The Call of Bravery. Janice Johnson Kay

Lia turned her head. “Your memories are that bad?”

      “Yes.”

      Okay. She groped for a response and came up with nothing better than another, “I’m sorry.”

      For the first time, he reacted visibly. Not much, only shifting, but the movement was jerky for a man who customarily moved with the lithe ease of a hunting cat.

      “I shouldn’t have said that.” He inhaled; let it out audibly. “Oh, hell. There’s nothing secret about it. Being back here has unsettled me, that’s all.”

      “You went to see your brother, didn’t you? Did something happen that bothered you?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

      He laughed, but the sound wasn’t pleasant. “I haven’t seen Duncan since I graduated from college, and that was a long time ago. I never intended to set eyes on him again. It’s my luck that I got stuck with this operation, and that Duncan is the police chief.”

      “Never see him again?” She was hung up on that part. “But…you said he raised you. You made it sound like a good thing.”

      “It was a good thing. He was noble.” Bitterness roughened his voice now. “You don’t have to tell me. Duncan MacLachlan always does the right thing, whatever the sacrifice he has to make. He saved my ass. I know that.” He was breathing hard. “Oh, hell,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have gotten started.”

      “I don’t mind listening if you want to talk.”

      He was quiet so long she thought he would rise to his feet any moment and say good-night. And really, why would he talk to her? They were strangers.

      But Conall shocked her by speaking after a minute. “He did save me. I’m not kidding about that. I wasn’t like Brendan and Walker. I wasn’t a good kid who could have gone to a foster home like yours. Nobody would have wanted me. I cut classes, smoked pot, got drunk, was in constant fights. I stole a car before my twelfth birthday.”

      Shocked, she was the one to stare now.

      “I guess you could say I was acting out.” He laughed again. This time he almost managed to sound amused. “My middle brother, Niall, wasn’t much better. I guess Mom ditched us for a good reason.”

      “No,” Lia whispered. The single word held so much fury, it burned her throat. “No. What she did is awful.”

      He leaned his head against the post, and she saw his eyes close for a moment. “Yeah. You’re right. It was.”

      Lia was beginning to feel cramped, but she couldn’t make herself stretch out her legs. She needed to stay…contained, to hold herself tightly together. Stupid, but she couldn’t make herself move.

      “My point was that neither Niall nor I rallied willingly behind big brother.” Conall’s voice came out low now. “Oh, we were good as gold at first. For a couple of months.”

      “Scared.”

      “Oh, yeah. After that, we…challenged him.” Strangely, Conall was smiling now. “He figured the only way he could get us to toe the line was to scare the shit out of us. So he did.”

      She stiffened in outrage. “How…?”

      “Doesn’t matter. He didn’t hurt us, if that’s what you’re asking. But you have to understand, neither of our parents had ever bothered being authority figures. All of a sudden Duncan, who was supposed to be one of us, our brother and buddy, became this…” He paused and she knew what word he was about to say. “This tyrant. I didn’t take it well.”

      “What about your brother?”

      “He wasn’t so happy about it, either, not at first. What I never understood was that instead of rejecting big brother the despot the way I did, he gradually went over to the dark side.” Another laugh. “Or maybe it was the glorious and good side, I’m not sure. The two of them became friends again. They stood up for each other at their weddings. Niall’s a cop, too. I said that, didn’t I? But him, he followed in Duncan’s footsteps.”

      “Didn’t you?”

      His head clunked a couple of times against the post. “Not long ago I’d have said ‘hell no’ to that, too. Now…” He shrugged. “Truth is, I don’t know. I’m not exactly in the same line of work as they are.”

      Which was splitting hairs, but she suspected he knew that.

      “I don’t know,” he repeated. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

      “I can understand that.” She knew why she did what she did, but didn’t like to dwell on the past, either.

      They sat in a considerably more peaceful silence for a bit. Finally he asked, “What about you, Lia Woods? Did you grow up around here?”

      “Down in the Kent Valley. My parents have moved recently to Arizona. I ended up here because my great-aunt on my dad’s side didn’t have any kids and left me her house when she died. I could have sold it and gone on with my life, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do something I’d always wanted to and take in kids.”

      “You don’t hold an outside job?”

      She shook her head and felt her braid bump on her back. “Not anymore. Some foster parents do, of course, but I tend to take the really troubled kids. Or ones like Walker and Brendan who need some special attention. While their mother was in the hospital, we spent as much time there as we were allowed. A nine-to-five job wouldn’t have been compatible with what they needed from me.”

      “What’s next for them?”

      That question surprised her. She’d expected something along the lines of Why foster?

      “They’ll go up for adoption. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, their chances aren’t great. They’d be better if they get split up, but…God. I can’t imagine. They need each other.”

      With quiet force, he said, “It would be an abomination to tear them apart.”

      She swallowed emotion trying to spill out. “Yes. It’s not in my hands, although I’ll express myself forcefully if anyone suggests they be separated. I may never know, though. Usually I foster fairly short term. They might get sent elsewhere. It’s possible they’d thrive in a more typical family situation, or that their caseworker will decide they need a father figure. I tend to get more girls than boys.”

      “Will they survive one more change?”

      “I don’t know,” Lia whispered. “They’re…withdrawing.” It took her a few deep breaths to calm herself. “You got further with them tonight at dinner than I ever do. So maybe they do need a father figure.”