by Maggie Marr
Cade ran his fingers through his hair and looked past his father and out the window into the stillness of the predawn. Lights from downtown Powder Springs twinkled and beyond that, Thunderridge shot upward, a black outline against the inky blue sky.
“You know the truth now?”
Cade started at his father’s rough voice. His father’s eyes focused on him.
“We talked to Wilkes, and he told us what happened the night Connie died.”
“Tulsa too?”
“Tulsa too,” Cade answered. Anger simmered inside Cade with the sound of Tulsa’s name on Hudd’s lips. Cade had believed his dad. He’d trusted his dad. And now he knew that his trust had been misplaced. “Just one statement from you and everything would have been different.”
“Maybe.” Hudd took a deep breath, which caused his body to shudder. “And maybe not. You know things weren’t good back then with your mother and me, and I wanted the whole damn mess to go away.”
Cade bit back the accusations that flew through his mind. If things weren’t good then why hadn’t his father tried to fix them? Why instead did he manipulate? Why did he lie?
“What I did was wrong,” Hudd finally said.
Cade couldn’t absolve his father of his transgressions. Silence settled between them. A silence that Cade didn’t have the energy—at least not right now—to try to bridge. Instead he gazed out the window and watched the outline of the trees wave in the whisper of the wind. Cold and stark. The world beyond that window looked lonely.
His father’s voice sounded far away and slow, as if he hovered between here and some unknown realm. “I shouldn’t have chased her off,” he said.
A chill slithered down Cade’s spine. He pulled his gaze from the window and stared at his dad. “Chased who off?”
His father’s eyes closed and he seemed to drift away. Cade’s pulse quickened.
“Dad?” Cade said, his voice stronger, louder. “Dad?” Cade reached over and shook his father’s forearm. Hudd’s eyes flew open with Cade’s touch.
“Dad.” Cade reined hard on the emotion that threatened to gallop away from him. “Who did you chase off?”
At first his father’s eyes seemed dim—distant—his gaze wandered toward the darkness of the window and then his eyelids flickered closed once more. Three long breaths, then once again his father opened his eyes and looked at Cade.
“Tulsa, son. I shouldn’t have made her leave.”
Cade’s insides—his belly—his lungs—his heart dropped away from him. A buzzing filled his ears.
“You?” Cade squinted. He couldn’t say it. Had never thought it. Couldn’t believe it. His father’s eyes remained fixed on him.
“She was no good for you then, son. No good for any of us. She wouldn’t let it go and—”
A bolt of energy shot through Cade and he jumped to his feet. His fingers pulled at his hair as he tried to understand, he made tight circles in front of his chair, tried to make sense of his father’s words. Finally Cade stopped and stared down at the man he would always love and now knew he could never fully comprehend.
“You made Tulsa leave?”
The side of Hudd’s face that could still move, still respond to emotion, set hard, his lips a strong line without apology, without regret. “I did what was best for you—for our family.”
The fire, white-hot within Cade, blazed—so much anger and so many words. He opened his mouth and stopped. No good would come of these words, these thoughts, these emotions. There was nothing he could say to his dad, nothing that would ever convince his father of how wrong he was then and still was now. Hudd had built his world then and even now in a way that served only him.
“You didn’t know,” his father whispered out as his eyes again fluttered closed.
Cade bit back the shout that lay ready in his throat. He swallowed. He took a breath. “No, Dad,” Cade said. “I never knew, but I do now.”
*
The raw sting of fatigue clasped Cade. His mind buzzed with anger. The tremor of sunlight chased away the night. Cade didn’t bother to knock; he knew his brother was awake and that the front door was unlocked. He marched through the foyer and into the kitchen. Wayne sat at the table in boxers and a white T-shirt, eating his eggs.
“Did you know?” Cade shot out.
Energy buzzed through him, jumping from cell to cell. He couldn’t sit. He couldn’t be still. From the expression on Wayne’s face, Cade realized that he looked like a crazy person. Heat circled through his limbs, seeking an escape. To hit anything or anyone would be a relief.
“Morning, brother,” Wayne said. He picked up his plate, ignored Cade’s obvious agitation, and headed toward the sink. “For me to answer that question, you’re gonna need to be more specific.”
The kitchen was barely big enough for Wayne plus another person, so Cade walked into the family room. He paced and the heels of his boots made a hard tap with each step on the hardwood floor—from the fireplace to the sliding glass door, from sliding glass door to fireplace, forward and back. His fingers ran through his hair. His mind turned over the facts as he searched for answers. He listened; he waited. Wayne rinsed his plate and put it into the dishwasher.
Finally, Wayne’s frame filled the kitchen doorway between the kitchen and the family room. “Now what is it you want to hear about?” Wayne asked.
Cade stopped. He stared at Wayne. They had such different ideas about Hudd. Such different experiences. But now, Cade wondered if Wayne’s beliefs weren’t closer to the truth of who Hudd actually was.
“Did you know Dad sent Tulsa away?” Cade asked.
Wayne shifted his weight and leaned his arm against the doorframe. He scrubbed one hand over his jaw. “I’d heard something like that.”
Cade’s heart hammered harder and a giant chasm opened beneath his ribs. As if his whole being—his body, his organs, every bit of him, might tumble into the giant hole that wrenched through him. Not only had his dad lied by omission, but then he’d coerced a grief-stricken Tulsa into leaving. Convinced her to run.
“And you never said anything?”
“I thought you knew.” Wayne settled his shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “You didn’t look for her. You didn’t call her. You never wrote her. It was like she left and you checked out. You went to college, then law school, got married. Hell, I wasn’t for sure you still carried a torch for Tulsa ‘til I knocked you on your ass at the gym.” Wayne turned and Cade heard him walk down the hall toward the bedrooms.
Knew? Knew? The only thing Cade knew for certain on this morning was that he didn’t know shit about anyone or anything. He’d thought Tulsa ran away because she didn’t love him. He’d thought his dad had nothing to do with the Connie McGrath case. He’d thought Wilkes Stevenson was a myth. So far everything he’d thought was true was actually false and right now his world spun from this new awareness. Wayne returned to the family room now wearing his uniform.
“I’m going to stop by the hospital and see Hudd,” Wayne said and strapped his Murphy belt around his waist. “Want to come?”
“Nope,” Cade said.
Wayne put his sheriff’s hat onto his head. “You really didn’t know about Hudd chasing Tulsa away?”
“Not a bit of it,” Cade said. A hardness settled around his heart. “I’ve got some things at the ranch that Dad needs at the hospital. Can you drop them by?”
“Sorry, brother,” Wayne said. His hand glanced across Cade’s shoulder in an attempt at condolence.
Cade didn’t blame Wayne. He knew where the blame rested. With an old man lying in a hospital bed.
“What are you going to do now?” Wayne asked.
Cade looked at his brother. “I’m going to find some truth.”
*
Now wasn’t the best time to have this conversation with Tulsa, but now was when Cade intended to have it. The pinprick of nerves scraped beneath his skin—their trails deeper with the lack of sleep, the cloaking of fatigue. He stoo
d in the McGrath family room beside the kitchen counter and waited. Ash had let him in and then scooted out the door and into Dylan Conroy’s truck on her way to school. He could hear the creaks of the old house as Tulsa and Savannah walked around upstairs.
He turned toward the front of the house as he heard the sound of boots on wooden steps.
“Morning, Cade,” Savannah said.
She wore her curly hair in a loose bun on top of her head and a brown turtleneck, jeans, and work boots. Her smile was freer than what he’d seen the last few months. Savannah’s biggest worry had cleared. Swept away with the agreement between her and Bobby. She had Ash. She even had Tulsa. The McGraths grew tighter while fractures cracked through the Montgomery family.
“Morning.” He stood in the center of the family room with his hands on his hips.
“Coffee?” Savannah asked and held up the pot.
His insides already rolled with the thick oily feeling of upset and fatigue. He shook his head no and forced a polite smile to his face.
“I gotta check the kiln. Tulsa ought to be down in a minute. We gotta head to the airport in ten.” Savannah opened the glass door and shivered with the cold. The windows rattled in their panes when she pulled shut the door.
Cade heard the sound of more footsteps on the stairs. Tulsa walked into the kitchen. Her curls were pulled away from her face and she wore a black suit jacket and pants—sharp and crisp. A smile pulled her face into happiness when she saw him, but then she paused. Cade saw the hardness in his face—his stance—reflected in Tulsa’s eyes. He tried to soften his jaw but there was nothing there, nothing to give. His throat felt too thick, his mind too buzzed, his limbs too heavy.
No, this wasn’t a good time to have this conversation, but the need propelled him forward, his need to finally be clear on all that had happened, everything that had changed and impacted his life, each bit without him ever knowing.
“Awful early to pay a visit,” Tulsa said. Her voice was tentative. She pulled her right brow upward. She carried her coffee cup to the counter and refilled her cup from the pot before she replaced it, turned, and leaned against the counter. “How’s your dad?” she asked, her voice softer.
Cade shook his head, looked down at the floor. How was his dad? The same. Not good. A liar.
“He’s forgotten how to lie,” Cade finally said.
With his words, the color drained from Tulsa’s face. Her breath shortened and she licked her bottom lip. He said nothing. She placed her coffee cup on the counter and walked toward him. Her lips were pursed and her head tilted. Was that shame in her eyes? Embarrassment? Sadness? Guilt? His chest tightened. The scent of her—lavender and earthy and good and all that he’d loved—filled him. He ground his teeth together.
“I…” Tulsa met his gaze and then glanced at the wood floor. “I…” She pulled in a deep breath and glanced up through those long lashes. “I should have told you.”
“Should doesn’t go very far in life.”
“We were eighteen and my mother had just died and…” Tulsa closed her eyes, deep in thought, then opened them again. “What Hudd said to me. How he said it, made so much sense. It all seemed so reasonable, so rational. It felt like he was right—that my staying would ruin your life and mine.”
“And all those years between then and now?”
Tulsa looked up toward the ceiling and crossed her arms over her chest.
“We had lives. You moved to New York, got married. I lived in LA.” Her blue eyes met his gaze. “And this thing with Hudd and my mom, it never went away.” Her voice caught. “I… I… just didn’t see the point.”
His throat choked. His ribs pulled tight. His shoulder tightened and a pain sliced up the back of his neck.
“I… I know I always loved you, but I didn’t see a way, and when I finally wanted to tell you, I didn’t think you’d believe me—”
“Believe you?” His words burst out hard and fast, like bullets. “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”
She took one step back and her face tightened, the vulnerability now locked away from him. Tulsa squinted and anger crawled up onto her face. “When it came to Hudd, you never believed me before, why would I think you’d believe me after I left?”
The air rushed from Cade’s lungs. How could he respond? With anger? With pain? With unkind words about running away and being a coward? He locked his jaw.
“What do you want me to say?” Tulsa shot out. “That I’m sorry for leaving? I’m not. I’ve created a life—a life for me and for my family. A life I never would have had if I’d stayed here.”
“We weren’t staying here.” Cade’s eyes slid to the left as he stared at Tulsa. “That wasn’t the plan.”
“Right. Denver. College. Law school. I remember the plan.” Tulsa nodded. “I also remember your dad telling me that if I stayed, none of that plan would happen. That he’d make sure of it. No school. No money. No help. Just you and me, alone. Do you think I wanted that for you? To lose everything because of me? How long would that have lasted? You? Cut off from all things Montgomery?”
“Guess we’ll never know,” Cade said.
He believed the threats that Tulsa told him Hudd had made. And really, to be fair, he might not have believed her then if she’d come to him. He might have sided with his father—his family—and he would have been wrong. But all that truth that now tore at his brain didn’t fill his mouth, didn’t form his words—all he wanted to do was rage, rage at a future that never was, because Tulsa had believed his father, because she didn’t trust him, perhaps never had.
Tulsa pushed her lips together. She fought a slickness in her eyes. “Guess not,” she said.
Cade grabbed his leather jacket that he’d slung over the back of a kitchen chair. He had nothing more to say. She didn’t apologize. He wouldn’t ask her to stay, tell her that this time all the blocks and problems and barricades that stood between them were easy to overcome, because they weren’t.
She hadn’t trusted him then and he didn’t trust her now.
There was so much emotion between them but nothing left to give—no road left to try. The truth was out and they still couldn’t build a bridge past their hurt and lies.
“Have a safe trip,” Cade said as the leather molded around his shoulders. No warmth came with it. “I’m certain you’re excited to get home to LA.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Blue-sky day after blue-sky day after blue-sky day—somehow even the perfect blue of the Los Angeles sky had lost its vibrancy. Week after week Tulsa didn’t bother to put the top down on her car. Nor did she turn on her radio. Nor did she hum a tune. Day after day, week after week, she simply transported herself to her office where she now sat, mindlessly glancing at interrogatories. Not really caring—knowing she should care more. This morning, she waited the last few minutes until the morning staff meeting was to begin.
She sighed and let her chin sink to her chest. This was no way to live. Depressed, beaten—that wasn’t her style. She was a fighter, a warrior, a go-getter who won. She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and looked out at the blue water of the Pacific in the distance. Nope—even the ocean didn’t excite her.
“Tulsa?”
Tulsa caught Emma’s and Jo’s reflections in the window and she swiveled her chair toward her partners as they entered her office. Tulsa forced her face to soften and tried to erase all the sadness from her eyes. Emma folded herself onto Tulsa’s office couch and Jo leaned against the credenza.
“Did I miss a memo?” Tulsa asked and crinkled her eyebrows.
They usually met in the conference room for the morning meeting. A look, thick with concern, flashed between Jo and Emma.
Emma tucked a white-blond curl behind her ear and a soft smile lit upon her face. “We thought…” Her words drifted to an unsettled silence as she again looked across the office toward Jo.
“We thought that we should talk.” Jo finished Emma’s sentence. Her brown eyes met Tulsa’s.
; “Okay.” Tulsa leaned back in her desk chair and clasped her hands. A tingle crawled up her neck. Somehow she suddenly felt as though she were in trouble—about to be chastised or scolded.
“We wondered…” Emma looked from Tulsa to Jo, an uncertainty in her eyes. “Well, we wondered if you were okay?”
Tulsa crinkled her brows and forced her lips into a half smile. “Of course I’m okay. Ash is with Savannah. I’m home. The practice is busy. You’re both here.” Tulsa twisted her chair toward the wall of windows and held out her hand toward the perfect blue sky. “The weather is perfect.” But even as she said it, even as she tried to fake it for her partners—for her friends—she realized they weren’t buying what she was selling. Not even she was buying what she was selling. Her hand dropped to her lap and again her chin sank to her chest. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. She had the world. All that she wanted—or thought that she wanted: a career, a full bank account, success, a happy niece and sister, and yet… And yet.
She spun her chair toward Emma and Jo. She bit her bottom lip. A kind of panic gripped her chest.
“I’m in love with Cade and I can’t get around it.”
Emma nodded and tilted her head. “We know.”
Of course they knew. And they’d waited—like wonderful, loving, patient friends—they’d waited for Tulsa to try to work out her feelings for herself. They’d waited because they knew she was private and would want to at least try to sort out her personal challenges alone. They’d waited because they loved her and knew her and understood.
Tulsa gripped her forehead with both hands. “I feel so—”
“Vulnerable?” Emma asked.
“Ridiculous?” Jo added.
Tulsa shook her head with each word. “Bewildered,” she finally whispered out. “I just… Life is good, but I just can’t shake this… this achy feeling. I think about him. I pick up the phone to call him. I type up an email to send him. But then…” She looked from Jo to Emma.