Page 39 of Fury
Rumors and secrets
Bethany
Sitting in her favorite chair in the apartment, Bethy tilted her head up, looking out the window at the breeze-stirred leaves of the oak trees along the greenway. A few minutes later, silence in the room brought her back to herself, and she turned back to the laptop propped on her knees. The demo track had finished playing, and she not only didn’t know when, but she also didn't remember anything about the music she was supposed to be evaluating. “Shit.”
Restarting the track was a moment’s effort, and one click of the cursor had the opening swell of music filling the room. Closing her eyes, she tried to dig into the sound, separating the different artists’ efforts to see what would make it memorable, saleable. Something people would call or text radio stations to hear.
It wasn’t long before she found herself staring out the window again and set the computer aside with an irritated huff. Lifting her hands, she roughly scratched across her scalp, fingers tangling in her long hair as she gathered it on top of her head. After they’d gotten Ty inside, Sarge had insisted she stay the night, bedding her down in a small room in the cabin. She hadn’t rested well, strange sounds kept her awake until late, and it had been a relief when Ty had come in early the next morning to talk. More coherent than he’d been the night before, they’d had a pleasant breakfast shared with three other men staying there. Sarge had been conspicuously absent, and with the other men joining them, she couldn’t really ask Ty anything about Gabe.
Bethy released her hair, letting it fall around her face. “Derek.” The name spoken aloud startled her, and she snapped her mouth closed.Or Fury, whatever.
Her phone rang and she picked it up, a curl of fear crawling up her spine at seeing Martha Marshall’s name on the screen. “Martha? Is everything okay?” Michael’s adoptive parents didn’t call her. Martha texted when there was news to share, often sending pictures along with a recounting of the various successes Michael had seen over the years.
“Well, yes, and kinda no, Bethany.” Martha’s no-nonsense attitude was one of the things Bethy liked best about her. That, and the fact she loved Michael as if she’d carried and birthed him. “Can you come over? Maybe tonight?”
Bethy glanced at the clock and frowned. Late afternoon was an unusual time of day to receive an invitation for the same day, but Martha was acting odd enough to warrant accepting no matter what she had to reschedule. “Absolutely. What time do you want me there?” She had two station interviews set for six o’clock, but they were taping to play later in the week, so she could arrange to do them later.
“As soon as you can manage it.” Martha’s breath in was audible, and she blew it out in a shaky stream. “Michael isn’t ill, so you don’t have to worry about that. But we need to talk. There’s a…situation, and I want you to help us sort out what comes next.”
“Is everything okay?” Bethy repeated her question, then followed with, “I can leave in ten minutes. I’ll be there soon, just tell me if he’s okay.”
“He’s fine. My boy is fine.” Bethy’s head snapped back, and she froze in the act of rising from the chair. Martha had always, always called Michael theirs. From the first moments of his life, she had promised to share him as best they could. This was the first time Martha had laid sole claim on Michael. Then she kick-started Bethy’s heart into beating again by saying quickly, “Our boy. Our boy is fine.”
“Be there in a few minutes.”
True to her word, Bethany pulled up to the Marshalls’ home and was out of her car within the time she’d offered. Martha met her at the door and pulled her into a quick hug, then backed away, hands still clasping Bethy’s. “He’s upstairs. I want to talk to you before he comes down. He’s—” She interrupted herself and then followed up with a simple, “Come sit.”
Seated on the couch beside Martha, Bethy glanced at the ceiling when she heard a thumping crash followed by the unmistakable driving beat of a rock song. “Lord. He’s been at it all day,” Martha muttered, then pulled in a breath, turning to stare at Bethy. “You’re his birth mother.” Bethy nodded. “He knows that. We’ve made no bones about it. You’ve had a…” Martha trailed off, searching for a word and finally landing on something acceptable, “challenging year.”
She hadn’t told anyone about being kidnapped. Couldn’t, as Davy had explained it because there’d been no reports to the cops, no official version of events, and so many things that couldn’t be explained. Not legally. Work and friends, everyone got the same story of a sudden illness on tour, weeks of recovery in place. She’d been so skinny and pale when she got home, it was an easy sell. Everyone except Ty. Bethy nodded.
“Tyrell called Michael.” Bethy froze in place, and Martha arched an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah. Tyrell wasn’t having a good day.” They knew about Ty’s PTSD, he had been a fixture in much of Bethy’s life, and by extension Michael’s, too much for her to hide something that could disrupt his life for weeks on end. “He talked to Michael about a lot of things. Michael said he was rambling, mostly. But he told him something about you. Something I think you’ve tried to keep a secret, not wanting to upset anyone.”
“What? What did Ty say?” Bethy’s palms were sweating, chilled and damp when she clasped them between her knees, trying to hide the shaking that had set up in her fingers. “What did he tell Michael?”
“You have a brother?” Martha’s soft words weren’t a statement, she was giving Bethy an out if she wanted to say there’d been a mistake, that Ty had misspoken. Bethy couldn’t do that. She remembered Mason’s face as it had looked on the plane as they traveled home from Utah, talking about his boy Chase. Chase, who she’d seen take to a stage last weekend as if he’d been born to it. Chase, who loved his Aunt Bethy so much, it shone from his face. Mason hadn’t gotten the chance to be an uncle to Michael, but he probably would love it as much as she loved being Chase’s aunt.
Bethy nodded and Martha pulled in a lungful of air. “I see.” Another loud thud from overhead, then the screeching sound of something heavy being dragged. “Michael is unhappy he didn’t know.”
“I’m gathering that. Martha…” Here Bethy had to be careful, because she had worked hard to stay in Michael’s life, worked hard to cultivate a sustainable relationship with his adopted family. She had never regretted her decision, but every day she’d longed to have been given the chance to make a different one. Martha and her husband had provided the best of both worlds, loving and raising Michael as their own child, while acknowledging that Bethy had a claim, too. “Does he want to talk to me about it?”
“Yes.” Martha breathed the word out in clear relief. “He very much does.”
“Should I go up, then?” Martha shook her head, and Bethy offered a different solution. “Want me to go back to my car and call him? I can tell him I’m outside?” Martha nodded. “Okay. I’ll make it right.”
Martha smiled and leaned forwards, lifting her palm to cover Bethy’s cheek. “Honey, you’ve always had his best interests at heart. He’ll see this as more of the same.” A loud thud rattled the pictures on the walls, and the music got louder, booming down the stairs. “Sooner or later.”
The young man who climbed into the passenger seat of her car fifteen minutes later didn’t resemble Michael as she’d last seen him. Dark hair longer than he’d ever worn it, he slumped into the seat with a teen’s boneless ease, grey eyes cutting her direction as he rolled his head to the side. She sat a moment and waited until he finally deigned to buckle, her persistence provoking a sarcastic sigh.
She pulled out and turned at the first opportunity, deciding to cruise aimlessly for a bit. It was a tactic she’d used on recalcitrant band members before, and she knew it would eventually work.He’ll be easier to manage if he’s a captive audience. “So, you’re pissed at me.”
She got a grunt, followed by a “whatever” shoulder shrug.
“If you want to know the story, I’m happy to tell it. But you need to let me know what you want.”
“You’ve got a brother.”
“Two. One of which I’ve never met.” Before the words escaped her mouth, she hadn’t planned what to say, but clearly her subconscious wanted to go with truth.
