Page 15 of Midnight Clear

The farmhouse sat like a beacon, porch lights on, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. That house held a lot of memories—laughter, tears, fights, joy—and it made him think of Sophie and what her childhood had been like with an alcoholic father.

The animals were all put up for the night, and he could see the lights for the stables in the distance where the horses were bedded down. But the big red barn behind the house drew his attention since the door was open and the lights were on full. The barn just behind the house was one for family gatherings. His mother had decorated every inch of the space with everything you could think of to entertain a family of their size. Not to mention Anne O’Hara liked to have parties for any occasion, so chances were his parents were out there scheming and taking measurements for some new project.

Hank parked his truck and stepped onto the snowy ground, and dogs barked and sprinted out of the barn and straight toward him. They’d always had dogs on the ranch, and these two were from the same line as the pup he’d had as a boy.

“Hey, Maverick,” Hank said, leaning down to greet the dog and scratch under his neck. “Good boy. Where’s Dad?”

Maverick woofed softly and then Goose padded up to say his hellos. And then his father walked out of the barn and closed the big doors behind him.

“I figured it was you,” his father called out. “Phone’s been ringing off the hook all day.”

Mick O’Hara was a handsome man—an older version of the five sons he’d sired—with silver hair that had once been black as coal and the blue eyes of the Irish gypsies he was descended from. His body was disciplined and in excellent shape for a man in his early sixties. Ranch life wasn’t for the weak.

“Bunch of busybodies that don’t have anything better to do,” Hank said.

“It’s not nice to talk about your family that way,” Mick said, making Hank chuckle. “Come on in the house. If your mother loves me she’ll have a pot of coffee going to warm me up. It’s the least she can do after making me build her a mudroom in the barn.”

“I’ve never seen a barn with a mudroom,” Hank said, tongue in cheek.

“That’s what I told her,” Mick said. “Woman’s got a head like a rock, but I’ll deny it if you tell her that. But she said how wouldn’t it be nice for everyone to have a place to put their winter or rain gear whenever we have big gatherings, and before you know it I’m out here measuring for shelves and shoe cubbies and making a mudroom the size of the Taj Mahal.”

Hank slapped his father on the shoulder and then squeezed as they walked back to the house together.

“I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished,” Hank said.

“Oh, you’re going to see it before it’s finished,” Mick said. “I’ve got enough tools for all you boys. Though between you and me I’d prefer Wyatt stick to painting. Boy never could figure out the right end of a hammer.”

Hank chuckled and said, “You did your best with him. But maybe don’t antagonize him. He carries a gun for a living.”

Mick snorted and opened the kitchen door, and the dogs padded in after them. Hank’s mother was sitting at the island, and when she saw him her face lit up and she came to hug him.

“Hank,” she said, holding him tight. “What a surprise.”

“Hey, what about me?” Mick asked.

Anne laughed and turned her attention to her husband, kissing him full on the mouth, and then she patted him on the backside. It had been like that for as long as Hank could remember. His parents had a marriage of love and affection and friendship, and he couldn’t even imagine not having the exact same thing when it was his time for marriage.

His dad put his cap on the hook and went to the sink to wash his hands, and his mother went over to the coffeepot.

“You want a cup?” she asked, brow quirked in question.

“Might as well,” Hank said. “It’s going to be a late night anyway.”

“I heard you had some distractions today,” Mick said, grinning.

“You heard?” Hank asked. “Are you on the gossip line now?”

His mother chuckled and brought his coffee over, and then set out cream and sugar for all of them. He took a seat at the big kitchen island, just like he had for his whole life. A lot of conversations had been had at the kitchen island.

“I’ll say the phone has been busy today,” Anne said. “How was your breakfast?”

“Illuminating,” Hank said. “What do you remember about Mitch Jacobs?”

“We went to school together,” Mick said. “We were in the same grade, but Maggie was close to a decade younger so I didn’t really know her well. If I remember right Mitch’s family moved here about the time we hit middle school. I don’t remember where they were from, and I never really knew his parents, but they came in with an influx of miners. They lived in one of the mining camps up in the mountains, and they’d all ride the bus in for school.

“He was always a temperamental guy,” Mick continued. “Played sports and was a decent athlete. But spent a lot of time on the sideline because of his temper. The town was half the size it is now, but he hung with the wrong crowd. And he was drinking even then. He went off for a good while after graduation. Joined the military. He was a good enough looking guy, I guess, lots of charisma to make up for the temper. And when he came back Maggie Lowman had eyes only for him. The Lowmans go back a few generations in Laurel Valley. Good people. Hard working. They always did the best with what they had, but Maggie and Lori were the end of the Lowman name.”

“Your father and I were already married when Mitch came back into town,” Anne chimed in. “Duncan was just a baby. Maggie was fresh out of high school and pretty as a picture. Everyone tried to warn her to stay away from Mitch, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She has that stubborn chin just like Sophie. Women always think they can change a man.”

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