbs and her heart filled with a solid feeling—a pure feeling of contentment and joy. “It’s perfect.”

  Savannah’s smile was pure—a rapture in giving her sister a gift that she dearly loved. “Thank you,” Tulsa said and Savannah slung her arm over Tulsa’s shoulders.

  “Good thing you’re coming back more because that thing would be a bitch to ship to LA.” Tulsa ran her fingertips along the girl’s arm. “She belongs here,” Tulsa said. She could think of no more perfect a place for the sculpture than in the Victorian’s backyard. “With all of us.”

  Savannah walked back to her workbench and picked up her mask. “So what’re you gonna do about Cade?” she asked.

  Tulsa pulled her eyes away from the sculpture to her sister. “I don’t know,” Tulsa said.

  “He knows you dug up Wilkes?”

  Tulsa nodded and stuffed both her hands in her jacket pockets.

  “Does he know about the other?” Savannah asked.

  Tulsa shook her head no. Her eyes dropped to the concrete floor. “Not unless Hudd told him.”

  Savannah snorted as she pulled her welder’s mask onto her head. “That old SOB? Not likely. But then again, his marbles are fallin’ out of his head. I think you should tell Cade.”

  Tulsa closed her eyes. She wasn’t certain Cade would believe her—his blind spot with Hudd was impenetrable. His biggest flaw was his Montgomery loyalty. But then, family grounded you. Made you feel whole. Gave you a sense of who you were and the foundation to become all you wanted to be.

  “He’s loved you for more than half his life—I doubt you telling him what Hudd did when you were eighteen will shake Cade’s feelings,” Savannah said.

  “It’s more than that,” Tulsa said. “We find Wilkes, then what? What if Hudd did hit Mom? And what if he didn’t? Either way, Hudd was there. Then I left without a word. Plus what happened with Ash? It’s like…” Tulsa looked toward the rafters and searched for words amongst the iridescent dust that caught the last light of day from the skylights. “How many signs do we need before we figure out we’re not supposed to be together? That our timing is off? All these obstacles keep getting thrown in our path. Cade and I just aren’t meant to be together.”

  “Or,” Savannah said, “maybe you’ve got the strongest bond in the world. Most people, their love would have died from all those hits, but you and Cade?” Savannah planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve never met two people more made for each other.”

  “What are you talking about? You don’t want us to…” Tulsa’s phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. “…be together. You and your shotgun made that pretty clear.” Tulsa slipped the phone from her pocket.

  “That was before I realized Cade got assigned Ash’s case. And I do believe him that at first he didn’t realize Ash was my daughter. So I’ve decided to forgive the sorry son of a bitch, if only because I don’t have enough room in my heart to hate him.”

  Tulsa glanced at the number on her phone. Her eyes widened and she looked up at Savannah.

  “It’s Kyle,” Tulsa said. “I need to take this.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The air felt thick around her—muffled and still as though she had stepped through a fog when she entered the district attorney’s office. She clutched her pocketbook, which hung from her shoulder. Anxiousness coiled and filled Tulsa’s gut. Her jaw was tight as though it wouldn’t, couldn’t, move. She’d waited nearly a lifetime for
this moment. This moment that held the truth.

  Kyle exited the conference room and nodded toward Tulsa. His face was pinched, but a softness filtered from his eyes.

  “This whole thing is a little unorthodox.” Kyle’s voice was low. “But since the sheriff is Hudd’s stepson, I thought it best if I talked with him instead of letting Wayne handle the interview.”

  “Where’d you find him?” Tulsa asked.

  “I didn’t,” Kyle said. “He did.” Kyle looked past Tulsa, down the office corridor, and she turned to follow his gaze.

  Her eyes landed on Cade and he acknowledged her with a nearly imperceptible tilt to his chin.

  “Cade brought Wilkes in. He didn’t want to come. He didn’t want to call you or me. But when Cade showed up… Well, Cade convinced him to head this way.”

  Cade walked toward her. His eyes were bright, but the corners of his mouth pulled down. He looked sad, perhaps resigned to the finality of this moment.

  She turned her face up and gazed into his eyes. “Why?” Tulsa asked.

  “Because whether we’re together or not, you deserve the truth,” Cade said. “We both do.”

  They did, both of them, after this many years of not knowing exactly what had happened, and how the events of that forever-ago night had kept her and Cade apart, they deserved to hear the details. They deserved a confirmation or a negation of the story they had each chosen to believe, and they both deserved the closure that would hopefully follow.

  “Thank you,” Tulsa whispered.

  She hadn’t expected Cade to find Wilkes but somehow she wasn’t surprised. Cade was a man who tried to live his principles. A man whom she’d loved once upon a time long ago and still did. A man she might never get to share more of her life with—but a man she wished could be hers.

  “You’re welcome,” Cade said. He tilted his head and met her gaze.

  In his eyes she saw love, but there was more. There was also pain and frustration and perhaps even anger. Emotions that neither of them could erase with the truth.

  Tulsa entered the conference room. Wilkes was an outdoor type of man. He wore a flannel work shirt and jeans. His hair was brown and well-kept, short. His face was lined from hours in the sun and wind, and his hands were callused and worn. Even with the signs of hard work on his body, his eyes were soft and kind. Wilkes shifted in his chair and nodded toward Tulsa and Cade.

  “My daughter gave me your card,” Wilkes said. His voice was low. “She kept after me to call, but…” Wilkes looked away from Tulsa, toward Cade. He pulled in a deep breath of air and then let it release. “Well, I just didn’t want to open up this mess all over again.”

  Tulsa understood Wilkes reluctance—this “mess” had wreaked havoc on her life, her family’s lives, and Cade’s too.

  “Mr. Stevenson,” Kyle said, his tone brisk, “this is an informal meeting, and as I mentioned, you are welcome to have an attorney here.”

  “Seems like there’s plenty of lawyers in this room,” Wilkes said and softly smiled.

  “Yes, sir. Seems like there is. But if you want one for yourself, you can have one. And you can leave any time. Don’t have to talk to any of us at all. Just so we’re clear.”

  “I’m here because I want to be.” He set his jaw and looked at each of them in turn. “What I saw that night. Well it affects everyone in this room and a bunch a people that aren’t.” His eyes landed on Tulsa.

  The lump in her throat that had been slowly building since Kyle’s call hardened. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and willed herself not to let the tears building behind her eyes fall. She forced the muscles in her face to remain lax, for her eyes to remain clear.

  “Okay then,” Kyle said. He leaned back in his chair. His hands rested on the conference room table. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what you remember?”

  Tulsa forced herself to breathe.

  “It was a bad night,” Wilkes said. “Every way ‘round.” His eyebrows, big, bushy, and gray, like fat caterpillars, shifted upward while his lips pursed together and then straightened into a hard, grave line. “Wasn’t nothin’ good about that night. First off…” Wilkes leaned back from the table. “Hudd, he managed to get himself into a real fight at the tavern, and second, he shouldn’t have been driving.”

  Tulsa looked at Cade but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t return her gaze. Instead, his eyes were locked on Wilkes.

  “But he did drive and we was nearly home when Hudd rounded that corner on Yampa Valley Road. That’s when we both saw her.”

  Tulsa closed her eyes and pressed the palms of her hands tight together under the table. Finally. Finally after all these years of waiting and wondering, finally she’d know what really happened the night her mother died.

  “She was lying facedown in the ditch on the side of the road.”

  Tulsa’s heart stutter-stepped and she held her breath. Her head jerked from Wilkes to Cade to Kyle. “Wait.” Tulsa breathed out. “My mother… she was… she was already there?”

  Wilkes slowly nodded. His voice grew softer. “We stopped, and, well, we got her into the car—she was bloodied and battered and we wasn’t sure if she was breathin’ or not.” Wilkes shook his head and stared at the brown surface of the table that reflected the overhead lights. “Somebody did her a world of hurt that night.”

  He was lost in thought—as though with each word the images of the night flashed before him. He closed his eyes, released a breath, then looked up from the table at Tulsa.

  “Thing was, once we got to town, well, Hudd and me, we just left her at the hospital. Sure we got her inside and set up with the doc but neither one of us was in any shape to be talkin’ to the police, so once she was there… Well, we hightailed it out.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone? If you didn’t hit her, if you didn’t…”

  Wilkes stared down at his hands. “There was lots of reasons. I guess one of them was, well…” His eyes landed on Tulsa and he softened his gaze. “I mean no disrespect to you or your family or even your mama… but with Connie…” Wilkes sighed and stared at his knuckles and then looked back up at Tulsa. “With her… You know… Wherever she went, trouble seemed to follow, and Hudd, he was already in pretty deep with Judith what with traveling back and forth to Denver and being out all the time. He come out to my place the next day ‘cause we still lived in Powder Springs and he asked me to keep it quiet. I was nearly ready to move and just figured once I left town, wouldn’t be no need to ever talk about that night again.”

  The breath rushed from Tulsa and her shoulders slumped forward. Hot tears prickled her eyes. So much time, so much pain, so much anger, so much loss.

  “We could have done more,” Wilkes said. “I should have done more. Stayed at the hospital. Come to see your grandma. Something to let her know, but I figured… well, I figured at the time that there wasn’t much more any of us could do.”

  Tulsa pressed her lips together. She forced the tears from her eyes. She filled her lungs and sat tall. This was neither the story she expected nor the finality she’d sought, but she knew what Wilkes said was the truth—she felt it to her core. Her gaze roamed from Wilkes to Cade. Pain lined his face and his jaw was tight. He’d been right and he’d been wrong, but the truth was that while Hudd had been on Yampa Valley Road that night, Cade’s father hadn’t done Tulsa’s mother any harm.

  *

  After dinner, once the dishes were cleared and Ash was in her room, Tulsa told Savannah all of Wilkes’s story. Tulsa recounted the details of that night. The words scraped against her throat. Once Tulsa finished, Savannah stood, clasped Tulsa in a hug, and then without a word walked through the back door to her workshop.

  Tulsa sat at the kitchen table, her hand wrapped around her long-cold coffee cup. Peace hadn’t come with the truth. The settled feeling that Tulsa expected with the knowledge of the events surrounding Connie’s death hadn’t arrived. She did feel the beginnings of a sense of closure. A completeness with r
egards to her adolescence. The charged wariness she always carried within—as if she were waiting for the next bad thing—hadn’t disappeared. And perhaps it never would. Perhaps she couldn’t ever completely fix that feeling, that fear, that uneasiness. Perhaps all she could do was acknowledge this quirk within her and create a work-around, a simple acceptance—that she would forever worry, but instead of letting her worry about the future drive her, maybe she could relax into the fear, breathe through it, accept that this was another part of her that she didn’t need to change as much as accept.

  Tulsa didn’t feel different with her knowledge. She didn’t feel more whole or complete. She could stop with her questions. She could acknowledge who Connie had been and admit there were many gaps in her mother’s life that Tulsa would never be able to fill. She might never know the truth about her mother. And really, she didn’t need to. Tulsa stood and set her coffee cup in the sink. With the truth came knowledge and with knowledge came a choice. There was a lie she’d told—and now it was her turn to wash herself clean.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cade slumped in the vinyl chair next to Hudd’s hospital bed. His head rested on his hand and fatigue lay heavy in his limbs. Ache cemented his joints from hours in this chair. His father’s deep breathing was slow but not labored. The whisper of air was a metronomic melody in the dark and silent room. Under the thin blanket, the outline of Hudd’s body appeared as though a withered husk. What words could Cade say to his father? What words might his father even understand? His father’s tenuous grip on reality wavered like a translucent tether made real only by the past knowledge that Hudd had once upon a time entrenched himself solidly within this reality.

  But now?

  Now, his father slipped in and out, inhabiting this world and another. The permeable reality that was his father’s existence had been the reason Cade wrote off Hudd’s admission made when the winds whipped and a storm threatened the sky. Even with the chill that tingled the vertebrae in Cade’s spine, the prickles in his fingertips, even with the voice in Cade’s head yelling “TRUTH,” Cade had believed the words in the past that his father told him and disbelieved Tulsa.