Admit One (12 page)

“Well hell. Go on back to the kitchen. Allie will make you a fresh cup of coffee, won’t you Al?”

She glared at her brother. “Since you’ve volunteered my services.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t already offered. That’s no way to treat a guest. And you might want to put your shirt back on.”

“Ya think?”

Harlan shook his head at Mason. “She used to have much better manners. I’m not sure where I went wrong.”

When Mason chuckled, Allie turned a gimlet eye his way. He coughed behind his hand.

“Hmmph.” Yanking on her shirt, Allie marched down the long center hall toward the kitchen, leaving Mason to follow.

“You’re not going to slip any sort of deadly herb concoction into my cup, are you?”

“Don’t tempt me.” She pushed open the swinging door into the bright light of the kitchen, then gestured for him to have a seat at the island.

“It would only be fair,” he murmured as she crossed to the pot sitting on the marble counter. “Considering all you have to do to tempt me is to breathe.”

Allie braced her hands on the cool marble as his words flowed through her like an electrical current. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes,
why.”
Determined not to let herself turn into an imbecile this time, she stretched up onto her toes, grabbing a bag of coffee beans from the cabinet.    

“To be clear, you’re asking me to outline the reasons why I find you attractive. Is there a form I should fill out, or will a verbal recitation suffice?”

“Don’t be sarcastic.”

“You compel me to remind you that I’m English. Sarcasm is the official national language.”

Allie dumped the beans into the grinder, and turned to frown at him while it did its thing. He was… golden seemed the only appropriate word to describe him. The late morning sunlight cascaded through the bank of windows, reflecting off the white cabinets and cool gray marble to form a sort of nimbus around Mason. Even sleep-deprived and bedraggled after spending the night in jail, even with a fading bruise on his face, he was the sort of individual that you just couldn’t look away from
.
Above and beyond his physical beauty, he had an undefinable something, a
presence,
that set him apart. The star factor, she realized. Like… Marilyn Monroe. Or Clark Gable. Any number of classic film stars that seemed somehow more than merely mortal.

He could be an icon if he set his mind to it.

So yeah, she thought, as she glanced down at her average, if grungy clothes. Her average, if petite, body. Considered her average, if tumultuous life. She wanted to know
why.
 

“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” she reminded him after the beans had finished grinding.

“So I did. What did you mean when you said that I
thought
I was defending you?”

Allie scooped out grounds, filled the carafe. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“No. Bear with me, because I’m fairly certain that I have a point.”

Allie crossed her arms, leaned back against the counter. “You’ve met my brothers. You saw how Harlan acted this morning. You’re more than familiar with Will’s brotherly tactics. Bran isn’t quite as obvious about it, though he’s just as protective in his own way. Sarah sometimes forgets she isn’t my mother. Even Tucker puts himself between me and the big, bad world from time to time. And while I appreciate – truly – knowing that there are so many people looking out for me, occasionally I wish that someone would notice that I’m generally capable of looking out for myself.”

His eyes, clear and crystalline as amber in the sunlight, held hers for a long moment. “And I compounded that by leaping immediately to your rescue last night, without allowing you the opportunity to rescue yourself. I’m sorry.”

Allie sighed. “It seems petty, and I
do
appreciate it, but it makes me feel so helpless sometimes. I spent too much of my life feeling that way. I had to break, almost completely, to understand that I could put myself back together. And I like
–
most of the time – the way the new pieces fit. I just wish that other people would actually
see
that. But they see me as fragile, as a sort of… of china doll that can’t be handled too roughly, because it’s what they want, or expect, to see.”

Mason gave a half laugh. “You’ve no idea how much I can relate. Not to the china doll bit, but –”

“Where is she, you sonofabitch!” 

Allie jumped at the raised voice coming from the front of the house.  

“You’re not her.  You look like her, but you’re wrong. You’re WRONG.  Where did she go?”

“Oh no.”

“Allie?”

She ignored Mason’s concern as she slammed out the kitchen door and sprinted toward the front parlor. Bran had obviously brought their father in from the garden. Sometimes, because Bran resembled their mother more than did Harlan or Will – even more than did Allie – his presence confused and agitated their father. He could be fine with him one minute, and then turn on him the next.

Which appeared to be the case at the moment.

“Bran!” she called out to let her brother know help was coming. “I’m here.” She tripped on the runner, but Mason’s hands were there to catch her from falling on her face.

“Careful, love.”

“Not to be rude,” she said over her shoulder as he helped her to her feet. “But you may want to go back to the kitchen.”

“I may be able to help,” he said, gazing down at her. “If not, I’ll stay out of your way.”

She wished he would just go, because this was difficult enough without an audience, but she didn’t have time to argue her point.

“Arthur!” she called her father’s given name as she rounded the corner.  It would send him into an even bigger tailspin if she called him
Daddy
. “Arthur, I’m right here. Calm down.”

Allie burst into the parlor, hand flying up to cover her mouth at the awful scene before her.

“Sweet God,” Mason whispered.  He moved around her to help Branson up off the Aubusson rug, where he’d obviously fallen when their father struck him across the face with his cane.

“I’m all right,” he said, swiping at the blood dripping down his chin as Mason assisted him to his feet. “He just caught me by surprise.”

Allie gazed in horror at their father, his white hair standing out at angles much like Harlan’s, seemingly confused to find himself in the parlor, surrounded by a bunch of strangers. 

“What…” he looked with an equal lack of recognition at both Bran and Mason, one man whom he’d never met before, the other, his son. Then he caught sight of Allie. “You came back.”

“That’s right, Arthur.” She felt the tears clogging her throat, so she cleared it. “I’m here. It’s time to go back to bed now.” She moved to take his arm, and started leading him toward his bedroom.

“There are…”  He trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at Bran and Mason.

“Josie will see to the guests.”

“Josie?”

“That’s right.” She kept up the casual, reassuring chatter, her fingers trembling on the frail arm of the man who’d once tossed her into the air, laughing as he caught her. He’d loved her.  She knew that he’d loved his children, even though he’d given them so little of his time.

When she had him settled in bed for a nap, she grabbed the video equipped baby monitor that they used to keep tabs on him, following the sound of voices to the kitchen.

She trudged in to find Mason and Bran sitting at the antique satinwood table, an icepack pressed to Bran’s split lip.

“Well, this is becoming an all too familiar sight. I think we missed the mark on our family businesses. We should have opened an infirmary.”

Mason stood. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“She’s not fine.” Bran pulled the icepack away from the side of his mouth to roll his eyes at her. “Our father is dying and he doesn’t know us anymore; none of us is fine. Everything was okay until we came inside,” he said to Allie. “We took a walk, sat on the bench for a while and fed the birds. Then I brought him around through the front, which caused all hell to break loose for some reason.”

Allie nodded, because the lump in her throat was too thick to push words past.

“We need to discuss alternate arrangements, Al,” Bran said as he replaced the icepack and pushed back from the table.  “Soon.  Sorry you had to see that,” he said to Mason before he walked over and leaned close to Allie. “Talk to him,” he whispered in her ear. “He was going nuts, trying to figure out how to help you.”       

“I don’t know what to say,” Mason admitted after a moment, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Other than I can’t fathom how difficult this is for all of you. It can’t be easy on your brothers to be forgotten. But you… he mistakes you for your mother, doesn’t he?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes he simply thinks I’m one of his nurses, or even one of his legal aides. Really, it’s Bran who most looks like our mother did in her youth, and that causes my father confusion. His short-term memory is shot, but his long-term memory seems to… connect, every once in a while, and when it does, he asks for her.”

“What happened to her, if I might ask?”

“She left.” And it was as simple, and as complicated, as that.  

Just a random day in September, not long after Allie and Bran had turned ten. Insignificant, in every way but one. Josie packed homemade butterscotch cookies in her lunch and Allie had been upset because one of the Linville boys pushed her down and took them. And then when she’d come home after school, her mother wasn’t here. She was simply… gone.

“Allie
.
”
When he stepped closer, brushed his thumb down her cheek, she was horrified to realize she was crying. Which was ridiculous. Hadn’t she just told Mason how together she was?

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“You know,” he murmured, tucking her messy hair behind her ear. “Being able to take care of yourself doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed the occasional moment of weakness. And when you have a moment of weakness, it doesn’t make you any less capable if you accept support when it’s offered. I have a perfectly good shoulder right here. I’d be honored if you’d make use of it.”

Allie hesitated, but then moved into his waiting arms. When he pulled her close, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, she let out a shuddering sigh.

She felt safe. And that scared her as much as it comforted.

But he simply held her, no pressure, no demands. His heart beat against her ear, strong and steady, and as the tension left her body Allie realized how much she had held herself apart from any sort of intimacy, physical or otherwise.

Maybe she hadn’t fit those pieces back together quite as firmly as she’d thought.

“Better?” Mason asked after several minutes. 

Allie sighed, feeling like she’d been floating in a warm, scented bath. “Much.” Maybe it galled her some, to have melted down in front of this particular man, but she wasn’t going to lie to herself, or to him. “Much better. Thank you.”

When she lifted her head, the tenderness in his eyes made the heart that had so recently settled leap against her ribs.

“Mason –”

But before she could figure out what it was she intended to say, his mouth was on hers, firm and warm and so right that Allie lost her breath. She didn’t understand it, didn’t quite believe it, but she wasn’t going to analyze it now.

For once, Allie pushed all the doubts and questions out of her head and simply enjoyed.

“Mmmm,” she said as Mason took the kiss deeper, and he made a noise deep in his throat. Then she found herself pushed back, gently but firmly, while Mason, breathing through his nose like a lathered horse, held her at arm’s length.

“Not like this,” he said after a moment. “It feels too much like taking advantage.”

Allie might have appreciated his sensibilities if she hadn’t been so turned on. “What if I want you to take advantage?”

The noise he made this time sounded like the whistle on a train. “That’s not fair.”

“But it’s fair for you to decide when I do and do not need to be protected? Including from myself, apparently. Since I’m too delicate and muddle-brained to make up my own mind.”

“That is not at all what I’m suggesting.”

“Really? Because it seems to me that –”

“Ahem.”

They both turned at the sound of the new voice.

Will raised his eyebrows. “It seems to me that you should listen to the man, Al.”

Allie’s own brows slammed together. “This is none of your business, Willis.”

“Well, given that you’re standing in the middle of the kitchen – in between me and that fresh pot of coffee, I might add – it sort of is my business. Being as this is my house, too. A fact which has considerable disadvantages at times like this.”

Allie wondered at the karmic injustice of being saddled with not one, not two, but
three
interfering brothers, with all of whom, due to circumstances, she was currently cohabiting.