The Way Home (22 page)

“Her stepfather beat her,” Ty said bluntly. “She came to me for help.”

Shock flickered through her eyes and he thought he saw a trace of sympathy, but perhaps it was his imagination because an instant later, her mouth firmed into a disapproving line.

“I’ve always thought that a family’s problems should stay in the family,” she said. “Decent people don’t go about airing their dirty linen in public.” Without saying it, she managed to imply that she’d have expected no better of George Harper’s offspring.

Meg flushed at the criticism and Ty felt anger rush over him. Damn his mother’s sharp tongue. Meg didn’t need this. He drew a deep breath but forced down the sharp response that rose in his throat. It wasn’t going to do anybody any good to turn this into yet another argument between him and his mother.

“We’re not going to get anywhere this way,” he said, keeping his tone even but with an effort. He turned to Meg. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed.”

She hesitated, glancing from him to his mother, and Ty knew that she was concerned for him, worried that her presence was going to cause a problem between him and his mother. If he could have, he would have told her that the problems between the two of them went back a long way and had nothing to do with her.

“Go on. We’ll get this straightened out when you come back down.”

“Yes, perhaps it would be best if you put on something besides my son’s robe.” Helen managed to make it sound as if the heavy robe were as scandalous as Sally Rand’s feather fans.

“Mother.” Ty’s voice held a warning. His mother sniffed but didn’t say anything more.

She drew pointedly out of the way as Meg approached the door, and Ty’s fingers curled into his palms as he struggled to restrain the urge to grab her and shake her until her teeth rattled — a most unfilial urge. He waited until Meg was on her way up the stairs before speaking.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to upset Meg, Mother. She’s been through a very difficult time.”

“
She’s
been through a difficult time. I’d like to know what you think you’re putting me through.” The handkerchief came into play again. “Coming home to find that … that girl in my house, alone with my son, doing heaven knows what. It’s a wonder my poor heart didn’t just give out right on the spot. Think how you’d have felt then.”

“I’d have been very sorry if your heart had given out, Mother. Especially over nothing.”

“Nothing!Nothing!” Her voice rose indignantly. “Well, I like that!”

“Now, Helen, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Elliot McKendrick, who’d been silent and nearly forgotten, spoke soothingly. “Before you start saying things you might regret, why don’t you let the boy explain?”

“I don’t see how he can possibly explain what I saw,” she snapped.

“No harm in listening,” he pointed out with all his usual calm.

“Well, I guess so.” But she sniffed to make it clear that she doubted the possibility of any explanation being good enough to soothe her.

She was right.

“I still don’t understand why she came to you.” Helen waved one hand to emphasize her lack of understanding.

She addressed the question to Ty, just as she had done with every word she’d spoken. Though Meg sat not six feet from her, she’d yet to acknowledge her existence. Meg wondered if Mrs. McKendrick was hoping that she’d disappear if she simply refused to look at her. She saw Ty’s jaw tighten but his mother’s attitude didn’t upset her. She could even understand it. If Ty had been her son, she might have felt much the same.

At Elliot McKendrick’s suggestion, the discussion was being conducted in the comfort of the living room. But if he’d been hoping that softer surroundings would be conducive to soothing tempers, he must have been disappointed, she thought, feeling oddly detached from the whole discussion.

“I already explained that, Mother,” Ty said in a voice that spoke of thinning patience. “Meg came to me because we’re friends.”

“Friends?” A lift of one thinly plucked eyebrow carried the implication of the question.

“Friends,” Ty said flatly. Meg saw a muscle work in his jaw and knew that he was holding his anger in check only with considerable effort.

“Well, if the two of you have developed some sort of ‘friendship,’ I suppose I can understand why she’d feel she could impose on you in this manner,” Helen conceded, sounding as if she didn’t understand it at all. “But you say she’s been here since night before last. Perhaps the first night was understandable,” she said, sounding doubtful. “But what about yesterday? And last night? The two of you have been here, alone, for nearly two days. Have you given a thought to the scandal it would be if anyone found out she was here?”

“No one knows she’s here, Mother. I know what it would do to Meg’s reputation if people knew she’d spent the night here.”

“It’s not just Meg’s reputation at stake here, Tyler.” Clearly she thought that was already beyond the pale. “It doesn’t look good for any of us,” she said earnestly.

“Would it have looked better if I’d sent her home immediately?” he questioned, lifting one dark brow in angry question.

“Well, perhaps that would have been best.” She lifted one manicured hand when he started to speak. “I’m not saying that her stepfather wasn’t at fault, Tyler. But after all, he is, for all intents and purposes, her parent. Perhaps he was a bit too harsh,” she admitted, slanting an uneasy look at Meg’s face.

“Of course, I don’t know the whole story, but perhaps if Meg tried a little harder, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen again. You can’t run away from your problems,” she finished with the air of having just said something profound.

“If Meg tried a little harder?” Ty’s voice rose. “You think she should try harder to please that son of a bitch?”

“Tyler!” His mother’s gasp of shock was drowned out by his father’s stem reproof at the profanity.

“I’m sorry.” He stood up, as if unable to stay still. “If you knew,” he muttered, pacing restlessly to the window and then back to the sofa. His frustration and anger was palpable.

His eyes met Meg’s and she read in them a plea to let him tell his parents the whole truth, to make them understand. If they knew what Harlan had tried to do … Meg shuddered, feeling her stomach chum with shame. She couldn’t bear for anyone to know. Ty must have read the fear in her eyes because he muttered something under his breath and turned away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I couldn’t send her back there,” he said flatly.

Meg huddled deeper into her corner of the sofa, feeling as if she’d failed him yet unable to bear the thought of anyone else finding out what had happened.

“She has to go back sooner or later,” Helen said in a tone of utmost reason.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s not going back, ever.”

“Not going back?” His mother’s eyebrows rose into thin arcs. “Of course she’s going back. What else can she do?”

“I don’t know but she’s not going back to that house.” Meg felt his determination warm her.

“You’re not making any sense,” his mother snapped, her patience strained to the limits. “She has to go home. There’s simply no other choice. Mr. Davis may have been a bit harsh, but that’s not your problem.”

“I don’t happen to agree.” Ty turned to face his mother directly and their eyes clashed. Meg saw a muscle working in his jaw, saw his mother’s chin firm. They looked on the verge of coming to blows. All over her, she thought, distressed. “Oh, please, don’t fight about this.” She stood up, her hands twisted together in front of her as she looked from one to the other. “I’m not important enough for you to quarrel over.”

“We certainly agree on that,” Helen snapped.

“That’s enough, Mother. You’ve no right to speak to her like that.”

“No right? In my own home?”

“Meg is my guest,” Ty said furiously. “That entitles her to common courtesy, if nothing else.”

“Please.” Meg put her hand on Ty’s arm. “Please don’t be angry,” she begged, nearly in tears. She could feel the tension in the muscles under her fingers, feel the anger coursing through him. She sensed that the anger between Ty and his mother went deeper than the current situation, but she simply couldn’t bear to see him at loggerheads with his family. She’d caused enough trouble for him without this.

“Meg’s right.” For the first time, Elliot McKendrick spoke up, his calm voice almost shocking in the tension filled room. “There’s no good to come of the two of you getting into a squabble.”

“Squabble?” Helen turned on her husband, her face flushed with anger.

“A squabble,” he said firmly. “All this fussing isn’t getting anybody anywhere. Sit down, Tyler. Meg.”

Ty hesitated before sinking onto the sofa, whether in response to his father’s command or to the pleading tug of her fingers on his sleeve, Meg didn’t know. She sat down next to him, linking her hands together in her lap.

Elliot reached into his pocket and drew out his pipe, letting the silence stretch while he filled it from the ribbed glass jar that sat on the table next to his chair.

“That’s better,” he said, glancing at the room’s occupants as he tamped the tobacco down with his finger. His wife shot him an annoyed look but she didn’t speak. Elliot lit the pipe and took a few leisurely puffs so that the warm fragrance of tobacco wafted into the room.

“I don’t hold with any man doing what Harlan Davis did to you,” he said, speaking directly to Meg. “No man should have a right to do that, whether or not he’s the head of the house, and I’m real sorry about it happening to you.”

“Thank you,” Meg murmured. She lowered her eyes to conceal the tears that rose at his kindness.

“And I’m proud of you, Tyler, for taking her in and seeing to her needs.”

“Proud of him?” Helen burst out. “I suppose you’ll still be proud when we’re in the midst of the biggest scandal this town has ever seen!”

“I’d guess we’ll survive,” he said placidly. “Scandal or no, Tyler did the right thing and you know it.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Well, I still don’t see why this is any of our affair,” Helen said, not at all pleased to have her husband side with their son. “And I’d also like to know just what you plan on doing with her if she’s not going home where she belongs.”

“I’ll think of something,” Ty snapped.

“Well, now, there’s where I see a problem,” Elliot said quietly. “It seems to me that you could have some trouble there. What if her folks want her to come home?”

“She’s not going. I don’t care what they want.”

“You may not care, son. But I think the law would see it different.” Elliot sounded regretful. “She
is
underage, isn’t she?”

Meg sucked in a quick breath. The gentleness of his tone gave the words more impact. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that her stepfather could force her to go back? Instinctively her eyes flew to Ty’s face, seeking reassurance but seeing only her own shock reflected there. She looked away before he could see the fear that swept over her in an almost paralyzing wave. She caught a quick glimpse of the triumph in Helen McKendrick’s eyes, but the spiteful look had no meaning. She was already envisioning what her future could be.

To be forced to live in her stepfather’s house, seeing him every day; to try to sleep at night knowing that only her bedroom door stood between her and the sickness she now knew existed in him. She couldn’t do it. No matter what, she couldn’t go back there.

“She’s not going back,” Ty said again, but this time his words offered no reassurance.

Meg shivered, her fingers twisting painfully together in her lap as she fought to swallow the scream of denial that rose in her throat. If they tried to force her back into that house … She’d run away. The one thought was crystal clear inside her. She didn’t know where she’d go or how she’d live, but she knew she wouldn’t go back to that house, no matter what the law said. She thought briefly of her sister. Patsy might take her in, but she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t really know her sister anymore.

“If the law says that’s what she must do, you can’t fight that,” Ty’s mother said, her tone sympathetic now that she saw victory in her grasp.

“I don’t care what the law says.”

“I know it’s upsetting,” she said. “But you can’t argue with the law.”

The argument continued but Meg was no longer listening. If the law said she had to go back, there was nothing Ty could do to prevent it. She knew he’d meant it when he said he’d keep her safe, but neither of them had given a thought to the possibility that her stepfather might have a legal right to make her go home. And she wouldn’t let Ty break the law on her behalf. She’d been trouble enough to him already.

She let the argument roll over and around her, knowing it was pointless. If there was a way he could force her back, Harlan Davis would use it. She knew that on some deep, gut level that she couldn’t explain. Just as she knew that he’d take pleasure in her fear, in the power that fear would give him over her.

Ty’s mother was saying something about someone named Dickey and how he’d never have done this to her when a new voice entered the picture.

“Yoohoo!Anybody home?” Edwina Vanderbilt’s voice sailed in from the entryway, freezing the living room’s occupants as effectively as an arctic blizzard. “I know it’s naughty of me to just come right in but you know how I am. And I just
had
to see my dear friends and hear all about your trip.”