Chapter 4
Scott pushed Murdoch's box toward Johnny. "No one stopped in to pick it up?" he asked the clerk a second time. It was difficult to keep the incredulity from his voice.
After doing a head count of the animals to make sure none escaped and scoring a few snickerdoodles from Father Jimenez's kitchen, they had finally picked up the present and walked to the engraving store—hoping to find Teresa there.
"Text her again," Johnny said when they exited the store.
"I have, she's not answering."
"Are you thinkin' what I'm thinking?"
"We look for her."
They reached the corner where Teresa had turned off when Johnny bumped into a boy coming from the other direction. His hair had grown out from a shorter cut and he didn't look uncared for as much as determined. Oddly familiar in a way.
"Hey, you're the kid from the car that almost ran us off the road," Johnny said.
The boy grimaced and swept a hand through his hair sending it straight up in brown tufts. A sorry was stammered out under Johnny's dark stare.
"Yeah, well, you could learn to drive a little slower." Even Scott knew it was the pot calling the kettle.
The boy raised one eyebrow, telling them that driving safety was the last thing on his mind.
"What's your name?" Scott asked.
"Matias."
"We're looking for Teresa. Have you seen her today?"
One minute a kid, the next suspicious and guarded. Scott watched him struggle with the decision.
"Yeah, I saw her earlier." Something in his round brown eyes shifted to…Scott didn't know what it was, not exactly, but the confidence, the smooth charm, of this kid fled. "She okay?"
"We're trying to find her. Where did you see her last?"
"Down by the coffee shop, a couple of hours ago." He swallowed. "I knew something was up."
Johnny grabbed Matias' shoulder. "What do you mean by that?"
"Teresa doesn't drink coffee. Only tea, you know? But she said she was gonna get some coffee which was weird because she already looked nervous about something."
They left Matias standing on the corner and took off at a dead run for the coffee shop.
Teresa was in the parking lot, trying to claw her way free from a man's grip on her arm.
Barreling through a few customers, Scott shoved the man across the pavement, sending an older thin woman sprawling on the concrete.
He caught the man with his fist and sent him flying backwards, blood spilling from his mouth. Scott grabbed him by his shirt. The man squirmed, breathing hard, his face wheyish and sweating.
"Don't you fucking move." Scott flattened him against the car, coming within an inch of his face. He kept his voice low as people ran up, drawn by the commotion.
One look at Teresa's pale face and a scrambled fear clutched Scott's heart.
Johnny wrapped his arms around her waist when she struggled to remain upright. He shook her a little, forcing her to look at him, but all Scott saw was primal desperation.
"You all right? Are you all right?" He shook her again. "Teresa." He lowered his voice. "It's okay now."
Wailing sirens rang down the street.
L-L-L
Teresa heard footsteps coming for her and there was Johnny, out of breath and worried. Time sped backward and she felt her mother's arms around her, dragging her out of the corral, letting the snorting horse dance away to the far end. Johnny was pulling her away but she fought him as hard as she could, and she heard him talking, just the way she'd heard her mother so long ago.
His words finally penetrated. She blinked at Johnny, horror-stricken, then buried her face into the crook of his shoulder.
It was a blur after that with the police asking questions, the Tyrell's getting taken into custody. And all the time Scott and Johnny stood on either side of her. Finally released, they walked back to the truck together. Matias jogged up to meet them, a crumpled package in his hand.
He stared at her for a long while. If she yelled boo! He would probably jump a mile.
"You okay?"
She ducked her head. "I am now."
Matias handed Johnny the package. "After you dropped it running across the street, a Chevy clipped it. He didn't even stop to see what he hit." He looked at her, eyes crinkled in concern. "What happened? Did that guy try…?"
Teresa turned to go, not able to stand the way he looked at her, as if she was made of glass.
"Wait," he called as she walked away.
But she didn't. She kept walking hands fisted at her sides. Scott and Johnny caught up to her.
"Teresa, wait," Matias said as he galloped awkwardly after her.
"What?" She whirled around.
He wasn't expecting her anger. Frankly, neither was she. What was she doing? They both looked a little startled.
"I can take you home."
"No thank you. My family is going to take me home."
Matias pressed his lips together and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scott shoot him a look of sympathy, as they walked the rest of the way to the truck.
She was feeling tender, beat up, that was all. She didn't say anything on the road out of Morro Coyo, until she saw Scott's hand. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't think about it." He looked at the knuckles and smiled. "It will be good as new in a couple of days."
Johnny blew out a breath. "That's more than I can say for the old man's present."
Somehow she felt responsible for that, too.
Scott continued, "He'll understand. It was for a good cause after all."
Teresa stared at the folded letter, tracing its sharp crease with her short fingernail.
"People are funny about the past," said Scott, getting a tissue out of the glovebox and handing it to her. "Especially after something painful."
His tone remained even, his focus didn't falter, yet within his words Teresa felt the heat of an unasked question.
"They can be," Johnny agreed.
They couldn't possibly know about Rita Tyrell, and the letter that had brought the whole awful business to Lancer. The truck shimmied around a curve, and for a split second she considered telling them why she'd gone against all right thinking to meet a stranger. About missing her mom so much she ached.
But it would be stupid. They'd want to talk things over and there'd be no forgetting the whole thing then, and so, instead, she said, "We might have a skiff of snow this year."
She thought she heard Scott sigh, and was beset by a sudden sliver of awareness that he never even knew his mother.
"Do you remember her at all?" asked Johnny. Not accusing, not interfering. Just asking.
"I have one memory of her," she went on quickly, aware her voice was becoming squeaky, but unable to rein it in.
"One day I decided to pet Dancer. She was a beautiful palomino my dad had gotten, but skittish. I remember him saying that finding a new rock in the pasture would set her off. Anyway, I got into the corral just far enough to reach out to her when she reared. My mom came flying around the corner and dragged me out." She tried to shrug away the threatening tears. "My mom said it was gonna be okay. And it was."
The cab of the truck became quiet. Too quiet. "Thank you both for taking care of me," Teresa said, finding her voice.
Scott cleared his throat. "Just, if there's a next time, let us know. Okay? Like you said, family."
"Yeah, we can send Scott in to kick some more ass."
"I may have gotten caught up in the moment."
"Any more moments and Tyrell would've been talking out his ear instead of his mouth."
She knew it was nerves, but what Johnny said made her laugh outright. She stopped suddenly. "Oh. Murdoch."
"All done," Scott said. "I called him while the police were talking to you and gave him the particulars. I told him we'd be late."
Despite the truck heater being on full blast, she shivered in her seat.
The ride to Lancer was over too soon. As they neared the garage, the lights of the portico flipped on. The big wooden door swung open and Murdoch stood in the entrance.
L-L-L
Murdoch had hoped this day would never come, but yet here it was and he dreaded it. Now he had to face facts. Teresa needed to know what exactly happened to her mother. Paul telling her she had died suddenly and in a tragic way was true, and those words had stuck in Teresa's mind. With Paul gone, it was up to him to explain exactly what her father meant when he used those words.
"Am I in trouble?" Teresa asked when he knocked at her bedroom door.
"We need to have a talk," Murdoch said. He took the photo and letter from his back pocket and gave it to her.
"I found these on the floor, by the door."
Teresa turned red, then white when she saw the items. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks like two silvery rivers. "I'm sorry," she said in a whisper.
"No, I'm the one who's sorry."
She looked at him waiting for an explanation. "If I had told you the truth a long time ago, you wouldn't have been influenced by this letter. It's my fault. You know I would never hurt you in any way, right, honey?"
Teresa's head bobbed up and down, sending her bedraggled ponytail swishing from side to side.
"I've always wanted what was best for you, and maybe after your father died, I was too strict sometimes." He held up his hand. "A lot of times, eh?"
He sat beside her on the bed. "You were so young when your mother left. She was a good woman, and she loved you very much, there's no doubt of that, but she fell into a depression after giving birth that Paul couldn't help her with. Your father wanted her to get therapy, but she wouldn't go." Murdoch paused, unsure if his words were coming out as they should, but he went on.
"What?" Teresa's eyes had doubled in size.
"She met Rita Tyrell at the height of her depression and she supplied Angel with medication—drugs—to help her feel better. Unbeknownst to your father, she became addicted. She left Lancer for Los Angeles."
"She didn't want me. And you and dad just pretended she died so you wouldn't hurt my feelings?" Teresa asked, her voice high-pitched. Worried.
"No. Not at all." Murdoch took a deep breath. "I'd like to think she had every intention to come back; Paul thought that, too."
A heavy silence hung in the air.
"But she…ah, she took her own life."
"Oh my God! Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were too young to understand the how's and why's at the time. Your dad and I…I don't know. I suppose we were trying to protect you. Time passed and then this." He held up the picture and letter.
"Rita Tyrell started to contact me a few months before the boys arrived. Threatening, saying she would make it public how your mother died if I didn't pay." He swept a hand over his eyes to wipe away the unexpected blurriness. "I never dreamed she would go after you, honey. And for that I'm eternally sorry."
Murdoch sighed and held her close until her arm crept around him and squeezed. He reached into his pocket and drew out a tissue-paper wrapped small bundle. "You were wearing this the day she left."
It was a pendant, heart-shaped and lined with small garnets and turquoise stones, on a thin gold chain. "Angel gave it to you, as a remembrance. See? The red stones are for her birthday in January, the turquoise for yours in December.
"Your father had it stashed away with his things, I had a hard time finding it."
"Is that what the noise was in the attic?"
"Guilty. I had forgotten it over the years. We'll need to get a new chain if you want to wear it, this one was made for a toddler."
She held it up to the bedroom light, where the stones caught the light and twinkled as merrily as any Christmas bulb. "I think it's perfect the way it is, Murdoch."
"She loved you, Bug."
She gasped at Paul's old nickname for her and new tears coursed down. Without warning, she threw her arms around Murdoch's neck.
"Thank-you," she whispered.
He fiddled with the letter and photo while she dried her eyes.
"Is that my mom…and me?"
He nodded and handed it to her. "I'm sure Tyrell found it among your mother's things afterward. It was the only thing Angel took, other than the clothes she was wore."
He held the letter aloft. "What do you want to do with this?"
She visibly shivered. "I don't want it."
"Burn it in the fireplace?"
"Uh-huh. I think that would be the best place for it. But let me, okay?"
"You got it." Murdoch looked at her bedside clock. It was a few minutes past midnight. "Well, look at that, it's Christmas Eve. What did I tell you last year without your dad?"
"Even though he's gone, we'll keep him alive in our thoughts."
"And that goes for your mother, too. Christmas can be magical, if you let it, Bug."
He realized with a start that he had to let Scott and Johnny leave, as much as he wanted them to stay. Tradition had a funny way of confining young people. They were adults with relationships and responsibilities all their own. Deep inside, where the father was, he yearned to be part of their lives—but he knew he hadn't earned the privilege.
Beside him, Teresa yawned widely.
He squeezed her shoulder. "Try and get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
He waited until her lamp went off before he crept down the hallway. There was still work to do.
tbc