A Man to Hold on to (A Tallgrass Novel) by Marilyn Pappano Read Free Book Online Page A

around the bottoms of the pots from a recent watering. Music sounded faintly from inside.
    He stood in front of the door, raised his finger to the doorbell and, wishing he was back home in Louisiana, pushed it. The chimes echoed distantly. He’d gone past second thoughts and was on to fourth and fifth ones when the door was jerked open.
    “ What? ” Standing across the threshold was a girl, somewhere between twelve and twenty, blond and petite and pretty. She had the same coloring, the same pouty lip, as Mariah. Her hip was cocked out, one hand resting on it, and she wore an expression of boredom and annoyance and seething. His sisters had seethed a lot when they were her age.
    “Is Major Matheson here?”
    Her brown eyes narrowed to slits, and she squinted at him like Mariah did, as if she’d summed him up and found him lacking. God, was Mariah’s ear-piercing shriek going to come from this girl’s mouth next?
    It did, but not directed at him. She tilted her head toward the rear of the house and screeched, “Tuh- reese! ” Without waiting for a response, she spun and stomped up the stairs.
    So Mariah had a half-sister who was either having a really bad day or really needed her butt swatted. Great. Every little girl needed a big sister, right? A moody, bratty big sister, in this case, but still a sister.
    The door opened into a long hallway that led to the kitchen. A double-wide door on the left opened into the living room, and another doorway showed a bit of the dining room. The floors were hardwood with area rugs, the furniture was good, and the family portraits were plentiful. The major, his wife, one girl, one boy. Both kids looked like their dad.
    So did Mariah.
    His gaze swept the living room again, jerking to a stop on the mantel. Another photograph, the major in his dress uniform, looking stern, and beside it a display case with a flag and a bunch of medals and ribbons. A photo of him in ACUs, sunglasses shoved up on his head, grinning. Next to that—
    “Can I help you?”
    His jaw clenched, he forced his gaze to the woman who was approaching down the hall. She was tall, slender, with brown hair swept back from her face. She wore faded jeans that fitted snugly and a T-shirt identical to his own. Her husband’s, he thought, judging by the size, then he looked at the mantel again. “I…I, uh…”
    As she waited for an answer, her brows arched over hazel eyes. She was pretty, not like her pouty daughter but in a rounder, more womanly way. And she was starting to look wary.
    “I was hoping to see Major Matheson,” he said. The next natural thing was to ask if he was home, but he couldn’t force the words out. Not when he already knew the answer.
    Emotion flashed through her eyes, and she swallowed visibly before forcing a sad smile. “You don’t know.” She said it as fact; then, with the faintest tremble in her voice, she went on. “Paul was killed in Afghanistan.”
    *  *  *
     
    Killed. Aw, jeez. Of course, Keegan had known it the instant he’d seen the Gold Star flag on the mantel. Blue Star flags were for the families of service members—his mom had one hanging in the front window—and Gold Star flags were for the families whose loved ones didn’t come back.
    He’d never considered the possibility that Major Matheson was dead, that that was why he’d never contacted Sabrina, why he’d never acknowledged Mariah. He’d just assumed the major was like any other bastard who’d run around on his wife: ignoring the consequences of his infidelity.
    Dead. That was a hell of an excuse for ignoring his daughter.
    The major’s wife—widow—was waiting for a response from him. It took him a moment to find the proper words. “I’m sorry.” Even as he said them, even as she nodded as if she’d heard them a thousand times, he felt guilty for them. He was sorry. He was even sorry the major had been killed. Too damn many people had died in the war, and every single one of them was a loss to