Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
JENSEN
ONE MONTH LATER
I don’t know if I feel anything at all, standing on the edge of the road. It’s the beginning of fall. It smells like it, a little burnt, a little cool. Straight ahead is Brothers’ office building. I know I’ll find him here on the first day of the fall meet.
I feel older, but I think I’m at peace.
Leaves skitter over my boots. I tap the cowboy hat he gave me against my thigh. A car horn beeps. The streets are more empty than usual today, with everyone at the racetrack.
In the past, I never visited the downtown office.
Now, I realize why Brothers never brought me here.
There’s an aura of sadness around it, like it’s a point in time that stood still.
The row house walls are gray brick, clean but well worn.
The antique windows are shuttered with dark cherry wood that looks like it was placed decades ago.
Over the door hangs a sign.
Brothers Boyd.
I can make out the faint spot where the first word wore out—the origin story of the man who made me, who broke me, and gave me everything back in the end.
A car moves slowly. I wait until it’s gone before crossing the street.
The short stairs are painted deep green to match the door.
There’s a brass plaque below the porch light that reads Private Residence, No Solicitors.
Ignoring it, I lift the knocker and let it fall with a bang that echoes up and down the road.
A woman opens the door. She’s in work clothes, a pencil dress and short heeled shoes.
“Can…I help you?” she says.
I clear my throat. “Jensen Childress to see Brothers Boyd. Is he here?”
She shakes her head. “No, you just missed him.”
“Where is he? I flew in. I can’t miss him.”
“I can’t just tell people where he’s at. It’s not safe.”
“He knows me,” I say, dipping into my pocket to pull out the picture. She takes it and stares down at it. Then, she glances up at me with narrowed eyes.
“Wait a minute…I know who you are,” she whispers. “He said you went home, that you weren’t coming back.”
“Are you his…woman?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m his secretary. Brothers doesn’t… He doesn’t have anyone. I don’t know if he ever will again.”
Her voice goes soft and sad.
“I promise I’m not here to hurt him,” I say. “Just tell me where he is.”
She chews her lip. “Alright, he’s down at Masterhill Station. Took his dog to shoot some ducks for a dinner he’s got going on tonight.”
“Thank you,” I say, putting my hat back on. “You have a good day, ma’am.”
She wraps her arms around herself as a chilly breeze sweeps down the road. “He’s not…the same. Not since she’s gone.”
“I know,” I say. “I didn’t think he would be.”
I cross the street, heading to the rental car.
Her eyes follow me beneath knitted brows as I get in and pull out onto the street.
Everything feels different, grimmer, like the city is hunkering down for the winter.
I wonder what Brothers did when Kayleigh died.
I have a pretty good idea he became a darker, more powerful version of himself. That can’t be good.
The road takes me out to horse country. It’s golden, the trees rustling.
The black tar road winds, cutting through the hills.
After a while, I come up on the turn off for the hunting area of the Station.
Parked in the gravel is a white SUV. It’s not the same one he was driving before, but I can tell it’s his by the darkened windows.
I park, getting out. The temperature is dropping, so I pull my Carhartt from the car. Then, slowly, because I still don’t know what to say when I find him, I climb the ridge and look down the hill. Below stretches a green-brown field with a pond at the center.
There he is, at the edge of the rushes. A lone figure in a plaid suit stands with his hands in his pockets. It’s been a month and two weeks since we last spoke, but it feels like years. Decades, even.
I start walking, striding through the grass. He doesn’t look up until I’m almost upon him. Then, he turns to glance at me, his face not changing. An open shotgun hangs in the crook of his arm. Pulling up beside him, I look out over the pond, unable to face him head on.
Nobody speaks.
Finally, I clear my throat. “Sorry about Kayleigh.”
His jaw flexes. “Which part, Jen?”
“Well, she died,” I say.
He smiles, face creasing. “No, she didn’t. She took everything in the Caudill accounts—after I slaughtered her whole family—and left. Dumped me harder than I’ve ever been dumped. Actually, I don’t know if I have been dumped before now. I think she was a first.”
A wave of relief moves over me. Della is going to be in happy tears when I tell her. She’s been so cut up for the last few weeks over Kayleigh. I start to say that, then shut the hell up at the expression on his face. His jaw is set, he’s got a beard now, and his eyes are overcast.
“How was she still alive?” I say finally.
“Bullet missed her heart by an inch. I killed every person in that house, brought her to the hospital, and went back to kill the rest. Her family is gone. There was blood in the street. When she woke up, we were done.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He turns. “Don’t be. I got everything I wanted.”
The edges of his face, the corners of his eyes, are made of stone. He might have gotten everything he wanted, but I think he lost what he needed.
“Why are you here, Jen?” he says.
“Della thought Kayleigh was dead. She asked me to come back.”
“Well, she’s not.”
“And I came to forgive you,” I say, the words coming out on accident.
There it is—a hint of softness. He turns, whistling sharply.
An Irish Setter jumps from the rushes and comes running.
Brothers pats it on the head, giving it a treat from his pocket.
Then, he puts his hat on, a plaid newsboy cap I haven’t seen him wear in decades, and starts climbing the hill.
I go after him, keeping pace at his side.
“You said we were even,” he says.
“Even’s not the same as forgiven.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
We pause at the crest of the hill. Down below rolls the bluegrass, and in the distance are the pinnacles, a hazy slate gray.
Everything is still clinging to that last bit of green from the summer.
His eyes are narrowed as they skim over the horizon, and the lines around them are a little deeper than I remember.
“Thanks for the forgiveness,” he says finally.
“Thanks for the family.”
He laughs once. “Yeah, how’s that going?”
I nod. “Good. We’re getting her little boy settled in.”
My throat tightens, and I have to clear it before I can tell him something I’ve never spoken out loud, save for behind the closed doors of my room back home. Nobody knows, not Jack, not Deacon.
“Della’s pregnant,” I say.
His brows rise. “Really? That was fast.”
“I think she got pregnant while we were here,” I say. “We just found out a few days ago.”
He’s smiling, and I see a little bit of the old Brothers come through.
“You know…I got that truck you used to drive in my barn,” he says. “I’ll ship it out to you. Maybe you can fix it with Landis…and whatever the next one turns out to be.”
We look at each other, and everything is behind us, finally laid to rest. It’s over this time.
Nothing can fix what happened to me. Nobody can make Brothers anything other than the man he is.
I’ve made peace with it, and in my own way, I do forgive him.
He hurt me, but I don’t think he set out to cause harm.
For my own sake, I have to move on. I’m over being angry, and I wish him well from a distance.
“Thanks,” I say finally.
He waves a hand. “You go on home, Jen. I might just stay here for a while, see if I can’t get one of those ducks after all.”
Neither of us speak for a minute or two.
Then, I hold out my hand. He shakes it, winking the way he used to.
A million times lighter, I walk down the hill and get into my car.
He got everything he wanted and lost everything that mattered, but there’s nothing I can do now.
I tried to tell him. It’s time for me to walk away.
The last thing I see in my rearview mirror is Brothers Boyd standing with his head bowed, looking out over the gently shimmering bluegrass.
A lonely figure on a lonely hill.