Chapter 4
4
“Nobody’s saying you’re crazy, Liam,” said Rhett, the youngest of the three McKettrick brothers, speaking, thanks to modern technology, from his place near Santa Barbara. “Everybody can benefit from therapy.”
Liam pushed back in his chair, gazing at the image on his computer screen. It was Sunday, and Sundays were usually reserved for catching up with kinfolk and friends, via video calls, and for rest and recreation.
Bitter Gulch would be open for business starting at noon, but it was in good hands, and he didn’t need to be there. Once the confab with Rhett had ended, he intended to gather some fishing gear, saddle his horse, and ride to the furthest corner of the ranch, where Painted Pony Creek flowed into a small lake, surrounded by trees and boulders.
“Thanks for the speech, bro,” he replied gruffly, after several moments of thoughtful silence. “Where is this sage advice coming from, anyhow? Maybe your new girlfriend, Sabrina, the forensic psychologist?”
Rhett’s brown-gold eyes narrowed briefly, and he thrust a hand through his sand-colored hair. Like Liam, he liked to take Sundays and Mondays off to look after his retired race horses and rescued greyhounds, leaving his second tech start-up in the hands of trusted employees.
He’d already made a fortune selling the first company, which meant he could do whatever he damn well pleased.
Today, apparently, that included pestering his older brother about things that were, to put it charitably, none of his damn business.
“Damn it, Liam, pull your head out of your butt and listen to me. You need to find out why you’re letting Waverly’s folks bring up your kids, since you so clearly want to raise them yourself.”
Liam echoed his brother’s earlier gesture by thrusting the splayed fingers of his right hand through his hair. “Rein it in, little brother,” he said, and the words had an edge. “Living with a shrink doesn’t make you an instant expert on how other people ought to manage their lives.”
“Chill out,” Rhett said, after expelling a soft sigh. “I’m not trying to lecture you. I just want to help.”
“Did I ask for your help?” Liam knew he’d spoken tersely, and he regretted it. Rhett was trying to help.
He’d always been this way, even as a kid.
Rhett didn’t speak. He didn’t get angry, nor did he look affronted. He was his usual mellow self.
“I’m sorry,” Liam said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
“No worries,” Rhett answered. “You’re probably under a lot of stress, what with Bitter Gulch about to be the set of a movie and all the work it takes just to run the place day to day.”
“Everybody’s under stress these days,” Liam remarked. He was luckier than most people, he knew that, and he refused to feel even slightly sorry for himself.
“Plus, you’re lonely, rattling around in that big house— seven bedrooms , Liam? Who the hell needs seven bedrooms and a guest house? What the hell were you thinking, building a place like that?”
“I don’t have a clue,” Liam answered—but he did have a clue, of course. He’d wanted to bring Keely and Cavan, his children, home for good, and he’d hoped to find the right woman, marry her and have more kids.
Was it so wrong to want a family, and to raise several children in the same healthy, fresh-air, rough-and-tumble way he and Jesse and Rhett had grown up?
He wasn’t a stupid man; he knew it wasn’t wrong to want what he wanted.
But for some reason, he was stuck in Neutral.
He’d loved Waverly desperately, against his better judgment and the advice of trusted friends, and in the end, she’d nearly destroyed him. Although he’d dated a few women, after mourning the wife Waverly had never been, the one he’d tried his damnedest to conjure, he’d kept himself at a slight emotional distance, even from the best of them.
Maybe Rhett was right, and he needed to have his head examined.
And it was past time he fought for the kids he already had, bringing them home and being a real father to them, instead of a benevolent Disney dad. After all, he was the only parent they had.
“If you don’t have a clue, bro,” Rhett said, speaking quietly now, “you ought to go find yourself one. Maybe several. Waverly’s mom and dad are getting older, and besides, they raised Waverly to be a self-centered witch, which might mean history will repeat itself with your kids.”
“God forbid,” Liam breathed. And he meant it.
At least where his nine-year-old daughter was concerned, that was one of his worst fears. Keely looked so much like her mother; he didn’t want her to act like Waverly, too.
“ Do something , Liam,” Rhett pressed quietly. “Keely and Cavan were at the ranch last week, with Waverly’s sister, Courtney, and according to Mom and Dad, they’re not doing all that great. Keely’s in a hurry to grow up, and I guess some of her behavior is normal, but she’s more like Waverly than she ought to be, and she refers to you as a ‘dumb cowboy.’ As for Cavan, well, he’s a little boy, Liam, and he’s sadly in need of his father.”
Usually, the guilt was manageable.
Today, it felt heavy enough to crush him, especially with the confirmation that Keely might be turning into her mother.
“Damn,” Liam muttered. “Are you through, little brother, or do you plan on driving me off the nearest cliff?”
“If I thought you were serious about the cliff,” Rhett said gravely, “I’d be landing my Cessna in Painted Pony Creek before the day’s over.” He paused, leaning forward a little, resting his forearms on the surface of the desk in his den, with its row of tall windows overlooking the Pacific. “Man up, big brother. I know you’re reluctant to tear Keely and Cavan away from their doting grandparents, but they need you, Liam. You’ve wasted enough time kicking yourself over your poisonous marriage and Waverly’s death. Take hold , as Dad would say, stand up to Waverly’s folks, and raise your kids . Don’t let them grow up without their father!”
“Okay, I hear what you’re saying,” Liam said, feeling shamed for letting the situation with his late wife’s parents get out of hand.
Rhett wasn’t through, despite Liam’s subtle—he hoped—hint that he’d gotten the message and planned to proceed accordingly. “Frank and Marie Everton lost their daughter,” he went on, “and they cherish their grandchildren. They deserve all kinds of sympathy and understanding and a reasonable amount of time with the kids, but they’re also pretty damn dysfunctional, and you know it. They’re not getting any younger, either.” A pause. “And neither are you.”
“I get the point,” Liam reiterated, his voice taut.
“Do you?” Rhett persisted. When he got on his high horse, it was usually a long ride before he stepped back down to earth. “Sabrina and I spent a day on the ranch while Courtney and the kids were there, and do you know what Cavan asked me, Liam?”
Something clenched, hard, in the pit of Liam’s stomach, and he identified it right away.
It was dread.
“What?” he countered.
“He looked up at me, with those big green eyes of his, and he said, ‘Uncle Rhett, could you be my dad?’”
The words struck Liam like a body blow.
He was glad he was sitting down, because if he hadn’t been, his knees would have given out for sure.
He breathed out a word unfit for polite company.
Not that either he or Rhett, or Jesse, for that matter, was all that polite, at least with each other.
“Yeah,” Rhett confirmed, as though the word had conveyed volumes of confession.
Liam closed his eyes, hoping his brother wouldn’t notice that they were wet.
They stung something fierce while he struggled to regain his composure.
“I didn’t say any of that to hurt you,” Rhett said, after a few awkward moments had passed.
“I know,” Liam replied, his voice as rough as gravel.
“You doing okay, otherwise?”
“Yeah,” Liam said, able to look his brother in the face again, but only just. “I’m just hunky-dory over here.”
Rhett chuckled at that, but he sounded sad, rather than amused. “Good,” he said. “Gotta go. Horses to exercise, dogs to look after. Your turn to call me, next weekend.”
“If I’m up off my figurative knees by then, brother, you’ll hear from me.”
“Bro?”
“What?”
“I love you,” Rhett said. The man was tough, through and through, and he’d never been afraid to express his affection, when he felt it.
“Back at you,” said Liam, who felt the same, but wasn’t nearly as able to say so aloud.
They ended the call, and Liam cupped his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair again, and closed his eyes.
He felt like breaking down, bawling like a baby, but, of course, he didn’t.
He was Liam McKettrick, successful entrepreneur and stubborn-ass cowboy. He didn’t cry— ever —but right now, with his brother’s words echoing in his mind, and knowing what Cavan had said to his beloved uncle, he sure as hell felt like it.
After ten minutes of self-control, deep breathing and rapid blinking, in an effort to quell the burning behind his eyes, Liam reached for the phone.
He didn’t call his attorney.
He didn’t call either of his kids, both of whom had phones of their own.
He didn’t call Frank and Marie, either.
No, he called Waverly’s younger sister. He wasn’t especially close to Courtney, but Liam knew she sympathized with his situation, and she helped her aging parents a lot with the kids.
“Hi, Liam,” Courtney answered on the first ring. She was Waverly’s polar opposite, even-tempered, friendly, compassionate. She’d been the scapegoat growing up, rather than the golden child, but instead of being bitter and resentful, Courtney was strong and independent. “What a coincidence. I was just about to call you.”
Once again, something lurched painfully inside Liam, this time in the back of his throat. “The kids are all right?”
“They’re just fine,” Courtney said. “Mostly.”
“What do you mean, ‘mostly’?” he asked, sitting up straight now, anxious, all his senses on the alert.
“Well,” Courtney replied, drawing out the word, “the fact is, they’re getting to be too much for Mom and Dad, so I brought them here to LA. Mom’s really forgetful these days, and Dad’s arthritis is acting up—some days, he can barely get out of bed. Anyway, I really love having the kids here, but things are crazy at work right now. I’m pulling twelve-and fourteen-hour days, so they spend way too much time at day camp.”
Liam didn’t know exactly what Courtney did for a living. It had something to do with computers and the entertainment industry. He did know she was a devoted aunt to her sister’s children; Liam didn’t doubt for a moment that she loved them far more than Waverly ever had.
Waverly, he suspected, hadn’t been capable of real love.
“I’ll come and get them,” he said. “Today, if necessary.”
“No need for that,” Courtney told him pleasantly. “My company is doing some of the special effects for the movie about to be filmed in Bitter Gulch. I’m flying in for some in-person meetings with the director midweek, which means I can bring the kids to you.”
Again, Liam closed his eyes. He was glad Courtney couldn’t see his reactions, the way Rhett had, during the video call. Hoped she couldn’t guess them from his tone of voice.
“How are they doing? The kids, I mean?”
“Keely’s a little prickly, to be honest. Cavan wants to arrive yesterday and stay forever.”
Liam felt a sharp pang of love for both his children.
He missed them more than he could say.
“Keely’s prickly?” he asked. “Why?”
“Mainly because she’s nine going on sixteen. She’ll be a bit of a challenge I’m afraid, but I think she’ll come around, given some time. Cavan, on the other hand, can’t wait to be with you. He wants to ride horses, go fishing, and maybe get a dog. He’s even talking about being an extra in the movie.” She paused. “I might be able to arrange that last part, actually. With your permission, of course.”
“We’ll see,” Liam replied, reluctant. He mulled the possibility over for a few moments, then changed the subject. “What about your parents? How do they feel about all this?” The Evertons didn’t have legal custody of Keely and Cavan, but they’d be able to make a good case for grandparents’ rights, if things came to that, since the kids had been living with them for nearly a year now.
Just short of a full year. Separated from my kids.
WTF has been going on in my brain all this time?
“Mom and Dad are less than enthusiastic about the whole thing, as you might have guessed,” Courtney admitted. “But just between you and me, they’re getting to the place where they can’t look after themselves properly, let alone two young children who just happen to have a perfectly good father, and they know it.”
When he spoke again, Liam’s voice was gruff. “Thank you, Courtney,” he managed. “Thank you.”
After they’d discussed arrival times, logistics, etc., knowing Keely and Cavan were with Courtney, he decided to act like a father. He wanted to speak with both his children, try to reassure them somehow that the ranch was as much their home as his, and they were welcome.
They were swimming in the pool behind Courtney’s house, she told him, while two of her friends kept a close eye on them from nearby lounge chairs.
Courtney had just come inside, planning to place a call to Liam, when he had beaten her to the punch by dialing first.
“Let me go and round them up. Dry them off a little, so they won’t drip pool water all over my kitchen floor. We’ll call back in a few minutes, if that’s all right.”
The yearning to see his kids’ faces, to know for himself that they were well, seized Liam by the throat and squeezed. For a moment or so, he couldn’t speak.
“Liam?” Courtney prompted gently.
“Umm—I’m here. Call back when you’re ready. And Courtney?”
“What?” Her tone was patient, even sympathetic.
“Make it a video call, okay? I know you’re bringing the kids here in a few days, but I need to see them now.”
“Ten-four,” Courtney agreed, ever cheerful.
Half an hour later, the call came through.
Keely and Cavan filled the screen of Liam’s computer.
“Hi, Dad,” Cavan said, beaming. Like his sister, he had dark hair, but his eyes were green, like his mother’s. Keely’s eyes were indigo blue.
At the moment, she looked as though she’d rather be anywhere else instead of sitting in front of a computer, face-to-virtual-face with her father.
She wound a tendril of wet hair around one index finger and let Cavan do all the talking. And talk Cavan did.
He seemed so eager, so earnest, that Liam felt another rush of guilt for not being there for his son, or for his daughter. He couldn’t blame the kid for being angry with him; he’d failed her, and her brother, in a thousand ways.
Combine that with garden variety tween angst, and you had the formula for a seriously broken relationship. And Cavan, as receptive as he was, probably had issues, too. He might be hiding a lot of anger and pain and, even worse, blaming himself for the way things had turned out.
The full realization of what he’d allowed to happen hit Liam like a runaway freight train. He had to clear his throat, again and again, throughout the exchange.
He’d connected with Cavan, albeit tentatively, and that was good, but Keely stayed behind that invisible force field she’d erected soon after Waverly’s passing.
She’d been eight then. Far too grown-up for her age.
Once a bona fide daddy’s girl, she’d begun to retreat from Liam almost immediately after Waverly’s funeral service. And while they’d all had counseling, Keely had continued to back away, turning to her grieving grandparents for comfort, for affection and guidance, for everything.
He’d allowed that, unwilling to sunder the ever-deepening bond between his daughter and her mother’s parents.
Frank and Marie—especially Marie—suffering through a horrendous loss themselves, had clung to the children, in their turn, and encouraged their dependence on them.
It hadn’t helped that, in their view, Liam had divorced Waverly just before she got sick, and before that, in their view, kept her from achieving her lofty goals. Without him, they firmly believed, she wouldn’t have ruined her otherwise perfect body by bearing two children. She’d have been a movie star, or a world-class supermodel, if only she’d never crossed paths with Liam McKettrick.
Waverly might not have died so young, and so beautiful, in the very prime of her life, if it hadn’t been for her husband.
Over time, they’d sold Keely on this same viewpoint—Cavan had been too young back then to understand anything beyond the fact that his mother was gone and his Gampie and Gambie, as he called Frank and Marie, were always around, while his father was usually away somewhere, working.
When Keely finally spoke, it was at Courtney’s quiet urging, from somewhere in the background.
“I’m not staying with you,” she told Liam, her lower lip jutting out just a bit, and her blue, blue eyes narrowed. “This is just a visit.”
Liam suppressed a sigh. “Let’s talk about that in person, after you get here,” he suggested. He was planning to arrange for all three of them to start family therapy right away, but he wasn’t about to say so at this volatile juncture.
“ I want to stay with you!” Cavan blurted out, with all the unbridled enthusiasm of a seven-year-old who wants a dad more than anything.
A pang of sorrow struck Liam.
This child needed him.
Why hadn’t he registered that?
Well, actually, there was a reason, one he’d never shared with anyone besides Waverly, but that reason didn’t matter much in the face of a seven-year-old’s loneliness and longing to be raised by his remaining parent, instead of shunted off to his grandparents’ place, with all its drama and, yes, its toxicity.
After all, Waverly hadn’t turned out the way she had by accident.
Frank and Marie had favored her over her sister, encouraged her off-the-wall antics, made excuses and bailed her out of trouble time and time again, thus keeping her from learning to take responsibility for her own actions. They’d been afraid of her, though they wouldn’t have admitted that for anything.
Waverly hadn’t just gotten angry once in a while, like a regular person. No, sir. When things didn’t go her way, Waverly had raged, screamed, stomped and thrown things, even physically attacked anyone who dared disagree with her.
Liam had been on the receiving end of his late wife’s out-of-control tantrums more than once, and he had a few physical and emotional scars to show for it.
He’d stopped loving Waverly only a few months after Keely was born, a year after they’d gotten married, but he hadn’t dared divorce her and move out, not then. He’d have had fifty-fifty custody, at best, and that meant that half the time, his daughter would be at her mother’s mercy.
So he’d stayed, and things had gotten worse.
And then worse yet.
A little over a year later, Cavan had come along, unexpected, unwanted by his mother, and completely innocent. Like his sister, he would be utterly defenseless fifty percent of the time if Liam left, and that was unthinkable.
So they’d all lived in their own little corner of hell, until a few months before Waverly’s diagnosis, when she’d decided she wanted her freedom, taken the kids and moved in with her parents, up in Seattle.
Obviously, the situation hadn’t been ideal, but as it turned out, there wasn’t much Liam could do about it, besides lease an apartment in the same city, keep building his career as an architect and spend his allotted time with his children.
At least with Frank and Marie around, the kids weren’t abused, and Liam had to give them credit for that much. After being doormats for so many years, Waverly’s parents had stepped up, as best they could, and protected Keely and Cavan from their mother’s Category 5 tirades.
Liam had spent as much time with his children as he was permitted to, often taking them home to the McKettrick ranch to spend time with their other set of grandparents and their uncles, all the while hoping that the innate sanity of that life would influence them in positive ways.
Now he knew for sure none of that had been enough. At some point, he’d checked out. Dropped the familial ball.
Yep, Rhett had been all too right during their earlier call. Liam had had his head up his rear end for far too long, and now it was time to do things the McKettrick way.
Hands-on, toe-to-toe and for real.
“Bring jeans and boots,” Liam said, realizing he’d let the conversation lapse while he drifted through the past. “We’ll be doing some riding.”
Cavan cheered and bounced up and down in the chair he was wedged into, beside his still-disdainful sister.
Keely looked sour as all get-out, but she couldn’t quite hide the faint flutter of interest that showed in her eyes.
Back in the day, on visits to the family ranch in California, Liam had taken her for horseback rides, with her perched in front of him in the saddle, laughing and clinging to the saddle horn with small, chubby hands.
Cutting brush , Liam had called it. Cowboy vernacular for rounding up stray cattle.
Keely would never be that little girl again, it went without saying, but maybe some of that trusting, innocent delight could be recovered.
“You have horses,” she said, sounding comically doubtful.
Liam almost laughed. “You know I do,” he said, when he could keep a relatively straight face. “You’ve been here a couple of times, kiddo, and you can’t have forgotten that.”
Her mouth moved, as though she were trying not to smile. “I thought those were Uncle Jesse’s horses,” she said. “Not yours.”
“A couple of them were his,” Liam allowed, “but I have several of my own.”
“You still have Max the pony, right?” Cavan asked, looking worried.
“He’s right here waiting for you to saddle him up, cowboy,” Liam answered, having had to clear his throat again. “He belongs to you and Keely, and this is his forever home.”
Yours, too , he added silently. Like it or not.
Keely was working hard at looking disinterested. “I’m too old for a pony,” she said, with a little sniff. “If I’m going to ride, I want an adult horse.”
“We’ll see,” Liam replied. Until he assessed Keely’s riding skills, he wasn’t going to let her mount just any horse and head for the hills.
“I hate it when you say ‘we’ll see,’” she told him loftily. “Like you’re the boss of me or something.”
Of all the phrases he might have used, Keely’s mom had hated “we’ll see” as well, though not as much as “absolutely not.”
“I’m your father,” Liam pointed out. “For all practical intents and purposes, I am your boss.”
She bristled at this, as he’d known she would, but what she said next surprised him plenty. “Gambie says you’re just a sperm donor, not a father.”
Damn. Another punch in the gut.
Had he been too quick to claim his parental authority, reminding her that he was in charge?
No, he decided. His daughter needed his love and understanding, of course she did. But she also needed to learn at least a modicum of respect for other people.
“Keely!” Courtney interrupted from off camera. “That was rude!”
“ And it was mean !” Cavan blustered.
Keely didn’t back down, nor did she apologize. She bolted.
Liam sighed for the fiftieth time that morning. “That went well,” he said as Courtney dropped into the chair, shifting Cavan onto her lap in the process.
“I warned you,” Courtney said, not unkindly.
Tears welled in Cavan’s eyes. “Does this mean we don’t get to come home, Dad?” he asked. “Because Keely’s being a poop head?”
“It doesn’t mean any such thing,” Liam told his worried son. “I can’t wait to see you again, buddy. And don’t call your sister a poop head, please.”
“Not even if she is one?” Cavan protested.
It was hard to refute the kid’s logic, under the circumstances, so Liam let the question go unanswered and addressed Courtney, a softer, kinder and less glaringly beautiful version of her lost sister.
“Since you’re visiting the set anyhow, I’ll meet you there when the time comes and pick up the kids. Maybe we can all have lunch or dinner together, if you can spare the time.”
“I’m booked for both,” Courtney said, “but I’ll be around for a few days. Mind if I stay in that fancy guest house of yours instead of getting a hotel room?”
“You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like.”
“Lunch is ready!” a female voice called from somewhere behind Courtney.
At this, Cavan chirped, “Bye, Dad!”, jumped off Courtney’s lap, and ran out of the room.
Convenient, Liam thought.
“At some point, we need to have a serious talk,” he told Courtney. “I’m going to get Cavan, Keely and myself into family therapy ASAP, but in the meantime, I’ll need some pointers on dealing with my daughter. She clearly isn’t happy about coming here, or spending time with her—sperm donor.”
“I hear you,” Courtney replied, with a soft sigh of her own. “She’s not an easy kid, Liam, but she’s not a monster, either. She’s been through a lot, for a nine-year-old, and I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty. Cavan seems oblivious to criticism where you’re concerned, but Keely’s older, and Waverly and Mom have laid down some pretty nasty emotional infrastructure over the years. It’s going to take a real effort on your part to correct that, with or without therapy.”
“Yeah,” Liam agreed. “And then there’s the fact that their father essentially bailed on them, thus reinforcing everything Waverly and Marie may have said and done.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Liam,” Courtney said firmly, and with sisterly affection. “Waverly was my sister, and I guess I loved her, but she was absolutely poisonous, even as a child. Almost certainly suffering from borderline personality disorder, though there was never an official diagnosis. I think Mom and Dad bought into her version of things mostly because they were afraid to rock the boat—it probably seemed a lot safer to give in and avoid the screeching.”
Liam knew it was time to end the conversation—he’d be able to talk to Courtney in person soon—but he had another question, and it wasn’t about his kids.
“How was that for you, Courtney?” he asked. “Growing up with your sister and your parents up to their eyeballs in alligators, just trying to deal with Waverly?”
Briefly, Courtney’s pale green eyes glistened. “It was—interesting. To say the least. But I made up my mind not to feel sorry for myself a long, long time ago. I have Stan, the world’s best husband, my friends, my career, and my niece and nephew. Someday, I might even have kids of my own—I certainly haven’t ruled that out. I can’t complain.”
If anybody had a right to feel sorry for themselves, Courtney did.
She’d had to take so much abuse from Waverly.
Liam admired her tremendously, especially in that moment, for deciding not to waste time fretting over a past that couldn’t be changed.
He could learn a thing or two from this woman.
“It’ll be good to see you again, Court,” Liam said. “Is Stan joining you on this trip?”
“No,” Courtney answered. “He’s busy. Big international case outside the country. He’ll be away for a couple of months, unfortunately.”
“Well,” Liam replied, “next time you speak to him, tell him hey from me.”
“Will do,” Courtney promised, smiling now.
After that, they said their goodbyes and ended the call.
Liam’s monitor screen faded to black.
And it was a struggle not to let his mood do the same.