The Summer He Came Home Part 31

Cain grabbed the magazine along with the one Dax had been reading. He looked at Mac and frowned. "You got any more of these hiding around?"

"Nope. But I hate to tell you this. They're everywhere."

"No s.h.i.t." Cain's lips thinned. He was in for it, and so was Maggie. He just hoped the people of Crystal Lake went easy on her.

"You going to see her today?"

Cain nodded to Mac. "d.a.m.n straight. As soon as we get everything organized for tomorrow, she's my first stop."

Mac's expression changed-the joker was gone. "Good. That's good." He sighed and stretched out his long limbs. "We're a sorry-a.s.s bunch...the Bad Boys of Crystal Lake. Unlucky in love. It would be nice to see one of us get it right."

Cain frowned. "Jesse got it right, from the get-go."

"Maybe so, but that relationship left scars." Mac's eyes darkened and he shook his head. "I'm worried about Jake, and what the h.e.l.l is Raine thinking? A baby? Personally, I think he'd be better off shipping back to Afghanistan."

Cain was stunned. What kind of crazy-a.s.s s.h.i.t was this?

"Why the h.e.l.l would you want him to go back there, to the place where he watched his brother die? Away from his friends and family? That doesn't make sense."

Mac was quiet for a few seconds, and then he spoke. "At least over there he's got an outlet for his anger. He can use it, hone it, and let it eat the pain. Here? It will just fester and grow, and being around Raine won't help him at all. I'm telling you, it will be ugly when he finally explodes." Mac looked away. "Trust me. I know what the face of ugly feels like, and the scars don't ever go away."

Cain sighed. "It's too early for this s.h.i.t."

"You're right. Forget I said anything." Mac moved toward his room. "I'm going to grab my shades, and we should head out to the field."

He watched Mac disappear and then headed back to his own room for a quick change. There was no point in showering. Not with all he had on his plate today.

He grabbed his cell and tried Maggie's number, but there was no answer. s.h.i.t. He needed to hear her voice. Needed to know that things were going to be all right. He pocketed the cell. He'd have to keep trying.

Twenty minutes later he was on his way to town. As luck would have it-at least the kind of luck that followed him around these days, which was bad-everything was behind schedule. The production equipment and crew didn't show until nearly two in the afternoon, which was good, considering it took them nearly that long to get the finishing touches in place, the power supply being a major headache. The wattage hadn't been sufficient as is, but an electrician was called, and the problem was solved. When the heavy cables-long electrical snakes-were finally run, it felt like a small victory.

The volunteers kept their heads down, and no one ribbed him about Hollywood Scene. For that Cain was grateful. He wasn't in the mood to discuss the fallout. Roger, Tommy's father, was one of the volunteers, and though Cain wanted to grill him about Michael's whereabouts and Maggie, he kept quiet. There was no use in putting him on the spot.

The stacks of speakers were put in place, two towers on either side of the stage. The rigging that held the lights was hoisted into the air, across the front of the stage, and a one-row of lighting was placed behind the drum riser.

All the musical acts were to use one set of equipment to make things easy. The amps-Marshall stacks-and the drum kit were ready to go, but it was a slow process getting everything in place, the instruments properly miked, and ready to go.

Texas Willie and his band were helping, as well as several other local acts, including Shady Aces. They were all partic.i.p.ating in the fundraiser. It made for a few frustrating moments, and it took Cain's raised voice, with the reminder that this was a charity event, not an MTV appearance, for the boys to settle in and work together.

When the first note was. .h.i.t at sound check-his guitar singing out into the gathered crowd-he didn't feel pleasure as much as relief.

But by then it was nearly six o'clock.

Cain had been trying Maggie's cell phone the entire day. Not once had she picked up. She didn't have a landline, so he had no other way of getting in touch with her. The pressure in his chest, that feeling of doom that had dogged him all day, hit hard. He'd tried Raine several times as well and had had no luck there either.

He'd just packed up his Les Paul when he spied Jake.

"I'm heading to Maggie's now. Sorry to do this again, but can you get Dax back to the lake?"

"I think a bunch of us are heading to the Coach House first, but I'll make sure he makes it home safe. We wouldn't want a drunken Brit roaming the streets of Crystal Lake, especially in that getup."

Dax sat on the edge of the stage with his ba.s.s, his fingers flying over the frets as he slapped and pulled the heavy strings. The instrument, one meant for rhythm, sounded melodic in his hands.

He'd kept the horn-rimmed gla.s.ses instead of his contacts and once more sported white leather pants, flashy red boots, and a vintage Def Leppard T-shirt. There was a circle of locals close by, mostly women, all of them eyeing the Brit with adoring, shy smiles.

"I don't think you need to worry about him, Jake."

"Probably not." Jake tapped him on the shoulder. "I hope things work out with you and Maggie."

"Thanks."

He was starting to panic. Where the h.e.l.l are you, Maggie?

Chapter 32.

"Mom, are you mad at Cain?"

Maggie chewed on her lip as she looked across the table at her son. He'd just shoveled a second helping of meat loaf into his mouth and stared at her expectantly.

What to tell him? He was smart and knew things were wrong. She didn't want to lie, but the sad fact was that the truth would hurt him. And for the moment, she couldn't do that to her son.

Not yet, anyway.

She wanted to keep him in that bubble of safety and happiness as long as she could, because she knew in the next little while, those big blue eyes of his would be filled with sadness, confusion, and most likely anger.

Maggie had kept him close today, taken him with her to her clients' homes. So far he'd been spared the details of the magazine, and she wanted to keep it that way until she had a chance to talk to him about it.

Mrs. Landon had been more than happy to keep Michael occupied while she cleaned her bungalow, and in fact had entertained her son while Maggie slipped uptown to her bank.

She'd quietly emptied her account and kept her eyes to the ground. She didn't want to talk to anyone and had nearly made a clean getaway until she literally ran into Mrs. Lancaster, the pastor's wife.

The woman had gently clutched her hands. There'd been a certain calmness that flowed from Mrs. Lancaster into Maggie's body, an energy that soothed Maggie's tired and scarred soul.

The two of them had stood for several minutes on the sidewalk, Maggie in her work clothes and Mrs. Lancaster in the rubber boots she loved so and a dress that was green and red, just like a Christmas tree. When Mrs. Lancaster had finally spoken, it was anticlimactic. "Where are you off to in such a hurry, Maggie?"

Maggie had suddenly been filled with fear of the unknown, a terrifying, soul-wrenching fear. She had no idea where she was going. None. Could she do it again? Did she have the strength to take Michael and run? She'd shaken her head and yanked her hand from Mrs. Lancaster's grasp.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired." Which of course was an understatement of epic proportions. Maggie Grace O'Rourke was exhausted. She'd hopped on the Cain Black Express, and it ran full tilt. Now that the d.a.m.n thing had derailed, she was lost.

The pastor's wife had smiled and spoken, her words soothing, her tone gentle. "You're not lost, child. The day you set foot into Crystal Lake is the day you found your way home." She'd winked, like the mind reader she was. "Remember that."

"Mom? Are you all right? You've got that weird look on your face. The one where your eyes get all crinkly."

Michael's voice penetrated her thoughts, and Maggie gave herself a mental shakedown. She needed to keep focused. Be sharp.

"I'm fine, Michael, and no, I don't think we'll be seeing Cain tonight. He's pretty busy preparing for the football game tomorrow and the concert." She gave him a smile, a horrible, fake thing that slowly faded as Michael's dark eyes stared back at her.

He didn't believe a word she'd said.

He picked at the veggies on his plate. Carrots. Usually his favorite. "Did you and Cain have a fight?"

Maggie pushed her plate away. She couldn't pretend to eat, any more than she could pretend that things were okay. "Cain and I..." she began and stopped. What the h.e.l.l was she going to say to her son? She needed to say something, to prepare him, because there was a very good possibility that he'd be exposed to the nastiness of the trash magazine in the morning.

"Did you have a fight because of the pictures?"

Maggie stared at her son in shock. How in the h.e.l.l did he know about them? He'd been with her all day. Lauren had been home when they arrived to clean her house, but she was positive Lauren Black would never discuss something like that with Michael.

"What pictures are you talking about?" Her mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust, and she barely got the words out.

Michael rose from the table and disappeared into the living room. He came back a few seconds later, Hollywood Scene clutched between his fingers. He carefully placed it on the table in front of Maggie and moved closer to her.

She stared down at the offending piece of garbage and barely held back the rage that was inside. She itched to tear the d.a.m.n thing to pieces but held off. She couldn't lose it in front of Michael. She just couldn't.

She turned to him, her fingers lifting his chin so that she could stare into his eyes. The huge b.a.l.l.s of liquid blue shimmered, and she saw the questions, the confusion, in their depths. "Where did you get that, Michael?"

His mouth twitched, and he shuffled his feet as his eyes dropped. "Don't be mad," he whispered.

"Honey, why would I be mad? Just tell Mommy the truth, all right?"

She was scared, imagining all sorts of crazy things, different ways he could have gotten his hands on a copy. A stranger handing it to him on the bus when she wasn't looking. Someone leaving it on their porch. A prank by one of his friends.

"I saw it in your purse."

"What?"

"It was sticking out, and I thought it was a comic, and then I saw Cain on the cover."

Maggie groaned. She'd tossed her bag as soon as she let herself into the house the night before. And there it had stayed until Michael found it.

His fingers kneaded the edge of the table nervously.

"It's okay, Michael. You did nothing wrong, honey. It was my fault for leaving it like that. Did you...did you look inside?"

Maggie held her breath, felt the stab of pain that rushed across her chest as if she'd been laced with a whip. The thought of Michael seeing that center shot made her ill.

He shook his head. "No. I just looked at the cover and knew it wasn't a comic, and then I stuffed it in the book rack."

Maggie stared at her son in silence. "Okay."

"Are you mad at me?" His voice trembled, and she grabbed him to her chest in an instant. His arms slid around her waist, and she held her son as if he was her lifeline for as long as she could. Her chin rested on his curls and she whispered, "No, I'm not mad at you. I'm proud that you're brave enough to tell the truth. But I have to tell you something."

Maggie exhaled and set Michael back a bit so she could look into his eyes. "There are more pictures inside that magazine, honey. Pictures of private stuff...of Mommy and Cain. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Like the one on the cover? Of you guys kissing?"

Her cheeks flushed red, and she nodded. "Kind of."

Michael shrugged. "Mom, that's not a big deal, not for adults anyway. Bobby Terio's sister has tons of pictures of herself on Facebook, kissing pictures and some in a bikini." Michael's face wrinkled into a comical grimace. "They're gross."

"Oh, so you've seen them," Maggie asked, not too impressed.

"Well, just once. But we got caught, and Bobby's mom disabled the Facebook, so now his sister can't show off her kissy-face pictures anymore."

Maggie stared at her little boy in awe. He didn't know the whole story, of course, but still she felt so much better knowing he hadn't been freaked out at the sight of her and Cain together.

Of course, he hadn't seen the center spread, but judging from his reaction, Michael would be more grossed out than embarra.s.sed.

"Okay, but this is a little different. Someone took those pictures without my knowledge and put them in that magazine. Honey, that magazine is sold in most grocery stores. They even have a television show on every night. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Your friends might see them, and some of them might tease you tomorrow."

"My friends all think you're pretty. They won't care." Michael looked away, and his hands fisted into tight little b.a.l.l.s at his side. "You're afraid of him, aren't you? That he'll see."

At first Maggie didn't know what Michael meant. "Cain? No, honey, that's silly. And trust me, he's already seen them."

"I meant my dad."

Cold spread along her body in rapid flashes that left her shaking. Maggie's heart broke as she stared at her son. It broke into little pieces. That a seven-year-old boy could be that intuitive was astonishing. She thought of Cain's confession the night before, and her heart swelled again as she thought of that last night in Savannah.

And of what Michael had witnessed and never shared with her. Her little boy had dealt with all of that on his own. She felt...defeated.

"I don't want to leave Crystal Lake, Mommy."

She didn't know how to respond. Michael was much too observant and smart for such a young boy. Maggie didn't want to lie, so she remained quiet.

A soft knock echoed into the house, and they both jumped.

Michael recovered first and ran to the living room, and by the time Maggie cleared the kitchen, Cain stood in the middle of her house, his dark eyes upon her, his hand on Michael's shoulder.

Her son leaned into the man the same way she did when he was next to her. As if their bodies needed him in order to function.

He looked tired, her musician. His clothes were dirty-no doubt from a full day out at the field-but it was his eyes that grabbed her attention. They looked haunted.

Maggie swallowed and felt her throat tighten. It was like looking in the mirror.

He turned to her son and ruffled the curls on top of his head. "Hey, is it all right if I talk to your mom for a bit?"

Michael nodded. "Sure. I have a book I wanted to read anyway." Michael glanced back at her. "Is that all right, Mom?" She nodded, still unable to speak, and watched him disappear down the hall toward his bedroom.

"I tried calling, but you didn't pick up." Cain ran his hands through his hair and stared at her.

"Oh." She finally found her voice. "With everything that happened yesterday, I forgot to charge my phone."