Just like Andrew Turner is distorting our family.
Lifting her chin, she fought the rise of more tears, desperate to remain strong in a situation that had turned their world—and their family—upside down. “It’s been a month and a half since Uncle Logan stopped coming for dinners, and neither Mother nor he will even talk about what happened.” Her whispered words trembled despite her best efforts. “And I w-worry it will last f-forever.”
Bram’s gentle touch breached her defenses, and before she could stop herself, she crumpled into his embrace with a broken heave, weeping as he stroked her hair. “Shhh . . . it’s okay, Bug,” he said quietly, “Logan won’t stay away forever—he loves this family too much.”
“I just hate this!” Arms clenched at her waist, Alli paced in front of the game table where Cassie and Jamie sat with Blake and Nick, an interrupted game of whist all but forgotten. A spark of anger flashed in her eyes as she kicked at one of Maddie’s dolls lying on the floor, sending it flying into the air until it landed in a heap on top of Nick’s polished shoes. “Why would Mother do this to Uncle Logan when she knows how much he cares? How can she be so heartless?”
“Maybe she’s sparing Logan’s feelings because she doesn’t love him that way.” Nick’s tone was quiet but direct.
“Horse feathers,” Cassie snapped. She slapped a palm on the table so hard, cards bounced in the air. “Aunt Cait loves Uncle Logan as much as he loves her, but she’s just too stubborn to admit it.” She folded her arms with a huff of noisy air, green eyes narrowing. “Sweet thunderation, I’d give anything to know what’s going on, but she won’t talk to me either.”
“I’ll tell you what’s going on—she doesn’t trust him,” Jamie whispered, a thread of sadness in solemn words as his eyes trailed into a faraway stare, as if sifting through his own memories of forgiving his father. “He told me awhile back that she feels like he’s betrayed her throughout their lives—first with my mom, and then with covering it up all these years.” He released a weighty breath. “And although part of me understands her lack of trust, it rips my heart out to see what she’s doing to my father and this family.”
“Have you tried talking to him, asking him to come back?” Meg asked, holding out hope that as Logan’s son, Jamie might have more sway with their uncle than any of them.
Jamie’s lip took a slant. “Over and over, but he’s a lot like me, unfortunately—sealed tighter than a vault when it comes to opening up about anything too painful.”
“Amen to that,” Cassie said in agreement. “May as well beat a dead horse.” Her mouth quirked as she ruffled Jamie’s dark curls. “No, make that a deaf and dumb mule.”
Meg smiled in spite of herself, then dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief Bram had given her. “I just wish we could get through to either Mother or him,” she whispered, the smile fading from her lips. “Convince them to at least talk to each other, so maybe we can get things back to normal.”
Cassie grunted. “I think we may have seen the last of ‘normal’ for a while, at least with Andrew here two and three times a week instead of Uncle Logan.”
“Well somebody needs to talk to Uncle Logan.” Meg twisted around to train her gaze on her brother Blake, stretched back in his chair at the game table with hands behind his neck. “What about you, Blake? You see Uncle Logan every day at the office.”
Her brother’s brows shot high. “Are you kidding? The deepest conversation I’ve ever had with Uncle Logan was which hair color I prefer on a woman—blond, brunette, or redhead.”
“Requiring lots of research on your part, no doubt,” Nick said with a chuckle.
Blake grinned. “Yes, well I like to go deep in some areas, but meaningful conversations is not one of them, Detective, with either Uncle Logan or women.”
Alli tossed a pillow at Blake’s head. “You are such a rogue, Blake McClare! Heaven knows the trouble in store for any woman who falls in love with you.”
“I doubt heaven would have anything to do with it, Al, if the Rake is involved.” Jamie nudged Blake’s shoulder with a grin.
Blake jutted his chin, gaze zeroing in on Bram. “I vote for Bram to talk to Uncle Logan. After all, Jamie’s too close and I’m too far, but Bram’s just right—barely related and one of Uncle Logan’s golden boys at the firm.” He grinned. “Not to mention the Padre is the most serious of us three, with a propensity for deep conversation.”
Meg spun around, beseeching Bram with anxious eyes. “Oh, Bram, would you? Blake’s right—Uncle Logan trusts you more than anyone.”
“Hey!” Jamie feigned offense, his handsome face pinched in a frown. “I can be trusted.”
Drawing air through a clenched smile, Cassie patted her husband’s hand. “Yes, you can, darling . . . especially if there’s a lasso in the room.”
Blake chuckled. “Ah, now that I would like to see—Mac all tied up, especially during one of our pool tournaments.”
Sporting a crooked smile, Jamie gave him a jaunty salute. “Hate to break it to you, Rake, but I can win against you with my hands tied behind my back.”
Cassie’s fingers playfully nipped at her husband’s waist. “It can be arranged, darling, just give me the word.”
“Oh, yeah,” Alli said with a rub of her palms, “maybe with a poke or two from a cattle prod.”
“Hey, who voted me the fall guy?” Jamie said with a trace of hurt in his tone. “My wife wants to hog-tie me, Alli wants to prod me, and Meg implies I can’t be trusted.”
Meg’s smile was apologetic. “You know what I mean, Jamie—you said yourself that Uncle Logan refuses to talk to you, so Bram is our last hope.” She turned to Bram, a plea etched in her face. “Will you, Bram? Will you talk to Uncle Logan for us, help clear the air between Mother and him?”
Bram hesitated.
“Come on, Padre,” Blake said. “Meg’s right, we need somebody Uncle Logan trusts since I’m too shallow and Jamie’s too inept.”
“I beg your pardon,” Jamie said with dagger eyes.
Meg ignored them to clutch Bram’s hand. “Will you, Bram, please?”
Bram expelled a heavy sigh. “Sure, Bug,” he said with a tender smile. “I want to see this family back together as much as anybody, although I can’t promise much. Logan and I have talked before about sensitive issues, but that’s no guarantee he’ll open up on this.”
“Sensitive issues?” Jamie said with a squint. “What sensitive issues?” A slow grin traveled his lips. “How and when to fire Blake?”
A grunt parted from Blake’s lips. “What are you talking about, MacKenna—I clocked more hours than you this month.”
“Sure you did—at the Blue Moon, not the office.” Jamie grinned. “Sorry, old buddy, but I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”
Cassie glanced at the clock on the mantel and hopped up, tugging Jamie along too. “Uh-oh, Aunt Cait and Andrew’ll be home any minute now, so I’d rather vamoose before they come.” She pushed in her chair with a heavy sigh. “I like Andrew well enough, I suppose, but not for Aunt Cait, so it’s best we leave lest I’m tempted to sink a spur into his ankle.”
“Ooooo, I like the way you think.” Alli gave her a hug before tweaking Jamie’s neck. “Is that how you keep this one in line?”
Jamie’s dark brows peaked high. “Hey, I run the MacKenna household, not the little missus, right, Cowgirl?” In a flash of his arm, he dipped Cassie back for a kiss.
She broke free with a giggle and pinched his cheek. “Depends—with or without my lasso?” she quipped, sauntering over to give both Meg and Alli a hug. She shot Jamie a lazy smile over her shoulder on the way to the door. “I can still hog-tie steers—or Jamie MacKenna—in under fifteen seconds flat, so don’t you forget that either, Pretty Boy.”
“How can I, Mrs. MacKenna, when we practice every night?” Jamie wiggled his brows and gave his wife a wink, laughing out loud when her face flushed beet red.
Her eyes thinned as he joined her at the door. “I sh
ould hog-tie you for real, just to teach a lesson, you little brat.”
“Awk, Jamie’s a rat, Jamie’s a rat.” Miss B. danced sideways on her perch, squawking the phrase Alli taught her when Jamie had broken Cassie’s heart before they were married.
“She said ‘brat,’ not ‘rat,’ ” Jamie called, doing a little squawking of his own.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Bram rose to shove his chair in with a lopsided grin. “Miss B. usually gets it right, and everybody knows that is one intelligent bird.”
Cassie all but preened, her smile a gloat. “Face it, MacKenna—both titles fit upon occasion.” She blew kisses before making her way into the foyer. “Good night, all.”
“It will be if I have anything to say about it,” Jamie winked as he followed her out.
The front door closed, and Blake shot up with a chuckle, eyeing Nick and Bram as he pushed in his chair. “Well, that’s my cue to disappear before Mother gets home as well, so anybody up for a game of pool—Bram? Nick?”
Bram buttoned his jacket, smile edged with regret. “Love to, old buddy, but I’m in court in the morning, so I need an early start.” He shot Nick a grin. “But I’d sleep a whole lot better, Nick, knowing you’re feeding this guy a little crow to keep him humble.”
“Will do,” Nick said with a chuckle. He set his empty ginger ale down and rose with a stretch. “As long as Al cheers me on.”
Alli stood on tiptoe to give him a sweet peck on the cheek. “For my big, hulking fiancé? You bet.” She looped her arm through Nick’s and gave Blake a smug smile. “Besides, somebody has to make sure Blake doesn’t cheat.”
“Awk, Blake cheats, Blake cheats—”
“Oh, put a sock in it,” Blake said, aiming a pillow at Miss B. to rattle both her and the cage.
Alli laughed. “Bram’s right—that is one smart bird.” She tossed the pillow back, bouncing it off of Blake’s head. “Maybe even smarter than you.” She shot a glance Meg’s way. “Coming Megs? I’ll need help keeping my eye on Blake.”
Blake tickled the back of Alli’s neck on his way to the door. “Yeah, Megs, and you can keep your eye on Alli, sort of like a chaperone.”
Hands on her hips, Alli stuck out her tongue. “For your information, I don’t need a chaperone,” she said with a toss of her head.
Nick surprised her with a hard tug to his chest, his half-lidded gaze settling on her lips. “And just what makes you think you don’t need a chaperone, Princess, when your future husband gets a notion to steal a kiss?”
Alli patted his cheek with a pretty blush. “Because the room is full of cue sticks, Detective Burke, which I understand work just fine in a pinch.”
“Ouch.” He grinned and kissed her forehead, hooking her arm to lead her from the room.
“G’night, Bram,” she called on her way to the door, “be sure to let us know as soon as you talk to Uncle Logan, all right?”
Bram gave her a two-finger salute. “Yes, ma’am, full report.”
Laughter faded up the stairwell as Meg released a wispy sigh. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she whispered.
He gently rubbed her arms, the warmth of his palms seeping into her body. “It’ll get better, Bug, I promise. Logan’s just angry right now, but between your prayers and mine, he’ll come around, you’ll see.”
“I hope so.” She worried her lip, another subject suddenly weighting her mind. She peeked up. “Can I ask for your prayers on something else as well?”
———
“Always,” Bram said quietly, willing to do almost anything to remove that sad look in her eyes.
She expelled a wavering sigh. “I need to know if I’m . . . well, doing the right thing.”
His pulse stopped for a fraction of a second before it kicked back in, faster than before. “About what?”
She blinked up at him, a child’s tender heart in a woman’s body. “Devin wants me to . . .”
Paralysis struck as Bram’s body went completely still. Inhaling a quiet draw of air, he grazed a finger to her chin. “Devin wants you to what . . . ?”
The dark sweep of lashes flickered over enormous green eyes, revealing the skittishness of a graceful doe. “Well, we’ve been seeing each other as friends in group situations as you know, ever since he told me he wanted to get to know me better after the Barrister Ball.”
He remained completely calm despite a rare twinge of annoyance. “Yes, and a very wise and safe compromise on your part, Bug, for the long term, so I’m proud of you.”
A muscle shifted in her throat as she peeked up at him with a hesitant look, as if tongue-tied in his presence for the very first time. She cleared her throat. “Uh . . . only now that casual arrangement of friendship . . . well, it seems to be . . . ,” her cheeks glowed pink, “more short-term,” she said softly, her eyes appearing to seek his approval. “You see, he wants to start dating me.”
He chafed, his initial annoyance flaring in his gut. “Why? So he can stomp on your heart more effectively?” He closed his eyes to knead his temple, exhaling his shame over his snide remark. “I’m sorry, Bug, I guess I’m just a bit overprotective when it comes to you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders like he’d done so often over the years, only this time it was more to stabilize his own unsettled feelings than hers. “And how do you feel about it?”
She hedged with a tiny hunch of her shoulders, but he detected a glimmer of excitement in her eyes that bothered him more than it should. “I’ve always liked Devin, you know that, but it’s been a safe crush since he never liked me back. But now that he does . . .”
Bram’s lips went flat. “I thought you didn’t trust him.”
A deep russet curl dangled against her neck when she tipped her head in thought. “Well, I didn’t before, it’s true, but since we’ve been praying about it like you suggested the night of the ball, well, I think maybe I could trust him now. You know . . . that way.”
That way. Bram’s jaw hardened against his will. Subject to Caldwell’s admiring gaze, she meant—his tender caresses, the touch of his lips . . . Bram dropped his hands from her shoulders to massage his neck, hoping to shake off the tension mounting within.
“You see, he promised me after the Barrister Ball he’d always be on his best behavior,” she continued in a soft tone that told him she was way too innocent for the likes of Devin Caldwell. Her trusting gaze searched his, almost as if she deemed this his decision rather than hers. “So I told him I would pray about it, which I did, and that’s when I came up with the compromise of doing things together as friends in a group, but lately . . . well, lately I’ve been thinking dating Devin just might be God’s will for me, so I’ve been praying in that vein.”
He folded his arms and studied her with an impassive look that hid the turmoil roiling inside. “And you think you got your answer?”
She nodded, that infernal tress bobbing against a creamy throat he craved to kiss. Heat blasted his cheeks at the renegade thought, and he quickly cleared his throat, his voice a hoarse whisper. “So what’s God telling you to do, Bug?”
A sad smile shadowed her lips while she studied him for several seconds, almost as if she were committing his face to memory. And then she seemed to snap out of her soulful reverie with a quivering exhale when her eyes sought his. “I think He’s telling me it would be a good thing,” she said quietly, a hint of melancholy in her tone. “What do you think?”
That I’d like to toss Caldwell into the bay. He nodded, swallowing the jealousy that tasted like bile. “Well, it might be, then, as long as he treats you with respect and regard.”
The tightness in her face instantly eased, reminding him once again of the heavy responsibility he carried as Meg’s mentor and friend. “Oh, thank you, Bram!” she said with that little-girl glow she always reserved for him. She arched on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, the soft touch of her lips thudding his pulse. “You seem to be my rock in every storm.” Her sweet smile dimmed somewhat, shadowed by the same trace of sorrow he’d sensed
before. “But it won’t always be that way, will it?”
Her words sliced through him, brutal in the reality they bore. Against his better judgment, he pulled her close, head bent to hers as he breathed in her scent. “No, Bug—not when you become another man’s wife. There will come a time when he’ll be the mentor and man to guide and protect you, not me. As it should be.”
Her eyes were misty when she pulled away. “I know. Just like you’ll protect and love Amelia,” she whispered, and the impact of her statement all but sucked the air from his lungs.
His breathing shallowed as he caressed her face with a gentle palm, the silky touch of her skin making his mouth go dry. “I have to go.” His voice was gentle but firm, his intent for the moment to escape with his calm intact. “I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to Logan, all right?”
She nodded and followed him to the door, her demeanor as somber as his. “I’ll see you for dinner on Wednesday?” she whispered, as if their sober conversation had instilled a fear that hadn’t been there before.
He smiled and tapped a finger to her nose. “I suspect I’ll be coming for dinners long after you’re gone from this household, Miss McClare.”
Blinking hard, she shot into his arms with a feeble cry, jolting his senses when she clung with all of her might. As natural as breathing, he engulfed her with his arms, shocked at the tender passion she stirred. “I love you, Bram,” she whispered, the breathless tone of her voice rife with emotion, “and I pray you will always be in my life.”
He held her close, infusing a touch of tease to deflect the awful ache in his heart. “I will, Bug. Whether it’s as big brother to you or Uncle Bram to your kids, I’ll be here—always.” With a final hug, he opened the door and strode down the steps, avoiding the wobble of that one loose brick as she still watched from the door. He rounded his roadster, and she waved, her silhouette so tiny and lost in the light. Gaze straight ahead, he pumped the throttle and eased the tiller down, finally steering his vehicle toward home.