Double In (9 page)

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right.
It can be fixed. It’ll take a little time, but it’s not that bad.” She looked
at Reid. “Just like you said.”

“Uh, Marsha.”

Clyde stepped into view. It gave her a jolt to talk to
someone through a space that used to be a wall, but she shook it off. At least
the rain seemed to have stopped.

“Watch yourself, Clyde. We don’t know if those shingles and
cracked boards are through falling.” She didn’t know as much about construction
as Porter and Reid, but she knew a damaged structure was capable of shifting.
If that happened, who knew what else might crumble.

Where she, Porter and Reid were standing, she felt
relatively safe. She could see the supporting beams were unharmed overhead, as
were the primary walls for this section. What she didn’t know was how badly the
stability of the far side of the bar had been compromised.

“I don’t want to be the one to bring you more bad news, but,
well…”

“That car of yours has got a power pole across the roof,”
R.J. piped in when Clyde trailed off.

Clyde slapped the other man on the arm. “Stupid old goat.
What a way to break it to her easy.”

Marsha started to laugh. All the fear of the past hour, the
physical blow of the ruins, the comfort of having Porter and Reid at her side,
and the never-ending comedy of two of her favorite customers collided inside
her and morphed into full-blown laughter. She giggled so hard her sides started
to hurt and, when all the men started chuckling along with her, she laughed
even harder.

“Hey in there,” someone bellowed sharply from the direction
of the street. Feet crunched on pavement and debris as the body brought the
voice closer. “Is everyone okay here?” An officer in full uniform stepped
around the edge of the building and peered in at them.

Marsha wiped at the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes
and tried to control her laughter. “We’re fine, Officer. No one was hurt.”

“Well, now, it’s good to see someone’s able to keep high
spirits after all this mess.” He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and smiled.
“You need to get out of there, though. Stay clear of this building until
someone has a chance to check it out.” His gaze shifted to Porter and he nodded
once. “‘Course, seeing as you two are here, it’s probably already been done.”

“Not thoroughly enough, Officer,” Reid told him. “We’re
headed out now.” He grabbed Marsha gently by the elbow and turned her toward
the front door. “Go that way, please. I don’t want you walking through that
mess just yet.”

“We saw all the trouble between here and the main road,”
Porter said to the officer once they were outside. “Was anyone hurt? Is there
anything we can do to help?”

The officer pushed a hard breath through pursed lips.
“Several scratches, a few with broken bones, no fatalities reported that I’ve
heard of. There are trees and power lines down all over the place. About a
dozen or so homes were hit and a few businesses like Miss Spencer’s here. Some
of them are bad, real bad, others, not so much.” He paused and swept his gaze
over all of them, letting it linger on the older gentlemen. “The best thing you
could do to help right now is stay put, maybe be on standby if we need a couple
of strong backs. I’ll know where to find you.”

Reid followed the officer’s gaze. “We’ll be here for a while
if you need us.” He left what both their looks toward the older men implied
unsaid. They would stick around and make sure the grumpy old men crew, as
Porter called them, stayed safe and out of trouble.

“I’m much obliged for that.” The officer nodded once and
headed back to the street where other officials and people were walking about.

“Since we seem to have the go-ahead and we’re hanging here
for a while, Reid and I are going to check the place out more thoroughly,”
Porter told her. “You okay with that?”

“Please.” It would give her an idea of what work beyond the
obvious would need to be done before she could reopen for business. “I think
I’ll pad around out here, make sure nothing ended up outside from in there that
can be salvaged.”

“Be careful shuffling through the debris, baby.” Reid pulled
her in for a quick kiss and let her go.

Marsha watched as the two men headed for Porter’s truck and
got a few tools they would need from the back, marveling at how drastically a
life could change in less than a week. Hell, in a matter of minutes. She
turned, puffed out a breath, and stifled a chuckle when she saw the grumpy old
man crew already sifting through the rubble on the ground.

“Don’t think you’ll be keeping these dartboards,” George
called to her, tossing half of one to the side.

“Nah, I’d planned to replace them when I did the renovations
on the bar anyway.”

“Let me see that,” Pete demanded, drawing Marsha’s attention
his way. He and R.J stood amongst the rubble, fighting over something she
couldn’t see.

“I found the damn thing,” R.J. shot back. “I wanna see
what’s in it.”

Marsha sighed. “Really, gentlemen? You’re going to fight
over splinters and dirt?”

“Ain’t no splinters and dirt here,” R.J. said. “We got
somethin’.”

“Did you keep some cash or something hidden in the wall?”
Pete asked.

Marsha drew her brows together, puzzled. “Cash? Are you
serious?”

“Well, maybe not cash. I don’t know. Important documents and
such. That’s what people normally keep in a lockbox like this.” He wrenched
what appeared to be a small, rectangular box from R.J., held it next to his
ear, and gave it a shake. “Can’t hear anything rattling in it.”

“If it did rattle you’d probably break it shakin’ it like
that,” R.J. grumbled.

“I have no idea what that is, Pete.” She moved to him,
carefully watching her step. “You found this here?” She glanced down at the
ground, at the debris at her feet. Much of the wood and brick that had
comprised the wall had been blown to who knew where, but a good bit of it had
been diminished to trash on the ground.

“
I
found it,” R.J. corrected, apparently unwilling to
let Pete take the credit.

Pete ignored him and pointed to where they’d found the box.
“Lying right there in plain sight.”

“Bet it belonged to Martin,” R.J. commented. “Man was always
hidin’ stuff for safekeepin’.”

Marsha considered that and a thought struck. “You might be
right. There’s a small key on the ring with all the ones that go to the bar. I
never knew what it went to, but I was afraid to get rid of it.”

“I’m betting you know now,” Clyde said with a nod toward the
box.

“George, would you holler at Porter and Reid and ask one of
them to get the keys from behind the bar?” If the keys were still there. For
all she knew, they could be out here somewhere or in the next county.

It took several minutes, but Porter finally came walking
out, keys in hand. “Looking for these, Mars?”

“Yeah.” She held out the box. “Do you know anything about
this?”

“No. Where did it come from?”

“Out here. Pete thinks it was hidden in the wall that blew
away.”

“You thinking Martin put it here?”

Marsha shrugged. “Who else would’ve?” It struck her then, an
incident she’d dismissed that occurred a few months before Martin passed away.
“That’s what he was doing.”

“What’s what who was doing?” Reid asked, joining the group.

“Martin. I came into the bar before we opened one day and he
was nailing a sheet of paneling back in place. He said it had come loose. I
didn’t think anything of it even though I hadn’t noticed it loose myself.”

“Come on, girl. It wasn’t loose,” R.J. said. “Not ‘til he
made it that way when he hid that behind it.”

“Apparently so.” Marsha took the keys from Porter, flipped
through them until she found the tiny key she’d remembered. It slid into the
slot, disengaging the lock with no effort at all. Her gaze flicked to Porter as
she pulled open the lid.

“What’s in it?” Clyde wanted to know.

Marsha stuck a hand inside and pulled out the contents.
“Nothing but a piece of paper.” She unfolded it. “It’s a letter.”

“To who?” Pete asked.

“What’s it say?” George inquired.

She read the first line. “It’s to me.” Baffled, she quickly
scanned the note and all the blood drained from her face. “Dear God.”

Chapter Seven

Reid stopped at the end of the hallway in the house he
shared with Porter, his gaze landing on the closed bathroom door. He sighed,
turned back to the kitchen, and made his way outside to the back deck where Porter
was lighting the grill to start dinner.

Porter turned when he stepped outside and took the plate of
seasoned steaks, potatoes and vegetables from him. “Has she said anything to
you yet?”

“No.” Marsha hadn’t said much of anything since she read the
letter she’d found in the box. They hadn’t pressured her. They let her have her
space, let her fold the letter and shove it in her pocket without explanation.
But the shock and sadness that had overtaken her expression when she read it
made it hard as hell to keep their mouths shut. “She’s still in the shower.”

They’d managed to convince her to stay with them for the
night. It had been obvious she couldn’t stay in her apartment below the bar and
insane for her to rent a hotel when they had an empty bedroom. Of course, if
they got their way, the three of them would be occupying one bed tonight rather
than sleeping in separate rooms.

“Think it has anything to do with the bar?” Porter situated
the steaks on the grill, closed the lid and leaned on the handle.

“I can’t see how.” Reid plopped in a chair at the outdoor
table and rubbed his temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. “Martin
left her that place in his will. He couldn’t undo it in some hidden letter.”

“Hell, we know he didn’t steal the place twenty years ago.
He built it from the ground up.”

“Shit, Porter, we helped him build it.”

“Then what could he have written that would be bad enough to
freak her out the way it has?”

Reid propped his feet in the adjacent chair and crossed his
ankles. “Damned if I know.” And all their speculating was getting them nowhere.

“Maybe Blair wasn’t so far off after all.”

Reid slanted him a look. “What do you mean?”

Porter sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Maybe he
did love Marsha. She’s an amazing woman. Maybe he fell for her and left her
that letter telling her so.”

Reid glared at his brother. He couldn’t be serious.

“You’re getting warmer.”

Reid saw Porter’s attention snap to his right. Reid pulled
his feet from the chair and turned slightly as Marsha stepped outside.
Towel-dried strands of long hair framed a face full of too many emotions to
define. She’d gathered some of her clothes before leaving the bar and chosen a
purple, fitted T-shirt that stopped an inch above the waistband of a pair of
blue jean shorts. Her feet were bare. Reid hid a smile as his gaze landed on
her pink polished toenails. She never wore makeup, jewelry or any of the other
adornments women often did, but she’d told him once she always took the time to
paint her toenails just for the feminine feel.

“Warmer?” Reid watched her carefully as she rounded the
table and took the seat opposite him.

She shook her head dismissively. “Have either of you talked
to Blair since the storm? Is she okay?”

She asked about a woman who, by all rights, she should
totally despise and that only gave weight to the big heart she possessed.

“She’s fine,” Reid answered. “So is her house. A piece of
hail went through the roof of their back upper deck, but it’s nothing major. I
called her while we were back at the bar. That’s why it took me so long to come
out when you asked for the keys.”

Marsha nodded slowly. “Good. How long do you think it will
be before we can get started on the repairs to the bar?”

Reid and Porter exchanged glances. She’d skipped right over
the subject at hand and moved on. Okay, they would give her a little more time.

“Do you still have the same insurance Martin kept?” Porter
moved to the side of the deck closest to her and rested a forearm on the rail.

“I didn’t change anything, just transferred it to my name.”

“It’s a good company. Contact them first thing in the
morning. They’ll likely have someone out to assess the damage within
twenty-four hours. Then we can get started. I’d say you’ll be back up and
running within a week, two weeks tops.”

“I’d like to host a fundraiser as soon as possible, raise
some money to help out the people who were affected by this storm. I know Pete
can’t afford to fix the roof on that trailer of his and R.J.…”

R.J.’s trailer had been blown to bits. The man might be an ornery
old coot, but seeing him break down when he realized he’d lost everything had
tugged at Reid’s heartstrings. He knew it had hit Marsha the same way.

“We’ll take care of Pete’s roof. He won’t have to pay a
cent,” Porter said. “And believe it or not, R.J. has a slew of friends. We’ll
all do what we can to help him. But I do think a fundraiser is a fine idea.”

“Was anyone killed? Do you know?” Her attention moved from
Porter to Reid and back again.

Porter frowned. “Two people in their late twenties out near
the university. Their names didn’t ring a bell.”

Marsha closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “It doesn’t make
their deaths any less horrible.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I didn’t realize it at first, but there was a second letter
in that box. It was folded with the first one and addressed to Blair.”

Reid sat straighter and saw Porter stiffen in his peripheral
vision. “Will you tell us what it said, what both of them said?”

Marsha shifted, leaning over slightly to pull the letters
from her back pocket. She separated them and held one out to Reid. “I didn’t
read Blair’s beyond the first line. I’m not going to. It’s hers and for her to
read. But this one pretty much says it all.”

Porter pushed away from the rail, caught the back of the
empty chair, and pulled it to sit next to Reid.

Reid didn’t look away from Marsha as he took the letter. The
emotions in her eyes were killing him. Turmoil swirled with a deep pain that
twisted a band around his heart. “Are you sure?” He wanted to read it, wanted
to know, but whatever it said was so obviously personal it made him hesitant.

She nodded. “You were his stepsons. It impacts you, too.”
She paused and added, “Just not as strongly as it does me and Blair.”

Reid still hesitated for several more heartbeats before he
angled the letter toward the outside light so he and Porter could read.

My Dearest Marsha,

You always talked about expanding the bar to make a
bigger dart area. If you’re reading this then I’m gone, the bar belongs to you,
and you’ve followed through with your plans. Fate has also decided it’s time
for you to know.

There’s no easy way to say this. If there were, I’d have
found the words to do it when I was alive. You told me once about your mother
and the trip she made to Spring Valley her senior year of high school. You told
me about the man she met, how she fell so deeply in love with him that she
never married, never let anyone else into her heart. You said she never told
you his name, that she only called him her prince. Marsha, I was that prince.

When your mother and I parted after that incredible week
together, we agreed it would be forever. The distance between our lives was too
great. She had her plans and I had mine. Creating you was something neither of
us considered. Two months after our time together I received a letter from your
mother telling me about you. I am ashamed to say I never responded. See, I had
met Blair’s mother by then and knew she was the woman for me, but she already
had Porter and Reid and didn’t want any more children. I never told her about
your mother or you. I never told any of them.

Abandoning you immediately started eating away at me, but
I was too afraid of losing Blair’s mother to reveal the truth. Instead, I
convinced her to have one more child with me. Blair is that child. She’s your
half-sister.

The day I realized who you were, my world shifted. It was
three weeks after you came to work for me, the night we sat around drinking and
talking about our pasts. That’s the night you told me about your mother and I
knew. I tried so many times to tell you the truth, but I wasn’t strong enough.
Instead, I tried to do right by you in the short time God gave us. I will go to
my grave with the guilt of what I’ve done. I wasn’t there for you and I will
rightfully pay the price.

Saying I’m sorry could never make up for what I’ve done.
But please know, sweet Marsha, that I love you and I hope you and Blair can one
day forgive me. Please give this second letter to Blair. It explains everything
to her, as well.

With all my love,

Martin

Marsha watched absolute shock come over Porter’s and Reid’s
expressions as they read the letter. She could easily relate. It had been hours
since she read it the first time and she’d yet to get over the blow it had
delivered her. She probably never would.

Porter sat back in his chair and ran a hand down his face.
Reid’s gaze slowly lifted from the paper and locked with hers. She couldn’t
tell what either of them was thinking and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Martin hadn’t been their father, but he’d raised them. They’d been abandoned
twice, first by their own father and then by their mother.

“Blair is your sister,” Reid said softly, evenly.

Marsha swallowed and nodded. “Bet she’s going to be really
happy to learn about that, huh?”

“All these years…” Porter dropped his hand, got to his feet
and yanked open the grill.

“We never knew anything about this, about him meeting your
mother.” Reid slowly folded the letter and handed it back to her. “How could he
keep a secret like that bottled up for over half his life?”

Marsha shrugged. “I guess he was stronger than he thought.”

“This story you told him about your mother,” Porter said
with his back to her as he flipped the steaks. “You never told us. You said
your mother never married and you didn’t know anything about your father, but…”

“Will you tell us what you know?” Reid asked when Porter
trailed off.

Marsha took a deep breath and let it out slow. “She came to
Spring Valley on her senior year trip. Everyone else was going to Florida, to
the beach as most teenagers do for spring break. She’d lived on the beach her
entire life and wanted something different. Spring Valley was known for its
nature trails, beautiful mountains and amusement parks so she decided to come
here.”

“And she met Martin.” Porter closed the lid to the grill and
turned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he met her gaze for the first time
since reading the letter.

“She met Martin. She told me he swept her off her feet. He
was two years older, handsome, funny, smart…” Marsha shifted her gaze to the
sky, now clear and sprinkled with stars. “Thinking about it now, she described
him perfectly. She accurately pegged the Martin we all knew.” She shrugged.
“There isn’t really much to tell. She fell in love with him, but they agreed
from the start that they wouldn’t even attempt a long-distance relationship.
The week ended and she went home.”

“And discovered soon after that she was carrying his child,
you,” Reid said.

“She told me she didn’t have a way to contact him, that they
had agreed not to exchange addresses or phone numbers. Obviously she lied about
that.”

“To protect you,” Porter said softly. “At least that would
be my guess.”

“Yeah, mine too. She always spoke so highly of him. She
called him her prince, as he said in the letter. She never would tell me his
name, though. No matter how many times I asked or how old I got, she still
wouldn’t tell me.”

“She probably thought you would try to find him.” A trace of
disgust tainted Reid’s tone. “Seeing as how she tried to tell him about you and
he never responded, she probably thought you would get hurt.”

“She was right, about the first anyway. I would’ve tried to
find him.” Marsha chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “I don’t know if he would’ve
hurt me. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to seek him out until I was an
adult. By then he’d apparently become wiser, more mature.” She shrugged again
and looked at Reid. “We’ll never know, will we?”

Reid shook his head. “No, we won’t.”

Porter moved behind her and started massaging her shoulders.

It felt so good she bowed her head and closed her eyes. “It
sure turned out to be a hell of a day, didn’t it?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Reid said. “Thanks for telling
us about this and for letting us read the letter.”

Marsha lifted her head and met Reid’s gaze. “Thanks for
giving me some time to digest it all before I did.”

“How are you doing with it?” Porter’s fingers moved in
pressured circles over her shoulders, the back of her neck, and down her upper
spine. “On the inside, I mean. You’re tough as nails, Mars, but this hit you
deep. We’ve been watching you. We know you’ve been struggling with it.”

The news had weakened that toughness. She’d kept quiet,
mostly out of fear she’d break down in front of anyone and everyone. She’d let
her pain, her anger, her utter shock show and she knew it, but she’d been
unable to contain it all.

She tipped her head back to look at him. “I’m okay. I’ll
be
okay.” She straightened her head and fixed her attention on a spot over Reid’s
shoulder. “I know who my father was now. I even got to spend two pretty good
years with him. I also know why he left me the bar, though I’d like to think it
was because he had faith in me and not just because I’m the daughter he never
claimed.”

“He did have faith in you,” Reid assured her. “I think he
proved that many times.”

“Yeah, he did. That means a lot.” Marsha swallowed a lump
that started to form in her throat. “Is it stupid of me to say that, to think I
made my father proud, to want to know that I did even after all those years
apart?”