Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(37)

"So what was his theory about me?"

She looked trapped. "Um… once I heard him say that the reason you were so good undercover was because you'd been undercover all your life. But I never knew what he meant by that. And when I asked him, he told me it was none of my damn business."

He started to grin. "You asked him about me?"

Her eyelashes swept down. She cut an oyster into perfect quarters and daintily ate one. "I was curious. What did he mean, anyway?"

He stared down at his steak. "Well, uh, it's a long story."

She popped another oyster quarter into her lush, sexy mouth and gave him an encouraging smile.

He took a swig of beer and groped around for a logical beginning place. "Well… my mom died when I was eight, and Davy was ten—"

Her fork clattered onto her plate. "Oh, my God, I'm sorry," she said. "How awful for you."

"Yeah, it was bad," he admitted. "The twins were only four—"

"Twins?" Her eyes widened. "You didn't mention twins."

"I used to have three brothers," he explained. "Sean had a twin. His name was Kevin. He died ten years ago. Ran his truck off a cliff."

Her eyes widened in horrified dismay. She lifted her napkin to her mouth. "God, Connor. I didn't mean to bring back painful memories."

"And I didn't mean to freak you out with a Shakespearean tragedy, either," he said grimly. "I started out wrong. Sorry. Rewind. Let me try this again. So Dad and the four of us lived way out in the hills behind Endicott Falls. Don't know if you're familiar with the area."

She nodded. "I know Endicott Falls. Cindy goes to college there."

"I see. So anyhow, when Mom died, my dad went kind of nuts. He was a Vietnam vet, and I don't think the war experience did a lot for his mental stability to begin with. But when he lost her, he lost his grip. He home-schooled us, since the school bus didn't get within twenty miles of our place. Dad's curriculum was very… personalized."

He stopped, surprised. Usually he avoided talking about his strange childhood. The inevitable stupid questions and snap judgments irritated him. But the glow of interest in Erin's eyes made it easier.

"Dad was convinced that the end of civilization was at hand," he went on. "He was preparing us for the breakdown of the world order. So, along with reading and writing and math, it was hand-to-hand combat, social and political history, gardening, hunting, tracking. We learned how to build a lethal bomb out of ordinary stuff. How to dry meat, tan skins, eat grubs, sew up a wound. Everything a guy might need to know after the crash. Survival in the midst of anarchy."

"That's amazing," she said.

He dug into his steak. "A social worker came out to check on us once. Dad hid us in the woods, told her he'd sent us to live with his folks in upstate New York. Then he told her what was in store for her after the crash. Traumatized the poor woman. She ran away."

"What did you and your brothers think of all this?"

He shrugged. "Dad was a charismatic guy. Very convincing. And we were so isolated, no TV, no radio. Dad didn't want us brainwashed by mass media. For a long time we bought the whole story. But then Davy decided he wanted to go to high school. Told Dad he was going on a recon mission into enemy territory, but he was just desperate to meet some girls." He smiled at the memory; then his smile faded. "That was close to the end for Dad. He had a stroke later that year."

She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. Electricity sparked, and she jerked her hand back with a soft murmur.

He stared down at his hand, wishing she had left hers on top of it. "That's probably what Ed was referring to," he said. "Blending in, after growing up on another planet. You learn survival skills quick."

"So what happened when your father died?" she asked.

"We buried him out there on the land. I don't think that's legal, but we didn't know that. Davy got a job at the mill. We stuck together until I got through high school, and then Davy joined the Navy and I took over at the mill." He shrugged. "We got on with it."

"How old were you when he died?"

"Davy was eighteen, I was sixteen. Kevin and Sean were twelve."

Erin bit her lip. She was getting teary-eyed. It alarmed him.

"Look, you don't have to feel sorry for me," he assured her. "It was a strange way to grow up, but not a bad one. It was a beautiful place. I had my brothers for company. I don't regret learning what Dad taught us. If Mom hadn't died, I would've called myself lucky."

She mopped her eyes, a quick, furtive gesture, and smiled at him. "What was she like?" she asked.

He thought about it for a moment. "I was really small when she died," he said. "I've lost a lot of details. But I remember her laughing. My dad was a silent, moody type, but she could make him laugh. She was the only one who could. After she died, he never laughed again."

"How did she…" Her voice trailed off. "Uh, sorry," she murmured. "Never mind. I didn't mean to—"

"Tubal pregnancy," he said. "We were too far from the hospital. It was January. Three feet of snow. She bled to death."

She looked down and lifted her napkin to her mouth.