Walker Pride (20 page)

“Tyson,” Lydia said to get the man’s attention. He raised his head and looked at her as if he hadn’t seen them. “Everything okay?”

The man, who had obviously been in some kind of fight, winced. “Don’t ask. Who’s she?”

Lydia narrowed her gaze on him. “This is Susan Hayes, the caterer.”

“Right. Nice to meet you.”

Lydia shook her head. “My brother Tyson,” she offered.

“Nice to meet you, Tyson.”

“Yeah.” He looked back at Lydia. “Where is Grandpa?”

“In the library. We’re headed in there now.”

“I’ll wait then.” He placed his hat back on his head.

Lydia touched his arm. “Something happened.”

“Six more cows,” he said gruffly and walked out of the house.

Lydia sighed. “Sorry about that.”

“Is everything okay?”

She smiled, but Susan could see the tension in it. “Things are a little tense out here right now. No worries. Right this way,” she said entering another room.

Susan looked around. This, in fact, was a library. She wasn’t sure she’d seen many bookstores with this many books in it.

“Grandpa, Ms. Hayes is here,” Lydia said softly to the man seated in the oversized leather chair.

He turned his head and locked his stare on her. She felt her heart stutter as he kept his gaze on her.

He stood and crossed to her. “You’re the caterer?”

“I am,” she said confidently holding her hand out to shake his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You come highly recommended.”

“I appreciate that. I’d love to know who…”

“Lydia, you two head to the office and finish your business. I’ll be at the barn.”

“Tyson is looking for you,” Lydia said softly.

“I thought he might be.”

Mr. Morgan left the room and Lydia seemed to deflate. “Follow me.”

Susan followed her further into the house to a large office. The walls were lined with bookshelves made of dark cherry, which matched the rest of the house.

“Please, have a seat. I’m sorry for the attitudes of all the men around here today,” Lydia said as she shut the thick door. “There is some transitioning going on and a lot of tension.” A crease formed between her brows. “I hope that doesn’t affect our business dealings. I would hate to have you go.”

“I’m fine,” Susan said smiling. “Believe it or not a lot of my work is performed in tense situations.”

“You did Mr. Walker’s funeral, correct?”

“I did.”

Lydia nodded. “That’s where I got my referral. I didn’t tell my grandfather that though. He and George Walker were not what I’d consider friends.”

“I see. Well, I work under a veil of confidentiality. I understand. Should we look at the menus I’ve designed for you?”

~*~

Eric had worked to be calm. Obviously the last time he’d ventured out to the Morgan’s house it hadn’t gone well. This time he was going to be ready to just speak to the man. No curses. No punches. No yelling—or so he told himself.

He kept the speed of the truck at fifty-five so as not to look like he was coming for a fight. He just wanted answers.

The ornate gate to the house glittered in the sun, which had finally come out and melted away the clouds. Eric clenched his jaw and drove through.

His father had seen to it that they were brought up to respect what they had and to work hard. You didn’t flaunt your wealth if you had it and you made sure enough went to charity. It was obvious, by the house before him, that his grandfather hadn’t felt the same way.

Eric slowed as he came to the drive that looped in front of the house and he slammed on his breaks when he saw the very familiar car in the drive.

“What in the hell?”

He put the truck in park and jumped out to look at the car parked in front of him. Every ounce of him hoped that there had been some mistake and everyone now had an old Subaru. No luck. There was no doubt at all that this was Susan’s car.

Eric snapped up his head and looked around. Where was she and what was she doing here?

“Did you come back here to have your teeth punched in?”

Eric turned to see his cousin coming toward him.

“I came here to speak to my grandfather.”

“Why the hell would he want to speak to you after you came accusing him last time? And now you stand accused.”

“Accused of what?” Eric’s temper didn’t hold.

“I lost six cows this morning. Poisoned.”

“And you think I had something to do with that?”

Tyson took a step closer to Eric. “Why wouldn’t I think that? You want revenge because you think I killed your cattle and your horses. I had nothing to do with that and you’re not going to get away with this.”

“I didn’t do anything. And why is she here?” He pointed to Susan’s car.

Tyson glanced at the car and then shifted his eyes to glare at Eric. A hint of a grin curled the corner of his lips.

“What would you care?”

“I asked you a question.”

“So you know Susan?”

Eric fisted his one good hand. “Why is she here?”

“Visiting. She’s quite stunning, isn’t she?”

As hard as he tried, Eric couldn’t push down the disdain for this man. “I came for some answers and I want them right now.”

“Answers for what? Why your girlfriend is at
my
house?”

That was it. Eric pulled back and took the first swing, but Tyson ducked and landed one right to Eric’s cheek.

“Is that all you got? Did your half-wit father teach you to only fight?”

Eric swung again, this time catching Tyson on the jaw.

“That’s quite enough.” Elias Morgan’s voice rang loudly from the front door.

Both men stopped mid-lunge at each other and stepped back.

Eric realized he didn’t have to stand there and wait until his grandfather offered punishment. He was much too old to be treated like a child. But something had him standing there wincing from the pain in his cheek and the sting to his knuckles.

Elias kept a steady eye on him. “Why don’t we go inside and have a cold glass of tea? I have a feeling you want to talk to me.”

Eric looked at Tyson, who was nursing his jaw.

“I have a few questions.”

“That’s fine, let’s go inside.” Elias Morgan led the way toward the front door.

“Why is Susan Hayes here?” The question seemed to have a mind of its own and blurted straight from his mouth.

His grandfather turned. “You know Ms. Hayes?”

As if he didn’t already know that. “Yes.”

“She’s a fine woman. She’s here on business. She won’t bother us.”

Bother us? Why would he think such a thing?

The fact that she was in that the house at all, consumed Eric with petty anger. There should be no reason Susan had anything to do with these people. What was she trying to do? What kind of business did she have with them?

His mind simply couldn’t shut down the thought that she had no idea who they were or what they’d done to him.

As he followed Elias through the house, he was aware of Tyson turning into another room. Was she in there? What did she have to do with Tyson?

Anger and jealousy seemed to pump as quickly through his veins as blood.

Elias led him into the kitchen. He pulled down two glasses from the cupboard and set them on the counter. “They say it’s bad for me, but I take my tea extra sweet. You okay with that?”

“I drink it that way as well.”

Elias grinned. “I assume you get that from your mother,” he said, opening the refrigerator and taking a pitcher out. He filled the two glasses, replaced the pitcher, and then handed a glass to Eric.

“I don’t remember her drinking tea,” Eric added and Elias sipped his drink.

“That surprises me. She enjoyed her tea. Let’s sit.”

Eric wasn’t sure he wanted to right now. He wanted to know what Susan was doing and he wanted to know if she was doing it in that room where Tyson had gone. But, remembering that he had a mission here and he had a house and his business on the line, Susan and her visit needed to be pushed to the back of his mind.

“Leave her on our land. You pushed her away and there is no reason you should get her back.”

Elias’s eyes went wide when forty years of anger was spurted toward him.

“I see you’ve spoken to your father about this.”

“You disowned her. You gave her to us as far as I’m concerned. She’s my mother and she should stay with me.”

Elias set his glass on the table. “Eric, have you ever made a mistake in your life?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Well, your mother made one—she made a few.”

Eric narrowed his stare on his grandfather and clenched his aching jaw. “Is that your opinion?”

“She ran away from home at sixteen. Did you know that?”

Eric’s eye twitched from the tears that began to sting. “No.”

“Well she did. She ran away and we didn’t find her for two years.”

Pain began to pierce Eric’s thumb, under the bandage, as his hands began to tremble.

Elias pulled out a chair and gestured to Eric. “Sit. Let’s get a few things straight.”

He waited a beat before he sat down in the offered seat.

Elias sat down next to him and wrapped his hands around his glass of tea.

“She was eighteen when she came back home looking for money. She was pregnant.”

Eric shook his head. “She was twenty when I was born.”

His grandfather nodded. “There’s a reason you and Tyson are equally tempered,” he said and an array of gasps came from behind them.

Elias visibly winced as they turned to see Lydia and Tyson standing in the doorway.

Tyson stepped into the kitchen as the men stood from the table. “Do you want to run that by me again?”

“Let’s all sit down and discuss this,” Elias said with his hands raised as if in surrender.

“I don’t need to sit down. Continue explaining.”

Eric kept his eyes on the door, but Susan never walked through. She’d had to have seen his truck outside. Wouldn’t she want to come in and find out why he was there?

Lydia moved toward her brother and held on to his arm. “Grandpa,” she said as if pleading.

Elias picked up his tea and took a sip. He made eye contact with each of them before setting the glass back down.

“Constance was a free spirit. She did what she wanted to do. I never had control over her.” Elias rubbed his forehead, between his brows, as if to ward off a headache. “She came home pregnant at eighteen. She stayed until she had the baby and then one night she left.”

He looked directly at Eric. “You were three before I knew where she’d gone and she was nearly right under my nose.”

Tyson broke from Lydia’s grip and moved in closer, now standing right next to Eric—shoulder to shoulder.

“You’re missing pieces to this story. What about that baby.”

“I’m guessing you have this all figured out.”

“Perhaps I need to hear it from you,” Tyson growled.

“Constance was your mother. She left you with us and ran again.”

Tyson stood, his mouth open, staring at his grandfather. “You’re telling me I’m not who I think I am.” He paced a small circle. “You let me live here all my life believing that my father and mother were actually mine?”

“Your father and mother had just gotten married. You were his blood and he couldn’t bear to see you turned away. They took you in and raised you. You can’t tell me your life was in any way misshapen by this.”

Tyson ran his fingers through his hair. “This is about the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Me too,” Eric chimed in. “My mother never would have left a child. She was loving and caring.”

Elias evened his stare on him. “You were eight when she died. What do you really remember about her?”

Eric actually flinched. Hadn’t he thought, just the other day, that he hardly remembered her at all? Glenda had been his mother for much longer and the memories of his mother had faded away.

Elias nodded his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Eric, I didn’t turn your mother away. I loved her very much. I loved both of my children. She stayed away for whatever reason. Your father was gracious and cordial to her, but…”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. He was sure he knew the next phrase would be that his father never loved her—or at least the way Eric had always imagined it to be.

Tyson clucked his tongue. “I can’t believe you kept this from me. Forty-two years and suddenly…”

“I’ve tried in the past. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see the benefit from it.”

“Not knowing who the hell I am isn’t going to make things any easier on me.”

“You’re a Morgan. This has no relevance on who you are now. But this is part of the reason I want Constance moved. You deserve to have her near.”