01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin (18 page)

And he was the last person in
the world to give her what she wanted. He’d had all the ties he
could handle in his life. Now he’d been running from ties,
including his family, for over a year. Last thing he wanted was to
go back now. Create a family of his own? Not likely.

“Well. That’s it then. You know
all there is to know about me.” She nodded to herself. But her
expression was bleak.

“Forewarned is forearmed?” He
hadn’t meant it to come out as a question.

“Yeah,” she said, after a
minute. “Warned.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Maybe you could just drop me at
the shop,” Tris said, as they saw the first sign for the 10 freeway
off the 405. It was after three and the traffic was starting to
pick up.

“Your shop?” That made no sense
to Maggie.

“I got some rooms over the
service bays. I’ll be fine there.”

“Sounds like Motel Six, only
worse.”

“I’ll call my family.” He
sounded a little panicky.

“Like you did from the
hospital?” she interrupted. “No dice. I’m taking you to your
family’s house, so they can see you need help. After that you all
can do what you want.”

He was silent, chewing his lip.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d been getting more and more
nervous as they got into LA proper. His family must be even worse
than Elroy, if they could upset him like this. “Give me directions,
or I’ll just keep driving.”

“You should get the horses over
to that camp.” Boy, he really didn’t want her anywhere near his
family. Didn’t he know by now she could take care of herself?

“I’ll just wait out the traffic
in a coffee shop somewhere after I drop you.”

He sighed like a condemned man
on the way to the gallows. “Get off at Hawthorne.”

“You got it.” He’d need some
support if the homecoming was going to be that bad, and maybe a
ride if they wouldn’t take him in at all. She owed him that for
defending her from Elroy. Though she hadn’t needed it, the gesture
had been kind. Maggie O’Brian paid her debts.

Hawthorne Boulevard was about
ten miles down the road. He licked his lips like his mouth was dry.
“Where to now?” she asked when she hit the off-ramp.

He gave her directions as the
Ford and its loaded trailer cruised down a main thoroughfare.
Looked like suburbia anywhere. Malls, furniture stores. He had her
turn onto Pacific Coast Highway then left up the hill onto Palos
Verdes Boulevard West. As they drove on, the houses got bigger.
Horse properties, some of them, with pristine white painted fences
filled with fancy horses. She was willing to bet the people who
lived here didn’t call them that. They were driving into the late
afternoon sun. A cool onshore breeze picked up, announcing that the
ocean was nearby. Soon the houses disappeared behind wrought iron
gates and high stucco walls. As they came to the water and curved
south at an intricate intersection, the sea finally came into view.
Italianate mansions costing multiple millions covered a bluff. They
still looked like cookie-cutter houses. If you were rich enough to
live here, why would you buy a tract house?

And why was Tris taking her into
this kind of a neighborhood? Were his parents caretakers or
something for one of these estates? Maybe live-in help?

Then she remembered the American
Express card and the insurance. Maybe…. No. His shop in the barrio
probably made just enough to provide insurance and credit
cards.

Past the housing development a
small carved sign announced that they were entering Palos Verdes.
“Green bluffs” in Spanish. To their left, stacked up the hillside,
were palatial dwellings of all types, from Tudors to modern glass
wonders. Off to the right in the distance, barely glimpsed through
rows of some kind of cypress, some Spanish-looking buildings stood
silhouetted in the sun out on a point.

“We getting there anytime
soon?”

“Just after the lighthouse.” It
loomed ahead to the right in a little park out on the bluff above
the beach. They passed it and curved in next to the hillside, then
out again.

“Slow … there. Just pull in by
the gate.”

Maggie pulled into a landscaped
area off the road more than big enough for the Ford and the
trailer. In front of the high, whitewashed wall next to an
impressive pair of wrought iron gates stood a post with a speaker
and a touchpad. You couldn’t see much through the gates because the
drive was lined with huge oleanders. This place must be huge. “I’ll
go announce us. Whom do I ask for?”

Tris sighed. “Better if it’s
me.” He opened the door and collected his crutch. He made his
painful way around the front of the cab and over to the post. This
long ride had really done him in. Or maybe it was the prospect of
seeing his family. He looked like a condemned man. She wondered if
they lived in some little cottage on the grounds. Good gig if you
could get it. Unless they weren’t allowed visitors or something
medieval like that.

But Tris didn’t use the
speakerphone. He pressed his thumb to the touchpad. The massive
gates to his right clicked then swung open. He limped back and
pushed himself in, taking a big breath before he pulled his door
shut. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She raised her brows but said
nothing. Maybe she was catching his anxiety. She eased the truck
out of park and turned in through the gates. As she followed the
road between the high oleander hedges, she heard the gate clang
shut behind her. It sounded pretty final.

The road wound downward and
suddenly the hedge ended. They came out onto that point she’d seen
from afar. The rows of cypress trees to her right screened the
property from the road. A lovely hacienda-style house of three
stories looked out over blue ocean to Catalina Island beyond.
Beautiful. She must have gasped, because when she looked his way as
she rolled to a stop, Tris grimaced.

He heaved in a breath. “Yeah.
Welcome to The Breakers.”

The house had a name? And his
welcome sounded ... proprietary. “This …
this
is your
family’s house?” she whispered.

He grimaced again and
nodded.

She looked back out over the
property. Though dominated by the house, there were what must be
garages off to the left with room for a lot of cars, and to the
right a stable with two riding rings, one set with jumps. The whole
was surrounded by eucalyptus and Brazilian pepper trees and some
formal gardens, but there was room for a whole development of
houses if they had been placed as close together as those she’d
seen on the way in. Much of the land was just left in natural grass
and plants, artfully augmented with flowering specimens.

This
was where the biker
guy who fixed cars came from? When he’d said he didn’t belong with
his family, he hadn’t just been whistling Dixie. And if he was out
of place, then she was double, triple, quadruple out of place here.
Her old Ford and her rattletrap trailer (correction:
his
old
Ford), and her jeans and cowboy boots
so
didn’t belong here
she was half tempted to just turn around and head back out.

Which she couldn’t. Now the
support Tris needed was even clearer. And they really might not
take him in, so he had to have a way out. She swallowed. Okay. She
had to hang in at least until she was sure they’d help him. Lord,
it wasn’t as though they couldn’t afford to put him up. But maybe
they’d disowned him or something. Tris probably did something
people like these would think unforgivable.

She set her jaw and eased the truck down
the drive. This could get ugly.

*****

Tris felt Maggie’s wary
determination like he was tuned into her wavelength on a CB radio.
She had a lot of guts. More guts than he did at the moment. Wait
’til his mother got a load of Maggie. Not his usual type. Or his
parents’ type either. Still, his mother would probably start
matchmaking within two minutes of meeting her. His mother was
really devoted to the idea of the family destiny. Got to get the
“one true love” thing going if the kids (as she still called even
her grown children) were going to come into their powers. Powers as
in magic.

Bullshit. Probably wouldn’t
happen for any of them. But true love and special powers were
especially not for Tris Tremaine, disappointment
extraordinaire
.

“Should I pull around by the
garages?” Maggie asked.

“Just take the circle and stop
at the front door.” At least he wouldn’t have far to hobble.

“O-kay,” she said doubtfully,
taking a breath.

The front door swung open before
the Ford had even rolled to a stop. His mother was smiling and
crying and putting her hands to her mouth. She was dressed as
elegantly as usual in wine-colored knit slacks, matching cardigan,
gold earrings, and thick gold bangles on her arms.

“I told you, Brian,” she said to
his father, who appeared, glowering, over her shoulder. “I told you
it would be today.”

Tris opened the door and grabbed
his crutch. Best swallow his pride and let them see just how
unprodigal he was. He eased himself down so he wouldn’t betray how
much pain he was in after ten hours in a truck. Still, his mother
gasped.

“Tristram!” She hurried forward.
“Oh, I knew something had happened.” She touched his good shoulder,
and then ran her fingers lightly over his sling. “You just come
right in and I’ll.…”

“Mother,” he said sharply to
prevent her revealing too much. “We have a guest.” He nodded to
where Maggie was getting out on the far side of the truck cab.

His mother glanced at Maggie and
suddenly went still. Uh-oh. Matchmaking? Or just horrified at the
jeans and the boots? Or maybe at the bruise that still colored
Maggie’s cheek. He and Maggie made quite a pair, with his scabs and
sling and cast.

Maggie came around the hood,
looking a little like she was putting a toe into a snake pit. The
corner of Tris’s mouth wouldn’t behave. Not afraid of wild horses
and bulls, but the Tremaines were apparently another story. She had
her hat gripped in her hands like it was a lifesaver in high seas.
“Maggie O’Brian, meet my mother, Brina Tremaine. Maggie saved my
life and gave me a ride down here from Reno, Mother.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs.
Tremaine.” Maggie kept her distance, but managed a polite, if shy,
nod of her head.

“Saved your life?” his mother
asked, horrified. “I knew you were in trouble.” Then her gaze found
Maggie again, her blue eyes intent and examining. Tris didn’t like
that look.

Maggie radiated discomfort.
“Just got him to a hospital. Doctors did the saving.”

“What kind of an accident?” His
father’s tone brought Tris’s attention back to the doorway. Kemble
came up behind his father. Amazing how much alike they looked. The
king and the fucking heir apparent to the Tremaine kingdom. He’d
bet they assumed he’d been driving drunk. Many times they’d have
been right. Why deny this particular one?

“Probably just what you think,”
Tris said, his voice flat.

“Actually,” Maggie said, “a semi
clipped him head-on. Didn’t even stop.” Her clear voice seemed to
cut the tension. “He’s lucky to be alive.”

“Yes,” his mother said. But she
was still examining Maggie. “He’s very lucky. You look hurt as
well. Did that happen while you were helping my son?”

Maggie blushed. “No. That ...
that was later.”

“I’m sure we can take care of
that.” She glanced to Tris. His mother could take care of it. of
that he was sure.

“Did you report the incident to
the police?” Kemble asked sharply.

“I did,” Maggie said. “He was in
no condition.”

“Did they find the driver?” his
father asked.

“No,” Tris replied. His father
frowned. He’d blame Tris for that. Too drunk to give a description.
Tris could practically hear his father’s mind working.

Maggie stepped in. “With the
shock of it all, I didn’t get the plate number, and his doctor said
the concussion gave him amnesia.”

“So you were actually there when
it happened.” There was a gleam Tris didn’t like in his mother’s
eyes. “Oh, you must come in and tell us all about it.” She
approached like Maggie was a wild bird or something, slowly
reaching out to take her arm. Maggie
did
look ready to
run.

“I … I should be getting over to
Anaheim Hills, ma’am. I’m due to drop my horses at Camp
Atchatawanee, and it’s getting on toward five.”

His mother had gathered Maggie
in and was leading her toward the door. “Nonsense. You must have
been driving all day. It’ll be hours over there now, what with rush
hour. They’ll all be gone, I’m sure, by the time you could get
there.”

Maggie chewed her lip. Tris
could see his mother’s noose tightening. He wasn’t sorry. Maggie
was game, though. “I’m sure they’ve got a caretaker on the
premises, so I can unload. I know a motel over by the camp, ma’am.
I’ll overnight there after I drop them. .”

His mother smiled. “A motel? Of
course not. You’ll spend the night with us.” No one could resist
that smile. The woman counted on that.

“My … my horses can’t stand in
the trailer overnight.” Maggie was pulling back a little. She
didn’t know she was trying to argue with a force of nature.

“What do we have that big stable
for?” his father asked, lending his force of personality to his
wife’s. Maggie was a goner now. “It only has two occupants. Plenty
of room.”

“You can come back out in just a
minute and turn them out in the ring. I’ll bet they’d like to kick
up their heels a little,” his mother soothed.

“I … I couldn’t impose on you
all, ma’am.”

“Call me Brina, dear. Of course
you could. With seven children and their assorted friends staying
at the house, one more won’t matter.”

His father laughed. “Resistance
is futile, Miss O’Brian. Brina’s made up her mind.”