Chapter 13
13
“I hate you!” Keely screamed, from somewhere out of Liam’s sight.
Liam, seated at the table in his big, sunny kitchen, with its state-of-the-art, top-of-the-line appliances and long wooden table, rolled his eyes and rose from his chair.
Courtney, seated to his left, hands encircling a cup of hot coffee, gave him a sympathetic look. “Be careful, Liam,” she advised gently. “This is all new to the kids, and as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Keely isn’t adjusting as well as Cavan is.”
No shit, Sherlock , Liam thought, though he kept the remark to himself.
None of this was Courtney’s fault, nor was it her responsibility.
That fell squarely on him , one hundred percent.
As he strode through the house, he wondered why the hell he’d made the place so big.
What had he been trying to prove? That he was successful?
Well, yeah, he was successful. Sort of.
He had a flare for making and managing money.
Whoop-de-freaking-do.
None of that mattered, since he had nothing to prove.
What did matter? He sucked as a father, that was what, and maybe as a human being.
He found the kids in the media room—an effing media room— what had he been thinking?
Keely, clad in turquoise shorts and a matching tank top, stood on the leather couch, gripping the controller for the Xbox, hopping from one bare foot to the other and shooting poison out of both eyes.
Cavan stood his ground, glaring back at her. “I hate you, too!” he said, just before both of them spotted Liam.
“Keely,” he said, in the most even and reasonable tone he could manage, “get down from there. Now.”
She hesitated, defiance in miniature, then leaped off the couch.
“Give me the controller,” Liam said.
Keely held the plastic device close against her middle for a long moment, then extended it, grudgingly.
He took it from her, set it on a high shelf, well out of the kids’ reach.
Unless, of course, one or both of them climbed the bookcase to retrieve it.
Liam made a mental note to make sure the thing was bolted to the wall.
“It was my turn ,” Cavan complained. “I said so, and Keely said I was stupid and I said she was mean, and then she said she hates me, so I said it back.”
Liam sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again. “‘Hate’ isn’t a word you can throw around just because you’re angry,” he said. “It’s ugly and it’s poisonous.”
Cavan’s dark eyes widened, and Liam felt a stab of sorrow over the one thing he never wanted to say to this child, but had to, someday soon.
“How can a word be poison?” the boy asked.
Keely folded her arms and looked upward, as though praying for peace.
Yeah, right.
“Words have power,” Liam tried to explain, already knowing he was probably missing the mark. “They can hurt people, do real damage that lasts a long time—maybe forever—or they can make things better.”
“Can I have my turn now?” Cavan asked, rather meekly.
Clearly, he didn’t understand the morality speech Liam had just offered, and there was no surprise in that, was there?
The kid was only seven.
“No,” Liam answered. “For today, it’s game over. For both of you.”
He picked up the remote from the coffee table and shut off the massive TV he’d thought was such a good idea when he’d bought it at Costco, while the house was still under construction. Back then, he’d naively pictured himself watching wholesome movies with his kids on that enormous screen, and thrown in the Xbox and a few game cartridges because he’d imagined that, too. Playing happy video games, all of them together.
So far, family time bore no resemblance to his preconceived scenario.
Keely and Cavan had been there, on the ranch, for four days.
When she wasn’t making trouble, Keely stayed mostly in her bedroom.
Like the TV, and the size of the house in general, the kids’ bedrooms were a study in conspicuous consumption—for Keely, there was a canopy bed with matching nightstands and chests of drawers, a desk, built-in bookshelves, and a closet almost as big as the bedroom itself.
The space had track lighting, nooks for shoes and girly stuff.
And, of course, there was an adjoining bathroom, just for her.
Liam had figured it would cut down on drama once she hit her teens—thank God it would be a while before that happened—and started spending every free moment messing with her hair and putting on makeup.
Cavan’s room was the same size as his sister’s, masculine in design, with a much smaller closet and a much less elaborate bathroom, but it was still over-the-top fancy, a rich kid’s room, with a race car bed as its focal point.
Silently, Liam chided himself for a being a sap.
Spoiling these kids was one of the worst things he could do. He didn’t want to screw up their values, make them think the world owed them a living, turn them into self-centered, vapid nobodies with unrealistic expectations of everybody and everything.
His own parents were wealthy, but they hadn’t raised their sons in luxury, hadn’t spoiled them.
They’d had horses, he and his brothers, admittedly a luxury for a lot of kids, but the animals weren’t playthings, they were living, sentient beings, to be properly trained and treated with respect and kindness. Like their riders, those horses worked, running fence lines, rounding up strays, hauling cows out of mud holes and from between the slats of cattle guards.
Liam, Jesse and Rhett had had their own rooms, good clothes, not necessarily expensive and definitely not designer. They’d attended public school, done chores every day, played sports, and when they were old enough, the chores got more intense, so they were paid for bucking bales, chopping wood, shoeing horses and driving cattle from one grazing area to another.
With their modest wages, they’d bought used cars, paid for gas and maintenance and insurance out of their own pockets.
Yes, they’d had hefty trust funds, all three of them, but they hadn’t been able to access them until they had (1) graduated from college and (2) reached the hopefully sensible age of thirty.
Liam still hadn’t touched his, and he doubted his brothers had, either.
In other words, it was okay to be rich, but it didn’t give you added value as a person, or entitle you to any kind of special treatment.
How, then, had he gotten so far off track with his own kids?
Liam sighed again, shoved one hand through his hair, and sent the kids to their rooms to think about all the bad things hatred could make a person do.
When he returned to the kitchen, where he and Courtney had been discussing the logistics of filming a movie in Bitter Gulch, she’d gathered up her purse and gone to the back door, which led out onto a large, sheltered patio.
Just beyond its edge, there was a swimming pool, empty as yet, because Liam had been too busy of late to think about filling it.
“I’ve got some emails to answer,” she said quietly. Then, a pause. “You okay, Liam?”
Courtney had been staying in the guest cottage, and she was headed there now.
She’d been a big help with the kids, but she’d wrapped up her meetings, and now she was ready to head back to LA.
Liam gripped the back of a kitchen chair and lowered his head for a moment, breathing deeply and slowly.
“No,” he answered finally. “I’ve totally screwed up this father thing, and we’re only a few days in.”
Courtney smiled gently. “You haven’t screwed up, Liam. And you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re a good man, and that means you’ll be a good father. Maybe even a great one, if you take after your dad.”
Liam shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.
His father was a hard act to follow.
“Yes, you do,” Courtney countered. “Stop tying yourself up in knots. Easy does it, remember?”
“I’m worried about Keely,” he confessed, keeping his voice low, even though her room was a half-day’s hike from the kitchen. “She reminds me a little too much of her mother sometimes.”
Courtney made a scoffing sound, though kindly. “Trust me, Liam, Keely is not like Waverly, not in the way you mean. I was there , remember? I grew up with Waverly, and I took the brunt of my sister’s temper enough times to know there is no comparison between her and Keely.”
“What was the matter with Waverly?” Liam asked, of himself as much as Courtney. “She was so beautiful and yet—”
“She was damaged, Liam. I don’t know what broke her, but something did, and it must have happened pretty early on, because I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t a sworn narcissist, and damn proud of it.”
“Didn’t your parents ever talk about Waverly’s—problems?”
“Sometimes, in hushed whispers. But if they know what turned her into what she was, they haven’t confided in me. Waverly was the golden child, remember, and they never held her accountable for anything she did. They seemed to believe that she needed to be protected from the big, bad grouchy world, even if that meant throwing their younger daughter—me—under the bus.”
Liam forgot his own concerns for the moment, and it was a relief. “It must have been so hard for you. I can’t imagine what that would be like, living that way.”
Courtney’s smile was sad, and she adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag, maybe out of reflex or simple habit, her free hand still resting on the door latch. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Liam,” she said softly. “I couldn’t bear that.”
“I don’t,” he said gruffly.
“Good,” she said. She worked the latch, pulled the door open. A cool breeze seeped into the room. “Keely will be fine, if you stand your ground and let her know your love is stable, that you’re in this for the long haul. She never had that with Waverly, or with my parents. My theory is, she’s testing the boundaries, trying to see what you’ll let her get away with, or if you’ll just throw up your hands, call it quits and send her back to Seattle.”
“I would never do that.”
“I know, Liam. But Keely doesn’t. Sure, you’re the man who visited, the man who took her and her brother places, taught her to tie her shoes and say her alphabet and count to a hundred. But you’re also the man who wasn’t around all that often when Waverly was being—well— Waverly . If you prove to Keely that you won’t leave her, that you’ll be there when she needs you, she’ll come around. She wants to love you, Liam, but she needs to know it’s safe to do so.”
“Court?” Liam straightened his back, released his white-knuckle grip on the chair back.
“What?”
“Thanks.”
She grinned, waggled her fingers in farewell. “See you later, cowboy. Gotta get those emails out of the way, and then I might just haul off and take a nap.”
“Madison’s coming tomorrow,” he reminded her in parting. He’d been looking forward to seeing Madison again, taking her horseback riding, grilling burgers for her out on the patio.
Maybe he’d stick a hose in the pool.
“I know,” Courtney said. “I like her a lot.”
“You’ll be here, right?”
Courtney was outside now, standing on the doormat, watching Liam with amusement in her eyes. “No, Liam,” she informed him, “I will not. I’d be a third wheel, and you know it.”
Liam opened his mouth, but Courtney cut him off before he could say anything.
“It will be you and Madison and the kids. They need to get to know her, and she needs to get to know them. Don’t complicate matters by adding to the guest list, okay? Not at this point, anyway.”
With that, Courtney closed the door and left.
Liam rubbed the back of his neck.
He went to the other side of the house, stood between his children’s closed bedroom doors—they were directly across from each other—and just listened.
He didn’t know what he’d expected to hear—crying maybe. Or one of them talking on their cell phone, begging Gambie to come and rescue them from a fate worse than death. As in, living with their father.
But there was nothing.
He rapped lightly on Cavan’s door and, getting no answer, quietly opened it.
The kid was sprawled on his stomach, arms out wide, in the middle of his race car bed, sound asleep.
It looked as though he’d been circling the room like an airplane and come in for a crash landing.
Liam smiled, closed the door again and crossed to Keely’s side. Knocked softly.
“Come in,” Keely said. She sounded almost meek, not testy like before.
Liam opened the door and stood on the threshold, wishing for wisdom, knowing he lacked it sorely. “You’re doing okay?” he asked.
Her eyes searched his face, and he felt a crack zigzag its way down the center of his heart.
If he couldn’t reach this child, it would be the biggest failure of his life.
“I guess,” she said, and bit her lower lip.
“Know what?”
“What?”
“I love you, Keely. And no matter what you do or say, I’m never, ever going to give up on you.”
She studied him for several long, silent moments, her head tilted a little to one side, her expression thoughtful. Wary.
When she spoke at last, it was as though she’d hurled a live grenade at his middle. “Mom said you don’t love us. She said you didn’t want her, and you didn’t want Cavan and me, either, so you divorced everybody .”
Liam nearly doubled over at that, but he managed to keep his spine straight and then to sit down on the edge of his daughter’s bed.
He wanted to stroke her hair, or cup her chin, or simply take her hand, but he didn’t dare do any of those things, because this was a very shaky bridge they were standing upon. One wrong move, one wrong word , could send them both hurtling into heartbreak—the kind that lasted a lifetime.
“Listen, sweetheart,” Liam began carefully. “Your mother and I had a lot of problems. Some of them were my fault, and some of them were hers. The rest could be blamed on both of us. When your mom told you I didn’t love you and Cavan, she was probably angry with me. She knew it wasn’t true, but maybe, for some reason we don’t understand, she just had to say it.”
Hope flashed in Keely’s eyes, just for the briefest moment, and then receded.
“You’re going to have to prove you love us,” she said, sounding, as she often did, like a grown woman only pretending to be a kid. “Cavan will believe it. It’s easy to make him believe things. But I’m not a little kid. And I’m not stupid. I’m going to know if you mean what you say, or if you’re just trying to smooth things over.”
Liam was, in that moment, at a complete loss for words.
Keely raised both eyebrows. She didn’t speak, either, but the look in her eyes said, Cat got your tongue?
But, wait. That was Waverly talking, whispering from the back forty of his brain, not Keely.
“Give me a chance, Keely,” he said quietly, glad they had a family therapy session, their first, scheduled for Monday afternoon. “Will you do that?”
Automatically, he braced for a smirk, and had to remind himself all over again that he wasn’t dealing with Waverly, but with his daughter, an innocent nine-year-old with reason to question his commitment as a father.
Yes, he’d done his level best to spend as much time as he could with his children over the past few years, as much time as he’d been allowed to, but that hadn’t been enough.
To them, he was essentially a Disney dad.
It was discouraging.
He should have fought harder. A lot harder.
He came from a long line of honorable, if somewhat rowdy, men and women who didn’t turn and run at the first sign of trouble.
Nope. The tougher things got, the deeper they dug their heels into the ground.
So why had he let himself be hornswoggled—by Waverly, by her parents, by Keely herself?
While Liam was thinking all these thoughts, Keely had been watching him. Maybe even considering what he’d said before.
It was probably a stretch to believe she’d actually listened .
“I don’t want to stay here,” she said, striking a second, harder blow, though Liam didn’t allow himself a visible reaction. “I want to go back to Seattle. My friends are there. Gambie was going to sign me up with a talent agency.”
“Your grandmother is too sick to look after you, Keely. You can stay in touch with your friends easily enough, too—” he paused, indicated her phone, which she was holding like a tiny shield “—via the miracle of technology. And you’ll make lots of new friends here.”
“I don’t care about any of that.”
“Well, darlin’,” Liam said, “that’s too bad. Because you’re staying here, with Cavan and me. This is your home, from now on.”
“I hate it here,” Keely replied.
Liam gave a raspy sigh, searched the ceiling for a long moment, then met the challenge in his daughter’s eyes, and just like that, he was back in full McKettrick mode.
Finally.
“I guess that’s another thing that’s too bad,” he said, standing now, ready to leave. “You may have run the show in Seattle, kiddo, but that’s not going to be the case here. You’re a kid. I’m an adult. You’re my daughter, but I’m your father, and that means I call the shots.”
Keely’s lower lip jutted out. “I can make a lot of trouble if I need to,” she threatened.
“Not as much as I can,” Liam replied, and he wasn’t bluffing.
She reddened.
“I know stuff,” she said.
Liam didn’t fold, which seemed to surprise her a little. Throw her off her game just a bit.
“So do I,” he countered.
“Like what?”
Like that I’m not going to let you behave the way your mother did.
“Like, you’re playing in a whole new ball game, kid, and you seem determined to learn the rules the hard way.”
“ What rules?”
“For one, you’re going to stop swinging the word ‘hate’ around like a light saber.”
“If I don’t?”
One. Two. Three...
“You’ll be sorry,” Liam responded, after he’d counted all the way to ten in his mind. Before she could ask how, in that snippy tone she so favored, he went on. “You’ll be sorry,” he repeated, “because you’ll be mucking out stalls with a pitchfork, and your phone, iPad and access to my computer will be cut off—for a full week every time I hear that word come out of your mouth. Of course, the TV will be off-limits, too. And the Xbox.”
Keely rolled her eyes, but she shrank back a little, too, no longer so confident that she could bulldoze her way through to victory.
“Why are you so against one stupid word ?” she asked.
“I told you before, it’s poisonous. Hate isn’t just a word, Keely, it’s an energy , one that can do a lot of damage. Irreparable damage, sometimes.”
“You hated Mom. She said so.”
“I loved her.” Once. When I thought she was another person entirely.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then you’re not as smart as you think you are. I never hated your mother or anybody else. I didn’t necessarily like her much, a lot of the time. That much is true.”
“How can you say you didn’t hate her, if you didn’t like her?”
All in all, it was a reasonable question, coming from a troubled child facing big changes in her life.
He drew a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. “It’s possible to love someone, Keely, and really dislike the things they do and say.”
“Is that the way you love me?”
“No,” Liam answered, and he meant it. “You’re my daughter and I’ll love you forever, whether you like it or not. When it comes to your behavior, on the other hand, I haven’t been crazy about that. And furthermore, I’m not going to tolerate it, so you might want to rethink your action plan.”
Tears welled in Keely’s eyes, and Liam wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her close, but he didn’t.
He’d drawn an important line in the sand, and he didn’t want to minimize that.
“Just go away,” she said, rolling onto her stomach and burying her face in her pillows, her small shoulder blades jutting out like a fledgling’s wings as she cried.
Liam’s throat constricted, and the backs of his eyes burned.
He took his battered heart and quietly left the room.
Outside, on the patio, he hooked up a hose, hung it over the side of the large, empty swimming pool, and then went back to turn on the water.
It would probably take a full twenty-four hours to fill the thing, but maybe by tomorrow afternoon, when the horseback rides were over, they could swim.
Heartened by the prospect of seeing Madison Bettencourt in swimwear, he swung a leg over one of the benches lining the picnic table and took out his phone to text her.
Bring a swimsuit tomorrow , he wrote, using the sides of his thumbs.
Her response didn’t take long. Okay. What else?
Just yourself.
Seriously, Liam. How about a green salad? Or some kind of dessert?
Sounds good . McKettrick , he thought, you are a wiz with words.
What do the kids like?
Cavan likes anything. Keely doesn’t.
Madison’s answer was a laugh emoji. Sounds ominous. I take it the parenting is as tough as you expected it to be?
Tougher , Liam confirmed. He needed to change the subject, since he hadn’t reached out to Madison to whine about his problems. What have you been up to? It’s been a few days since we’ve spoken .
I’ve been playing Nancy Drew. And visiting Coralee, of course. Before you ask, she’s no better.
I’m sorry to hear that. What’s this about playing Nancy Drew?
Just something I’m curious about, really. I’ll tell you about it in person, when the time is right.
Fair enough . He wasn’t ready to let her go. Their contact, tenuous as it was, was a lifeline. It was keeping him afloat. What else have you been doing?
Tackling the weeds in the family cemetery. Haven’t gotten past doing the outside edges, though. And I’ve hired someone to scan some old journals I found in the secret room.
The secret room. I haven’t told anybody about it, by the way . Liam added a smile emoji of his own, one wearing a cowboy hat.
Thank you. Telling would defeat the purpose, obviously.
If you need help cleaning up the cemetery, I’ll be glad to pitch in. Anything to be near her, to look into her eyes, to hear her laugh.
Seems to me you have enough on your plate without hacking away at weeds and thistle bushes in the hot sun.
There’s a method to my madness. I’ve been threatening my daughter with chores, and given her reaction, I might have to prove I’m serious. And prove I love her, despite what her mother and grandparents have told her about me.
We’ll see. I don’t want Keely to associate me with punishment, even indirectly.
It’s okay, Madison. I’m the one she’s going to be mad at. Make that, I’m the one she IS mad at.
She’ll come around, Liam. Not that I have any business commenting.
Behind Liam, the patio door slid open.
“Dad?” It was Cavan. Keely hadn’t called him that since she was about four years old, and back then, it had been Daddy, not Dad.
He grieved that time, when his daughter had loved and trusted him.
Better go , Liam thumbed. Duty calls.
See you tomorrow. And I am bringing a salad. Maybe a pie, too. Shall I raid the wine cellar as well?
I’ve got that covered. The wine I mean.
Later, then.
Inwardly, Liam marveled at how much better he felt, even though the text exchange had been pretty low-key.
There was a whole lot more he wanted to say, but he was bound and determined to do things right with Madison. No sense in getting all riled up and blowing his chances with her.
Later , he confirmed, and set his phone aside.
“What’s up, buckaroo?” he asked, watching Cavan.
“Can we go riding again?” The boy sounded shy, braced for a no. “Just you and me?”
Liam patted the bench beside him, indicating that Cavan take a seat. “Suppose we just talk for a while?”
“Okay,” Cavan replied, but he didn’t sound all that enthusiastic.
Liam grinned, ruffled the kid’s hair. He looked more like his mother than ever, but he was his own person, even at seven.
Most likely, Keely was her own person, too. He needed to be careful not to think of her as a clone of Waverly; that was unfair.
Sure, the kid was snarky, but she was undergoing some major transitions, and being snarky went with the territory.
She’d been through a lot, and so had Cavan.
If he had to remind himself of that every five minutes, he would.
“Keely said you don’t want us,” Cavan confided, looking as though he might cry.
Liam sure wanted to right about then.
He wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders and held him close against his side for a few moments. “Keely’s upset. She misses her friends. But she’s dead wrong about me not wanting you, son. I love you both, with all my heart, and that’s not going to change.”
Cavan cheered up a little. Even managed a crooked grin. “I guess I miss my friends, too,” he confided. “But I missed you a lot more, Dad.”
Liam had to look away for a few moments. Blink his eyes.
“No more than I missed you, buddy.” The words came out sounding like they’d been coated in gravel, with a few rusty nails in the mix.
Cavan’s small, freckled forehead crinkled. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
Liam cleared his throat. Tried to brighten up a little. “For what?”
“All those times you wanted us to come live with you, and I said no. It was because Gambie and Keely said I’d be sorry if I left them, because you were always working and I’d be alone all the time.”
“Your mom was gone,” Liam said gently, “and you were used to living with your grandparents. It would have been hard to be away from your sister, too.” Again, he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Everything’s going to be all right, buddy. So stop worrying, okay?”
“Okay,” Cavan replied agreeably.
The kid was so positive. The world’s one and only seven-year-old motivational speaker.
“Know what?” Liam asked.
Cavan grinned. It was a silly game, but it was theirs. “What?”
“Chicken butt,” Liam answered.
And the sound of the kid’s laughter was like a medicine, soothing Liam’s troubled heart.