an uncanny sense about those things. It’d made it rough getting anything past her, which was probably why she’d managed to take three universally screwed-up kids and turn them into something useful to society.
“I have to go,” he’d said quietly.
“I know you do,” she’d said with a sigh. “I just wish you didn’t feel the need to prove yourself to a bunch of people who don’t matter anyway. All the people who know your heart are right here.”
“It’s not about me. It’s just something I need to do for my dad. The Garrett name doesn’t need to be forever associated with something bad.”
Mama Jo’s eyes had misted and for a second he’d felt like that lost eleven-year-old boy again. She’d cupped soft, careworn hands around his jaw as she’d said, “You’re a good son. You do what you feel is necessary to make it right for you. Your daddy is gone and it don’t matter to him none. You do this for you. And when you’ve done what you feel needs doing, you know where home is.”
He’d choked up and Mama Jo had wrapped him in a hug that said as much as her words.
Heading back to California, it’d felt as if he were going to battle.
Just thinking of that day so many years ago caused tears to spring to his eyes and, if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up a slobbering, bawling mess at his desk.
So when Mama Jo called, he always answered if he could.
“Hello, Mama,” he said when she picked up the line. A smile formed at the sound of her voice as her face appeared in his memory. “I just got your message. What’s going on? Everything okay? Did you get that package I sent?”
“Sure did. Never seen fruit arranged like that before. It was good, though Christian and Thomas wiped out the chocolate-topped strawberries before I could blink.”
“Oh, Mama, you should’ve smacked their paws as soon as they tried reaching for them,” he grumbled. He loved his brothers but he’d paid a pretty penny to have the fresh fruit arrangement delivered across the states. The overnight cold-storage shipping had been nearly as pricey as the arrangement but Mama was worth it. “I just wanted you to have something different for your birthday.”
“It was very thoughtful of you and I loved it, don’t you worry. But I wasn’t calling about the arrangement. I want to know if I can get a commitment out of you to come visit.”
She always asked, but there was something else in her voice—an underlying urgency perhaps that gave him pause. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Does there have to be some kind of calamity for you to visit your family?” she joked, but it didn’t escape his notice that she’d sidestepped the question. A trickle of unease made his heart race. “It’s just time to come home for a visit. Don’t you think? It’s been years,” she reminded him.
“It’s high time,” he agreed, but he was looking at his calendar and there weren’t too many open spots. Still, he couldn’t get himself to just shut her down. “I’ll see what I can do, Mama,” he offered, but the weight of her disappointment pressed on him to try harder. He flipped his calendar, scanning for any possible leeway. “How about I bring you here for a visit? We could take a drive into the Bay, see the sights…”
“Maybe another time. You let me know when you can come. I’ll see that your brothers are here, too. It’s time we spend some time catching up.”
“Okay,” he agreed, but he didn’t know how the hell he was going to manage it. “Everything okay? You sound funny.”
“Never tell a lady that, son,” she admonished. “Take care, honey. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mama,” he murmured, still troubled even as he disconnected. He’d have to call Thomas. His older brother always knew what was going on with Mama. He was the only one who’d stayed behind, getting a job with the local FBI office out of Pittsburgh. He’d recently moved back to Bridgeport with his wife, Cassi.
In Thomas’s case, he’d married his childhood sweetheart—eventually. Before the happily-ever-after happened, he’d been hell-bent on putting her in federal prison. From the stories he’d heard, Cassi had communicated her displeasure with that idea by repeatedly punching, kicking and scratching Thomas each time he tried.
As for Christian, he’d managed to fall in love with a woman on the run from a real bad character that had, for all intents and purposes, enslaved her for his own gain.
His brothers had a knack for finding the most difficult women on the planet and then falling in love with them. He was going to buck that trend. If he didn’t, he might end up shackled to someone like that reporter.
He waited for the shudder. But when it came, a shiver of awareness followed and that freaked him out more than finding a rattlesnake in his toilet.
PIPER DONNED A BIG, FLOPPY HAT to shield herself from the sun and exited her car, scanning the farm for her parents. She found them laughing and talking with Tia and Rhonda as they fawned over the new baby. She trudged that way, each step reminding her to stow her annoyance at being pulled away from spending time at the library going through the archived newspapers on microfiche, because she truly loved these weird, left-to-center people with all her heart.
Tia exclaimed when she saw Piper. “There she is. Little Miss Intrepid Reporter. Come here, you, and give me a hug,” Tia demanded with mock seriousness. “For a while, I started to think you’d forgotten all about your friends and family in your quest for journalistic fame.”
“You’re a hard bunch to forget,” Piper said, returning the embrace. “How’s the new baby?”
Tia glanced down at the sleeping baby tucked into a beautiful antique pram that Tia likely rescued from a garbage heap somewhere and the corners of her mouth tipped in a gooey smile. “She’s perfect.”
Rhonda smoothed a lock of jet-black hair from the baby’s porcelain China-doll face. “More than perfect. Divine.”
Piper smiled indulgently, but held her tongue. She’d never understood the baby thing. To her, the kid looked like any other newborn. Sort of smooshy and wrinkly. And helpless. Piper couldn’t even commit to a fish, much less a kid. “So what’s her name?”
“Echo Breeze,” Tia answered, sharing an adoring look with Rhonda.
Echo. Whatever happened to traditional names like Mary or Nicole? She’d often wished her parents had picked something a little less out there when they’d named her. The kids in school had teased her mercilessly. She gazed down at the baby with a rueful expression. Good luck with that name, kiddo. “She’s cute,” Piper acknowledged, then moved to her parents with an expectant expression. “So what’s the plan? I have an appointment later today and can’t stay the full day.”
Her mother frowned but seemed to understand. “We’ll start with the seed blessings and the offering to Gaia and then we’ll start planting. It’s a shame you can’t stay. Farley was going to sing at the banquet.”
“Yeah, bummer,” Piper said, nodding, yet inside she chortled at her luck. Farley sang like a boy whose balls hadn’t dropped yet. She found it odd, and not in a good way.
“So what are you working on these days?” Rhonda asked. “I read the piece on Big Trees Logging. Fantastic. It’s about time someone called that sucker out for what he’s doing to the land under the guise of legitimate business. Hopefully, a follow-up piece is on the horizon.”
“Actually, that was the third piece and I’ve run out of steam on that angle. I’ve been working on something different now.” Something far more interesting. She smiled. “But don’t worry. There’s always something to uncover.”
“You bet there is,” Rhonda agreed vehemently. “With the amount of corruption out there, you could find things to write about for years. However, I’m sure your parents told you about the tree-sit that’s coming