Conquer the Flames (Langs Down) (33 page)

“I think that depends on what you focused on this morning,” Caine insisted. “Yes, Ian is still struggling with it, but do you think Ian would even be trying to have a relationship with Thorne if they’d met fifteen years ago when he first came here?”

“No, probably not,” Macklin had to admit. “He was pretty much a complete loner back then. He’d share a beer with Neil and Kyle occasionally, but he never went to town with the others, and once he got that house of his own, he guarded his privacy fiercely. I was stunned when he let Thorne start sleeping on the couch. He’s never even let Neil sleep on his couch.”

“Has Neil ever needed to sleep on his couch?” Caine asked with a grin.

“I don’t know,” Macklin said. “There was that one time when Molly was pregnant with Dani when I’m pretty sure she kicked him out of the house for a week. He stayed with Sam and Jeremy. I don’t know if Ian would have refused, but I’ll put money on it that Neil didn’t even ask. He knew what the answer would be and he knew Sam wouldn’t turn him away.”

“Which all proves my point,” Caine said. “He let Thorne sleep on his couch. From what I heard, he
invited
Thorne to sleep on his couch. He wants this, and he’s trying to make it happen, and he couldn’t have done that without the years of safety and peace here. I know you wish you’d known and that you could have helped then, or even that you could help now, but you
have
helped already, and Ian knows and appreciates that.”

Macklin nodded because he knew Caine expected it, and they had work to do that wouldn’t wait for him to dwell on the past and all the ways he’d failed to help Ian. Caine would say Ian was a grown man and had been since he arrived on the station and that, as such, he didn’t need Macklin’s protection, but Macklin had never been one to shirk his responsibilities, and all the men and women on the station were his responsibility—the year-rounders most of all.

“
M
UM
?”

“Hello, love,” Sarah said with a smile when Macklin walked into the kitchen. “I don’t usually see you in the middle of the afternoon. Is everything all right?”

“Not really,” Macklin admitted. “I’ve had better days.”

“I’ll make us some tea and you can tell me about it,” Sarah offered. “Even if I can’t help, you’ll feel better for having talked about it.”

Macklin nodded and waited silently while Sarah puttered around in the small kitchen of the house she and Kami shared. He steadfastly refused to think of Kami as his stepfather, but he was happy beyond words to see contentment in his mother’s eyes. A few minutes later, she brought the teapot to the table and set it between them. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Thorne left for Wagga Wagga this morning,” Macklin began. “He’s gone to get help for his flashbacks.”

“That’s a very brave thing for him to do,” Sarah observed. “A lot of military men wouldn’t be comfortable admitting they had a problem, much less doing something about it.”

“That’s what Caine told him,” Macklin said. “And Ian too.”

“Ah, yes,” Sarah said. “Ian. How is he taking Thorne’s departure?”

“I don’t know,” Macklin admitted. “You’ve heard enough stories to know how Michael was. He’d take in anyone who needed it. What you might not know is he made one demand in return. He wanted the truth of the past that had driven us all here. He never judged, but he had to know. I like to think it was so he could protect us. When he died, he took all our secrets to his grave with him. Caine insisted on hearing Chris and Seth’s story before he took them in. Neil told us Sam’s story before he came, and Jeremy told me his, but I took for granted that the established year-rounders were all adults and didn’t need my protection the way Chris and Seth did.”

“And Ian does?” Sarah asked.

“Not in the sense that someone is actively threatening him,” Macklin replied, “but he didn’t leave his troubles behind when he got here. While I was busy building on Michael’s legacy and falling in love with Caine and getting more than I ever deserved in this life, Ian was suffering in silence because I didn’t follow Michael’s lead and insist on learning everyone’s stories too.”

“Macklin, love,” Sarah scolded, “you’re human just like the rest of us. You’re going to have regrets just like the rest of us. Do you think I don’t regret not finding a way to leave your father when you were younger? I still hear your arm snapping in my dreams some nights, but we survived him, and even better, we’re happy now, which is a far better revenge than anything else we could have done to him. I hope he’s rotting in hell, tortured by the fact that we both have husbands who love us and that his hatred and abuse didn’t keep either of us from finding happiness.”

Macklin was taken aback by his mother’s vehemence, but he couldn’t help but second her sentiment. “It would serve him right. I let you down too, though. I should have figured out a way to take you with me or, barring that, I should have found a way to come back for you after I was old enough to be free of him legally.”

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Sarah said, reaching across the table for Macklin’s hand, “are you still beating yourself up over that all these years later? You were a child, love. I wasn’t your responsibility, and even if I was, you couldn’t help me when you were hurting so badly. You had to find your own feet first.”

“I didn’t come looking for you even then.”

Sarah chuckled softly. “That’s because you didn’t find your feet until you met Caine,” she said indulgently, “and don’t give me that look. You can think whatever you want, but it’s the truth. You were still just as battered on the inside at forty as you were at fourteen until he came along and taught you how to love again. I’ve heard stories of how you’d go to Sydney for a week every winter. A week of sex, because that’s all you dared to allow yourself, even with Michael and Donald to give you a different example. Don’t tell me you weren’t still hurting.”

“I’m not hurting now,” Macklin said, “but Ian is, and I don’t know how to help him.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Sarah said. “Maybe the help he needs has to come from Thorne. He couldn’t have helped you heal. You needed Caine. Thorne might be what Ian needs.”

“But Thorne is going to be gone for the next several weeks,” Macklin said.

“So you give him what he asks for in the meantime,” Sarah said. “Whether that’s time off to go to Wagga Wagga to be with Thorne or whether that’s the privacy to lick his wounds.”

“I will,” Macklin said, “but I think there’s one other thing I can give him. When Caine found you and you told me my father was dead, I knew I’d never have to worry about him hurting anyone again. I can give Ian that peace of mind.”

“How?” Sarah asked.

“By making sure the authorities know what his foster father did to him,” Macklin said. “It might be after the fact, but if the bastard is in jail somewhere, Ian won’t have to worry about being hurt again.”

“As if anyone here would let that happen,” Sarah said.

“No more than they would have let Dad hurt me if he’d found me here,” Macklin said, “but I didn’t feel completely safe until I knew he was dead. I didn’t know I was still worrying about it, but the relief when you told me was too real to deny.”

M
ACKLIN
hung up the phone with grim satisfaction. “Isaac Patterson was convicted of sexual assault of a minor ten years ago. He was sentenced to life in prison and died there a little over a year ago.”

“Feel better?” Caine asked when Macklin finished.

“Yeah, as stupid as that sounds when I wasn’t the one he victimized,” Macklin replied.

“It’s not stupid,” Caine said. “He hurt your friend. It makes sense you’d be glad to see him face justice. You should tell Ian. It might help him find some closure as well.”

“Come with me?” Macklin asked. “You’re better at this kind of thing than I am.”

“What kind of thing?” Caine teased.

“Emotions,” Macklin said with a grimace. “What is it Molly says about us? We treat emotions like they’re as deadly as a mulga?”

“Something like that,” Caine agreed. “Fortunately for you, the partners of your stockmen seem to be more in touch with that side of themselves. Yes, I’ll go with you to talk to Ian.”

They found Ian in the tack room, a pile of broken reins and stirrup leathers strewn around his feet. “Awfully hot day to be doing that, isn’t it?” Macklin said. “You could at least carry it outside, where there’s a breeze.

“There are also people out there,” Ian muttered, “and right now people are very interested in why Thorne suddenly left. Telling them it’s none of their business doesn’t seem to be working.”

“You know they ask because they’re concerned about you,” Caine said. “If they didn’t care about you, they’d chalk it up to him not being cut out for station life and move on.”

“I know,” Ian said, “but I still have to explain, and then they want to know what happened, and that brings up things I want to talk about even less than where Thorne is now.”

“About that…,” Macklin began.

“Relax, Ian,” Caine said before Macklin could continue. Macklin saw the stricken look on Ian’s face and sighed, gesturing for Caine to take over. Even when he was delivering the closest thing to good news in this kind of a situation, he still made a mess of it.

“You’re not….”

“We’re not anything,” Caine promised when Ian didn’t finish the sentence “We called DoCS in Darwin. If it had come down to actually accusing Patterson of rape, you would have had to do it, but we wanted to find out if he was still working as a foster parent so we’d know if you needed to do it.”

“Is he?” Ian asked, his voice so small and broken that Macklin flashed back to his own childhood and begging his mother for an explanation of his father’s abuse.

“No,” Macklin said. “He was sentenced to life in prison ten years ago. He served nine years before dying in jail. Apparently some of the inmates took exception to his crimes.”

“They killed him?” Ian asked.

“No, but they weren’t kind to him. He died of his injuries a few days later,” Macklin said. “Perforated intestine, apparently.”

He hated to admit the sadistic glee he felt at the thought of Ian’s abuser being forced to suffer the same kind of pain and humiliation he’d forced on Ian, but a primal part of him relished it. It didn’t decrease Ian’s suffering, but there was a certain poetic justice to it. He just wouldn’t mention that to Caine.

Ian had no such qualms. “Good,” he muttered. “Serves the bastard right to know what it feels like to be held down and forced. I hope they ripped his insides to shreds. Thank you for finding that out for me. I don’t know if I would have had the courage to call on my own.”

“You’re welcome,” Macklin said. “If you need anything else, just let us know.”

“Actually,” Ian said slowly, “I was thinking I might start taking my day off instead of working through it. If you can spare me, of course.”

“It’s your day off,” Caine said. “Of course we can spare you. Was there something particular you were planning on doing with it? Not that it matters. It’s your day, even if all you do with it is sleep for twenty-four hours.”

“As nice as that sounds, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” Ian said with a lopsided smile. “Doc Peters gave me the name of someone in Cowra, someone to hopefully help me while Thorne is in Wagga Wagga getting help.”

“Good,” Caine said. “You should do that. If you need extra days at first, let us know. You’ve worked more days off than you’ve taken off. We’ll work around your schedule.”

“I have to meet her first,” Ian said, “but I’ll let you know.”

“Just don’t forget to tell us,” Macklin said.

“I won’t,” Ian promised. “Neil’s already kicked my arse once for thinking I had to do things alone. I don’t need it kicked again.”

“Good,” Macklin said, “because I wouldn’t be as nice about it as he was.”

Ian smiled. “I learned my lesson, boss. If I need something, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

Twenty-Five

T
HORNE
had been at the Wagga Wagga Mental Health Services for three days when Walker came to visit.

“How you holding up, Lachlan?” he asked when Thorne joined him in the visitors’ area of the center.

“Doing okay,” Thorne said. “The doctors diagnosed me with PTSD, which shouldn’t really come as a surprise after everything we’ve seen and done. We’re trying some antianxiety meds to help with the over-the-top reactions. It’s too soon to tell if it’s helping, but the doctor seems to think it will. We’ve spent a lot of time talking, which is hard. I have to talk around a lot of stuff because it’s classified, but it’s not where I was or what the mission parameters were that are important.”

“No, I suppose not,” Walker said. “How’s your boyfriend dealing with all of this?”

“I haven’t talked to him since I called to let him know I made it here safely. I don’t have access to my cell phone or a computer, not that Ian has an e-mail account, but I’ve been writing to him. The doctor said that was good for me too. I’m hoping he’ll write back, but the station’s so remote that they take the mail in once a week unless it’s urgent. The nearest post office is in Boorowa.”