Free Your'e Still the One by Debbi Rawlins Page B

“Obviously I know about your father’s drinking problem. But he’s been looking ill, and whether it’s a result of the booze or not, I just want to say I think it’s admirable that you’ve put your differences aside to come see him. That’s all.” Her hand trailed away as she leaned back. “I won’t bring up the subject again.”
    Matt relaxed his fist. Her touch had calmed him some. He’d wondered how much she knew, what her mother might’ve told her. It was clear now that Rachel was in the dark, just as most people were in Blackfoot Falls, he suspected.
    His coming home had nothing to do with caring about his father, and Rachel would see that soon enough. Maybe he should give a shit that she might not think so highly of him. And yeah, he did a little, but Rachel had never judged him. As a teenager she’d hotly and privately defended him against Wallace’s injustices. Yet she’d never criticized him for not standing up to the man.
    For his mother’s sake, he’d forced himself to keep his cool, even when he’d started busting the seams of his clothes and was big enough to take the old man. Flatten him in the dirt. Keep him prone until he begged for mercy, until he apologized for every harsh word he’d uttered to his wife, every condemning glance he’d sent her, every second he’d made her weep in despair.
    Yep, Matt could’ve humbled the bastard. But he’d swallowed his pride and his temper, held himself in check, until his self-control had started to slip. If he hadn’t left, blood would’ve been shed. Wallace’s blood. And as much satisfaction as that would’ve given Matt, it would have only added to his mother’s misery. He never could’ve forgiven himself for that.
    Rachel noisily cleared her throat, snapping him out of his preoccupation. “Will you remember the temperature to heat the casserole or should I write it down?”
    “You’re not leaving yet.”
    “I— You seem to have a lot on your mind.”
    “Yeah, sorry, it’s weird being here,” he said. “How about more coffee?”
    She smiled. “My feelings won’t be hurt if you want to be alone. I really get it.”
    “I want you to stay.” He moved, intent on getting their coffee, and wincing when his chair scraped the wood floor.
    “Wow, at my house that’s punishable by a week of table clearing and washing dishes.”
    “Ouch. Your mother’s tough.”
    “That’s my rule.”
    He laughed. “I bet you have your brothers whipped into shape.”
    “If only...”
    The rest of his coffee was cold so he dumped it in the sink. Rachel got up to help even though he motioned for her to stay seated. They didn’t talk, just fixed each of their coffees, and then Rachel found a sponge and wiped down the counter.
    If she’d wondered about his restraint back in the day, she never mentioned it. Never told him what he should do or pushed him into taking action. Pretty remarkable now that he thought about it. Not just because she herself had a spine of steel but because of her own experience. She’d had a perfect family until her father died when she was fourteen. Matt would bet his last dollar that Gavin McAllister had never abused his role as a father.
    Everyone in the county liked and respected the man—how he did business, treated his neighbors and loved his family. He’d produced another fine generation of McAllisters, a strong daughter and exemplary sons. People had said so, over and over again, without being asked as they stepped up to his casket. Even the old-timers hadn’t been able to keep their eyes dry.
    Two men couldn’t be more different than Wallace Gunderson and Gavin McAllister. Matt never heard talk, but he knew what people thought. No one would go to Wallace’s funeral. Well, Lucy would. As their housekeeper she’d seen plenty, but she was still loyal.
    Either she was bucking for sainthood or, more likely, her diligence was his mother’s doing. The woman could make a person promise things they regretted a moment