Moira Rogers: Crux

Nick crumpled the bag, shoved it at Alec and twisted the cap from the bottle in her hand. “Who wants to go first?”

Mahalia squinted against the afternoon sunlight. “That would be me.”

Instead of speaking, she held the bottle and stared at the grave in silence. Finally, she smiled faintly. “Damn near thirty years, wasn’t it? Rest well, Steven.” With that, she tilted back the bottle and gulped down several swallows. She coughed as she shoved it at Mackenzie. “I didn’t remember that stuff being so vile.”

Mackenzie cradled the bottle between her hands and tried to speak around the lump in her throat. “I wish I’d had more time—” Her eyes burned and she squeezed them shut. “Thank you.” She tried not to choke on the expensive liquor as it burned its way down her throat.

Jackson accepted the tequila with a lopsided grin. “You did it, Steven. You stopped it.” He drank and waved the bottle at Nick.

She sipped in silence and held it out to Alec, who shook his head. “Someone’s got to drive you lushes back home.”

Mackenzie slipped her arm around Jackson’s waist, silently urging him to lean on her. “Jackson needs to get back to the car soon. He shouldn’t be walking so much on his leg.”

“Don’t fuss,” he whispered against the top of her head.

Mahalia opened her bag and pulled out a worn, leather-bound book. “This was in Steven’s things.” She held it out to Mackenzie. “It’s Zacharias Nelson’s journal. It looks like he followed Charles’s plans pretty closely, but there’s nothing in there about the second boy. He mentioned your mother, though.”

Mackenzie’s hand shook as she reached out. “Did he think—” The words caught in her throat, drowned in a sudden wave of hope. A week ago she might have forced the hope back, but a week ago she hadn’t believed in magic and miracles. “Could she still be alive?”

“Old Zach thought so. Steven talked to me about it before…” She squinted and glanced away. “He never put much stock in it before you showed up, alive and well.”

Mackenzie clutched the book to her chest and tightened her arm around Jackson’s waist. “Then I guess I’ll just have to look.”

He hummed his agreement. “Good thing you’re dating a private investigator.”

She shushed him with a soft noise and met Mahalia’s gaze again. “I still don’t feel right about the will. Are you sure you won’t reconsider the arrangements?”

“Steven left me everything I wanted, honey,” she murmured with a shake of her head. “He wanted you to have the rest of his estate. So you could make a life for yourself.”

He’d left her a small fortune, enough to be self-sufficient while she found her feet. Enough to start her own dance school if she wanted, and to realize all the dreams that had been so out of reach only a few months ago.

She made sure Jackson was steady enough to stand on his own and reached out to take the bottle of tequila from Nick. The second gulp burned her throat just as much, but at least she could blame her tears on the alcohol as she stepped forward and upended the bottle. Amber liquid splashed onto the grave, and she cleared her throat as she righted the bottle. “Rest well,” she whispered, echoing Mahalia’s words.

Reading Order

1. Crux

2. Crossroads