church or the Valley Grocery Store. The taunts from other children at school or, worse, the birthday parties he and Meg had not been invited to. Back then, he’d handled every slight with his fists. Meg had retreated within herself.
Mick flipped on the headlights and shoved the truck into reverse. The Ram’s taillights lit up the alley as he looked over his shoulder and backed out of the parking space. In a larger town, the salacious lives of Loch and Rose Hennessy would have been forgotten within a few weeks. Front-page news for a day or two, then eclipsed by something more shocking. Something bigger to talk about over morning coffee. But in a town the size of Truly, where the juiciest scandal usually involved such nefarious deeds as a stolen bicycle or Sid Grimes poaching out of season, the sordidness of Loch and Rose Hennessy had kept the town talking for years. Speculating and rehashing every tragic detail had become a favorite pastime. Right up there with holiday parades, the ice-sculpting contest, and raising money for the town’s various causes. But unlike decorating floats and instituting after-school just-say-no-to-drugs programs, what everyone seemed to forget, or perhaps didn’t care about, was that within the wreckage that Rose and Loch had created, there had been two innocent children just trying to live it all down.
He shoved the truck into drive and rolled out of the alley and onto a dimly lit street. A lot of his childhood memories were old and faded and thankfully forgotten. Others were so crystal clear he could recall every detail. Like the night he and Meg had been woken up by a county sheriff, told to grab a few things, and taken to their grandmother Loraine’s house. He remembered sitting in the back of the squad car in his T-shirt, underwear, and sneakers, holding his Tonka truck, while Meg sat next to him, crying as if their world had just ended. And it had. He remembered all the squawk and adrenaline-laced voices on the police radio, and he remembered something about someone checking up on the other little girl.
Leaving the few city lights behind, Mick drove through the pitch-darkness for two miles before turning onto his dirt street. He drove past the house where he and Meg had been raised after the death of their parents. His grandmother Loraine Hennessy had been affectionate and loving in her own way. She’d made sure he and Meg had things like winter boots and gloves and were always filled with comfort food. But she’d completely neglected what they’d really needed. The most normal life possible.
She’d refused to sell the old farmhouse where he and Meg had lived with their parents. For years it sat abandoned on the outskirts of town, becoming a haven for mice and a constant reminder of the family that had once lived there. A person couldn’t enter town without seeing it. Without seeing the overgrown weeds, the peeling white paint, and the sagging clothesline.
And Monday through Friday, for nine months out of every year, Mick and Meg had been forced to pass it on their way to school. While the other children on the bus chatted about the latest episode of
The bus trip to school had been a daily hell. A routine torture—until a cold October night in 1986 when the farmhouse erupted in a huge orange fireball and burned completely to the ground. Arson had been determined as the cause of the fire, and there’d been a big investigation. Almost everyone in town had been questioned, but the person responsible for dousing the place with kerosene had never been caught. Everyone in town thought they knew who’d done it, but no one had known for sure.
After Loraine’s death three years ago, Mick sold the property to the Allegrezza boys and he’d thought about selling the family bar too, but in the end he decided to move back and run the place. Meg needed him. Travis needed him, and to his surprise, when he’d returned to Truly, no one really talked about the scandal anymore. Whispers no longer followed him, or if they did, he no longer heard them.
He slowed the truck and made another left, turning into his long driveway and heading up a hill seated at the base of Shaw Mountain. He’d bought the two-story house shortly after he’d moved back to Truly. It had a great view of the town and the rugged mountains surrounding the lake. He parked in the garage next to his twenty-one-foot ski boat and entered the house through the laundry room. The light in his office was on and he turned it off as he passed. He moved through the dark living room and took the stairs two at a time.
For the most part, Mick didn’t really think of the past that had been such a focus in his childhood. Truly didn’t talk about it anymore, which was ironic as hell, because he just didn’t give a shit what people said and thought about him these days. He walked into his bedroom at the far end of the hall and moved through the moonlight pouring through the open slats of his wooden blinds. Shadow and muted strips of light touched his face and chest as he reached into his back pocket. He tossed his wallet on his dresser, then grabbed two fistfuls of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. But just because he didn’t give a shit about the past didn’t mean that Meg was over it. She had her good days and bad days. Since the death of their grandmother, her bad days were getting worse, and that was just no way for Travis to live.
Moonlight and shadow spilled across the green quilt and solid oak posts of Mick’s bed. He dropped the shirt by his feet, then walked across the room. Sometimes he felt that moving back to Truly had been a mistake. It felt as if he were standing in one place, unable to move forward, and he didn’t know why he felt that way. He’d bought a new bar and was thinking of starting a helicopter service with his friend Steve. He had money and success and he belonged in Truly with his family. The only family he had. The only family he was ever likely to have, but sometimes…sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting for something.
The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge and pulled off his boots and socks. Meg thought all he needed was to meet a nice woman to make him a good wife, but he just couldn’t see himself married. Not now. He’d had a few good relationships in his life. Good right up until the moment that they weren’t. None had lasted more than a year or two. Partly because he’d been gone so much. Mostly because he didn’t want to buy a ring and walk down the aisle.
He stood and stripped to his underwear. Meg thought he was afraid of marriage because their parents’ had been so bad, but that wasn’t true. The truth was that he didn’t remember his parents all that much. Just a few watery memories of family picnics at the lake and his parents cuddling on the sofa. His mother crying at the kitchen table and an old heavy telephone thrown through the television screen.
No, the problem wasn’t the memories of his parents’ fucked-up relationship. He’d just never loved one woman enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. Which he didn’t consider a problem at all.
He pulled back the quilt and lay between the cool sheets. For the second time that night, he thought about Maddie Dupree, and he laughed into the darkness. She’d been a smart-ass, but he’d never held that against a woman. If fact, he liked a woman who could stand up to a man. Who gave as good as she got and didn’t need a man to take care of her. Who wasn’t needy or weepy or crazy as hell. Whose moods didn’t swing like a pendulum.
Mick turned on his side and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. He’d set his alarm for ten a.m. and was ready for a full seven hours of uninterrupted shut-eye. Unfortunately, he didn’t get it.
The next morning, the ringing of the telephone brought him out of a deep sleep. He opened his eyes and squinted against the morning sun pouring across his bed. He glanced at the caller ID and reached for the cordless receiver.
“You better be spurting blood,” he said and pushed the covers down his naked chest. “I told you not to call before ten unless it’s an emergency.”
“Mom’s at work and I need some fireworks,” his nephew informed him.
“At eight-thirty in the morning?” He sat up and ran his fingers through one side of his hair. “Is your sitter there with you?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July and I don’t got no fireworks.”
“You just realized this?” There was more to the story. With Travis, there was always more to the story. “Why didn’t your mom get you your fireworks?” There was a long pause and Mick added, “You might as well tell me the truth because I’m going to ask Meg.”
“She said I have a potty mouth.”
Mick stood and his feet sank into thick beige carpeting as he walked across the
