Karen Whiddon - The Texan's Return

“Wrong with me?”

“Yes. Our mother doesn’t want Hailey to go anywhere near you.”

That didn’t surprise him. Mac hadn’t been in town long enough to find out the Green family dynamic, but the family had been heavily fractured by Brenda’s murder. The loss of her daughter had damn near destroyed Hailey’s mother, June. She’d turned to solace in the bottle. Mac wondered if she’d managed to make her way out of the depths of despair.

He thought not, since Hailey still lived at her childhood home.

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs off his thoughts, Mac squatted down in front to Eli. “What’d you come here for, little man?”

“I wanted to check you out for myself.” Again, the kid’s quiet dignity made him seem older than his what—ten? eleven?—years. “Hailey deserves to be happy. She does everything for us and hardly anything for herself.”

Still not sure where Eli was going with this, Mac nodded. “She’s a good person.”

“My other sister Tara showed me and Tom the photo albums. The ones from when Hailey and you were boyfriend and girlfriend. She looked like a different person.”

“Well, it’s been ten years,” Mac pointed out. “We’re all older now.” His legs had started to ache from crouching down, so he stood and walked over to the porch steps and took a seat. Patting a spot next to him, he motioned for Eli to join him.

After the boy had gotten settled, he sighed heavily, sounding more like a middle-aged man than a young kid. “I’m not talking about being older. She looked different because she was happy.” His solemn expression matched his tone. “Poor Hailey. I can’t even think of the last time I saw her laugh like that.”

Concerned, Mac couldn’t help but ask. “She’s not happy now?”

“No.” Sadness colored his young/old voice. “She tries, but she’s not happy. Not like that.”

“What do you mean?” He felt kind of bad, pumping a kid for information about Hailey, but Eli had come to him, not the other way around.

Eli shrugged. “She’s tired a lot. Whenever she’s not taking care of us—and Mom—she works. We’re really poor. She thinks I don’t know, but it’s hard not to, you know? Our mom is an alcoholic.”

Stunned that a kid this young knew such a word so intimately, Mac realized he might not really know Hailey anymore. Not now.

“How old are you?” Mac had to ask, since he couldn’t remember exactly how old Eli had been ten years ago.

The kid’s chin came up, the gesture so like Hailey’s, Mac caught his breath. “I’m eleven. But I see things, too, you know. I might only be eleven, but even I can tell that Hailey needs more.”

“More what?”

When Eli met his gaze, Mac saw wisdom far beyond the boy’s years. “More smiles. More happy times. Tara—that’s my other sister—says after high school, and our other sister’s death, Hailey never got to be young again.”

Mac felt a sharp stab of pain. This kid wasn’t old enough to remember. He didn’t understand the chain of events that had pulled the rug out from under them all. So much pain. The town had become a cesspool. People had taken sides, drawn lines, made enemies. Even time hadn’t been able to heal the old wounds. Coming here made them all fresh and new again. He could only imagine how Hailey felt, still living here, reminded constantly.

“Do you like baseball?” Eli asked, apparently ready to change the subject.

“Sure. What about you?”

“It’s my favorite sport. I’m hoping to get to play Little League someday.”

This seemed slightly odd. From what Mac could remember, T-ball started really young, like four or five years old. From there, the kids played in leagues, all the way up to Little League baseball.

“Where do you play if you’re not in a league?” he asked.

Eli looked down. “Sometimes my brother and I play catch. And in school, we have games. But no one will pick me for their team because I haven’t played Little League.” He shuffled his feet. “I’m not really very good.”

“That stinks,” Mac said, meaning it. “But I bet all you need is some practice. How about you and I hit the ball around? I’ve got time.”

The kid’s head snapped up so fast it’s a wonder he didn’t pop his neck. “When?”

“How about now?”

As he turned to go rummage around for his old baseball equipment, he heard a screech of tires as a car came around the corner. It barreled down his street, a little too fast. He recognized the car. Hailey’s, the same jalopy she’d been driving back in high school.

Eyeing it, he was surprised it still ran. Various creases and dents marred the shape of the body. In the not crumpled areas, the red paint had faded and chipped, and the tires didn’t match. It slowed as it pulled up in front of Mac’s house and slammed on the brakes.

Eli groaned. “Great. I won’t get to play catch.” He swallowed hard. “And I’m also in big trouble.”

Mac didn’t have time to ask him what he meant. The door creaked open, and Hailey burst from the driver’s seat. She hurried up the path, her expression grim and furious. Of course the second Mac saw her, he felt that same instant zing of attraction.

“Eli Green.” Her crossed arms and stern tone left no room for argument. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Talking to your friend.” The boy stayed put, his expression defiant. “We were just about to practice baseball.”

“You know better,” she said, directing her comment at both of them.

Biting back a smile, Mac nodded. “I promise you, he’s safe. I could have run him home.”

“I have my bike,” Eli pointed out.

“You’re in so much trouble, young man.” Hailey shot Mac a fierce glare. “You still haven’t explained what you’re doing over here, clear across town.”

“I told you, I—”

“Mac?” His father’s voice, both unsteady and querulous. “Who’s here? What’s happening?”

Hailey froze. She looked torn between jumping in her car and driving off at breakneck speed, and standing in between Eli and the house, as if to protect him.

“Just a second, Dad,” Mac called back. “I’ll be there in a minute. Everything is okay.”

Eli looked at his sister, frozen in place, her eyes wide with shock. Then he glanced at Mac, who tried like hell not to relay tension. “Is your father sick?”

“Yes. Yes, he is. Very sick.”

“Let me go say hi to him.” Before Hailey could protest, Eli bounded up the steps and disappeared into the house.

Hailey cursed. “Now look what you’ve done,” she cried out. Casting him a withering look, she sailed up the steps after her brother, hell-bent on protecting him from the perceived menace lurking inside.

* * *

Hailey stopped short at the sight of the hospital bed. The withered man in it wasn’t recognizable as the larger-than-life Gus Morrison she remembered. Eli stood close to him, chattering away. Too close, she thought, her stomach clenching as she wondered if her baby brother was in danger.

“Eli?” She kept her voice calm, not wanting to alarm her brother or Mac’s dad. Mac had come up behind her, standing between her and the doorway. She wanted to ask him to move since she’d need a clear path if she had to flee. Well, she’d just barrel into him if she had to.

“Just a minute, Hailey,” Eli answered. “Me and Mr. Morrison are talking about baseball.”

She remembered Mac’s father had been a baseball fanatic, just like her baby brother.

“Hailey?” Struggling to rise up on his elbows, Gus failed. He settled back into his spot with a grunt. “Come here, baby girl, and let me have a look at you.”

A shudder skittered up her spine. She couldn’t make herself move, not a step toward him or away.