Page 51 of Fury
Meeting Michael
Bethany
Bethy lifted the laundry basket to her hip, navigating the door into Gabe’s home. “Hey,” she called, hearing a muffled response from deeper in the house. She stopped in the bedroom doorway, not sure what she was seeing. Gabe stood at the foot of the bed, rolling a pair of jeans before he stuffed them into the open bag in front of him. “Whatcha doin’?”
She crossed the space to the bed, setting the basket on the mattress. Her suitcase lay next to his, clothes already packed except for the couple of shirts she had just pulled out of the dryer. Gabe flicked a look up at her, gaze steady behind the fall of hair across his forehead. “Packin’.”
“For what? Where do you have to go?” Tucking the last articles of clothing into her suitcase, she lifted the other clothes from the basket, carrying them to his dresser. In the weeks she’d been here, she’d shifted his things around to create space for hers, and he hadn’t said a word. She smiled as she pulled what she now thought of as “her drawers” open and put away things.
“Nashville.” Turning, she looked at him, taking in the serious expression on his face.
It was a week after Mikey’s funeral, and true to her vow, she hadn’t wasted any time talking to Mason. Catching him between other business calls while he was still in New Mexico, she’d petitioned for ten minutes of his time, scheduling through the guy who seemed to run most of her brother’s life, Myron. That ten-minute conversation turned into more than sixty because Mason had a wealth of questions, once he got past the initial confusion and anger about how she could have been strapped with what he saw as such a burden for so long. With everything else going on, he’d given her his time generously, listening as she cried with the guilt of never telling one of the men who had mattered so much to her. Mason waited until she’d cried herself dry, then reassured her they’d be revisiting this topic, and ordered her to bring Michael to the funeral in Cynthiana.
She’d demurred, arguing that throwing a sixteen-year-old boy into that kind of intense emotional situation wasn’t the best idea, and to her surprise, Mason had backed down. Before the call had ended, he’d garnered her promise to bring Michael to Fort Wayne the following week. Mason would be going to Chicago after the funeral, but he would be back with Willa within a couple of days.
Then Bethy had made an error in judgment. She later blamed it on the extreme situation, but still could have kicked herself. She’d sought out Gabe without thinking, crawling into his lap and only then calling the Marshalls, talking first to Martha to secure permission, and waiting impatiently while Michael came to the phone. Telling Michael she’d talked to his Uncle Mason had caused Gabe to go still underneath her, his arm around her waist turning into an inescapable band. Turning away from him, she’d continued the conversation, discussing the timing of his visit to Fort Wayne.
That phone call had been uncomfortable, but what came next surprised her.
“Already knew you had a boy, Bethy.” Plucking the phone from her hand, Gabe didn’t release her but didn’t try to make her face him, either. He told her in his own way that she had the right to hold Michael close. “Wish I’d known you then like I do now. Things would be different, baby. Can’t change the past. Can’t, so it’s not worth arguing or worrying about, yeah? Looking to the future, if we can swing it, he’ll be in our lives however makes you happiest. Whatever that looks like, I’ll make it happen. You know all my secrets, every dark corner I could dig out I’ve shown you. You know, more than anyone else, what it’s taken from me to be where we sit today.” He paused, and she twisted, leaning in to rest her forehead against his, the heat from his breaths ghosting across her skin. “Know where all my skeletons are buried. I’ve known about Michael for a while, and any decisions you had to make to get him where he is, and get you to the woman in my arms, you have my full backing. All confidence in you, baby. No matter the road, you’ll do what’s needful.”
She knew then why Willa hated that word. It was used in so many ways by the people she’d grown up alongside, covering all manner of things people raised differently would be shocked or terrified of. In Gabe’s mouth, it meant he knew she’d work her fingers to the bone to take care of those she loved. “I love you,” she said, then shook her head. “I don’t want you to ever think that’s not something I think about before I say it. It’s not something to fill a silence, Gabe. It’s me—when I say it, that’s me giving you me.”
“I know, baby. Take you as you can give yourself. And part of that was you needing time to tell me about Michael. I want to meet him, too. You know that, right?” She nodded. “Now, we need to sort out getting ourselves to Cynthiana. I don’t want to ride down. We’re gonna take your car. Wanna be with you and have you where I can keep my eyes on you. We leave tomorrow night, we’ll get there about the same time as Mason and the men riding in from Las Cruces.” He gave her a squeeze. “You need to make another call, baby. Call Juanita. She needs to hear from her girl, and you need to talk to her.” Pulling her close, he handed her the phone back. “Stay right where you are, let me take as much of this from you as you can give. Hadn’t reconnected with him long ago, but I’m gonna miss him. Let me grieve with you, pull it from both of us, yeah?”
Seeing Juanita the night before the funeral had them both weeping, Bella crowding close, arms around both women. Fury, Bones, and Tater had stayed nearby, waiting to be needed. It had been cathartic for all of them in a way, but when Bethy asked about Mela, fear rose in Juanita’s face like a wave battering the shore. Carmela had been with a group of bikers headed from Indiana back to New Mexico, and none of them had made it. No sign of them anywhere, and Mason had everyone looking.
Then it had been over, and like Tabby’s funeral, the whole thing seemed both rushed and drawn out, leaving her exhausted and sleeping in the car all the way back to Fort Wayne. Gabe had surprised her by giving her space to sleep and then cry, only touching her when she’d reach out—he seemed to understand that after the services, after seeing the hole in the ground, casket suspended over it by the fragile bands holding it aloft, after standing close and throwing her clod of dirt into the grave—she needed time to sort out all the hidden terrors and pain dragged to the surface.
That was five days ago, and today she was driving to Nashville to pick Michael up. She intended to swing by to see the studio first, pick up any messages or mail that hadn’t yet been forwarded, and then spend the night in her apartment. The plan was to get Michael early tomorrow, making the return six-hour trip to get back in time for dinner at Mason’s. She wasn’t looking forward to the night alone. It would be the first in weeks, and she hadn’t been very comfortable in the apartment after Ty had moved to the group home. She was expecting a sleepless night and had already cataloged a dozen ways she could keep busy.
“Why are you going to Nashville? I’m assuming you mean with me, but why?” Zipping the suitcase closed, she found her hands brushed aside as Gabe lifted it, setting the wheels on the floor.
“Because I want to?” He grinned, and the sight of his smile breaking through that damned, beautiful red beard made her smile in response. “Come on, Bethy. I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m betting you’re the same way. I’ll come with, we can do dinner out, both get a good night’s sleep, and then I can meet Michael.”
Staring at him, she saw nothing but earnest desire in his eyes. Nodding, she offered, “I bet if I call ahead, he could do dinner with us.” Gabe’s expression brightened and his smile grew broader. “You really want that?”
“Fuck, yeah, I want that. He’s your kid, baby. Nearly a man grown, and I want to get to know him.” He leaned in, kissing her softly. “See what he thinks about being a big brother at some point.” His palm settled on her belly and she grinned, feeling his lips move and knew he was smiling too. “Even if it takes us a while, we’ll get there. I want to know he’s cool with it.”
“Pinch me.” He laughed at her request, giving the skin along her hip the tiniest tweak. “Swear to God, Gabe. I can’t believe we’re here.”
“Believe it, baby. Told you, mine forever. That means you come with a boy half-grown? Cool. Means we have a half a dozen rugrats? Also cool.” She rolled her eyes, and he laughed, head back, mouth open, sounds of his humor pouring from him to fill the room. He sobered, staring into her eyes, earnest love on his face. “Means we never get the chance to parent together, except what we can do with Michael? Much as it would kill, that’s cool, too, because I’d be here with you.”
***
Fury
Bethy was wringing her hands in her lap, the movement unconscious but consistent. Nervous as she was it would be a wonder if she could eat anything, and a second wonder if what she ate would stay down.
“Relax, baby. I already know I’m gonna love him.” Her face lifted to his and he saw tears trembling on her bottom lashes. That looked like a lot more than nervousness. “What, Beth? What’s wrong?”
“I just really, really wish Mikey had gotten to meet him.”
He steered the car into the parking lot of a shopping center they were passing and parked. Unbuckling, he reached over and popped the button on her belt. Lifting and pulling, he brought her into his lap, shifting his seat backwards as he held her close. They sat like that for minutes as she cried into his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt dampening, getting wet, holding the weight of her tears. Silent through it all, she gave a tiny hiccup that he knew signaled her crying jag was on the downward side.
This was something he hated. Not her crying. Well, yeah, he hated that, because so far it had been him doing stupid shit that had caused it, or it was like this, and something he couldn’t fix. Couldn’t get his hands on to make better. No, what he hated was the long-lived evidence of how their life back in Kentucky had scarred her. Crying silently so she wouldn’t be heard, no matter what was done to her.
Voice trembling, she broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”
