The Way Home (52 page)

“… out all day without a word,” she was saying.

“I’m sorry if you were worried,” Meg said in a subdued voice.

“The only thing I was worried about is what you might be doing,” Helen cut in, her voice laced with an icy indifference that made Ty remember the times she’d used that same tone with him when he was growing up. “After all, you are a McKendrick now. I’m not sure someone of your background could possibly understand what that means. As Tyler’s wife, you have a certain standing in the community. You could do his reputation irreparable harm.”

Ty nearly laughed aloud. Trust his mother to make it sound like the McKendricks of Regret, Iowa, were on the same social level as the Astors of New York. But the strain in Meg’s voice when she spoke wiped out any black humor he might have found in his mother’s remarks.

“I would never do anything to hurt Ty,” Meg said, all the animation drained from her voice.

Feeling anger lick through him, Ty started forward, intending to put a stop to the unpleasant little scene. His mother’s next words froze him in his tracks.

“You hurt him a great deal when you lost his baby,” she said almost gently. Ty heard Meg gasp as the knife slid in just where it would hurt the most. “Of course, I know you didn’t
mean
to lose the baby,” she added. “Coming from the background you do, it’s no wonder that you don’t understand proper — “

She broke off as Ty appeared in the doorway behind Meg. His expression must have made it clear that he’d heard at least part of what she’d been saying, and she flushed, her eyes shifting guiltily away from his.

“Meg, would you mind going upstairs while I talk to my mother?” He set his hand on her shoulder, aware that he was actually trembling with rage.

She twisted her face to look up at him and he saw her eyes widen when she saw his face. “It’s okay, Ty,” she said quickly. “I don’t mind.”

“I do. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” He didn’t want her to hear what he had to say.

“But — “

“Please.” He forced a smile to reassure her. “It’s all right.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue but then changed her mind. She walked past him, leaving a thick silence behind her.

Ty waited until he heard the bedroom door close upstairs before looking at his mother. True to character, Helen chose to go on the attack.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t the truth, Tyler, so there’s no sense in you giving me that look.” She picked up the apron that lay across the back of a chair and tied it around her waist, only the slight jerkiness of her movements revealing any sign of nervousness.

“How long have you been browbeating Meg, Mother?” He was surprised by how even his tone was, how calm he sounded.

“Browbeating her? Don’t be melodramatic, Tyler! I was only speaking the truth.”

“Have you told her before that you think the miscarriage was her fault?”

“Well, if it wasn’t her fault, I don’t know whose it was.
I
managed to carry three children, despite a delicate constitution. If I could do it, I don’t see why someone of her class couldn’t do the same. Pure carelessness, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Ty said. “And quite frankly, Mother, I don’t give a damn about your constitution. All I care about is what you’ve been saying to my wife.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Helen’s face flushed a mottled red.

Ty ignored her indignation. “Are you completely without compassion? Couldn’t you see what losing the baby did to her? To me? Or didn’t you care?”

“Of course I cared. I knew you were upset but I thought perhaps you’d come to see that it was for the best.”

For a moment, Ty thought she was going to trot out the same speech he’d heard from Doc Corey — about how this was nature’s way of saying that there’d been something wrong. But she continued and he realized he’d been wrong.

“Once there was no baby to tie you to that girl, I knew you’d see what a terrible mistake you’d made,” his mother explained in a tone of sweet reason.

“Are you saying you were
glad
Meg lost the baby?” He hadn’t believed that there was anything his mother could do to surprise him, but she’d just proved him wrong.

Perhaps she realized that she’d gone too far, because she quickly softened her tone. “Of course not. I’m just saying that, though it was a tragedy, it’s given you a second chance. God never closes a door without opening a window,” she quoted piously.

Ty stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. He’d believed that he had no illusions about his mother, that he saw her clearly, with all her strengths and weaknesses. But he saw now that he didn’t know her at all. He could never have believed that she — that anyone — could be so utterly without compassion.

Perhaps she read the contempt in his eyes because she flushed and then paled. “I only want what’s best for you, Tyler.” Her fingers twisted uneasily in the crisp, embroidered muslin of her apron.

“You only want what you want,” he corrected her. “You don’t really care about anything except getting your way.”

“That’s not true. And I don’t appreciate your using that tone of voice with me,” she added, trying to sound stern.

“I don’t care what you appreciate,” he said bluntly. “All I care about is that you don’t upset Meg.”

“Meg.” She spat the name out as if it tasted foul. “Her kind can take care of themselves. I don’t know how she managed to trick you into marrying her, but you must see by now that she’s totally unsuited to be a McKendrick. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if she deliberately lost the baby just to gain some sympathy. Someone like her — “

“That’s enough, Mother.” Ty took a quick step toward her, his hands clenched into fists, his control on his temper stretched almost to the breaking point. In that moment, he came perilously close to hating his mother. “I don’t want you to ever say another thing against Meg. Not one. Do you understand me?”

She must have read something of what he was feeling in his eyes, because the color drained from her face and she backed up a quick step, pressing one hand to the base of her throat, her eyes almost frightened.

“What’s going on here?” Elliot McKendrick’s quiet voice seemed to boom in the stillness of the kitchen, shattering the tense moment. “Are you two fighting again?” he asked, shaking his head as he dropped his briefcase on the table.

“Oh, Elliot.” His wife’s face crumpled as she pressed one trembling hand to her mouth. “Tyler practically threatened me.”

“Threatened you?” Elliot’s dark brows shot up in surprise, and he glanced at his son.

“I told her I didn’t want to hear any more criticism of Meg,” Ty said shortly, offering no apology for his harshness.

“That doesn’t exactly sound like a threat, Helen.” Elliot looked at his wife questioningly.

“I was just trying to make him see that, since she’s not going to have a baby anymore, there’s no reason he should still be trapped in this awful marriage,” she defended herself, her voice hovering on the edge of tears.

“I’ve told you before not to meddle in things that don’t concern you,” her husband told her without sympathy.

“Mother seems to think it’s a good thing that Meg lost the baby,” Ty said, the words bitter in his mouth.

“Helen!”

She jumped at the unaccustomed sharpness in her husband’s voice. Her eyes filled with tears but there was no softening of his stem look. Denied the sympathy she felt she deserved, she took refuge in her favorite reproach.

“Dickey would never have treated me this way.
He
would have realized that I had only his best interests at heart.”

Despite his anger, Ty felt the old pain twist inside him. For eighteen years he’d been listening to comparisons between himself and his dead older brother, and he’d come up with the short end of the stick every time. No matter what he did, he’d never be able to compare to the son she’d lost. He’d realized that so long ago, he was surprised to find the knowledge still had the power to hurt.

“The Dickey I remember would have been horrified by what you’ve done,” he said.

It was the first time he’d ever questioned his mother’s portrayal of her older son’s perfections. Helen had been dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her apron, but, at his words, her head jerked up, her expression shocked.

“The brother I remember wasn’t the plaster saint you’ve made him out to be, but he
was
kind. I think he’d have been ashamed of you if he knew what you’d done,” he said bluntly.

“That’s enough, Ty.” His father’s quiet voice stopped him from saying more.

It was probably more than enough, Ty thought. He hadn’t intended to say as much as he had. His mother was staring at him in shock, her face pale as the muslin of her apron. It struck him suddenly that she was no longer a young woman. Odd, how she’d always seemed ageless. Now she suddenly looked older than her years.

Ty ran his fingers through his hair, aware that his hand was shaking. There was a tangled knot of emotion in his gut, so thick and hard, he was almost sick with it. It was time and past — eighteen years past — that she let Dickey lie in his grave. But she looked so shocked, as if he’d struck her, which he supposed in a way, he had.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Mother,” he said slowly. He looked at her, feeling the anger drain away, leaving behind a deep weariness. “Meg and I are married. And we’re going to stay that way. God willing, we’re going to have children someday. If you want to be part of your grandchildren’s lives, maybe you should give some thought as to how you treat their mother from now on.”

He looked at her a moment longer, wanting to impress his seriousness on her, and then he turned and left the room.

He left behind him a silence so thick, it was almost a third presence in the kitchen. After a moment, Helen drew a shaken breath and straightened her slumped shoulders, almost visibly drawing a protective mantle about herself.

“It’s that girl,” she said finally. “She’s the one who’s turned him against me.”

“No, she hasn’t.” Elliot shook his head. “It’s your endless need to be in charge that’s put the walls between the two of you. You’ve been trying to bend him to your will since he was a boy.”

“I thought I could count on support from my own husband,” she said, her eyes filling with quick tears.

“You’ve always had my support and my love. You know that.” The look he gave her was compassionate but unbending. “But if you aren’t careful, you’re going to lose another son.
We’re
going to lose another son. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not! I just want what’s best for him.”

“He’s a grown man, Helen. You can’t force him to do what you think he should. You’ve got to accept that or we’re going to lose him.” Seeing her genuine distress, he came around the table and put his arms around her, drawing her close. “Dickey’s gone. Louise is living her own life in New York and doesn’t show much interest in starting a family. Ty is all we have left.”

“But — “

“No ‘buts.’ He means what he says about not letting you see your grandchildren. You know how stubborn he is.” He drew back, his smile gentle as he looked down at her. “You ought to know, since he inherited it from you.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue but then changed her mind. With a sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder as if in surrender.

When Ty pushed open the bedroom door, he found Meg sitting in the wing chair, her feet neatly placed together on the floor, her hands clasped in her lap, as stiff as a tardy pupil waiting to be called into the principal’s office. The moment the door opened her head jerked up, her eyes searching his face for some clue as to what had happened downstairs.

“I don’t think she’ll say anything about the baby again,” Ty said as he shut the door behind him.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble between you and your mother,” she said, distressed.

“The trouble between the two of us goes back a long way.

Even before Dickey was killed, we were butting heads,” Ty told her wearily.

“Well, I’m sorry I was the cause of more trouble.” She rose and came toward him, a concerned frown creasing her forehead. “Your shirt’s damp,” she said. “You should get out of it before you catch a chill.”

“I’m surprised getting so angry didn’t dry it instantly,” he said wryly.

“It wasn’t worth causing a fuss,” she said as she began unbuttoning his shirt.

“It was worth it to me.” He looked down at her. Her head was lowered as she concentrated on her task, and all he could see was the soft golden curtain of hair that fell around her face, concealing her expression from him.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“About what?” As the last button slid free, she tilted her head back to look at him. She looked genuinely puzzled.

“About the way my mother’s been treating you. Why didn’t you tell me?” He brought his hand up to brush her hair back from her face.

“Why should I have told you?” she asked, frowning.

She really didn ‘t know.
It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t have let his mother treat her the way she had. And why should it have? As near as he could tell, there’d never been anyone in her life to defend her. Why should she believe it would be any different this time?