Author’s Note: Plans change so often, but it’s important to have them, right?

Mackenna cleared away the dishes from breakfast with Carson’s help. He passed them to her so that she could load the dishwasher as she went along. She didn’t say anything, but she couldn’t help thinking that they made a pretty good team and had already settled into a routine, here and at his apartment. They’d make decent roommates.

He could stay here if he broke his lease. Well, Mac would have to agree to that, but she’d be okay with it. She would like it a lot, if she was honest. They had similar patterns of behavior—both insomniacs—and she enjoyed having someone to pass those long hours with for a change.

“I’m heading into town.”

“Okay, Mac,” she said, aware of the lingering, always unspoken question that went with those words. She didn’t do what he did on Sundays, and she didn’t know that she ever would. Maybe if she ever felt healed enough, if she didn’t find it hard to reconcile faith with all the bad she’d seen, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go there now. “We’ll see you when you get back.”

“You’ve got plans?”

“Well, we can either prep Shadow or go over Phantom some or take a nap because neither of us slept last night, but we’ll have to play it by ear. Did you want to wait on getting Shadow ready? I can save that for when you’re back.”

Mac nodded, pointing behind her, and she turned to the sink. She grimaced as she looked at the dishes that needed to be washed by hand. She should deal with them now—had to do them before Tuesday—but she didn’t want to do it. She never did. Still, this was her week for dishes, and she was getting off easy since they’d be gone for most of the week.

“All right. I’ll get them done before you get back. Carson can help.”

He frowned at her, and she elbowed him, so he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help dry them. That’s it.”

“Behave,” Mac said, heading out of the kitchen. Mackenna almost laughed, but then again, she wasn’t sure she liked what might have been implied by his warning. She wasn’t a troublemaker, and she took care of all of her responsibilities around here.

“So, out of curiosity, why didn’t you say you were going to fix the truck? I mean, that’s what you need to haul the cars to your run, right? So if you need the truck, you should work on it, shouldn’t you?”

She winced. “Oh, there is that. I don’t know that it’s salvageable, to be honest, but it’s hard to be a mechanic and admit that I can’t fix something. It’s so demoralizing. I mean, if you think about it, what mechanic can’t fix her own car?”

“If the car’s had enough, it’s had enough. You can’t do anything about it. I mean, mine’s totaled, right? That is what we’re saying about it.”

“You’re not a mechanic.”

“True, but the same principle applies. No amount of new parts would be worth it. You know… Larry really liked you, and he inherited Grandpa’s truck, the one I drove Phantom over here in, so if you wanted to ask him to borrow that one…”

“I don’t think encouraging your brother is a good idea. I’m not interested in him, and from what I gathered, his ex-wife did a number on him when she left.”

“Nick’ll tell you that’s what he deserved for marrying a lawyer in the first place, but I’m not so sure I agree. I didn’t ever like the woman, I admit that, but Larry did. He loved her. She even seemed to love him. It was just that they were from two different worlds. Her career was more important to her, and he wasn’t ambitious, and so they drifted. She climbed the ladder, slept with a few people along the way, and they split. She blamed the glass ceiling. He told her would have shot through it for her. I think a part of him still loves her. Yeah, don’t mess with Larry’s heart. It’s not fair.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Mackenna shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not the marrying kind, but I just don’t know how a career could be more important. Of course, when you grow up a bit starved for companionship, you value it more than some people do. My aunt was such a mess, and I probably could have used some therapy after my uncle died—I was a bit traumatized and not easy to know—so I was alone a lot.”

“You really did need a brother or sister.”

“It might have helped, yeah.”

“Well, you have three now, so that’s something, right?”

She nodded. “It is. I’m glad you came here with Phantom. Even if we don’t ever get you all your memories back—and I still think we will—you coming here was important. For both of us. We needed to meet. We need each other.”

“We do. More than we knew.”

“Oh, hey, I should dig out that song. More than You Know. I think I have a version of Ella Fitzgerald doing it,” Mackenna said, thinking that washing the dishes deserved a soundtrack anyway. She could think of several songs that suggested that singing made things better, and she agreed with them. “Just a second. I’ll find it.”

Carson smiled. “No worries. I’m not going anywhere.”

Author’s Note: It’s amazing how many theories go bouncing around in this one.

“The sunrises out here really are beautiful. I’d forgotten what they were like. It’s usually about this time that I’m falling asleep, if I’m awake at all right now, and I don’t think I’ve paid attention to what they look like in the city, but I know they’re not this nice,” Carson said, trying to get comfortable in the Maxwell’s seat. Mackenna had the brilliant idea of pushing one out to watch the sunrise, and he didn’t know that he objected to that even if he had a hard time finding a comfortable position. He could see why she liked this place and this car so much.

This was a little paradise, this farm, a hideaway and sanctuary, something more than what she’d had before she came here, and she held onto this place and all it was with everything she had. He didn’t blame her for that. If his memories were clearer, if he knew for sure that he could trust his family, he’d want to be on their farm, even if it it meant dealing with his uncle.

“Yeah, they’re nice out here. That was one of the first things I noticed. Noticed the night skies, too. My aunt’s parents lived in Chicago. When we moved in with them, I lost the sky, and I hated it. At least when you can look out and see the sky you can do stupid things like wish upon a star or something. You can imagine things will get better. When you’re looking across the building at some guy beating his wife and knowing she’ll never call the cops and won’t press charges if you do, it’s not so hopeful.”

Carson grimaced. “I can see that. There was a time when my mother was functioning well enough to live on her own, and she took a job in one of the bigger cities, trying to make it work. I remember us all being very unhappy then. I missed the farm, and my brothers hated being away from their friends. She just kept saying we’d get by somehow, but in the end, she lost the job, and we moved back in with Grandpa.”

“When was that?”

“Oh… I think I was about… seven? My memories of that time aren’t all that clear. I was too young. We can ask Larry and Nick if you want. Are you trying to narrow down when that memory was from? The one I got back yesterday?”

“Well, you said you were probably between six and eight. So… If you were in a big city until you were more like eight, then you were… eight, I’d guess. Were you eight when you left the city?”

“No. Just under, I think. I spent the summer here at the farm, like always, and Mom lost her job not long before I would have started school again. Yeah, I remember. I was asking her if she thought I’d have show and tell in my new grade, and Larry said no because show and tell was for babies, and I tried to hit him, but he was bigger than me, and then Nick got in on it, too. Mom dragged us apart and just started crying. It was weird at the time, but not all that uncommon afterward. It was like she either stopped taking her medication or it couldn’t balance her anymore. She was never the same.”

“How do you know that?”

“From what Nick and Larry said, mostly.”

Mackenna nodded. “Well, I think… It may be that point in her life and yours was when your father died. If she knew about it, if she did it, then she’d have fallen apart then, wouldn’t she?”

“When I told my mother I dreamed Dad was dead, she just about took my head off insisting that he was alive.”

“Yeah, but you’ve seen Psycho, right? Most obvious and ready example of someone who couldn’t handle the fact that they’d killed someone and had to pretend that the person was alive in order to function. I know it’s not exactly the same, but maybe she was so convinced that he wasn’t dead because he was dead, and she knew it. She couldn’t accept it, but he was.”

Carson bit his lip. He knew Mackenna could be right. They’d discussed this before. “I still have a hard time believing it was my mom. Well, I guess if she was protecting someone—me—then maybe, but she loved my dad. It was like poison with her. She never got over him, and she wasted away after he left, slowly but surely until the depression became cancer and she died.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t rule her out. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t.”

“I know.”

“Come on. The sun’s up, Mac will be soon, and we may as well get started on breakfast.”

Author’s Note: Years and years ago, I had a comment on how I always described my characters as tired, that they needed to be more than just tired all the time. I thought that was interesting given they were working without much of a break, almost twenty-four hour days, but since they asked… I did have to say that yes, indeed, I suffered from insomnia, and it has a habit of influencing me. Look at all the poor characters I write that can’t sleep, either.

“Carson?”

He winced, and she almost laughed, catching him by the creak in the floorboard just outside her room. She leaned against the door frame, watching him. “Where were you trying to go? Don’t give me that look. If it was just a trip to the toilet, you’d be going the other direction, and you wouldn’t have bothered to get dressed again.”

He sighed. “It’s… I just keep going over the part that I remembered earlier. I seem to want to get more from it, but I can’t. It starts and ends right at the same point every time. I can’t stop replaying it, though. It’s looped and just goes over and over until I can’t stand it. I’ve memorized every detail. I’ve tried figuring out how old I was, but I still can’t pin it down because my voice isn’t that distinctive, my vocabulary isn’t telling me anything, and my hands are just those of a kid, you know? If I saw myself in a mirror, maybe it would be different, but that’s not part of the memory.”

She nodded. “You are getting a bit obsessive about it. Not that it’s surprising, but you need to leave it alone, too. Let it simmer. It’ll come when it’s ready. No use trying to force it.”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone. I thought I’d take a walk outside and try and clear my head.”

She thought that was a good idea. He could use some air and space to think. Maybe that would help open up the memory—or maybe it would just make it so that he could think about something else. Either way, it should help. One thing, though. “It’s still going to be cool out there, despite the summer heat. You might want a jacket.”

He frowned. “You’re not going to stop me?”

She shook her head. She had been tempted to go out there herself, but she hadn’t wanted to leave just in case he had another nightmare. “I used to do the same thing. Well, I’d always end up in the car shed, curled up in the back of Shadow, and Mac would wake me in the morning.”

“I don’t know how you could sleep in that seat. It didn’t seem that comfortable to me when I was in it, and that was not a very long drive.”

“It made me feel safe. That was more important than how cushy the seat was.” Mackenna shrugged, not wanting to get into that too much. She knew that was another part of the reason why Shadow was so special to her. Phantom would end up being like that for Carson, she had a feeling, but they had to get started on its restoration. That was going to be a long process, but it would help him. He could use a project.

She doubted she’d make a mechanic of him, but she could make sure he helped, at least.

“I guess.” He gave her a quick glance and then dropped his eyes to the floor. “Since you’re up… You could come with me. You don’t have to, though. Like I said, I didn’t want to wake the whole house. I just… can’t sleep and can’t sit still. I don’t have work to do, no job, and this isn’t my place, so… Walking around is probably my only option.”

She could think of a few others. “Maybe. I should go with you, though, so that you don’t trip over something in the fields. It wouldn’t be right to let you get hurt out there, and you never know what might be on the ground.”

“Oh?”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t honestly fall for that one. You grew up on a farm. You know what the fields are like.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I do. So, you gonna put on some clothes and walk with me, or are you headed back to bed?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t sleeping, either. She didn’t know what was keeping her up, since she didn’t have memories to contend with, not right now, and she hadn’t had a nightmare in months. No, she was fine. She supposed that she could blame it on him. She must be worried about him, and that was keeping her awake, trying to puzzle him out like she did one of her cars.

“I’ll change. Give me a second, and I’ll meet you by the backdoor, okay?”

“Sure.” He stopped, turning back to her. “Think of something obscure while you’re at it. You can surprise me when you catch up to me.”

She grinned. “You’re like an addict.”

“I like seeing you geek out.”

“Shut up.”

Author’s Note: I think Mackenna’s like me in the always connecting stuff to songs department. That’s about all since I’m with Carson, couldn’t fix a car to save my life.

“Feeling any better?”

“A bit. I wish I could stop the whole worst case scenario thinking. I mean, why do I have to keep assuming that it was some kind of sick abuse? I’ve got no proof, after all, and I’d like to stop freaking out about it. I don’t want to do this.” Carson rose, walking away from the table to the back door. He didn’t know what Mackenna was cooking, but it did smell good. He would like to have an appetite for a change, but every time he thought about what he’d remembered, his stomach turned on him. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about it. This is what got them to put me on medication last time. They didn’t think I could handle it otherwise.”

“Maybe not then, but you’re not the same person you were, and you’re better at dealing with things now,” she told him, and he frowned at her, not believing that he’d improved much over the years. He was still a coward, and he didn’t like that he was, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. “Besides, this time you have me.”

That made him smile. “Yeah, I do, don’t I? I don’t really know what I’d do without you, either. You keep me sane. You keep me going at this point, and I appreciate it. You know, for all that we’re not like that, I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn’t just beg you to marry me so that I know you’ll be around.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Because no one ever gets divorced. Marriage is no guarantee, vows or no vows. Too many people break them.”

“I know. I’m not really planning on asking.”

“Good. I’d have to say no.”

He knew that. It wouldn’t be for any right reason that they’d be considering it. They were both lonely, messed up people, but that didn’t make them in love. Both of them had too many issues to deal with to complicate it with the other’s problems, and while they made good friends, they weren’t anything else.
“What are you making?”

“Finnan haddie,” she said, ducking her head. He didn’t know what to think of that. “Okay, your lack of response shows that you don’t know that song, do you? Good. I’m not sure I want to explain that one. Just… don’t ask for any of my finnan haddie.”

“Okay.”

She laughed. “Fine, fine. Let’s see, how does it go again? ‘If I invite a boy some night to dine on my fine Finnan haddie, I just adore his asking for more, but my heart belongs to Daddy.’”

“Um…”

“I know, I know, inappropriate under the circumstances, but I owed Mac something special for the kidnapping of the Airstream, and this particular Finnan haddie recipe is my great-grandmother’s. She brought it with her when they emigrated. She was very proud of it, and he loves it. I can’t help that Cole Porter chose to rhyme haddie with daddy for his song or that it gets stuck in my head every time I cook it. I’m kind of bad with songs, if you can’t tell.”

Carson nodded. He’d picked up on that. If not for the lyrics in that one, he’d find that habit of hers very amusing. Like her geekiness about cars and history. He liked it all. She was a lot of fun to be around. “All right, let’s play a song association game. You tell me what you come up with when I say something random, and we’ll see just how little I know about music.”

“This could be fun,” she said, taking the fish out of the pan, letting the liquid drain off through her spoon. “All right. Go ahead. Make it as weird as you want, but be warned that I can come up with some obscure things. Too many nights with the old guys at the Legion swapping stories of the songs they used to know or just enjoying my face when they get into their cups a little and start in on the bawdy ones. I didn’t know what they meant at first, and wow, did they have fun with that.”

“I bet.” Carson took a deep breath, trying not to pick anything obvious. He looked around the room until he spotted something he could use. “A letter. No, no good. Return to Sender or The Letter. Way too easy. Um… an eagle. Crap. Also easy. Fly Like an Eagle.”

“If you want more… obscure, go Stormy Monday.”

“Stormy Monday?”

“But Tuesday’s just as bad.”

Carson shook his head. “Okay, you got me. I don’t know that one.”

She grinned. “It’s not a long one, pretty simple, an old blues classic. ‘They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday’s just as bad. Wednesday’s worse, and Thursday’s also sad. Yes, the eagle flies on Friday, and Saturday I go out to play…’”

“Nice.”

“Want to pick another? I mean, we will have to get all the old records out and the digital collection and everything so you can hear the songs as they’re meant to be, but… this could keep us busy for days. I could even quiz you because you’re not as bad as you think.”

He smiled. “Sure. That sounds good to me. Any time we need a good distraction, we can do this. Until we’re sick of it, of course.”

“Of course. You want to set the table while I finish up?”

“Sure. I can do my part.”

“Yeah. You’re starting to fit right in, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t sure he’d go that far, but he liked the idea, liked being a part of her life and her family as much as she liked being a part of his. “Maybe.”

Author’s Note: Sometimes the aftermath of what people remember is harder to take than the memories themselves. At least Carson has Mackenna to see him through that part.

“Carson?” Mackenna asked, shaking his shoulder. He’d spaced out on her there, and she was worried about him. Honestly, she was scared. She didn’t like this. When he’d had his panic attack in front of her, he’d babbled. When he had his nightmare, he’d screamed and whimpered and whispered. This time he was quiet. Way too quiet. She didn’t like it.

Maybe he’d remembered everything, which would be good, but if he didn’t start paying attention to her soon, it wasn’t. She didn’t want him going catatonic on her. That was not okay.

“Come on, Koslow, talk to me. Wake up over there. I don’t care what you say, but say something,” she said, shoving him this time. He hit the door, and it seem to jar him. He frowned, blinking a few times, and she let out a breath in relief. “You all right over there? Did you see something?”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. “I saw my father.”

She frowned. What exactly was he getting at? Was it the same old image, the one with his father’s dead body? That wasn’t helpful, but it also shouldn’t have put him in a fugue like that—supposedly it never had before. “Just now? The whole body on the floor of the barn or something else? We’re not talking supernatural here, are we? We’re not speak of something like… a ghost?”

“No, like a flashback.” Carson drew his legs up against his chest. “I have to say if there were such a thing as ghosts, I’d be someone they’d haunt, right? I’ve never seen a ghost, not once. I’ve got nightmares and flashbacks and holes in my memory, but I’ve never heard the dead talking to me.”

“I never said you did.”

He let his head rest on his knees. “I’m still not sure how old I was—between six and eight, I’d guess—but I don’t know for sure. Still, my father was there. It must have been the first time we met. I don’t know if I saw him again, either, but… he told me I looked like him and… he told me not to tell anyone he’d been there.”

Mackenna winced. Now he’d let guilt eat at him for not telling someone or for telling someone and getting his father killed. Either way, it wasn’t good. “You were a kid. An adult tells you not to tell, you probably won’t. Or you do, but they don’t listen. For all we know, you ran in and told everyone what you’d seen and who’d you’d talked to, and they thought you were just as crazy as when you said he was dead years later.”

Carson nodded. “I know. It’s nothing. It’s not proof of anything either way, just something I already knew—that I’d seen my father. I met him. I don’t know how or why he came back or what he was doing after he disappeared without a trace, but he came back, and I saw him at least once.”

“What’s wrong? Other than the don’t tell anyone part?”

“I can’t decide if his interest was just that of a father who was looking at a son he hadn’t seen in years or something… worse.”

“Did he do anything that made you uncomfortable?”

“He touched my face, but then he hadn’t said he was my father yet. He was a stranger, and that part scared me, but I don’t know if I trusted him after he said he was my father or not. I only got as far as him making me promise not to tell anyone I’d seen him, which is really, really unsettling after the theories we came up with.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have any proof that your father did anything to you. He might honestly just have come back to reconnect with his family, but maybe he wasn’t ready when he met you. It’s not necessarily the worst thing you can think of.”

“I know. I just wish I didn’t only have pieces. I’m sick of feeling this way.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, and he jerked. She sighed. “At least now you have more of the pieces than you ever did before.”

He let out a breath. “Yeah. I do. I just… Maybe it’s a bad idea, doing all this. Maybe I shouldn’t be around anyone for a while. I should just go find a shrink and—”

“Medication didn’t help the last time. At best, it suppressed everything so you functioned, but that doesn’t heal you one damn bit. You need to do this. You need to see it through so that no matter what is locked up in your head—and remember, there are other family secrets besides sexual ones—and when you can get all the pieces together, then that’s when you heal. You can’t fix a problem if you don’t even know what it is. You can try, but it won’t work. It’s like assuming you’re just out of gas when your fuel line is plugged up. You’re not going to fix the problem by filling up your tank.”

“Right.”

“Come inside now. Please. You can shower if you need to, or you can just sit in the kitchen and keep me company, but I don’t think you should sit there any longer, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Author’s Note: It was time to get back to the main plot again.

“It’s always one of these cars with you two, isn’t it?” Carson asked, seeing Mac out by the car shed, the black—no, wait, it was green—Maxwell out again, and the old man under the hood. He was tinkering with something, but Carson didn’t know enough about cars to guess what, not from here, and even if he were closer, he still wouldn’t know.

Mackenna grinned. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He rolled his eyes as she drove the Airstream closer to where her grandfather was working. The sun was almost gone, and he’d be putting the Maxwell and this car away in a minute, telling Mackenna to make dinner or something, but for now, he was where Carson had to figure he wanted to be—with his favorite cars. That was all that mattered to this family, wasn’t it?

Then again, they’d had their fair share of tragedies, what with both of Mac’s sons dying young, one of them committing suicide, and he’d even lost his granddaughter for a time while Mackenna’s aunt kept her from knowing that Mac even existed.

Nice family there. Even with a possible killer in his, he didn’t think his was half that bad, and he knew that he never wanted to meet her aunt. He didn’t know that he could be sympathetic to the woman’s loss or anything, not after what she’d exposed Mackenna to—if she couldn’t handle raising the girl, she should have sent Mackenna to Mac and his wife. No excuses.

“You all right over there? You’ve got one of those looks on your face again.”

“I guess I just can’t help thinking about the past.”

“Not even for one minute?”

“Is it pathetic if I’m becoming one of my older brothers and getting all protective of you? I swear, if I saw your aunt, I’d chew her out or worse. I don’t know… It seems wrong to me that she didn’t give you to Mac years ago if she couldn’t handle things after your uncle died.”

Mackenna nodded. She parked the car in front of the shed. “Yeah, it’s something that’s bothered me for years—keeps me from speaking to her. After I called her up to tell her that I was here and alive, I asked her about it, and she never answered. I never called her again.”

“I don’t blame you.”

She smiled at him as she opened the door. “I do like having you around. You are a good brother.”

He doubted that, since his relationships with his brothers were strained and awkward half the time, with either them thinking he was crazy or him being annoyed by their smothering. He didn’t get along with them on a good day—something was always going wrong. Maybe it was just the way things worked with families, maybe it was some kind of underlying tension with his brothers, something about the murder.

“You don’t look much like your brothers, do you?”

The man put a finger to his lips. “Shh. It’ll be our secret for now. Don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

Author’s Note: Unfortunately, what Mackenna says in the beginning is true, and I still feel that I didn’t spend enough time with my grandma before she died. She looked forward to seeing us so much…

“He really didn’t want you to go.”

Mackenna nodded. “I know. You know most of them are just lonely. Their wives have died, their children moved on, some have died, and their grandkids are scattered and busy… They’re just alone. Myers is alone. He would love to have company. Maybe we can get him over to the Legion sometimes, since I think that would help him a lot.”

“Yeah, maybe. Some kind of club. Anything.”

She smiled, reaching into her pocket for her keys. “I wasn’t kidding about the need to be back before sunset, though. I shouldn’t have kept Mac’s car for this long. I wouldn’t if the truck was working. That’s what I’m supposed to drive. We need to get the Airstream back before we’re in real trouble.”

Carson grimaced. “We do have time to go back to my apartment, get your stuff, and change, right? Because I hate my suit, you hate my suit, and you probably shouldn’t wear my shirt home.”

She frowned, tugging on it. “I didn’t think it looked that bad. Myers seemed to like it, at least. If I spilled on it or something, you could have said something earlier. Maybe when we were laughing over our coffee—”

“Okay, for the record, I’m not saying that I think this because first of all, I know better, and second of all, I don’t make those kinds of assumptions, but let me just say that if my brothers saw you in my shirt, they’d never believe we weren’t sleeping together. It wouldn’t matter how many times we told them it was about you puking on your shirt and needing something professional for this visit. I don’t think we should give your grandfather the impression that we kept his car too long so we could… um… fool around.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are way too worried about what other people think. Or should I be worried that is on your mind, Carson?”

“No. Look, I need you, and I don’t want anything to screw up our friendship. That’s all. I’m trying not to cause problems. Your grandfather being upset by the whole car thing is bad enough, but then if he got the wrong idea about us… It just could be unpleasant, and I don’t want to go there, okay?”

She put a hand on his arm. “Relax. My grandfather doesn’t make those kinds of assumptions about me—about anyone. It’s not who he is.”

Carson let out a breath. “Maybe not, but we just went through that with my brothers and then here, and I don’t know. People are always going to have the wrong idea about us.”

She shrugged. “So we ignore it. That’s their problem, not ours. We’re friends. Sort of siblings. We don’t need any more than that. Unless one of us isn’t being honest about that.”

“Quit assuming I am. I’m not good with relationships, and I don’t want to screw this up. That’s all.”

“Is it?”

“Well, if what we suspect is true, then I may have some subconscious need to sabotage all my relationships out of a fear of intimacy, but since you and I don’t intend to go there, that’s not an issue, is it? I mean, we can just… be friends.”

She smiled. “Yes. Although some crazy part of me was going to say we could just get married to avoid all those rumors and complications, but it wouldn’t solve anything.”

He coughed. “Um, no, it wouldn’t. It would just complicate it in a different way. Besides, you’re not the marrying kind.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are the one with the keys, though.”

Author’s Note: Just a bit more to wrap up the one subplot.

“Mr. Myers?”

“You one of those greedy bastards that want my mineral rights? Get out of here.”

“Did any of those greedy types pull up in one of those?” Mackenna asked, pointing behind her to the Airstream, and Carson frowned. He didn’t know that showing off a classic car like that would help get them past the man at the door.

“That’s a thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-six, actually. Belongs to my grandfather. You should see the wreck that this guy drives,” she said, giving him a smile. He rolled his eyes, and Myers smiled as he saw it. He opened up the door, leaning out.

“What are you doing here, then? If you’re not after my mineral rights—”

“We’re not. I have to be upfront and tell you that I did, in fact, work for the company that’s after your rights,” Carson said. He fidgeted. “I cleaned my desk out earlier, and the box is in the back of the car, so… um… Yes, I know what they were doing. I disagreed with them, and to be honest, I don’t know that there’s much that you can do to fight them, but I thought I should offer what little advice I might have while I still can.”

Myers nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yeah? Why would you do that?”

“My grandfather just died, and his farm went to my uncle. That farm is where I spent most of my life, and I went to school to get a degree in agricultural business to help keep farms like his running. The company I ended up working for didn’t have the same ambitions, though.”

“You get anything when the old man kicked it?”

“Um… what was in the barn, mostly scrap metal. Nothing that’s going to make me rich. Why?”

“Wanted to see what you’d say.”

Carson nodded. Right. This was a test. He should have known. “I also ended up with a Maxwell, one that doesn’t run and needs a lot of repairs. That’s one of the wrecks I own. It’s about all I have to my name at the moment. I’m not an expert, I’m not a lawyer, and I probably won’t be able to help you with your claim, but I am here to do what I can.”

Myers grunted. “Guess you can come in. You and the lady with the real car.”

Mackenna smiled. “They used to know how to build them, didn’t they? My grandfather has owned this one his whole life. He loves it. I only got to borrow it because Carson’s vehicle shouldn’t have been driven after it was hit by a drunk driver. At least it was just the car and not him.”

“Might not be such a loss for me, Missy. I’d have a lot easier time stealing you away if he weren’t around.”

She laughed. “Oh, you old men. You are almost all the same. If Carson was my boyfriend, he’d be fighting off at least ten of Mac’s friends from the Legion. They all seem to think I’m going to marry them. Some even tell me I won’t have to wait long to inherit.”

Carson shook his head. “Wow. Such incentive. If I were trying to make you my own, I’d never be able to compete.”

She smiled. “Nope.”

Myers took her by the arm, and she walked with him, leaving Carson on his own to trail after them. All the old man cared about now was her, and he didn’t know that it mattered. He hadn’t thought he could do much here—he was just hating himself for being a coward and not doing something for Myers, even if it was just this visit.

Carson would rather be brave enough to unlock the memories in his head, but he didn’t think that would happen any time soon. He needed to do it, but he didn’t know what would make it possible. Mackenna was helping, she’d done so much for him, but even she didn’t have the keys to unlock those recesses in his head. Only he did, and for some reason, he wouldn’t use them. He pretended that he couldn’t find them, but some part of him had to know where they were.

He felt a hand on his arm and looked down, frowning. He turned to Mackenna, and she gave him a worried glance. “Did you get lost?”

“In thought, maybe. Sorry. You know me and my tendency to find some kind of tie back to the past. Got caught up in it for a moment. Let me just get the file, and we can start looking at it.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know that it matters so much to Myers. He’s determined to flirt me up.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Before I went to the Legion with Mac all the time, yeah, it did. It doesn’t anymore because I’m comfortable with them and used to the way the old guys work. It’s not like being hit on by some young guy who thinks he’s all that. It’s kind of a game to them, but also a part of their generation. They weren’t supposed to leave a girl standing alone, that wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do. It’s a bit patronizing, but they can’t help themselves. Some of them are real sweethearts.”

“You gonna marry one of them?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Oh.”

Author’s Note: I wanted to wrap up a subplot, so this starts down that path.

“I need to borrow a shirt.”

The sight of Carson choking on his coffee made asking the question and drawing attention to her current attire, a shirt she believed belonged to him in the first place—though she was fairly sure she’d put it on herself after she got puke on her clothes despite her best efforts—so worth it. She gave him a grim smile as he mopped up the coffee with a napkin, muttering under his breath. She waited until he was done and then cleared her throat.

“A shirt. One of those stuffy business shirts if you’ve got one to spare.”

He frowned. “I get that you only packed one change of clothes and those are now covered in vomit, and I didn’t make it down to the laundry to wash them—I’m out of quarters, okay?—but why do you need one of my dress shirts?”

“So I don’t look completely out of place when we go see Myers. My overalls are the ones covered in puke, so I can almost pull it off with my other pants—I’m not sure why I chose not to wear jeans, but hey, they work—only the shirt doesn’t.”

“Right. What does that one say?”

“Girls do it better and look better doing it.”

“Remember to wear that one the next time you see my brothers.”

“I will. It’s a shame I wasn’t wearing it when I met them, not that they’d have seen it, not with my overalls on.”

“You’ll see them again, I’m sure.”

She nodded. She knew she would. She hoped neither of them had anything to do with their father’s murder, because she’d liked them both. Nick kept mentioning his wife, so hopelessly tied to her that it was sweet, and Larry did his best to flirt but was terrible at it. Carson just shook his head at all of them, but he was having fun, too, she could tell. He liked his brothers. He cared about them, and they cared about him. It was so nice to see.

“Let me grab that shirt for you,” Carson said as he rose. “There’s a cup on the counter for you. I found some frozen waffles in the freezer, but I can’t say how long they were in there, so eat ’em at your own risk.”

She smiled, thinking he needed someone like Mac to make him appreciate a real breakfast. She hadn’t liked it much at first, but she’d adjusted over the years, and somehow she’d managed to keep her figure despite the overabundance of food.

She crossed over to fill her cup, her mind going to what he might do when he was done with this job. He hadn’t mentioned any plans after the car run next week, and she didn’t know what his degree qualified him for, if he could keep his apartment, where he’d go if he didn’t have either a job or apartment. Could he count on his family? Did he dare live with any of them if he did find himself homeless?

“Something wrong with the coffee?”

“Nope. Just caught up in my role as the smart one. Trying to figure out what we’re going to do with you once you’re unemployed.”

“Turn me into a car nut?” He held out the shirt, and she took it with a smile.

“Besides that?”

“Find a local agricultural company, get a different job, start at the bottom, maybe work my way up a little. I was almost going to have a promotion, you know. Myers was make it or break it, and I broke it. I’m okay with that, though. I’m sick of being a part of an organization that only takes things, never gives back, never rebuilds anything.”

“Yeah. Huh. Maybe the grain elevator near the farm might need you. Maybe. You have to wear a different suit when you get hired, though.”

He laughed. “Trust me, if I start interviewing for a new job, I will not wear this one. Or these socks. I’ll have to see what happens, though.”

“Yeah.”

“I recommend drinking the coffee before putting on the shirt. I always spill on the white ones.”

“Like you did there?” She grinned, reaching over to point out the stain he’d already gotten today, and he cursed.

Author’s Note: I suppose if I was better at this whole serialization thing, I’d make the end of each part a cliffhanger. I wouldn’t do my favorite bits, the quiet moments with fun interaction and banter between the characters. Too bad I’m a character-oriented writer (they write the stories, not me) and they want their moments like this, not just the ones that are tense and full of suspense.

“You’ll probably want this first.”

Mackenna eyed the glass of water like it was poison, and Carson almost laughed. He shook his head. He hadn’t wanted to wake her, even though she might deserve it just a little for pushing well beyond her limit last night. He didn’t know if it was being with his brothers that had done it—she’d seemed to be having a good time, other than the drinks she was tossing back like they were nothing. She knew better, and so did he. He knew he didn’t trust his brothers—couldn’t afford to until he isolated when his father was killed and cleared them of any involvement with it—but they shouldn’t have any reason to hurt her.

The car. He’d almost forgotten about that. Well, maybe they might, but still, if she was afraid or uncomfortable, she shouldn’t have come with them to the restaurant. She should have left it well alone. She didn’t need to put herself through this.

“You’ve got to be hungover after that, and I know water’s not that appealing, but it’s the best thing for a hangover. That’s what everyone says.”

“Everyone but the ones that swear by the hair of the dog.”

“Well, I don’t keep that in the house, and since you have to drive back to the farm today, I’m thinking you don’t get that. Water first. I’ll have coffee in a minute.”

“You gave me your bed. You bastard.”

“You puked. A lot, but just in case you woke and needed to do it again, I wanted you to be closer to the toilet. I moved the bathroom’s plug-in air freshener by the bed. Not sure if that helps, but I did try.”

She shook her head, a strange smile on her face. “You are being a lot nicer than I deserve. All I did last night was drink and insult you and your brothers. You should have been angry and left me to deal with my own vomit.”

“I enjoyed watching my brothers deal with your insults, and I… care about you. There was no leaving you to deal with any of it. I’m sorry, but that’s not how I work.”

“I know. I’m starting to see that.”

He pointed to the water again. “Drink that. I don’t know if you want food, don’t know if I have any, but I’ve got coffee, and like I said, I’ll make some.”

“Why are you wearing a suit?”

“I’m working. I don’t expect you to delay your trip back to the farm, but I have to see Myers, and I should go in and clean out my desk at least, since I’m pretty sure I don’t have a job anymore. It’s Saturday, not many people around to watch me do it, good time to get in and out and not have to face my boss or any of the coworkers who would love to gloat about it. I suppose that’s cowardly, too.”

“You need more than weird socks.”

“What?”

“That suit is hideous. You need more than weird socks to go with it.”

He laughed. “Speaking of socks, how do you like these? Superman’s a bit overdone, maybe even pretentious, but they were a gift, so I couldn’t not wear them. Especially since I might just be saying goodbye to the people who gave them to me.”

“Nice.”

“The sharks are still my favorite.”

“Because you get to walk around eating everything?”

“Occasionally while humming the Jaws theme song.”

She giggled. “Awesome. I can so see you doing that, and the image is priceless, I’ve got to say.”

“I think we should get you a pair.”

“With sharks?”

“Not necessarily.” He smiled as she frowned. “There are lots of designs—in fact, more for women than for men, at least the last time I checked. We’ll see what we can find you. You can wear them under your boots and laugh at people who don’t know your socks are planning world domination or insulting them or something.”

“Ooh, I like that.”

“I thought you might.”

“You’re getting to know me too well.”

He shook his head, thinking of all the things she held back that he wasn’t sure he was ready to know. “Nah. I’m just applying what little I have learned. Coffee?”

“Sure.”