The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (15 page)

When a cold gust of wind whipped through the trees, Gypsy shivered again. “What do you say we go inside,” she suggested. “As long as I've lived in Hagerstown, I'm still not used to the wind that comes blowing down from those mountains. It's freezing out here and I hate to be cold. Are you joining us, Wade?"

Georgia looked at Wade, doing everything she could to get him to hear her silent plea. She didn't want him to leave. Things had been going okay the past few minutes. What would happen if he wasn't there?

"Thanks, Gypsy, but not today. I have this thing about being around too much estrogen at once; makes me feel a little too feminine. Before you know it, I'll be upset that my clothes don't match and start to fear that these boots,” he motioned to his worn, brown cowboy boots, “make some part of my body that I don't even realize exists, look fat. I think I'll go back to the garage for a while and load up on testosterone."

She smiled a soft, pretty smile. “Careful, you could overdose if you hang around that place too long."

"True,” he agreed, “but it beats the hell out of spending the day discussing clothes, makeup, and pretty much anything girly."

Embarrassed for him, Georgia touched his arm and gave him a slight shove. “Wade!"

"I'm just kidding, darlin',” he said to Georgia, suddenly leaning down and kissing her on the cheek, too. “Gypsy knows that. Truth is, not only does her red hot temper scare the shit out of me, but Angel and Dusty are so tough they could each kick my ass without the other one's help,
and
with one arm tied behind their back.” He backed away from Gypsy and descended the steps, stopping two below the one Georgia was standing on. “In fact, I think I'll get the hell out of here now, in case they heard that little estrogen joke and didn't think it was quite as funny as I did."

He was leaving? “But—"

"But nothing,” his voice had returned to its familiar business-like tone. “You'll be fine. There's no way that Gypsy's cooking is so good because she chops up nineteen-year-old girls and uses them to season her recipes."

Wondering where Wade had kept his sense of humor hidden the past three weeks, Georgia smiled in spite of herself. “Because the people she uses have to be at least twenty, right?” she asked playfully, deciding to join the fun.

He smiled back and gave her a wink. “You got it."

Then, just for a moment, the panic returned and she called to him. “Are you coming back?"

Wade climbed up the step. His head now even with hers. “I have to go down to the counseling center for a while and do some paperwork,” he explained. “My boss isn't real crazy about paying me money unless I do something to earn it."

Ah, work. She'd wondered how he'd managed to get so much time off work, and how he was earning a living while he was staying at the garage.

"I also have to stop at home for a minute. My plants tend to do things like shrivel up and die when I don't water them."

For some reason, that struck her funny. “
You
have plants?"

"Yes,” he said with a humorous hint of sarcasm, “and don't sound so surprised. Plenty of men have plants. For me, they're a test. I promised myself I could get a dog if I could manage to keep foliage alive for an entire year."

Was he serious? “How long has it been?"

"Six months. But that's been six tries in six months, which means I've been holding plant funerals about once every four weeks."

She laughed, deciding that she liked his sense of humor very much. “So I'll see you later?"

He nodded. “Sure, unless you decide to stay here."

Stay here? Why would she—

"I'm not dropping out of your life, Georgia,” Wade told her as he gently caressed her left cheek in a calming, reassuring gesture that, surprisingly, made her feel better.

"And,” he said, this time with a grin, “you and I are nowhere near finished. We still have a lot to talk about. Starting with who you were before this whole mess began four years ago, and why you refuse to talk about your mother."

Georgia rolled her eyes. She'd just
had
to ask.

Wade moved away and took a step back just as Gypsy reached out and took Georgia's hand in hers. “Are you ready to go in?"

No, but she
was
ready to turn around and run in the opposite direction. She couldn't do this. She couldn't walk into the house and face these women she didn't know; women whose husband's time she'd been consuming the past three and a half weeks. She just couldn't.

"I know you're nervous, Georgia, but you know as well as I do that you can only put off meeting the other girls for so long. There's nothing to be afraid of. All three of us have really been looking forward to meeting you."

Great, now I have expectations to live up to. What if I disappoint them?

"Plus, in a family so full of men, we women could really use another ally. What do you say?"

What
could
she say? Gypsy had been so nice to her that Georgia felt like she couldn't say no. Feeling as though one more little bit of assurance from Wade would give her the courage she needed, she looked up and focused on where he'd been standing.

Only he was no longer standing there. He was gone.

Sometime during the short conversation she'd had with Gypsy, Wade had slipped away and was now leaning—with both his arms and legs crossed—against the side of his truck. When her eyes found his, he nodded, then turned, opened the door and slid onto the driver's seat. Georgia received his message loud and clear when he started the truck and drove away without looking back.

Knowing she had no other choice, Georgia turned to Gypsy and unceremoniously shrugged. “Let's go."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Greeted by beautiful holiday decorations, a warm fire, and the aroma of fresh baked sugar cookies, Georgia felt at home the instant she stepped inside Rebel and Gypsy's house.

"Make yourself comfortable,” Gypsy instructed as Georgia took a seat on one of the two sofas in the room. “This is the first time in weeks that the kids have all been out of the house at the same time, so the girls and I were finally able to start taking down the holiday decorations. We started in the basement first; I'll be back as soon as I yell down and let them know you're here."

After Gypsy disappeared around the corner, Georgia removed her flannel coat and draped it over the arm of the sofa. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes briefly to revel in the scents wafting out of the kitchen.

This was more than just a house; it was a home, the kind of place Georgia had always dreamed of living. She could almost picture her brothers and sisters-in-law sitting in this room; perfectly furnished with nothing more than two sofas, a couple of end tables, and a television, watching their children play.

In any other warm, friendly home, the gun cabinet in the corner of the room would've been sorely out of place. But knowing her brothers as well as she did; who they were, what they were about, and what it meant to be a McCassey in Hagerstown, Georgia felt that anything less than a cabinet stocked with several firearms and dozens of boxes of ammunition simply wouldn't have fit in.

Georgia walked across the room and stared at the numerous framed pictures hanging on the wall, feeling perfectly at home. The photo that caught her eye first was a black and white one of Blackie, Judd, and Rebel. They were leaning against a tree, wearing camouflage jackets, and holding rifles. Judd and Rebel looked like they were in their mid-teens. It was hard to believe they were ever that young.

The other photos were all of her brothers, their wives, and children. The one she began studying next had been taken at Judd and Dusty's wedding; just a week before Georgia had come to Hagerstown. All her brothers were in tuxedos. Dusty had on a beautiful white dress, and all the kids, including Blackie and Angel's six month old twins, were dressed to the nines.

A flicker of recognition when she spotted the young boy standing to Judd's left had Georgia squinting to get a closer look at him. He looked vaguely familiar, but she didn't understand why. She didn't think she'd ever seen him before, but figured she felt as though she recognized him because he looked so much like Judd.

Everyone in the pictures seemed so happy. After examining each and every one of them, Georgia found herself curious about the stories that went along with them. Maybe, if she found the courage, she would ask Gypsy to tell her a few.

When she finished looking at everything, Georgia smiled, retreated back to the sofa, and thought about how lucky she would've been to have grown up in a home like this one.

Rebel and Gypsy's kids would never have to worry about any of the things Georgia had to while growing up. Neither, it appeared, would her other niece and nephews. They were lucky; they had it all.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew Georgia's attention away from her own thoughts.

Anxious to greet the women, Georgia stood up. Suddenly wishing she'd chosen to wear something a little more presentable, she used both hands to smooth her bulky sweatshirt.

When Gypsy entered the room, she was wearing the same warm, friendly smile she had been when she'd greeted Georgia and Wade at the door. Following closely behind her were two of the most beautiful women Georgia had ever seen.

The first one wasn't nearly as thin as Gypsy, but she was by no means fat. She had on just enough makeup to enhance her beautiful face, and was dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans and tennis shoes. The black shirt she was wearing was a sharp contrast to her platinum blonde hair. That was Angel. She'd heard Blackie describe his wife several times and he'd been dead on.

Hoping to impress the girls, Georgia put on her best smile when Gypsy and Angel had come fully into the room and she'd noticed them looking at her.

When she turned her attention to Judd's wife, Dusty, something about the way the woman's long, shiny, blue-black hair fell across her shoulders caused that sense of recognition to hit her again. This time, it was accompanied by a sharp pain in her temple, followed by bright flashes of light in front of her eyes.

Georgia's smile faded, and she felt every ounce of blood drain from her face when her gaze shifted and she found herself staring at a massive burn scar on Dusty's right arm.

Suddenly, she felt lightheaded.

Colorful spots then began dancing before her eyes as bits and pieces of a long-suppressed memory began flashing into her mind. She saw the man shoving a flaming bottle into her hand; saw Dusty running with something. There were screams, loud yelling, and—were those gunshots?

Startled and lost in a fog of confusion, Georgia jumped when someone grabbed her arm. Who was that? Was someone there? She was so disoriented that she couldn't tell if the contact had actually happened, or she'd just imagined it.

The spots cleared, and in her mind, she saw a little boy huddled in the dark by a tree, the same boy she'd seen standing next to Judd in the wedding picture. Georgia remembered running toward him—toward the fire—but a sudden, excruciating pain exploded in her temple. She could feel the warm blood oozing down the side of her face.

Run. Georgia wanted to run, but her legs wouldn't move. She tried to speak, but couldn't catch her breath enough to form a single word.

As she swayed on her feet, Georgia heard several voices, almost as if they were far off in the distance.

"She's going to faint!” she thought she heard someone say.

No, she was
not
going to faint. That was ridiculous. Georgia didn't do things like that. Did she?

What was happening to her?

As the flashing spots returned and became more intense, Georgia's head began to pound.

Just when she thought her head was going to explode, the entire episode ended just as quickly as it began.

And now she remembered everything.

Almost.

The room was deathly silent; Georgia's vision was completely blocked by what seemed like a giant black cloud.

The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the sofa with her head bent and resting in the palms of her hands. She didn't know how she'd gotten there, but was grateful she no longer had to fight to stay on her feet.

As the remnants of the memory filled in the gaps of what was missing, Georgia began to shake then finally—and unexpectedly—found her voice. “No!"

How could she have forgotten the horror she'd witnessed that night? Forgotten what she'd done?

"Georgia?” she heard her name in an unsteady, strained voice that sounded like Gypsy's.

But she couldn't answer.

Instead, she jumped off the sofa as quickly as if it had burned her.

Through still-clouded vision, she turned to who she thought was Dusty and stared at her, wishing she could see more clearly. “It was you,” she managed to calm herself down enough to say. “You and the boy were there."

Georgia assumed that the slight, tentative step Dusty took toward her was a threat and tried to back up, but bumped into Gypsy, who scrambled to get out of the way.

"They're on their way,” she heard someone—most likely Angel—say quietly.

They? Were, ‘they’ her brothers?

Georgia began to panic. No, she couldn't see the guys now! How could she face any of them, especially Judd, after what she'd done? It wouldn't matter to him that she'd been forced to do it; he'd hate her anyway.

Get out.

She had to get out of the house. And she had to do it before her brothers got there. Once they showed up, they'd never let her leave.

"I have to go,” Georgia announced. Forgetting that it was less than twenty degrees outside, Georgia left her coat lying on the arm of the sofa and pushed past Dusty. She had almost made it out of the living room when Angel grabbed her by the arm, her grip as ironclad as the one Blackie had used on her. “Georgia, please wait."

Yanking her arm from Angel's grasp, she shook her head and walked a few steps toward the hallway she knew would lead her to the front door. “No!"

"We can work out whatever's wrong,” Gypsy called.

Desperate to get out of the house, Georgia left the room and walked down the hall. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come,” Georgia yelled, “I don't belong here!"