The Bargain (13 page)

Dismay flickered over Drew’s face, and Shannon realized her words only further convinced him she was under Michael’s spell. “See? He’s got your head turned around already. He’s the misunderstood and long-suffering bad boy, and you’re the only one who ‘gets’ him. Please don’t fall for it, Shannon.”

She sighed, feeling an unexpected wave of frustration toward him. It made her tongue a little looser than usual. “I’m not falling for anything. The truth is — ” She hesitated, debating how much of the truth to reveal to him now. He was too convinced his brother was bad news to keep an open mind about anything that had to do with Michael, and that included the youth center. “Well, the truth is, we’ve mostly just been talking. You know, about old times. Family, high school, things like that.”

“Old times.” Drew sounded skeptical.

“Yes. Maybe you should try talking to him. See for yourself if anything’s changed.”

“Michael and I have nothing to talk about.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

It was now or never. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “How about your parents?”

He stiffened, and she knew she was treading on dangerous ground here. But if she hesitated, she would never have the guts to get the rest of the words out. She told herself it was in his best interest to hear her out, but the truth was that it was Michael she thought of when she spoke.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business. But I also know it’s something Michael’s been thinking about, and I thought maybe it was on your mind, too. Especially after the way you seemed to be having second thoughts last week about the youth center.” She was prattling on, but she couldn’t help herself. “Maybe it would help you both to talk about it.”

Drew sat silently, his face a mask.

Shannon’s pulse went faster the longer he sat without saying anything, and finally she started to push her chair back from the table, feeling sick to her stomach. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should go.”

“No.” Drew closed his eyes and rested his forehead in one hand, his elbow resting heavily on the table. “Stay, please.”

“I think maybe I said too much.”

“No, it’s just … ” He sighed. “Look, I appreciate that you were concerned for me. Truthfully, yes, I did have second thoughts. And third and fourth ones. I grew up in that house, and I have a lot of fond memories of it. The thing is, I don’t want it to become some sort of mausoleum for my parents. And I don’t think they would want that either. Instead, it’s going to be a place full of opportunities for kids who really need them. My parents would like that. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” she agreed softly.

“So, no, I’m not having any more second thoughts. My mind is made up. And as far as Michael goes … ”

She glanced up at him.

“Maybe he’s grown a conscience, but I seriously doubt it. And you know what? I’m really not interested in finding out either way. You say he’s been thinking about our parents, feeling guilty maybe? Good. He should feel guilty. Ask him about the things he said before he left next time he asks for your sympathy.”

The bitterness in his voice caught her off guard, but not so much that she missed his assumption about his brother. She felt a flicker of defensiveness. “He hasn’t been asking for sympathy.”

Drew leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Right.”

There had been many times in the past when she admired his refusal to compromise on an issue or back down from the stance he had taken. It made him the kind of politician whose promises most people felt they could trust. For the first time, though, it occurred to her that he might be overly stubborn. At least when it came to his brother. “Whatever happened, it happened a long time ago. He was a teenager, right? Teenagers do stupid things all the time. Maybe he’s done a lot of growing up since then.”

“Not my concern. He’s none of my business anymore, and I’m none of his.”

She leaned forward. “But he’s your
brother
— ”

The waiter arrived then to cheerfully deliver their meals, and Shannon stopped speaking. She glanced down at the bowl of soup he slid in front of her. It was not minestrone, but for a moment her memory flashed to the day she dumped her soup on Michael’s lap. Then she thought back to the night before and the camaraderie with Michael, and she realized she would be enjoying herself a lot more if he were the one sitting across the table from her, not Drew. The realization hit her with no small amount of surprise.

“The fact he’s my brother only means we share the same name, as far as I’m concerned,” Drew said tightly after the waiter left.

“What about blood being thicker than water?”

“Those are just words. They may look good in needlepoint, but they don’t really mean anything.”

Shannon stared at Drew. “Maybe they should.”

“You think I’m being unfair.” It was a statement, not a question.

She turned her eyes to her soup, feeling her cheeks flush. This was
so
not the way she imagined this week going when it first started. How had everything gotten so off track? “I just think it’s a shame,” she said finally, feeling suddenly depressed. “For both of your sakes.”

Drew leaned in across the table, his expression earnest. “Shannon, you’re a good-hearted person and you really believe what you’re saying about Michael. You want to see something good in him, and that’s admirable. But please — would you, for your own sake, think twice before seeing him again?”

Shannon looked up from her meal to meet his gaze. It was so easy to build up an image of someone, good or bad, and forget there was more to them than that. Drew was guilty of doing that with Michael, but she realized with a surprised sort of dismay that she was guilty of doing that with Drew, too. People were more complicated than that. Drew was a good man, but he wasn’t the boy she remembered from high school, not really. And she wasn’t the same person either.

She picked up her spoon and gave him a rueful little smile. “No,” she said softly and began eating.

• • •

Michael sat at the coffee shop counter and rubbed a hand over tired eyes. He’d spent far more time lying awake last night than sleeping. Not because of Drew, and not because of the youth center, but because of Shannon’s parting words to him. Coming from most people, they would have been easy enough to dismiss as politeness or even flattery, but he could tell she meant them and somehow that had been enough to keep him awake hours later.

He drained his second cup of coffee, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Sure, she meant what she said, but one thing he had learned about Shannon Mahoney was that, despite her sarcasm, she was very innocent in some ways. The truth was she hadn’t known him very long, and she couldn’t know him very well. Her words to him were sincerely meant but naïve. He wanted to believe them but knew better.

The waitress paused between customers to refill his cup. He picked it up and wondered what it would be like if things were different. If
he
was different.

And he wondered what Shannon was doing now.

He was still thinking about her when he left the coffee shop and returned to his motel room, and when he finally forced his thoughts away from her, they settled on another subject that was just as troubling. Namely, how his chances of getting Drew to listen to him had taken a nosedive since his brother had seen him kissing Shannon. He had blown any chance he might have had with Drew, and if Shannon wasn’t able to get through to him, then …

Michael felt a pang. Then he would have failed his parents one last time.

He reached into his wallet for his parents’ photograph and studied it as he sank back heavily onto the bed. The picture was well worn around the edges, and each time Michael pulled it out to look at it, he did so a little more carefully than the last time. They were a handsome couple, and the stately house behind them in the photograph was well suited to them in every way. There was pride in the way they carried themselves, a pride he had mistaken for haughtiness once. He had ridiculed it then with the disdain of a teenage boy convinced he had the world all figured out.

“Self-righteous little bastard, weren’t you?” Michael murmured to himself as he stared at the picture.

He hadn’t been back to the house since the day he left so many years ago. Pride kept him from returning at first, and then guilt after the funeral. Now that he was back in town, more than once he considered going by to see the old place, even if only from the road. Somehow it felt like he hadn’t earned that right yet.

There was a knock at his door, and he carefully tucked the picture back into his wallet, mindful of the worn edges.

“Just a minute,” he called out as he got up from the bed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair before answering the door.

Shannon stood in the hallway. Apparently after last night’s excitement she had abandoned the new clothes in favor of the comfortable familiarity of her old ones, because she was back in sensible slacks now. The hair that he had run through his fingers unbeknownst to her last night was pulled back in the confines of a ponytail. He was tempted to tug it free.

“Hi,” she said, and she gave him an uncertain smile. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside to let her pass, acutely aware of her proximity as she moved past him. “So did you get raked over the coals?”

“A little. Not too badly,” she admitted, sitting down in the chair. “You’re a bad seed, of course, and I’m a wide-eyed twit who doesn’t know what’s good for her, but other than that things went great.”

“Ah.” Michael sat down at the foot of the bed across from her.

They sat in awkward silence for a long moment, and Michael wondered if she was thinking about last night.
He
certainly was.

“So, Drew and I talked about you at lunch today,” Shannon said finally.

“I’ll bet that was an interesting conversation.”

“Your brother is very angry with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Michael … ”

He thought he knew what was coming. “Yes?”

“What happened between you and your parents?”

“What did Drew tell you?”

“That you said some things before you left home.”

“Yes, I did.” Michael got up from the bed and stood beside the window, looking out.

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask,” she said quietly from behind him.

“I think you’ve got a right to,” Michael told her flatly without turning around. “Considering how I asked you to plead my case for me.”

She was silent, not pushing him, for which he was grateful. Would she be so patient with him afterward, he wondered, or would she walk away? He was resigned to being on Drew’s blacklist, but he would be sorry to see the same thing happen with Shannon.

“My parents,” Michael said finally, “started grooming me as a little kid to take on the Kingston family mantle and everything that went with it. You know, I think I knew my entire family tree before I knew my ABCs. Tradition meant everything to them. You know about my father’s political career, right?”

“Sure. People said he could have been the next state senator if … ” She trailed off.

“If he had lived, you mean?”

She reddened. “Sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Yeah, my old man could have probably made it pretty far, and my parents expected the same from me. It was so important to them that I become the best of the best. They had my entire future mapped out for me — looking at colleges before I even started high school, planning a shining political career like my father’s. It scared the hell out of me.”

He returned to sit on the edge of the bed, but he avoided her eyes. “So what’s a kid to do in that situation? Either fall in line or rebel. I chose door number two, and, man, did I do it with style. I guess they hoped it was a phase I’d grow out of. I’d veer off the chosen path, and they’d do everything in their power to steer me back onto it. And the more they tried to rein me in, the harder I tried to break free.”

He could feel her eyes on him, but she said nothing.

“It started with just words, you know? Typical teenage rebellion. Refusals, defiance … I guess I thought they weren’t taking me seriously, though.” He ran a hand through his hair, self-conscious. “So I asked myself, what’s every politician’s weak spot? Reputation, right? Image. So I hit my dad where it hurt most, or at least that’s what I thought at the time. It’s hard to impress voters when you’ve got a juvenile delinquent for a son.”

“Juvenile delinquent?” Shannon repeated, confused. “I remember you cut a few classes, but — ”

“Oh, I did a lot more than that.” Michael smiled humorlessly. “You just never heard about it because Dad found a way to smooth things over every time and keep it out of the papers. A joyride in a ‘borrowed’ car, some vandalism — and each time I saw the hope in my parents’ eyes die a little more.”

“You weren’t the first kid in the world to get in that kind of trouble.”

“Doesn’t excuse it, though, does it? The thing is, I never really considered things from their point of view back then. All I saw was a couple of snobs who seemed to be all about superficial things like money, success … image. And I told them so the day I left home. I think my father was too sick of shouting matches to say anything back.” Michael stared unseeingly at the wall. “And my mother cried. The last time I ever saw her alive, she was crying.”

He stopped then because his voice had started to shake. That final image of his mother was burned into his brain, and he saw it most nights when he closed his eyes.

Shannon’s voice was soft. “You couldn’t have known that was the last time you’d see them.”

“No, of course not.” He laughed bitterly. “Because when you’re a kid, you’re too self-absorbed and stupid to think about things like that. Fact is, my parents died believing I despised them and everything that mattered to them.”

“Did you?”

“I thought I did. But I turned out to be a hypocrite.”

“What do you mean?”

“I resented them for not respecting what was important to me, but in the end, I guess that’s what I did to them, isn’t it? My parents were not bad people. Maybe they were a little shallow, maybe not. Maybe they had good reasons for valuing tradition and for expecting great things from their kids. It’s too late to ask them about it now, though. And if they had big dreams for me … well, I guess there are a lot worse things parents can do, aren’t there?”