Fighting for Us: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

  “Really? He always seemed so laid back.”

  “Oh, he was. He was friendly and easygoing. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t determined. Once that man got something in his head, that was it.” She paused for a moment, tipping the chair with her toes. “And then one day, Frank Bailey got it into his head that what he wanted was me.”

  I watched her, fascinated. She’d told plenty of stories about Grandad, especially since he’d passed. But I’d never heard this one.

  “That could have been simple enough. A man falls in love with a woman and she falls in love right back. They decide they want to get married. Easy. That’s how it’s done. But there was a problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “Frank Bailey was a white boy. And in those days, white boys didn’t date Indian girls. And they certainly didn’t marry them.”

  “Really? His family didn’t want him to be with you?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t just his family. We got it from both sides. The Baileys were not too keen on Frank fraternizing with Miss Emma Luscier, with her dark skin and long black hair. And my family was furious at me for running around town with a white boy.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eighteen. Frank was nineteen. We were old enough that we could have just run off and eloped, to hell with everyone.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “I wanted to. I was positive that was the only solution. His family would never accept me, and my family would never accept him. And not marrying Frank Bailey had ceased to be an option for me. Come hell or high water, I was going to marry that man.”

  “I thought you said Grandad was the determined one.”

  Her mouth twitched in a smile. “We both had it in us, but he wasn’t just determined to marry me. He was determined to marry me in front of the whole town. And everyone, including our parents, would be nothing but over the moon with happiness about it.”

  “So he wouldn’t elope?”

  “He flat-out refused. I said we only had two options. We could make our parents happy by going our separate ways, which of course neither of us wanted. Or we could elope, and deal with the fallout, whatever that might be. Neither of us really wanted that, either, considering we knew we’d probably be disowned by both families. The way I saw it, we could keep our families, or we could keep each other, but we couldn’t have both.”

  “But Grandad didn’t agree?”

  She shook her head. “He most certainly did not. I don’t know if there was anything in the world that could rile him up like the feeling of being caught between a rock and a hard place. He simply refused to accept that we had to choose between our families and each other.”

  “So what did he do?”

  “A better question would be, what didn’t he do. He courted me openly, for all the town to see. But he didn’t just court me—he courted my family. Some of that was simply showing them the sort of man he was by treating me like a lady. But when he sent me flowers, he’d send some to my mother, too. He found out the sorts of things that interested my father, and he learned all about them, so they’d have things to talk about.

  “Eventually he was going on hunting and fishing trips with my father and uncles. He was stopping by to share tea and frybread with my mother. And he worked his Frank Bailey magic on his parents, too. He started by enchanting them with stories about the forest and the mountains, then springing it on them at the end that they were the tales of my people. He brought me to his house for tea or for dinner so they could get to know me. He seemed to know, intuitively, that both sides needed to see the other in a new light. See each other as people, same as them.”

  “How long did that last?”

  “Three years.”

  “Are you serious? You already knew you wanted to get married, but you waited three years so both sets of parents would give you their blessing?”

  “Yes we did. For three years, we chipped away at the deeply ingrained prejudices both our families held against each other. And let me tell you, Bear, the day I wed Frank Bailey, I knew every minute had been worth it. The whole town turned out. We held it in the park because there wasn’t anywhere else that was big enough for all our guests. And right up front, while the minister led us through our vows, stood my mother and father, side by side with his. Our mothers cried together. Our fathers shook hands in friendship.”

  I blew out a breath. “Wow.”

  “Frank knew there was another way of seeing our situation. He soared on the wind like an eagle and looked down, instead of staying stuck on the ground. And he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. To find a way out of that rock and hard place. Do you know why?”

  “Because he was stubborn?”

  She chuckled. “He was that. But no. It was because he believed in love. More than anyone I’ve ever known, he believed that love was more powerful than anything. And Frank loved me big. He loved me so big, he was convinced that it would be enough.”

  “And he was right.”

  “He was, although it wasn’t just his love that was big enough. The real magic was in our love together. That was what made us unstoppable. What allowed us to turn a no-win situation on its head.”

  “That’s amazing, Gram.”

  “He was an amazing man.”

  “He really was. It must be hard to live without him.”

  “I miss him every single day. But like I said, his love was big. He left me with enough to last until the day I’m called home and get to see him again.”

  I let out another breath to ease the tightness in my chest. Gram grew quiet, her chair coming to a stop. I thought she might be getting ready to go inside, but instead, she spoke.

  “Grace’s love is awfully big, Bear. For a long time, it was big enough for both of you.”

  “I love her too, Gram. Me not loving her isn’t the problem.”

  “Of course not. You’ve loved her since you were a boy.”

  I scrubbed my hands over my face. She wasn’t wrong.

  “The problem is, you’re carrying around all that anger and pain. Your wounds are deep, and the first was inflicted a long time ago.”

  “I know, but losing Mom and Dad hurt everybody.”

  “Yes. Losing them wounded all of us. But now you have more hurts—and those new wounds, they’re painful. The thing about pain, whether it’s physical or not, it demands our attention. A lot of the time that’s as it should be. We move our hand away from a flame to avoid being burned, or we treat an injury so our body can heal. But when that pain doesn’t go away, and it’s not something we can easily fix, it starts to dominate our life. Add in a hefty dose of anger, especially anger at things you can’t change, and it’s easy to forget how to feel anything else.”

  “It’s hard to remember there is anything else.”

  “But there is. Grace has been trying to show you the only way she knows how. By loving you through this. She’s a bit like Grandad. She doesn’t see your anger and pain as an obstacle that can’t be overcome, any more than he saw our parents’ prejudice as something we had to accept. You have your feet on the ground and you’re staring at the trunk of the tree. But she’s soaring above it. You’re both looking at the same thing, but she sees a side of it that you don’t. So maybe you need to look at it through her eyes.”

  “Gram, I don’t know if I know how.”

  “Sure you do. Imagine what life would be like if your love for each other was bigger than anything else. What would you do? Because I can assure you that it is. You just have to open your eyes and see it.”

  “What if it’s too late for that?”

  “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. There’s only one way to find out.” She did get up, then, smoothing down her clothes. Pausing next to me, she put her hand on my shoulder. “Goodnight, Bear.”

  “Goodnight, Gram. I love you.”

  Her eyes crinkled with her gentle smile. “I love you too.”

  I stayed outside on the porch until well into the night, stari
ng at the darkness. Sitting with my thoughts.

  Maybe Gram was right. Maybe my anger and hurt had kept me from seeing things clearly. In prison, I’d believed that I’d lost Grace forever, and part of going home would mean learning to live with that loss. I’d already been convinced I couldn’t be with her.

  And when I had come home, I’d come face to face with all the ways I’d changed—none of them for the better—and all the things that had changed here. None of it had felt like it could ever fit together again.

  But was that the truth, or just the way I’d seen it? And what did Grace see that I couldn’t?

  What would life be like if our love for each other was bigger than anything else? And what would I do if I believed that were true?

  I pulled out my wallet and phone. I had a handful of business cards stuffed inside. Declan’s was at the back. I slid it free and eyed it for a long moment, letting that possibility play out in my head.

  I’d believed I couldn’t fight again. Couldn’t even train. It was too dangerous.

  But I’d taught Elijah. I’d grappled with Gavin, and even in the face of losing, I hadn’t lost control. So maybe I’d been wrong. I knew Declan’s offer still stood. I could leave Tilikum. Train to fight professionally. Maybe make a lot of money. Give Grace the space to move on.

  It wasn’t a real option, and I knew it; and not because I couldn’t be a fighter. I tucked his card back inside and pulled out the one I’d really been after.

  Grace had quietly left me business cards for several therapists. This one specifically worked with transitioning prisoners. Their office was closed, but I didn’t want to put off this call until morning. I needed to act before I could go back to being a stubborn idiot and talk myself out of it. I left a brief message and ended the call, feeling a sense of control beginning to return. Control I hadn’t quite realized I’d lost.

  I was still skeptical about anyone’s ability to help me. But the truth was, refusing to try wasn’t any better than giving up.

  And Baileys weren’t quitters.

  Stubborn determination rose from deep inside me. It had been there all along. I’d just let it become twisted and focused on the wrong things. Gram had said nothing had riled up Grandad like being caught between a rock and a hard place. I knew that feeling. That restless drive to see things through. To go through any obstacle. To win.

  In prison, I’d done what I felt I had to do to survive. But I wasn’t behind bars anymore. I couldn’t keep retreating into myself and pushing people away. I couldn’t fight my way through life, because in the end, the only person I was really fighting was myself. No wonder I felt like I was going crazy.

  What would I do if I believed our love was big enough?

  With a deep breath, I got ready to make one more phone call, this one risky. I was going way out on a limb here, but at this point, I had no other choice. I had to go all in. So I brought up Cara’s number and hit send.

  46

  Grace

  Cara’s car flew down the open highway. She hadn’t told me where we were going, but that was typical. It was probably some new spa she wanted to try. In fact, I was hoping it was a new spa she wanted to try. If I had to put on pants and leave the house, I wanted a massage and a facial out of the deal.

  Also wine. Plenty of wine.

  The last week had been agonizing. It was so much like the beginning of Asher’s prison sentence, it almost felt like I was having flashbacks. When they’d first taken him away, the grief of missing him had been sharp and acute. Over time, it had dulled, becoming easier to live with.

  Now it was as fresh as the day he’d been led out of the courtroom in handcuffs.

  When Cara had first declared that we were going on a spontaneous road trip, I’d told her no. I wanted to spend my day off in pajamas eating junk food, binge-watching the trashiest TV shows I could find, and drinking too much. Usually she was totally supportive of that kind of self-therapy. But she’d forced me to shower, made me put on real clothes, and dragged me out to her car.

  I was still deciding how I felt about it. Especially because, so far, there had been no wine.

  “You’re so fidgety,” she said. “Will a manicure get you to stop picking at your fingers?”

  I stilled my hands in my lap for about three seconds. My finger felt naked and uncomfortable without the ring I’d worn for so long. I couldn’t stop rubbing the indent where it had been.

  “I don’t think a manicure will help. I’m not messing with my nails. Plus, why do you care?”

  She shrugged. “Just an observation.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Normally I like it when you surprise me, but I don’t think I’m in the mood. I’ll enjoy this a lot more if you just tell me what we’re doing. To be specific, I’m looking for reassurance that something delicious and highly alcoholic will soon be in my hand. I’ve had to work, and be sober, for the last five days. I’m over it.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, her tone soothing. “I have it covered.”

  I leaned my head back against the seat. “Did I tell you I tried to go to the hardware store alone?”

  She gasped. “No. What happened? Was I wrong and you were totally fine? Because, for the record, I’d be very happy to be wrong and to discover that you just love me so much you never want to do anything without me.”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Damn.”

  “It was awful. I was terrified. I knew where I was, and I knew it didn’t make any sense. But I ran out of the store and locked myself in my car. How messed up is that?”

  She sighed. “My baby’s growing up and discovering her neuroses.”

  “I started looking for a therapist because clearly I need it. Do you have anyone you can recommend?”

  “Oh my god, I thought you’d never ask. I have three in mind who I think would be perfect for you. Private practice, but don’t worry about insurance or anything. I’ve got it.”

  “You’re not paying for my therapy.”

  “Yes I am. It’s at least fifty percent my fault that this went on as long as it did. Maybe sixty.”

  “Cara.”

  “Don’t argue. You won’t let me rebuild your house, or buy you a new one. You never let me do anything. Give me this.”

  I shook my head. “You’re so weird.”

  “I know. I honestly don’t know why you like me so much.”

  “Because you’re my person.”

  “Should we get married?” she asked, glancing at me. “I’m serious. Have you considered it? I wouldn’t even make you sign a prenup, which would make my family go insane. Put that as a checkmark in the pro column. And we don’t have to have sex or anything. I tried it once with a girl and honestly, it didn’t do anything for me. I was bored off my ass. Besides, you’re the only woman I’ve ever known who I can stand to be around for more than like five minutes. Except Gram and the Stitch and Bitch ladies. I can do a couple of hours with them.”

  “It’s Stitch and Sip.”

  “Whatever. Seriously, though. Maybe we should just put our own rings on it and be platonic same-sex companions for the rest of our lives.”

  “That’s weirdly tempting. But then you’ll meet a man you actually want to marry and you’ll have to divorce me. Sounds messy, because without a prenup, I’ll definitely take half of everything.”

  “Meet a man I want to marry?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh my god, you’re so cute. No. That isn’t happening. We do need a provision for dick-getting, though. But since our marriage won’t be sexual, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I was about to say, well, since I’m not marrying Asher, I’m never marrying anyone, so why not marry you? But suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore.

  We passed a large sign, the words catching my attention from the corner of my eye. I whipped around to look, but we were driving too fast.

  I must have read it wrong.

  Except…

/>   “Cara?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did that sign say Correctional Facility?”

  “What sign?”

  “Cara.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t see a sign.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying.” She held up her hand, like she was swearing an oath. “I didn’t see a sign. I was watching the road and mentally planning our non-lesbian platonic same-sex life-partner wedding. Do you think that’s too much to put on the invitation? Also, can I take your last name, because I really like Miles and I don’t want to hyphenate.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, then glanced around at our surroundings. I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were going. Cara surprised me with little day trips all the time. But this stretch of highway was starting to look oddly familiar.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  She kept her eyes on the road, and her lips pressed closed.

  Another sign came up on the right. Cara pressed the gas, like she’d race past it before I could read it. But it was too late. I’d been right. It said Washington State Correctional Facility.

  I swallowed hard, a sick feeling spreading through my stomach. “Why are we out here?”

  She refused to say a word as she pulled off the highway.

  I’d been here before. It had been a long time, but I remembered it clearly. I’d come to visit Asher. I’d gone through the background check and gotten clearance. Waited for what had felt like hours for them to take me into the visiting area. Only to be told Asher wasn’t seeing any visitors. He wouldn’t come out.

  We drove into the visitor parking lot. The tall concrete wall topped with barbed wire loomed over everything. A watchtower jutted above the wall, making the place feel even more harsh and ominous.

  I hated this place. It made me sick with rage just to look at it. This was where I’d lost him. Where they’d taken him from me.