The Feud (Bluegrass Empires #1)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Marcie

I pull aside the sheer curtains on the living room window and look out at the street, willing Ethan’s truck to come into view.

“Marcie, please tell me what’s going on,” Sylvie says, not for the first time since I brought her to my house. She was still upstairs showering when Ethan walked into their kitchen with such a look of torture on his face, I thought someone had died.

He then proceeded to tell me and his mom what was going on in as succinct a way as possible without opening the door for more questions. He turned to me and said, “My attorney is on the way as well as the crime technicians from the sheriff’s department. Can you take Sylvie to your house? I don’t want her here while they’re searching.”

“Of course,” I replied without hesitation. “What are we going to tell her?”

Ethan cursed, paced around the kitchen and looked helplessly at his mom for advice. She shook her head.

He then looked to me. “You know kids best.”

I’m not sure if that’s accurate but he needed guidance. “She eventually needs to know the truth, but I think it would be too upsetting for her to know the police are searching your house, even if they suspect Lionel. I think it would make her feel very insecure. My suggestion is you just tell her something serious has happened, that everyone in the family is safe and okay and she’s completely safe, but we need to hang out at my house for a little bit. Promise her she’ll get the full truth later today.”

Ethan nodded effusively, not because it was the best plan but because he couldn’t confidently come up with his own. I have no clue if it’s right or not, but we enacted it. He went up to talk to his daughter and we were back downstairs within ten minutes, Sylvie with her backpack over her shoulder and her hair still damp from her shower.

She looked neither frightened nor affronted that she was being asked to leave without any real knowledge as to why. Ethan hugged her and said, “Thank you for trusting me on this. We’ll talk later today and I’ll tell you everything.”

And she was okay with that.

For about two hours. And then she started pelting me with questions.

“What’s going on?”

“Why did I really have to leave?”

“Is my dad okay?”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Am I in trouble?

“Will I have to go back to the Mardraggons?”

The one that got me the most, and it came out of left field, “Is my dad sick like my mom? Is that why you won’t tell me anything?”

I was able to reassure her on many of her questions, a constant reiteration that her dad and her family are safe, healthy and not in any trouble. I told her that someone her dad knew was in trouble though and he had to work on that but would tell her later what’s going on.

That led to more questions, trying to guess who was in trouble and her first concern, “Is it Uncle Gabe?”

She was hitting too close to the truth and I couldn’t lie to her, and I didn’t want to have to play this game with her all day. So she got my stern principal voice, even though I hated to do it. “Sylvie… I cannot tell you anything. That is for your dad to do and you’re going to have to wait and trust that we’re doing the best thing for you. Please stop trying to get information from me.”

“I’m sorry,” she immediately said, head ducked in contrition.

I smiled, pulled her into a hug and told her it would all be okay.

She lasted another half hour before she started pestering me again and it’s been a constant battle with her asking and me denying.

Movement catches my eye and my sigh of relief is audible. Ethan’s truck pulls up to the curb. “Your dad is here.”

Sylvie doesn’t wait, turning to bolt for the door. I watch from the window as she runs out to meet him. For someone who just got out of the hospital this morning, she’s quite spry when she catapults herself into his arms and he carries her the rest of the way into my house.

I meet them in the small foyer, his eyes meeting mine over the top of Sylvie’s head and I can’t read all the emotion warring within their fern-colored depths.

“Where were you?” Sylvie demands, lifting her head from Ethan’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Ethan sets his daughter on the floor. “Let’s sit down in the living room.”

“I’ll just…” I throw my thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ll be in there.”

“No,” Ethan says, taking my hand. “Come sit with us.”

The tenderness mixed with the need to have me there for support nearly buckles my knees. Ethan and I have grown so close these last several weeks, our intimacy only fortifying our growing bond. But to know that he needs me causes my heart to surrender to him completely.

In the living room, we all sit on the couch, Sylvie in between me and Ethan. She stares at her father, waiting for him to deliver what she’s clearly pegged as bad news.

Ethan takes her hand, holds it with both of his. “Two detectives from the sheriff’s department came to the house this morning.” He glances at me and I nod my encouragement. “They believe that someone intentionally made you sick.”

Sylvie’s face screws up with confusion. “Intentionally? What does that mean?”

“It means that someone meant to hurt you. They did it on purpose. Apparently, you were dosed with penicillin and you experienced a severe allergic reaction.”

The kid is savvy and knows the dangers of her allergy. She knows it can be fatal and while she doesn’t remember much of her ordeal, she’s comprehending that someone weaponized it. I see the question coming before she asks it of her father. “Who would do that?”

My heart clenches and Ethan swallows hard. There was a day I know he would have relished throwing Lionel under the bus, gladly telling Sylvie how rotten he was and therefore she should love the Blackburns and not the Mardraggons. The more I’ve learned of this bitter feud, the more appreciation I have for how deep it runs, even in these modern times.

But Ethan is a man now driven by the love of a daughter, and he knows this will hurt her. It’s the last thing in the world he’d ever want to do because it’s an act of betrayal that could destroy her.

It humbles me, the courage it takes. “The police believe it was Lionel.”

Sylvie’s face crumples. Tears pool and shine through her lashes. She shakes her head and tries to tug her hand away from Ethan. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that. Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know what to think, baby,” her dad explains softly. “I’m only reporting what the police think. They’re questioning Lionel, but they have evidence your uncle Gabe found that points to him being the one who did it. Gabe turned it over to the police.”

“Uncle Gabe?” she asks, as if she’s never heard of the man. I can’t even begin to imagine how confusing this is.

I wait for her to ask if Gabe or Rosemund are complicit because that’s been lurking in the back of my mind. I wonder what Ethan thinks of that. Common sense tells me Gabe is innocent since he turned his dad in, and having his dad arrested in no way benefits Gabe himself. I have no clue about Rosemund, but it’s not up to me to figure that out. It’s for the police.

“What’s going to happen?” Sylvie asks, glancing at me briefly before turning her attention back to her dad.

Ethan shakes his head, sadness etched on the planes of his face. “I honestly don’t know. If the police believe they have a strong case against Lionel, they’ll arrest him.”

“Arrest him for what?” she demands, and her dilemma is as clear as it is heartbreaking. She wants to know exactly what Lionel was trying to do and she’s afraid to come out and ask it.

It’s a question Ethan can’t answer. “I don’t know that either, Sylvie. I don’t know what laws he might have broken.”

“But why?” she persists, tears flowing freely down her face. “Why give me penicillin? He knew it could kill me.”

And there it is… the horrific bottom line. Sylvie sobs and her father pulls her into his chest, stroking her hair. My heart feels like it’s been crushed in a vise grip and I reach out to place my hand on Sylvie’s back. It’s all I can do for now, but I want her to know she’s got two people in this room who will get her through this.

“Why would he want to kill me?” she wails, her entire body shaking.

Ethan stares at me in panic, unable to provide solace to his heartbroken child. He could go into details about the trust and how it would revert to the Mardraggon family if she died before she was twenty-one, but we both talked about how far to go with that information. While Ethan wants to be transparent to prepare Sylvie for dark days ahead, we talked in the kitchen before she came down from her shower. My advice was to keep it limited at this time so she isn’t overwhelmed.

This is a subject far too important for me, Ethan or any of the Blackburns to shoulder with her. I shot out dozens of texts to teachers and other principals in the area, pulling any strings I could to find a therapist for Sylvie. While she’s acclimated well the last few weeks to her new circumstances, this will test the child’s resilience and confidence. I told Ethan I’d find her someone and by God, I will.

“Sylvie,” I say softly. She doesn’t move from Ethan’s embrace but turns her head on his chest to stare back at me. “We may never understand Lionel’s intentions. All we can do is wait to see what the police figure out. The important thing to understand is that you are safe.”

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again,” Ethan vows, and I hear the misery in his voice. He’s taken on all the blame for this since he’s the one who let her go stay the night with the Mardraggons.

He’s the one who put her in Lionel’s clutches.

Sylvie starts crying again and Ethan gathers her in close, pulls her onto his lap and rocks his daughter. He’s such a natural at this… an inherent ability to nurture and give unconditional love. While her world has just been torn to pieces again, I still count Sylvie as one lucky little girl.

?

It’s barely eight p.m. and I’m exhausted. The day’s emotional toll has reduced me to mind numbness, but it’s nothing compared to what Sylvie and Ethan are going through. He’s upstairs right now, checking on her. She fell asleep about an hour ago, curled against me on the couch at Ethan’s house. We came back here to be around the entire family, Ethan believing she needed to be surrounded by love and solidarity more than anything.

He wasn’t wrong. It was a good choice.

The fact that he asked me to come, to be a part of it, was a message I received loud and clear.

I am a part of this family unit now. Not conventionally but by circumstances that none of us ever thought would play out. Without needing to say a single word, Ethan has shown that I have his deepest trust and respect, and I hope somewhere in there, a part of his heart.

We had dinner together, Fi and I making a big batch of spaghetti which was easy and loved by all. We kept conversation light, didn’t discuss Lionel or any other Mardraggon, for that matter, and managed to get smiles from Sylvie. After, we played Heads Up!, a charades game that paired Sylvie and me, and we stomped everyone’s butts. Her yawns indicated an early bedtime and although she’s been asleep for over an hour, Ethan has gone up twice to check on her.

Fi and Tommy returned to their cottage, Kat back to her apartment, and Trey and Wade back to their house in town. Ethan asked me to stay, so I did. We’ve been cuddled on the couch in between his trips upstairs to check on Sylvie, talking in low voices about what the future might look like because things are going to be chaotic.

Ethan got a text from Gabe while we were eating dinner. It was simple and didn’t invite a follow-up response: My father’s been arrested. Attempted murder.

We didn’t tell Sylvie and Ethan has decided to keep her home from school tomorrow. The update came too late for the six o’clock news cycle but we expect it to be on the late news. It will be all over the school in the morning.

The good news is that an assistant principal in a neighboring county has a sister who is a licensed child therapist specializing in trauma and she has agreed to see Sylvie tomorrow. Ethan will bring her at lunchtime and that’s probably our biggest solace right now. We have a professional to help guide us all through this journey.

The stairs creak as Ethan comes down and when he walks into the room, I can tell he’s as tired as I am. When he reaches the couch, he takes my hand and pulls me up, only to lower himself down with me on his lap. He adjusts my position and I put my arms around his neck, resting my head on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes and no. At this moment, with you in my arms, everything is perfect. If I think about my kid and what she’s going through, I’m not okay.”

“What can I do?” I ask softly.

“Don’t move a muscle. Just let me hold you.”

“I can do that,” I say, but I move a little. I burrow in closer to him, one hand going to the back of his neck to stroke him lightly.

As tired as I am, there’s not an ounce of me that’s drowsy. I’m hyperaware of everything… the feel of my body against his, the sorrow in his words and the knowledge that right now, I’m some measure of comfort.

It’s silent for a very long time and when Ethan finally talks, I’m surprised by the subject matter. “There was a time I thought my siblings hated me.” I jerk in his arms, lifting my face to look at him. Green pools of sadness meet me and he nods. “It’s true.”

“No way.” I shake my head. “I’ve seen you and your family interact. That is some deep-seated love.”

His smile is soft. “Yes, I know that now. But I didn’t always and that’s because I was too wrapped up in the chaos of my life to consider otherwise. I was standoffish, focused on work, unapproachable. I was put into a position of power but the weight of responsibility was crushing. It took everything I had to keep Blackburn Farms running when my parents turned it over to me, and that left no room in my life for anything else. The lack of attention I gave them, the invites to do things with them that I constantly turned down—it made it so we had a huge divide in our relationship. My siblings didn’t like me much at all.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, my palm pressed against his cheek.

“Because when I say I had no room in my life for my siblings, I really meant I had no room in my life for anything. The farm was my everything. It was my one true love. It was where my loyalty lay.”

“But now you have Sylvie,” I say, understanding crashing over me like a wave. “And you see that you have far more in you than you thought, and it has paved the way to mend bridges with your siblings. For that matter, you—”

“I have you,” he says. Three words said as soft as a whisper carried on the wind, yet they punch into me like I’ve been struck by a sledgehammer.

“Yes, I’ve learned a lot these last several weeks, mostly how unfulfilled my life has actually been, and it’s brought me closer to my siblings. It’s opened up a part of my heart I didn’t know existed and where Sylvie will reside. And… there’s you.”

“There’s me,” I echo his sentiment, still not quite sure why he’s focusing on me when there are so many other important things going on.

“I couldn’t have handled any of this without you,” he says, and another epiphany hits. He wants to show his gratitude.

“You would’ve handled it all just fine,” I say dismissively and I start to drop my head back down to snuggle into him.

His hand moves to my chin, holding me in place, his green eyes now dark with intensity. “No, I wouldn’t have. But more than giving me strength and confidence with Sylvie, you gave me yourself. You gave me your smiles, your tenderness, your sass, your jokes and your serious obsession with reality TV.” His thumb strokes over my bottom lip, his gaze dropping there as he murmurs, “You gave me that mouth and your body.”

His eyes lift, pinning me in place. My heartbeat thunders in my ears so I barely hear him say, “I’m wondering if you’ll give me your heart?”

I’m so breathless, I can barely say the words. “You already have my heart.”

“Well, that’s good then. Because you most definitely have mine.”

I feel like I’m trapped, hypnotized by the intense expression on his face and the power of his words. “Something monumental is happening in our relationship.”

“Does that scare you?” he asks, head tilted slightly.

I shake my head but then smile sheepishly. “A little.”

“Would it scare you if I told you I love you?”

That sucks the oxygen from me and I can only stare at him until I feel like I’m going to pass out. I force a breath and let it out in a whoosh. “Oh, wow.”

“I’m not sure how to take that response,” he says, although I can tell he’s amused.

“I just… are you saying you love me?”

“I don’t know. Would it scare you away?”

I shake my head this time and there’s no bashful smile with it. “Won’t scare me away.”

His smile brightens, something I haven’t seen in a few days, and it sparks joy within me that, despite everything he’s been through, Ethan is latching on to a moment of happiness.

With me.

“I love you,” he says emphatically. “I do. And I can’t go another minute without you knowing that, and I need you to know that I need you, and whatever you need, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you the moon if you ask for it. Now, you said you already gave me your heart, but I don’t read between the lines very well. I need you to be a bit more direct with me.”

Looping my arms around his neck, I grin as I brush my mouth over his. Leaning back so I can look him in the eye, I tell him what he wants to know. “I love you. So much. And I’m right by your side, through whatever storm is coming. I’ve got both you and Sylvie.”

“I know you do. And I love you even more for it.”

Ethan kisses me, none too gently but immediately consuming. It can’t go anywhere, because Sylvie is upstairs sleeping. But it’s enough to tide me over until we can have time alone.

In the quiet of the Blackburn home, steeped in history and hate, love and redemption, closed doors and worlds of possibilities, I sink into the man who’s shown me that it’s possible to love again.