The Call of Bravery

“Yeah. I’m guessing you know your mom would have done anything in the world not to leave you.”

He could see in their eyes that it was true.

If he’d been into greeting card moments, he would have gone on and said, You’re lucky because you’ll be able to remember your whole lives how much your mother loved you. Fortunately, he wasn’t, and he didn’t.

But they understood anyway. After a moment they both nodded.

It was Sorrel who asked, “How come your dad got put in prison?”

“He sold illegal drugs.”

“My friend Rochelle’s does sometimes, too. At least, she thinks so. She hasn’t seen him in a long time.”

“I haven’t seen mine since I was twelve.”

“Is he still in prison?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Did you have to go to a foster home, like us?”

Conall looked around the table. They were all staring at him except Arturo, who kept eating, messy but getting the job done. Julia beamed at Conall, her four teeth cute accents in that broad smile. The other kids had expressions that said, Are you one of us?

He shook his head. “I told you I have two brothers. My oldest had turned eighteen. Mom and Dad let him keep the house. He got a job and took care of my other brother and me.” He was getting a lump in his throat. Man, this was stupid, but right this minute he couldn’t help seeing the past in a different light. Yes, he knew he’d been lucky to have Duncan, but seeing the faces of these kids brought it into sharp focus.

He would have gone to a foster home if Duncan hadn’t given up his dream of going off to college, Conall knew. Or his stay would have been short. He’d been too big a screw-up, as young as he was. He’d already stolen a car and gotten caught. He’d gotten so drunk a couple of times, he’d blacked out. He’d smoked marijuana, tried cocaine. He’d have ended up in a group home if he’d gotten his act together at all, in lockup if he hadn’t.

Dad and me.

He didn’t like acknowledging it, but he owed Duncan big-time. Not the mood Conall wanted to be in for this reunion.

“What kind of job did he get?” Brendan asked.

Conall blinked. “Ah…construction. He’d been doing it summers anyway. He managed to get his college degree, too, mostly with evening classes. Duncan was really motivated.” He heard how sardonic that sounded. My brother who could move mountains.

“Duncan?” Lia said sharply. Her eyes were wide and astonished. “I should have realized.”

“Realized?” he said warily.

“Your brother is the police chief.”

“He’s a cop?” Sorrel exclaimed.

“Yeah, he’s a cop.” Didn’t she realize he was, too? “So is my other brother, Niall. He’s a detective with the police force here in town.” Conall could feel how crooked his smile was. Ah, the ironies of life. “Our dad was in and out of prison, and all three of us went into law enforcement.”

The teenager stared at him with open astonishment. “But…”

“We don’t have to follow in our parents’ footsteps, Sorrel,” Lia said. “I think that’s what Conall is telling you.”

Actually, it wasn’t, but he didn’t argue. What had he been trying to tell her? He should know, but didn’t. Truth was, he’d stumbled into law enforcement, not chosen it as Duncan had. Conall had looked for something exciting, out of the ordinary. What he’d found suited him perfectly. He was good at undercover work because he was a hell of an actor. Always had been. The job didn’t require him to make emotional connections; in fact, his ability to feel nothing was useful. Going deep for months at a time was hard if you identified too closely with your role. If you started caring about the people you were there to bring down. That wasn’t a problem he’d ever had.

He hadn’t set out to do battle with all drug dealers because they symbolized his father. He wasn’t aiming for atonement. The idea was ridiculous. You had to care, if only in a negative way, to draw in a face on the paper target at the shooting range that you intended to pump full of bullet holes. Conall didn’t do that. His paper targets stayed faceless.

He was aware, though, of some tension he didn’t understand. He was frowning, he realized. Probably because thinking about either of his parents always made him edgy.

Then don’t.

Easier when he was far, far away from his not-so-beloved hometown.

He tuned in to discover that the others were talking, sounding more normal than they had earlier. Lia laughed at something Sorrel said, and he found himself staring. The sound was unexpectedly throaty and…honest. Most people tried to rein themselves in when they laughed. They didn’t surrender to the moment. Her head fell back and she shook with it. Amusement seemed to light her from within. His body tightened in automatic reaction and he made himself look away.

She was still smiling when she scanned the faces at the table. “Blueberry cobbler, anyone?”

Conall almost groaned. He’d intended to take off, but…homemade cobbler? “With ice cream?” he asked hopefully.

She laughed again, the first genuinely warm look she’d ever aimed directly at him. “Vanilla.”

“Then wow. Yes for me.”

Chortling nonsense sounds, Julia whacked her spoon on the tray. She was already a mess, sloppy joe sauce smeared on her fat cheeks. He could only imagine what blueberries would do to her.

Turned out Lia was smarter than that. The baby only got ice cream, her brother ice cream with a few berries stirred in. They both seemed satisfied. Everyone else ate with gusto and enthusiasm, even Walker and Brendan. It was hard to be depressed when every bite you put in your mouth was bliss on the spoon. This, he thought, was Lia’s talent. Or one of them, anyway. The ability to soothe and inspire and heal by the food she put on the table.

And with her smiles, too, unbelievably gentle for all the kids, a little different for Sorrel, as if with the tilt of her lips she was implying something conspiratorial: we girls are in this together. Her smiles for him were considerably more cautious, conventional. Conall didn’t blame her. She should be cautious around him.

He scraped his bowl clean and resisted the temptation to lick it even cleaner, then grinned. “That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I can remember. Thank you.”

Unless it was his imagination, a tiny bit of color touched her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

“If I may be excused, I’m off to see my brother.”

“Duncan?” Walker asked.

“Yeah. Duncan.”

“Oh.” The boy ducked his head. When everyone waited, he asked, “Will he ever come see you here?”

“Ah…probably not.” Definitely, hell no, not.

The boy’s shoulders seemed to sag slightly. “Oh. Okay.”

Conall was still asking himself what that was about when he stuck his head upstairs to tell Henderson he was going, then walked out to the Suburban. What would Walker think if Conall told him that, after all his big brother had done for him, he hadn’t spoken to him in years? No mystery there—the kid wouldn’t understand.

Conall didn’t totally understand.

Brooding, he hit the first pothole out on the gravel road too fast, and thought for a minute he’d broken an axle and maybe a tooth.

Goddamn it, concentrate. This was a job. He hadn’t come home to muck around in the past.