Heartache Falls Part 24

The timer buzzed, and Ali removed bread from the oven. "Tell you what, Chase-if you'll keep an eye on things here, I'm going to duck out the back and hunt down your father. I think he needs a heads-up before he walks into a situation he's not prepared to face."

Ali stepped toward the back door and had just reached for the k.n.o.b when the door swung open. Mac stepped inside, sniffed the air, then said, "Red sauce. Okay, Alison, what did you do?"

SEVENTEEN.

His wife looked more ill than guilty as she glanced worriedly over her shoulder. "She showed up yesterday at our house in Denver while Dad and Chase were there watching ball."

Mac's stomach dropped. He knew. In his heart of hearts, he knew. "She?"

"Your aunt."

He closed his eyes. I don't have an aunt.

It was her, of course. She was scamming them. That's what she did. She'd shown up at his house? She'd spent time with his son? With Charles? Deep within Mac, fury flared to life.

"Your aunt Sally. She wanted to surprise you, and Dad and Chase were charmed, and I went along with them, but now I realize that was disrespectful of me and I should have known better. But it's too late now because they're here."

Mac glanced from Ali to Chase. "Here?"

His son nodded and hooked his thumb toward the front of the restaurant. "Out there. She and Granddad are chatting. She's been real nice to him."

"I'll just bet she has," Mac muttered beneath his breath.

He'd been a fool. He should have expected this. Women like her never disappeared, not when there was more trouble to be made. How dare she come to his house. How dare she approach his son. Mac stared at the doorway, feeling as if he stood at a precipice on Murphy Mountain and his next step would take him over the edge and send his life cras.h.i.+ng down.

He wanted to walk out there and do violence. He wanted to turn his back and run away, to get as far from her as possible, as fast as possible. Hey, it had worked before.

Don't be stupid, Timberlake. You're not going to leave your family to her oh-so-tender mercies and you are not going to kill her-no matter how attractive the idea sounds at the moment.

He inhaled a deep breath and stepped into the dining room. He saw a table set for five. Charles Cavanaugh leaned back against the bar. Mac's mother stood in front of Charles, a gla.s.s of wine in her hand.

She looked ... good. Older, yeah, but not old. She might have had some work done. Could have found a sugar daddy or two along the way. As Mac watched, she laughed up into Charles's face and casually touched him. Blatantly flirted with him.

Scammed him.

Every protective instinct Mac possessed went on high alert, and he marched forward saying, "This was a big mistake."

She didn't hesitate, but let fly a smile and extended her arms wide, rus.h.i.+ng toward him. "Mackenzie! It's so wonderful to see you."

As a child, he'd have given anything to have her greet him in such a way. Now when she attempted to throw her arms around him, he grabbed her and held her firmly away. "What do you want?"

Her eyes narrowed, but her smile never faltered. Softly so that the others couldn't hear, she told him, "Get rid of them and I'll tell you."

Mac didn't-couldn't-look away from his mother, but he sensed Ali coming up beside him. "Mac?"

"What's going on here?" Charles asked, confusion and surprise evident in his tone.

Mac's mother lifted her chin. Her dark eyes challenged him. He was gripped by a maelstrom of emotion-fear, loathing, fury and the never-shed, never-outgrown hurt of a child abused by his parent. He cleared his throat. "Let's take a walk, shall we?"

She scowled. "It's cold outside. Can't they-"

He dropped her arms and headed for the front door, confident that she would follow. Lord knew she never missed an opportunity to follow a meal ticket.

This woman was his mother. She'd found him. She'd met his family. They'd ask questions and he'd have to give them answers. More lies? No. He couldn't do that. Not now. Dear G.o.d, help me.

Outside, clouds had begun to gather in the previously blue sky. Upon noting them, Mac spared a thought for Celeste, hoping she paid attention and wouldn't be caught on the road if snow began to fall. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he crossed Cottonwood to the asphalt path that ran alongside Angel Creek. He walked north toward the new footbridge spanning the creek. His mother walked beside him. "Don't go so fast. I'm in heels and I can't keep up."

"You'll catch up. You always do."

He crossed the bridge, then led the way to his destination, the garden Gabe Callahan had designed around the hot springs on the far end of the Angel's Rest property.

"Why are you taking me here?" his mother complained. "It stinks."

"Yeah, it surely does. It stinks to high heaven, and it's the most appropriate place I can think of to deal with you."

It was also an isolated spot away from the main area of hot springs pools; Mac expected they could stop there and not be interrupted. The last thing he wanted was an audience for this showdown.

Besides, if I decide to drown her, maybe n.o.body will see me do it.

Finally he stopped, folded his arms, and leaned back against the trunk of a huge cottonwood tree. "All right, Brenda. Let's hear it."

"Now, Mackenzie. Be nice." She took a seat on the park bench, then patted the s.p.a.ce beside her. "Sit down, son."

"Give it up. Since you claimed to be my aunt rather than my mother, you obviously came with a plan. What is it?"

"I simply didn't want to push you into any corners. I didn't know what you'd told your family about our family, so I thought it best to keep things loose."

"Our family? We didn't have a family."

She clapped a hand against her chest. "Why, Mackenzie. I'm hurt."

I wish.

"I watched out for you back then and I'm watching out for you today. I told your boy and that darling Charles that I had a legacy from your mother to share with you."

"I understand all about your legacies, Brenda. What do you want from me?"

"I want to be part of your life, your family. I want to be a grandmother to your children."

Mac almost laughed. Maybe Caitlin got a little bit of drama from his side of the family after all. "And I want to hit a golf ball like Phil Mickelson, too. Neither one of those things is going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because I tend to slice my drives. So, Brenda, what do you really want?"

She crossed her legs and set her toes to tapping. "You've grown up to be a hard man."

"I learned early. Had to be hard to survive."

When she rolled her eyes in response, he flashed back to one time in some run-down hotel room in some run-down town when his mother was with one of her run-down lovers. The guy-some married insurance salesman, if he remembered correctly-had actually hit his knees while he begged Mac's mother not to leave him. She'd promised to stay, talked him into handing over all the cash in his wallet, then shut the door behind the sap. And rolled her eyes.

She was a real piece of work. For the first time in, well, maybe ever, he wondered what had happened to make Brenda Timberlake the woman she was. "Where are you from?"

"What?" The question obviously startled her.

"Where did you grow up? What town?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Humor me. With the truth, please. I've become quite adept at spotting lies over the years."

She measured him with her glance and he could all but see the wheels turning in her mind. She would ask herself if this was part of the negotiation. "I was an Air Force brat. I grew up all over the place."

"Do I really have an aunt Sally?"

She shrugged. "At one time, yes. I really couldn't say now."

Now that he'd cracked this particular door open, Mac discovered he had dozens of questions, and he realized he must be more curious about his past than he'd allowed himself to admit. He asked her about her parents and learned that in addition to an aunt named Sally, he had an uncle Ben and an uncle Ray. Her family name was h.e.l.lman. "So is Timberlake something you pulled out of the air?"

Something flashed across her expression-a wash of pain, of grief. It was a look Mac had never a.s.sociated with his mother prior to that moment.

"I married Joe Timberlake in Vegas," Brenda said. "He fell off a ladder three weeks before you were born and never woke up."

When Mac was little, she had told him that his father had been a carpenter named Joe. He'd been intrigued by the thought because the wheelchair-bound woman his mother had worked for in Tulsa, Leanna West, had read him Bible stories and she used to go on and on about how Jesus' father was named Joe and he was a carpenter, too. The storybook ill.u.s.tration of Jesus and Joseph in his workshop remained a vivid memory for Mac to this day. "You rarely talked about him."

She shrugged and looked away. "I'm getting cold. Can we cut to the chase here?"

"In a minute." This might be Mac's only chance to learn something about his family roots. Things he hadn't cared about all that much had become more important to him as he grew older, especially after he had children of his own. "Tell me about my father."

She closed her eyes. "You look just like him. Or how he would have looked had he lived longer. He liked to read spy novels and could sing ... oh, my, how he could sing. I thought he could make it in Nashville if he ever tried. I met him on the base in Wichita Falls, Texas, three months before his discharge. My dad forbade me to see him, but ..." She shrugged. "We married as soon as he separated from the service."

"How old were you when he died?"

She opened her mouth, then abruptly shut it. This time Mac was the one rolling his eyes. "I won't tell anyone how old you are."

"Fine. I was eighteen and pregnant, and he had no insurance. I did what I had to do to get by."

"What about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"They wouldn't help you?"

She shrugged. "Look, I'd made my choice. I didn't regret it, either. I loved your father."

He gave her a long, measuring look. "You kept me."

Again she shrugged. "Like I said, I was eighteen. I didn't know how hard it would be."

In that, Mac could relate to her. He'd been a little older than she and about to earn a college degree, but when Ali told him she was pregnant, he hadn't had a clue as to just what a big hill parenthood was to climb.

Mac realized he was starting to feel a little sorry for the woman. That wouldn't do. "What are you doing now? How do you make a living?"

She rose slowly to her feet. Her smile was as cold as her heart. "That's where you come in."

"Gee, Mom. You never fail to disappoint."

"I need a lawyer," she told him. "There's a good chance I'm going to be indicted on embezzlement charges."

"Embezzlement? You talked someone into trusting you with a checkbook? How much did you steal?"

"It's all a mistake."

I'll bet. "Are you currently on probation?"

"No. I've served my debts to society."

Plural noted, Mac thought.

"I also need living expenses. Unfortunately, I will most likely need to establish myself in a new career field, and in this economy that could be difficult."

"How much do you want?"

A shrewd light entered her eyes. "I've done some research. You've done very well for yourself, Mackenzie, and you are obviously a wealthy man. That said, I'm also not blind to the fact that you have no use for me. Since that's the case, I think we'd both be more comfortable if we just took care of this once and for all so that I don't have to continue to interfere in your life. I think one hundred thousand dollars should do it. And a lawyer, of course."

"Of course," Mac said wryly. "One who will defend you against embezzlement and extortion charges."

"I'm a mother asking her son for help. That's not extortion."

"So I'm free to tell you no?"

"Of course." She glanced at her fingernails, then added, "Although I will insist on meeting my grandchildren. What have you told them about me, Mackenzie? Do they even know I'm alive? I'm sure they'll want to hear stories about you when you were growing up. You had the hands of a Gypsy back in the day. Could pick a pocket slicker than snot. Of course, most of the people we were stealing from were old, deaf, and almost blind, but you were good, Mac."

"I was a child."

"Now, that's not entirely true. You were older when we ran that sting in Kansas after I got out of jail the first time."

"I wasn't part of that."

She arched a brow and smirked. "Really? Funny, that's not how I remember it. If you decline to help me, I'll be forced to find other ways to make a living. You're famous now. I don't doubt that the National Enquirer would buy a story about you."