I pulled away and leaned my forehead against his. Both of us breathed heavily. “Do you know what would really make the weight go away?”
“Mmm?” His thumb dragged against my lower lip. He leaned closer, but I pulled away.
“Talking to your mom.”
Chapter Fifteen
When we returned to the inn Mike headed straight for Kate’s room. I didn’t expect her to be there, but she was, sitting at her desk before her computer.
“Mom. Can I talk to you?”
Kate’s face swiveled back and forth between the two of us. “What’s going on?”
I touched Mike’s arm softly. “I can go.”
“No.” Instead, he shut the door. “I wanted to talk about Kilkarten.”
I had said almost the same thing to him, long ago.
“Of course.” She glanced at me curiously, and then back. “What about?’
He took a deep breath
, his gaze flicking briefly at me. For some reason, I reached out and took his hand.
He squeezed it like a lifeline, and looked back at his mother. “When I was ten I heard you talking to Dad about Kilkarten. It was an—an unpleasant conversation. About him being involved with nationalists. About Kilkarten being used for that. So I wanted to know if you knew—or had any reason to think—that there are any weapons buried on the land.”
“What?” Her face paled until only the red stain on her lips stood out, a macabre representation of life and love. “Weapons? On Kilkarten? No!”
I could feel the change in Mike. He’d been braced for revelation, for confirmation, but never imagined his mother would stare at him like he’d spoken in tongues. “What?”
“Michael, there’s nothing buried there.”
“But—” He stared at me wildly. “But he was so upset. You were crying. He said he’d been part of a rebellious group and that Kilkarten had been sacrificed for it.”
“Michael. Oh, honey. That conversation was never about guns.” She stood and came around and hovered before him, like she wanted to embrace him or touch his face but wasn’t sure how. Then her eyes widened, and she looked back and forth between us. “Is that why you didn’t want the excavation to go through? Because you thought there was something buried there?”
He stared. “There’s no statute of limitations for treason.”
She sat back down—more of a collapse into her hair. “How long have you thought this? Why didn’t you ask me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“But, Mike. Oh, honey.” I could see the agony etched in each line of her face, and every line looked deeper today. “I am my own person. You cannot try to protect me. That’s not your role.” She shook her head. “You can’t just steamroll everyone else. It’s because you’ve always kept everything bottled up inside so much. I never taught you how to let it out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After your father died. You just seemed like you were coping, and the girls and I were such a mess and it was too late that I realized you weren’t all right, that you never mourned—”
“Mom!” He jumped up, his hands fisting. “I am fine. I was fine.”
“No, you’re not.” She ran a manicured hand down the side of her face, over closed eyes.
He shook his head, hair flying everywhere. Bewilderment and anger and hurt fought for control of his features. “What, just because I tried to save our family?”
“Because you never let your family in. Why didn’t you talk to me about this? Or with Lauren?”
He sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know.”