She could only think of one thing that would make him feel like that. “Are you trying to make up for your brother and father?”
That would take two lifetimes, Brody thought. At least. Most likely, more.
He shook his head. “Just trying to do my fair share, that’s all.” He debated saying the next words, then decided that he had nothing to lose. “If you want, the next time I go to the Kenaitze village, you’re welcome to come with me.”
“I’d like that,” she said, then felt she needed to qualify her answer. “If I’m still here.”
He inclined his head. “That was understood.” It was getting dark within the house. He started to cross to the nearest light switch on the wall, then stopped. He looked at Irena over his shoulder. There was a big, gray flagstone fireplace in the living room. “I can light a fire in the fireplace if you’d like,” he offered.
She glanced at the fireplace. Her father had toasted marshmallows with her there one year. Marshmallows had never tasted so good.
“It sounds wonderfully cozy,” she acknowledged.
He picked up the note of slight hesitation in her voice and interpreted it. “But you really need to get going.”
So far, he’d guessed everything right. It didn’t surprise her. Her smile began in her eyes. “Still clairvoyant, I see.”
“Just with certain people.” Actually, the only one he seemed to be in sync with was her, but he refrained from mentioning that. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. Or, in this case, the right one.
“Am I that transparent?” she asked. Her laugh rang a little flat to her ears.
Brody was quick to reassure her. “I just know how you think. Nice to know that some things haven’t changed.”
“I don’t imagine too much has changed here.” Despite what June had told her, she added silently. How much growth could there have been? Their population had only increased by twenty or so, according to the atlas she’d glanced at before leaving for the airport.
“You’d be surprised,” he said, turning toward the window that faced the front of the house. Snow began to fall languidly. How soon before that turned into a blizzard? “Tomorrow, weather permitting, I’ll take you around town so you can see for yourself.”
He made it sound like an all-day undertaking. She knew better. “What will we do with the other twenty-three and three-quarter hours?”
He laughed. “Hades has gotten bigger,” he insisted. “Really.”
She studied him for a moment, vaguely aware that his features had matured in a way that made him even better looking. “Is that pride I hear in your voice?”
Brody was about to deny it, then stopped to reconsider. “Yeah, I guess maybe it is. Surviving and thriving against the odds is an accomplishment to be proud of.”
Something in the way he said it caught her attention. “Are you talking about the town, or yourself?”
“Actually,” Brody admitted, “I was thinking about you.”
He knew she was right, that they had to get going, but he was in no hurry to leave. Once they were outside, he fully intended to guide Irena to her grandfather’s house. It was already getting dark—they were in that half of the year where, very quickly, there would be a minimum of light available to them—and even natives had been known to lose their way in a storm. And, unless he missed his guess, the sky looked as if it was ready to blanket the area with snow.
But once he was in his car and she in hers, they couldn’t talk anymore, and he really enjoyed talking to her. He savored it now, especially since he had no idea when the next opportunity might arise. And besides, before he knew it, she’d be gone again.
He leaned his hand against the wall above her head, unconsciously creating a small alcove for them. “We all expected you to come back, you know.” Hoped, really, he added silently. “At first, from college and then after you graduated. But you didn’t.”
She shrugged, looking away. “Things didn’t work out that way.” And then she looked back up at him. “You went away to college, too,” she remembered.
He’d thought that he could forget her if he was busy enough. He was wrong. “Yeah, but I came back.”
“You had no reason not to.” She remembered that he had been one of the few who had no desire to escape Hades. “You weren’t trying to forget something.”
“Maybe I was, in my own way.”
The moment the words were out, he regretted them. He had no idea what made him say that. He kept his feeling to himself all this time, not saying a word to anyone, although he suspected that Ryan had known.
It wasn’t typical of his brother not to bring it up, not to tease him. Sensitivity had never been Ryan’s strong suit, but in this one instance, somehow his brother had known enough to leave the subject, his feelings for Irena, alone.
Except for that one time.
It was the day before he took his own life. Ryan had been oddly forthright and talkative that afternoon, going over a litany of the mistakes he’d made over the years. He remembered that Irena had appeared twice on his brother’s list. Once because he regretted treating her so badly and the second time because, Ryan had told him, he realized that he, Brody, was the one who actually deserved to have her.
“Irena deserved someone better than me, and you deserved someone like her,” Ryan had concluded that day, being unusually serious. “If it hadn’t been for me getting in the way, who knows? Maybe the two of you might have gotten married. Or at least had a lot of fun together.” Ryan had winked then and chuckled. He’d wound up having a coughing fit.
“You’re babbling now,” he’d remembered telling his brother, doing his best to get Ryan to bed so that he could sleep it off. Four o’clock in the afternoon and Ryan was already drunk out of his mind.
“Maybe,” Ryan had allowed, falling into bed like a child-worn rag doll. “But I’m babbling the truth.” Ryan had grabbed the front of his shirt, raising himself off the bed for a moment as he underscored his point. “I know you love her. It’s there in your eyes.”
He’d very gently disengaged Ryan’s fingers from his shirt and put him back down again. “You’re hallucinating, Ryan,” he’d said with feeling.
“No, I’m not,” Ryan insisted. “I’ve always known it. Maybe that was even the reason I went after her,” he’d admitted, not because he was proud of himself, but because, Brody now realized, his brother had needed to confess the deed. “Because I wanted to take what you wanted. I’m sorry, Brody, I’m sorry.” He began to cry then. “I screwed up for all of us.”
It had taken him a while to calm Ryan down again. As for the apology, at the time he’d chalked up the words as the ramblings of an alcoholic. He’d heard enough so-called confessions and protestations of regret from both his father and his brother to know that there would be no memory of this in the morning.
But instead, this time there was no Ryan in the morning.
It was the last conversation they’d had.
“What?” Irena asked now, pressing him for an answer. “What were you trying to forget?”
Brody shook his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to come off sounding so melodramatic.” He glanced out the front window again. It was looking worse by the minute. “If we don’t leave now, we’re going to wind up getting snowed in here,” he warned again. “Without any working phone lines, we’ll be stranded.”
“My grandfather would find us,” she assured him with a fond smile. “He has this uncanny instinct when it comes to family. But,” she agreed, lifting up the hood of her parka, “there’s no reason to put it to the test. You’re right, let’s go.”