Heartache Falls (15 page)

“Yes, sir!”

Once his clerk had departed, Mac discarded all his judicial demeanor and sat on the floor beside his sick dog. Gus put his head on Mac’s thigh, and Mac allowed his head to clear as he stroked his ailing dog’s soft fur. “I was worried about you, boy.”

He’d been worried and just a little bit annoyed, to be honest. He’d been in a bind this morning when he realized Gus was sick and needed to see the vet, and he’d hated asking for help. Up until now, Ali had always been there to take the dogs to the vet, the kids to the doctor, the cars to the shop. It was a pain to try to do everything that everyday living involved in addition to overseeing the Sandberg case. It would have been a lot more convenient for him if she’d waited to have her meltdown until this case was over.

Regarding meltdowns, he wondered how many times Caitlin had called him today. Not a day went by that she didn’t phone at least three times. He loved his daughter. She was the light of his life. But for crying
out loud, the girl needed to cut the cord. She definitely needed to learn that he didn’t want to hear an endless litany of wonderful about this new hairy-legged boy she was dating.

Mac eyed the center drawer of his desk, where he kept his cell phone during court, and made a silent bet with himself. Ten. He’d have ten phone messages or more from his children and at least fifteen texts. He knew they worried about him. He understood they thought they needed to check on him every day—even though he’d told them checking in once a week or so would be plenty. Frankly, they were wearing him down.

Mac scratched Gus behind the ears, then said, “Okay, boy. I might as well just get it over with, don’t you think?”

He opened the drawer, pulled out his phone, thumbed it on, and checked his missed calls and messages. “Stephen, Caitlin, Caitlin, Chase …” Mac’s voice trailed off as he began to count.

Chase had called three times, but he’d sent seventeen text messages. That wasn’t like Chase. He pulled up the first text message:
Dad, call me
. The second message:
Dad, call ASAP
. The third:
Dad, pls call
.

Mac’s heart began to pound and he rose to his feet. Dear Lord, what had happened? Was he hurt? Bleeding? Had he done something stupid? He immediately dialed Chase’s number, and as he waited for the call to go through, he told himself that his son wasn’t dead—dead people didn’t text. Nor did people having major surgery. Nor was Chase in jail, since no one had taken his phone away.

As the phone rang, Mac thought desperately,
Please, Lord, let nobody have died
.

“Hello? Dad?”

“Chase, are you all right?”

“Dad. Thank God you called.”

Mac gripped the back of his office chair hard. “What’s wrong, son?”

“Hold on. I can’t talk here. Let me get outside.”

Mac heard music playing in the background, then the loud squeak of springs and the bang of a door. Screen door, he figured. Seconds later, the background noise faded and his son said, “Dad, you have to do something about Mom.”

Oh
. With that, his fear for his child faded and he tensed with dread, sensing he’d rather not have this conversation. He delayed it by asking, “Where are you?”

“Eternity Springs.”

“What? I thought you were in D.C. Don’t you start your internship this week?”

“I was there. I came back. Family emergency.”

Mac closed his eyes.
Oh, great
. “Okay, then. What’s the emergency? Why all the texts?”

Chase explained how he, his brother, and his sister had traveled to Eternity Springs to try to talk some sense into their mother.
You guys should have asked me before you went to the effort. I could have told you that was a waste of time
.

Chase said, “I thought we made some progress. She did seem to listen and what she said reassured us. Stephen and Caitlin had an earlier flight than I did, so they took off early. I went to visit with Lori, then
breezed by the Bristlecone before I left town. Did you know there was a fire at the restaurant? They’re repairing and replacing, and right now she’s painting the walls in the kitchen.”

“Your mother is painting?”

“Yep. And not by herself. Some guy is helping her. Dad, she’s making a fool of herself.”

Guardedly he asked, “How so?”

“It’s unusually hot today, granted, and the Bristlecone doesn’t have a working air conditioner, but Mom is wearing shorts and a tank top. He doesn’t have a shirt on. In my opinion, Dad, it’s way too cozy. As I walked into the restaurant a little while ago they were throwing movie quotes at each other. Mom was saying, “ ‘I’m alive. Maggie the cat is alive.’ ”

As his son continued to talk, Mac’s gaze settled on the baseball displayed on a shelf of his office bookcases that held personal mementos. He recalled the first time he’d heard Ali recite those lines.

He’d glanced around for Ali as he stepped down from the team bus to a cheering crowd of students and supporters of the Fighting Irish as the team arrived home from the regionals, where they’d defeated Michigan to advance to the College World Series. The baseball he’d hit to score the winning run was tucked carefully into his backpack—he wanted to show it to her and share the biggest sports-related moment of his life. Not spying her, he frowned. Ali almost always met the team bus. What could she be … oh. The play. Ali was starring in an off-campus production of
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
The first performance was tonight
.

Mac checked his watch. Ten after seven. Well, he’d be a little late but he knew she would like him to be there. She’d been stoically supportive when the tournament schedule was released and they realized he’d probably not make it home tonight. However, thanks to some awesome pitching on both sides, the game had moved more quickly than anyone had anticipated, and here he was. Slipping through the crowd, he mentally reviewed the contents of his wallet and decided that this time he’d splurge on a cab ride
.

He entered the theater in time to see Ali, playing Maggie the Cat, strip down to her slip, and then he lost himself in the power of her performance. Her talent floored him. Her raw sexuality seduced him. When the play ended with Maggie and Brick sharing a passionate kiss, jealousy and a bone-deep desire to claim her for his own washed through him
.

He waited for her in the alley outside the stage door, leaning back against the red brick wall, his arms crossed over his chest. When she exited the building laughing with a pair of girlfriends, he pushed away from the wall and stood with his legs spread, his hips flexed forward. He locked his gaze on her but didn’t say a word
.

Her friend noticed him first and stopped abruptly. Ali turned her head and upon seeing him, her eyes rounded and her smile slowly died. “Mac. You’re back!”

Now he let his arms drop to his sides and he advanced slowly toward her. “Uh-huh.”

She licked her lips. “Did you get to see any of the play?”

“Oh, yeah, Ali-cat.”

His blood ran hot and thick, fueled by her performance on the stage and his own on the diamond, and he shifted his direction, cutting her from the herd just as slickly as any cowboy on the clock
.

“Um …,” one of the girls said. “We’ll, uh, catch you later, Ali.”

“Did you win?” Ali asked, a little bit breathless, her stare locked on his
.

“Oh, yeah.” He moved forward, backing her up against the theater’s wall, his hands and forearms flat against the bricks, pinning her with his hips. “Oh, yeah.”

Then he kissed her, a hard, desperate crush of his lips against hers that told her without words of his dark and hungry desire. Ali melted bonelessly against him, moaning into his mouth. Her surrender only further stoked the fires of his need
.

He released her mouth in order to draw a breath, and his lips skimmed over her face to that sensitive spot on her neck just below her ears that always made her shiver. He nipped her with his teeth and murmured, “I want you, Ali. I want you so damned much.”

In a thready, whisper of a voice, she said, “Okay.”

Mac froze. He lifted his head and met her gaze. “What did you say?”

“I said okay. I want you, too, Mac. I’m ready.”

He sucked in a breath. Ali was a virgin, and they’d been taking it slow. As much as he wanted her, as badly as he hurt, he understood the importance of the step they contemplated. “Are you sure, honey? I’m not trying to pressure you.”

She smiled and wiggled her hips against him. “What do you call that if not pressure?”

Mac groaned. “Agony.”

Now, she laughed. “I’m sure, Mac. I knew when I saw you here tonight that the time was finally right. I feel on top of the world. I love you, and I want to be with you.”

“I love you, too, Ali,” Mac replied, meaning it, surprising himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d told her he loved her. She wasn’t the first girl to whom he’d said those three big words, but this time, for the first time, he actually meant it. And it wasn’t because she’d just agreed to sleep with him, either. “You’re special. You’re really, really special.”

Then he stepped away from her, took her hand, and raised it to his lips and kissed it. “This is shaping up to be the best day of my life.”

More than two decades later, as Mac sat in his office and tried to focus on his son’s monologue, he realized that particular day had been first of many best days of his life.

And Ali had been part of each and every one of them.

“So, Dad, you are going to do something about it, right? I’m telling you, she’s vulnerable. The sheriff is a stud and he’s not married. And let’s face it, for a woman her age, Mom is hot.”

The sheriff. Mac’s stomach took a sickening roll. “Zach Turner is helping her paint the restaurant?”

“Yes. Weren’t you listening to me, Dad?”

Great. Just great
.

Mac grimaced and massaged his forehead with his
fingers. He decided he’d heard all he wanted to hear on this subject. “I’ll deal with your mom. You don’t need to worry. Now, tell me about your internship.”

Chase’s sigh communicated his displeasure, but he knew his father well enough not to argue. He talked about the job with the Department of the Interior, the apartment he shared with three other interns, and the stultifying heat of the nation’s capital in summer. He ended with another sigh and the statement, “Too many people there. I miss the mountains. Still, change can be good.”

Mac eyed Gus, who lay sprawled in a sunny spot in front of the window. “Yes, change can be good.”

Then, as his gaze moved back to the shelf and what he’d always called the “home-run baseball,” he added, “Sometimes, though, you learn that the status quo was better.”

Seated at a table for one at the Blue Spruce Sandwich Shop, Ali picked at her dinner salad, almost too tired to eat. After three days of hard work, the painting was completed.
Next time I’ll let the contractors do it
.

Guilt over spending so much on kitchen appliances had caused her to look for opportunities to save money elsewhere. The paint job looked good—thanks to help from friends—but she’d never guessed the work itself would tax her so much. Her lack of gym time during the past year was showing.

The shop’s front door opened, and Ali saw Sarah Reese walk in carrying a cardboard box. Sarah made the desserts served at the Blue Spruce, and Ali knew from experience that they were delicious. “Thank
goodness,” she said, waving toward the empty refrigerated display case. “I was beginning to worry.”

“Me, too,” Sarah responded as she set down the box and began to fill the case’s space with cake, pies, and brownies. “Today has been one of those ugly days. Mom had a particularly difficult time today.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah. Do you have time to join me? I’m buying.”

Sarah considered a second, then said, “I believe I do. Iced tea, please.”

As Ali gestured to her waitress to bring another glass of tea, Sarah finished unloading the desserts, dropped off her invoice in the owner’s office, then joined Ali at her table. “How’s the painting coming?”

“It’s finally done. Thanks so much for your help. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

“It was fun.” Sarah waved the protest away, then turned serious. “It was fun. I’m glad to help you any way I can, Ali. The Cavanaugh coins have been a life-saver for me.”

Now it was Ali’s turn to give a dismissive gesture. The coins to which she referred had been in a box of items Ali’s father had received from the Eternity Springs side of the Cavanaugh family, and they’d been worth a fair amount of money. Once Ali had learned Sarah’s big secret—the true identity of Lori’s father—and realized that Lori had as rightful a claim to those coins as her own children and a much greater need, Ali had offered them to Sarah. Prideful, Sarah had resisted taking them at first, but the realities of college tuition eventually made her cave. “Family takes care of family. Or at least they should.”

Sarah frowned at her. “Is that supposed to be a subtle message of some sort, Timberlake? Has my daughter been bending your ear about her father?”

“Some,” Ali admitted.

“She wants to find him,” Sarah said with a sigh. “We’re in the middle of a huge argument about it. She wants to use the coin money to hire an investigator to find Cam and take out loans to help pay for her tuition. I refuse to do that. I’ve worked like a dog for these past nineteen years to support her and put money aside so that she wouldn’t have to go into debt to get an education. If she does get into vet school, we’ll need every penny we’ve squeezed out of those nickels and dollars you gave us.”

Sarah’s Cam was Cam Murphy, the great-something-grandson of two of Eternity Springs’s founders, Daniel Murphy and Harry Cavanaugh, who was Ali’s ancestor. Cam had been Eternity Springs’s troublemaker, the bad boy whose relationship with good girl Sarah Reese remained secret to this day. Sent to juvenile detention for injuring someone in a fight, he’d never returned to Eternity Springs after his release. Sarah had blamed her pregnancy on a fling with a summer tourist, and except for Lori and a few close friends, the people of Eternity still believed the lie. Nic had told Ali that Sarah had never gotten over him.