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“She came to you in the middle of the night without her husband,” he continued.
His mother’s mouth pursed in that way that she had—that way that told him it didn’t matter what he said, she was looking down a tunnel, and it wasn’t one that he could see. It was a tunnel that led straight to denial.
“Becca told me that she was restless and couldn’t sleep. Said she missed me. Nothing more. David’s busy trying to find a job, so she decided to come for a visit.”
“For the entire summer?” he said, pushing back from the table. “Let me get this straight. You think that Becca would rather be back here because she doesn’t have a life in Iowa? That Liam is jumping up and down to be in Crystal Lake because he has no friends back home in Iowa?”
Mac thought of his buddies and how they had got him through the toughest, darkest times in his life. Liam must be pissed. No wonder the kid seemed so insolent.
His mother slowly got out of her seat and grabbed both of their mugs. She rinsed them in the kitchen sink and then placed them on the drying rack on the counter.
“Becca’s marriage is none of my business, Mackenzie, and it’s certainly none of yours.”
Unbelievable.
His mother would never allow herself to see what was right in front of her because if she did, she’d have to confront her own demons. Her own weaknesses.
And her sins.
Not protecting a child from a maniac like Ben Draper was a sin that he didn’t think he would ever be able to forgive, no matter how much he loved his mother. Loving that bastard more than she loved her own kids was something he would never be able to wrap his head around.
He glanced up at the clock—7:10 and already his mood was black. This had to be some kind of record, even for him. Mac didn’t have time for any of this shit.
He scraped his chair back and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m going to start on the fence.”
Mac spent a few hours sanding and scraping the fence boards so that it was ready for paint and by the time he rolled out the cans and grabbed his brush, the sun was burning hot. He inserted his earbuds and got busy, listening to some old classics from U2 and The Stones as he lost himself in the therapy known as good old-fashioned labor.
He managed to get three sections finished before his sister stepped in front of him, and Mac withdrew the buds, tossing his brush into a can as he turned to Becca.
Her bad eye was now a great shade of puke green, with yellow and purple along for the ride, though on a positive note, the swelling had gone down. She’d pulled her hair up into a clip, and without makeup, she looked young. And sad.
And kind of broken.
“Liam’s changing into some old clothes. I told him to come and help you.”
Mac wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m sure he was real happy to hear that.”
Becca attempted a smile. “It was that or church with Mom.”
“Well now, I guess Uncle Mac beats the gospel on a hot summer day.”
She handed him a bottle of water, and Mac accepted it, taking a long drink and then whipping off his sweat-soaked T-shirt.
“Wow,” Becca said. “When did you get that?” She pointed to his tattoo.
“The week I graduated from college.”
Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t know. What does it mean?”
Mac glanced at the Sanskrit that graced h
is bicep and was quiet for a few seconds. “It means…don’t look back.”
“Oh,” Becca said softly.
And then, “Oh my God! Is that Cain Black?” She moved so that she was half-hidden behind Mackenzie, her hand tugging on his arm crazily. “Holy shit, I didn’t know he was back in Crystal Lake. Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
“Maybe because he’s married and so are you.” Christ, some things never changed. All of his sisters had gone kooky over the rocker, and they used to fall all over themselves trying to get Cain to notice them whenever he was around.
