Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [130]
Asha shivered. “Sean never owned Falgannon. Colford was held in trust for my father until he inherited. The farm in Kentucky was purchased by my father for my mother.”
“Precisely what my father discovered after the house of cards collapsed. The bank lost, the investors lost, my father lost . . .” He gave her a small squeeze, pressing her tightly against his chest. “The one who lost most of all is Desmond. He’s consumed with the need to set things right for our mother. He’s in love with B.A. I’m hoping she will be his salvation—as you are mine.”
Asha resented that he had lied. Still, she ached for him. His words reached into her.
“My father’s death hit Des the hardest. Des was seven. He saw my father pull the trigger. I’m sure any psychiatrist would tell you Des should’ve received treatment for the trauma; the act was simply too much for a child to witness and not be scarred. It’s devouring him now, Asha. Mother’s death only amplified the pressure. Des became our father, the only father I’ve ever known. I owe him everything, Asha. I’m the man I am today because of Des.”
He spoke next of how his mother returned to Ireland after Michael Mershan’s death, living with her father, an alcoholic. They’d resided in antiquated conditions, suffered emotional abuse at his hands until he died in a rage one night. Shortly thereafter, barely ten-years-old, Des started shouldering the burden of protecting their mother and keeping his brothers safe.
“An American writer took pity on our situation, sponsored us to come to the States. She was a nice lady. Then she was killed in a hit-and-run accident. My mum panicked, afraid they would send us back to Ireland. She took us and ran. And kept running. Anytime someone asked too many questions, she’d pack up our meager belongings and move to another town, another state. She took jobs that barely paid minimum wage, only thing she could get. Worked herself to the bone.”
As he talked, Jago cried. Asha cried with him. How could she not? His pain washed through her. All the hurt, the anguish, his mother’s fear and illness—Desmond’s sacrifices to make sure his brothers were safe. She also began to comprehend Jago’s reticence in revealing his deception. He would’ve been betraying Des, whom he loved like a father. She understood it all so clearly now. Understood, but had no idea how to deal with it.
All through the night he spoke of these things. And she simply held him.
In the morning, Asha was beside herself. Jago clearly had reasons for what he did, and they were not selfish, but her emotions were too out of control to be rational. She alternated between crying jags over what he and his family had gone through and wanting to belt him.
She had to get away. There was no way she could sort out her emotions and think straight. Also, she had the urge to fly to her twin’s side. Trevelyn was at Colford and involved with Raven. Dealing with Jago was hard enough for her, but when she thought of Trev deceiving her sister, Asha saw red and wanted to murder someone—preferably with the last name of Mershan.
She stood by the glass doors, watching the gray morning, and trying to calm her mood. It wasn’t working. She kept telling herself that her sisters, Paganne, Katlynne and Britt, were at Colford to support Raven. LynneAnne was on Falgannon with B.A.
“Only I’m alone, no sister to lean on,” she said wistfully.
She picked up the phone to call Raven, then hung up. This wasn’t something you broke to your sister on a trunk call. Wiggling her fingers, trying to decide, she finally picked it up and rang Colford Hall, hoping to reach Kat or Britt. Instead, a maid answered saying all her sisters were out, getting ready for a big gala for the Historical Trust.
“Blast.” Asha hung up and frowned toward the closet, knowing her suitcase was at the bottom. It was silly, but she wanted to go home. Maybe back in England she’d