Family Matters (17 page)

He shifted slightly, turning from her. She could see the tension in his jaw. Much as she didn't want to upset him, she knew she had to go on.

“I'm not saying this just for me, Matt. I'm trying to help you.”

“I don't need help.”

The words were forced through clenched teeth. She could see the muscles working furiously in his neck. Her heart went out to him. “Matt, sometimes we don't know what we need until someone points it out to us, the way you did for me about my obsession. What kind of friend would I be—what kind of person—if I didn't return the favor?”

“And I don't need favors.”

“You're getting this one anyway.” She took a deep breath, raised one shaking hand, rested it on his arm. “It's like art. Sometimes, it's hard to know what we want to capture on canvas until we get a different perspective.”

Lines formed around his eyes as he squinted, then he turned his head away. Still, he wouldn't speak to her.

Her heart broke, knowing what he must be going through, knowing from her own experience how difficult it was to deny a truth you've held your entire life. “Sometimes, it's also hard to realize the beliefs we've grown up with aren't real.”

“Mine sure weren't.” He stopped and looked at her.

She came to a halt. The harsh expression and the bitterness in his tone startled her, but she knew they weren't directed at her. “What do you mean?”

“My father.” He laughed suddenly. “All along, I'd thought he was the one who walked out on us. Turns out, I was wrong. My mother kicked him out.”

“How do you know?” she asked quietly.

“Mom.”

A one-word answer that said he held back a lot more.

“I'm sorry, Matt. It seems your ideas are based on faulty assumptions, exactly the way mine were.” She touched his arm. “But you see what that means? You don't need to keep running from any kind of commitment because you think that's what your father did and you're destined to do the same.”

His arm jerked beneath her fingers, as if she had jolted him. Her eyes blurred with sympathy, but she knew she had to keep pushing, to help him understand himself the way he'd helped her.

“Your mother's a lot stronger person than you thought.”

“Yes, I can see that now. And I'm glad.”

“You're a strong person, too. You also don't need to keep running from the past because you didn't take care of her the way you thought you should.” She tightened her fingers on his arm. “More important, you don't need redemption from ideas that were false to begin with.”

He moved, pulling himself from her grasp.

She took a deep breath, knowing how deep Matt's beliefs went.

He'd handled the news about his mother well, had even sounded proud of her strength.

Would he ever be able to accept his father's weakness?

Or forgive her for pushing him like this?

Stiffening her spine, she stood tall, bracing herself for any response he might make. Ready for anything he might say.

Except for what he actually said.

Which was nothing.

Without uttering a word, without looking back, without hesitating at all, he simply walked away.

Kerry tossed and turned the entire night, getting no sleep at all. After picking listlessly at her breakfast, she left the house with the boys and headed to Rainbow's End.

They found J.J. leaning against the railing at the storage shed, waiting for them. When she unlocked the door, he waited for the younger boys to enter, then followed them all inside.

“Ms. MacBride,” he mumbled, “Mr. Lawrence's gone.”

Frowning, she turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“He left last night, after we ate. Left Lakeside, I mean. Said he had to get back for work.”

“Oh.” She tried a reassuring smile and wished she hadn't when she saw the expression in his eyes. She hadn't fooled him for an instant. “It's okay, J.J. He told me he was going back. I just didn't realize he was leaving that quickly.” She
did
realize one thing for sure, though—that she'd been a fool. For hoping the truth would help him, as it had helped her. And for believing a relationship between them would make him want to stop running.

“Hey,” Colin said. “He can't leave. He never finished the work he was doing here, Kerry.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Want us to go bring him back?” Brody asked.

“Yeah,” Colin added, sticking his chin out aggressively.
“We'll get him here again. We'll drag him back if we have to, kicking and screaming the whole way.”

“Yeah,” Brody agreed.

“Thank you,” she said. “That's not necessary. But I do appreciate the offer.”

The three boys simply stared at her.

“He'll probably be back in a few days, once he takes care of some things at work. Lawyers have busy schedules, you know.”

None of them said anything.

“Well, what are all of you doing standing around?” she demanded, trying for a more genuine smile this time. “Now that we're a man short, we've all got more work to do.”

“Yeah, that's right.” Brody looked downcast but picked up a half-full paint can and a brush. “C'mon, you guys.”

“I don't see why he had to go off and leave,” Colin grumbled, but he followed suit. As the two boys headed out the door, he added, “How can he just walk off? He's supposed to be part of the team.”

They went through the doorway.

Kerry clung tightly to her clipboard, knowing she was responsible for their losing a good worker. And for more than that.

J.J. drifted into her line of vision, his hands shoved in his pockets, one athletic shoe dragging on the unvarnished wood floor. He looked like a kid called to the principal's office.

“What is it, J.J.?”

“He's not coming back, Ms. MacBride.”

The words she attempted caught in her throat. She looked away from him, swallowed hard, then looked back again. “What makes you say that?”

“He gave me money.”

Her eyes widened.

“I didn't ask for it!” he protested.

He had jumped to a conclusion. How could she not recognize the reaction, when she'd done the same herself just the night before? She had only herself to blame for Matt's departure, because she'd made the mistake of letting herself get serious.

Because she'd jumped to a conclusion Matt had never intended.

And now, J.J. assumed she believed he'd asked Matt for money. “I'm sure he gave it to you because he wanted to, J.J.”

“I told him I didn't need any, but he said he wanted me to have it. Guess he didn't want me to run short and have to ask you.”

“That could be true. That was thoughtful of him. But it doesn't necessarily mean he's not coming back.”

“Ms. MacBride.” This time, J.J. looked away. “He stopped in the motel office last night, then he came back to the room and told me he was leaving. He said he paid for the room for the rest of the summer, so I wouldn't have to worry about it. He even gave me the receipt.”

Her eyes suddenly burned with tears. She blinked them away, not wanting J.J. to see them.

But he stared at her, his own eyes hooded and his mouth down-turned as if he knew just what she was feeling. “I'm sorry, Ms. MacBride.”

She nodded and sighed. “I'm sorry, too, J.J.”

He turned and left the shack.

She wanted to hate Matt for what he had done. For quitting before the job was finished. For leaving them all behind.

For running away from her.

But she clutched the clipboard to her chest, remembering how carefully he had pulled it from her nerveless fingers just before the first time he had kissed her. He'd been so gentle then.

And so kind now, with what he had done to take care of J.J.

He had been such a good man and had shown so much compassion—and this, after she had accused him of being an opportunist.

That guilty knowledge made her feel even worse.

 

A
S SOON AS HE'D GOTTEN
up the morning after his return to Chicago, Matt changed into his running gear and headed for the track. He wasn't expected at the office. He had nowhere else he had to be. And he hoped the physical exercise would burn up some of his nervous energy.

As usual, he stopped by Mary's kiosk with a to-go cup of tea. Somehow, even before he got to the track, he found himself running—running off at the mouth.

“Mom sure had the right idea in ditching the bum she once married.”

“Guess you're talking about your father,” Mary said.

“Yeah. If I have to call him that.”

“You do, and that's probably why it bugs you so much. But is there something more going on?”

Matt put one foot forward, shifting his weight, stretching muscles in preparation for the furious sprint he would need to outrun his thoughts.

“Avoiding me, Mr. Lawrence?” Mary asked.

“No. Just the question.”

“Or the answer?”

He laughed ruefully. “You never quit, do you, Mary?”

“Neither do you.” She gave him her toothless grin.

“It occurred to me, finally, that Mom's got the right to invest her money any way she chooses.”

“
Now
you're talking.” She beamed. “What else?”

Frowning, he looked at her, feeling like a kid facing the teacher and having no clue about the answer to the question.
The scenario made him think of Kerry—precisely what he was trying to avoid. “What makes you think there's anything more?”

“Because you look like you swallowed your socks and don't much like the taste of them.”

He laughed without humor. “You're zeroing in, aren't you?”

“As in…?”

“As in, what I
ought
to be swallowing.”

“Yeah—and sometimes pride tastes worse than sweaty socks.”

“It does.” He switched legs, leaned forward, rested his elbow on his bent knee. “It also occurred to me that Mom might have picked a real winner with the amusement park—something that could turn out to be a good thing, after all.”

“Hurts to admit that, huh?”

He shrugged. “As much as confessing anything else, I guess.”

“So, I guess you got something to say to this Kerry girl?”

“I've already said it.” He added sheepishly, “I went after her like she was a hostile witness.”

“No surprise to me. You came on, no-holds-barred, same as in the courtroom. At exactly the wrong time for it, I'd bet.”

He winced. “That was a low blow, Mary.”

“Just telling it like it is. Okay, so you went around it the wrong way. Doesn't mean the verdict's in yet.” She braced both hands on the kiosk's counter and leaned forward. “Didn't you once say to me cross-examination's where a good lawyer can make or break a case?”

Matt stared at her in surprise. “I believe I did, a long time ago. How could you have remembered that?”

“I
always
remember when a lawyer gives out free advice.” She winked. “And I always make sure I return the favor.”

 

T
HREE WEEKS LATER, FACING
a long weekend alone, Matt brought an armload of work home from the office. Maybe that would distract him.

Late Saturday morning, he took another look at the file he'd spread open on his desk. It was the third attempt he'd made in as many hours, but he couldn't seem to concentrate. Every time he tried to focus on a page, Kerry's face swam into view.

She was right about his running. He'd taken off from the situation with her, trying to outrun the present the way he always outran the past.

What he should have done was stay there and wait for her to apologize for jumping to a conclusion he'd never intended—and then blaming her misunderstanding on him. He'd said nothing to her about a permanent arrangement. She had made a real leap in logic with that idea.

He had already put that entire last conversation out of his mind. But why, now that he was on his own again, did he have such trouble putting
her
out of his mind?

His mom's near-daily updates hadn't helped his mood at all.

The renovations were moving along at top speed.

The entire town of Lakeside seemed to want in on the action at the amusement park.

And even MacBride appeared to have redeemed himself. Donations from local merchants had flooded in—whether from Bren's persuasive abilities or because of the magic of Rainbow's End, Matt couldn't say. He hated to admit it, but probably a little of both.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. He jumped up from his office chair, eager for any distraction. Right now, a political canvasser would be more welcome than his own thoughts.

As he headed down the stairs, the idea occurred to him that Kerry had realized her mistake, had come back to Chicago
to tell him she was wrong about assuming they had a permanent relationship. To deliver her apology in person. The idea took hold so firmly that by the time he reached the door and yanked it open, he was smiling, knowing he'd find her on the front step.

Not quite.

Instead of the MacBride he expected to see, he found the male section of the clan standing in a clump outside, with J.J. hovering in the background. Brody and Colin stood so close to the door, they'd slipped through the opening before he could catch his breath and ask what the hell they were doing here.

“Why don't you all just come on in?” he asked, throwing the door open wider, not bothering to hide his frown.

“Don't mind if we do,” Brendan MacBride said, not bothering to acknowledge Matt's expression.

Matt would have ground his teeth together in frustration, except that J.J. hung back, unsure of his welcome, and Matt didn't want the boy to think he was angry with him for showing up on his doorstep. Besides, he'd bet next month's billable hours Kerry's crazy relatives hadn't given him a say in the matter.

He waved J.J. inside, slammed the door and turned to face his guests, ready for the lynching he knew they planned to provide. Good to see the MacBride family had the slightest measure of the loyalty Kerry gave them. “Nice of you all to drop in. I suppose you happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“Yes, indeed—” Bren began.

“Uh-uh,” Brody blurted at the same time. “We drove up here special to see you.”

Bren shot him a look but said nothing.

“Gran woulda come, too,” Brody continued, “but you know she's got this thing about motors.”

“Right.” No mention of Kerry. Matt raised a brow. “And what can I do for you all?”

Bren smiled and let loose with a rush of words. “Well, first of all, lad, you can come back to Rainbow's End and finish what you started.”

Matt stared, barely able to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor. “That's pretty good, coming from a—” He bit off the words, glanced at the boys, sent a crooked grin toward J.J., and finally looked back at the eldest MacBride present. “Coming from a man I haven't seen much of lately.”

“I've been pulling donations together on this project, you know.” Bren waved his hand, as if proof of his success would materialize at his command. “Working on things behind the scenes, let us say.”

And behind everyone's back.
He didn't voice the words.

He really
was
mellowing.

“It's like this, Mr. Lawrence,” J.J. said, stepping forward. “We thought since you was so interested in the park and all, you might want to come back.”

“Help with the grand opening,” Bren added.

“Everything's almost finished,” Brody said eagerly. “You should see that roller coaster run!”

“The tunnel of love's looking good, too.” Colin stared at him in wide-eyed innocence.

Matt stared back. Whatever he might have said was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell.

Kerry.

About time.

Who knew what they would say to each other. Of course, he wouldn't have their discussion in front of this whole crew. Still, filled with anticipation, he yanked open the door again.

And again, he hadn't come close to guessing right about the person he'd find standing on his doorstep.

He opened his mouth and, conscious of the group in the living room behind him, snapped his jaw closed again. This
latest development would make a hot situation volatile. Before he could step through the doorway, his hesitation blew up in his face.

“What's up, Matt? Aren't you going to invite your dear old dad in?”

 

H
IS FATHER HAD AN
uncanny knack of appearing on the rare Saturday Matt would be home catching up on work, rather than spending the day at his office. Usually, he wanted a handout or a free meal. The meal usually got Matt off easy.

Nothing could have convinced him to allow his father into the town house today. Instead, he waved the MacBrides outside, made rapid introductions, and walked them all down to the corner deli for a quick bite of lunch. Or so he'd planned.

His father had other ideas.

The deli didn't serve full meals, so they went to a steak-house. The restaurant wasn't yet open for lunch, but his father took care of that. Then his dad decided the table they were offered was too close to the kitchen. By the time they'd settled into a spacious corner booth, Matt had lost his appetite.