by Sherry Lewis
Gabe waited until Monty disappeared, then dropped into one of the chairs flanking the large oval table in the center of the room. He’d spent hours here doing his homework while his mother bustled around the kitchen, but the room seemed smaller now than it did then. Smaller, and empty without Peter.
He couldn’t help wondering how many other things had changed in the time he’d been gone. Had he done the right thing by coming back? Or was he about to make everything worse?
GABE WAS SITTING in the same spot, staring at the brass gelatin molds that had belonged to his grandmother, when his mother came home an hour later. His father had driven off somewhere, leaving Gabe alone in the house.
“Monty? Whose Jeep is that out there?” his mother called as she let herself in the door. Like her husband, Helene King had changed over the years. Though she’d put on a few pounds, the new curves looked good on her. But the blond hair she’d always worn shoulder-length was now short and almost shapeless, and deep lines bracketed her mouth.
Focused on the bags in her hand, it took a few seconds for her to notice Gabe. When she did, her hand flew to her mouth. The bags slipped to the floor along with her purse and keys, and tears filled her eyes. “Gabe?” she whispered. “Am I dreaming, or is that really you?”
Gabe wasn’t prepared for the depth of feeling that tore through him. He stood uncertainly, unsure whether she was glad to see him or merely shocked.
He didn’t have to wonder long. She crossed the room and gathered him into her arms, sending a wash of relief through him so strong it left him speechless and frozen. At last, he got his arms moving and held on to her for dear life.
He didn’t know how long they stood that way, but at some point one of them moved and he found himself at arm’s length while his mother’s hungry eyes traveled over him from head to toe. “It really is you, isn’t it?”
With effort, he got a few words out around the burning lump in his throat. “In the flesh.”
“I don’t believe it.” Helene pulled him close again and kissed his cheek, then led him by the hand to the table and motioned for him to sit down. “When did you get here? How long are you staying? What…? Why…?” Shaking her head, she wagged a hand in the space between them as if to wipe away all the questions. “Just tell me everything.”
“I got back to the States three days ago,” he said, taking her questions in order. “I drove straight through and pulled in about an hour ago.”
“From where? Your place in Virginia?”
He nodded briefly. “I took care of a couple of things at the university while I was there and picked up the Jeep. I thought it would be easier to have it than a rental car.” He’d ignored the doctors’ advice again by driving across the country on his own, but he wasn’t going to tell his mother that.
He couldn’t make himself talk about Peter, so he pulled the letter from his pocket and laid it on the table. “I came as soon as I got this.”
Her smile evaporated and her eyes misted over again. Sighing deeply, she dashed away the tears and made an effort to regain her composure. “I wrote that eighteen months ago,” she said softly. There was more hurt than grief in her eyes. “I tried to reach you through the embassy.”
“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. What happened, Mom? All you said was that there’d been an accident.”
Her expression grew guarded. “It was at the mill. You know how dangerous the work can be.”
Gabe waited for more, but she stopped talking and he didn’t feel right pressuring her. “I would have come back for the funeral and stayed to help if I’d known. I hope you know that.”
“I sent it to the most recent address I had.”
Her stare made Gabe uncomfortable, but he didn’t let himself look away. “It took nearly six months for the letter to reach me,” he explained. “It arrived right after I left for an extended stay in a remote village in the interior.” For the second time in an hour, he considered mentioning his illness, but it seemed heartless to tell her how close she’d come to losing both her sons in the same year. “I ended up spending more time there than I’d expected, but I started back as soon as I could book a flight.”
“I see.” Her shoulders grew stiff. Neither of his parents had ever understood the reasons he’d dedicated his life to learning more about other cultures and trying to make the world a better place. Obviously, time hadn’t changed that.
“I came as soon as I could,” he said again, but the explanation fell into the space between them like a rock in a pond.
His mother’s lips curved slightly, but her attempt at a smile didn’t fool him. She stood and crossed to the refrigerator. “And when are you going back?”
“I don’t know yet. A week, I guess. Maybe two.”
“That’s all? You can’t stay longer?”
“I should be back in Virginia by the end of the month.”
“Well, we’ll just have to be happy with what we get, won’t we?”
We? Somehow, Gabe doubted that his father would be glad of anything, but his mother didn’t leave him time to dwell on that.
Shifting gears abruptly, she started toward the stairs. “I’ll get your room ready. I’m sure you’ll probably want a chance to relax after driving all this way.”
Startled, Gabe called after her, “Wait. Mom. I—I wasn’t planning to stay here.”
She turned back at the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t be silly. Of course you’ll stay here.”
“You want me to spend a week under the same roof as the old man? I’m not sure any of us would survive that.”
“That ‘old man’ you’re talking about is my husband,” she said. “He’s also your father. No matter what’s happened in the past, you can’t change that.”
“I don’t want to change that, Mom. I just don’t want to start arguing with him again. That’s not what I came back for.”
She looked directly into his eyes. “What did you come back for?”
“To see you and make sure you’re doing all right. And to pay my respects to Peter.” He looked around the kitchen and shrugged. “And maybe to prove to myself that it’s true.”
His mother turned again. “You’ll need to be here to do all that, then, won’t you?” And just like that, as if she’d settled something between them, she started up the stairs.
Feeling like a kid, Gabe trailed after her. “I’d stay here in a heartbeat if I thought it would work out, but are you forgetting? He kicked me out.”
“Ten years ago.”
“He told me not to come back.”
His mother heaped sheets and a blanket from a hall closet into his arms. “But you did, and he let you in. Whether or not this works out is entirely up to you. Your father can’t argue with himself, can he?”
She had a point, but Gabe wasn’t sure he could resist the lure of a knock-down drag-out if the old man wanted to start one.
With a thin smile, she closed the closet door and turned toward him. “You’re all we have left, Gabriel—besides Siddah and Bobby, of course. But Siddah’s on her own, and there’s no telling how long they’ll stay. And since Bobby’s not really ours, who’s to say she’ll let us keep seeing him if she eventually meets and marries someone else.”
Gabe leaped on the chance to change the subject. “How are Siddah and the boy dealing with everything?”
“Siddah was devastated. It’s taken a while to get back on her feet.” Helene opened the door to his old bedroom. “Poor little Bobby was desolate. Still is, really. He lost interest in everything after the accident. He used to bring home As and Bs on his report card. Now, we’re lucky if there’s a single mark higher than a D. Poor boy even stopped playing football with his peewee team.”
To Gabe’s surprise, his old room hadn’t changed in the past decade. Baseball and basketball trophies still sat on the shelves over the bed, pictures of the teams he’d played on hung on the walls. His favorite bat leaned against the wall in one corner, and his baseball mitt was hooked over one post o
f the headboard. His mother was already stripping old sheets from the bed.
With effort, he dragged himself back to the conversation. “He’s changed because of Peter?”
His mother nodded. “We’ve all tried talking to him, but nothing we say makes any difference.”
Gabe repressed a shudder at the memory of family councils where he’d been on the receiving end of advice. He’d adored his maternal grandparents, but his father’s parents had been demanding and judgmental, full of opinions about almost everything he did. For Bobby’s sake, he hoped his parents weren’t following that example.
“How old is he now?” he asked when he couldn’t immediately pull the answer from his own memory. “Seven? Eight?”
“Ten. He was nearly nine when Peter died. Bobby was always such a sweet boy. Always so willing to help and so loving. Now…” She broke off to shake a pillow out of its case. “Siddah’s beside herself, of course. Bobby’s all she has left. She’s worried sick about him. We all are, but Siddah won’t even consider the solution your father and I think is best.”
Gabe heard his father’s truck rattle into the yard and he stiffened in apprehension. “And what do you think she should do?”
“Spend more time at home, of course. It’s not as if she needs to work. Your dad and I have offered to keep paying her Peter’s salary. On top of the insurance and workmen’s compensation settlements, that would be more than enough for anyone.”
“She won’t take it?”
“She won’t even consider it.”
Maybe his parents disapproved, but Gabe admired her independence. “Where does she work?”
“At the County Attorney’s office. She started just a few months after Peter’s accident, and now she won’t even talk about leaving.”
“She likes it?”
“She claims to.”
Anger might be his father’s trademark, but dismissing emotions she didn’t understand was his mother’s. The old familiar frustrations began to churn, so Gabe turned the conversation back to the boy. “What’s she doing to help the kid?”
His mother shrugged. “She takes him to a counselor, and they go to the grief and loss group. But the group only meets once a month and I’m not sure that’s often enough. Bobby has no real interest in it, and some months it even seems to make him worse. Other than that, what can she do? She’s up to her eyebrows just trying to get by.” With another heavy sigh, she looked out the window. “Your dad is at his wit’s end, I’ll tell you. He thinks the world of Bobby. We both do, and we just want to help.”
Envy Gabe didn’t want to feel snaked through him. He wondered if Bobby had any idea how much Gabe would have given to have Monty feel that way about him. But what kind of man envied a boy such a thing? Especially a boy who was obviously unhappy.
“Where does he go while she’s at work?”
“Siddah has a sitter. One of the neighborhood girls.” There was no mistaking the disapproval in her voice, and Gabe wondered if she would prefer having Bobby stay here. “There’s just so much your dad and I would like to do for him.”
She fell silent for a moment, then said, “Losing Peter was the worst thing we’ve ever been through. For a while I wasn’t sure either of us would survive. But life went on, even on the days when I wasn’t sure I wanted it to. Now there’s nothing I want more than to have life back to normal. As normal as it can be, anyway. Bobby might not have been Peter’s natural son, but that didn’t matter to Peter. It would break his heart to see Bobby hurting the way he is.”
Obviously, Bobby wasn’t the only one still hurting. “What about you and Dad? Did you get counseling?”
His mother took the bedding he’d been holding. “I had a few sessions, but your dad refused to go. He doesn’t like to talk about the accident at all—even with me.” She let out a sigh filled with sadness. “I don’t know how to reach him, either. Sometimes he goes out to Peter’s old work shed and stays there for hours, sweeping, dusting off the tools… I know he realizes that Peter’s not coming back. He’s not delusional. But he just can’t seem to move on.”
That didn’t surprise Gabe. Suddenly uncertain, he looked around for something to do. Something he could put his mind to that might put a buffer between himself and the raw edges of his mother’s emotion. “It just seems that somebody should be able to get through to the kid,” he said. “Maybe not you and Dad, but somebody.”
Shaking the folds out of the bottom sheet, his mother bent to the task of putting it on the mattress. “Your uncle Keith has tried, and so has your cousin Joey. Bobby just isn’t responding to anyone.”
“I don’t want to sound rude,” Gabe said, “but unless Keith and Joey have changed, that doesn’t surprise me. Keith is about as cuddly as a cactus, and Joey’s…Joey.” His cousin had a good heart, but he’d always been rigid and a little cool. Peter, on the other hand, had probably been a get-on-the-floor-and-wrestle kind of dad.
Moving to the other side of the bed, Gabe slipped a corner over the mattress. “If I were trying to help him, I’d get involved in the things he likes to do and try to draw him back.”
His mother dropped her end of the sheet and clasped her hands together. “Oh, Gabe! Do you really think you could make a difference?”
“Me?” He gaped at her, astounded. “I didn’t mean…that’s not what I—”
“That’s such a good idea, and it makes perfect sense.” Dropping to the edge of the bed, she reached for his hand. “You’re Peter’s brother. Bobby’s uncle, really. Who better?”
“That’s not what I said, Mom. I—”
“Well, who else? Really, Gabe, everyone else has run out of ideas. And now here you are. It’s almost like fate.”
“Mom, no—” He cut himself off and tried to regroup. “I’m not going to be here more than a few days. I couldn’t help even if I wanted to.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” his mother argued. “Just meet him. Spend a few minutes with him while you’re here. Connect.”
With a kid? Was she joking? “And then what? What happens when I leave town?”
“Couldn’t you call once in a while? Send him a letter now and then? An e-mail?”
“Sure. I guess.” But, hell, he hardly did those things with his own family.
She looked at him hard. “You aren’t refusing, are you? I thought you said you wanted to make things right.”
“I do.”
“You went through a rough time of your own when you weren’t much older than Bobby is now. I’m sure you’d understand better than most what he needs.”
“My situation was a little different.”
“Well, yes. But you know how a boy that age thinks. I certainly don’t, and it’s been too long since Monty was a boy. Times have changed.”
“Don’t expect him to say yes,” his father said from the doorway. “He probably doesn’t want to stick around that long.” Lurching a little, Monty stepped back into the hallway and Gabe caught the distinct odor of beer.
Gabe watched his mother carefully, but her expression gave nothing away. “Instead of starting an argument,” she called after Monty, “why don’t you go downstairs and eat? I left a plate for you in the fridge. All you have to do is put it into the microwave.”
That was certainly different. What had happened to the woman who used to scramble to do things for the old man?
Monty stepped back into the doorway. “You’re wasting your breath. Gabriel never was one for commitment to his family.”
As if his father had turned a key, Gabe went from hesitant to determined in one beat of his heart. “That was then,” he said firmly. “This is now. If you really think I can help, and if Siddah agrees, I’ll see what I can do.”
His father growled his disapproval. “That boy doesn’t need you worming your way into his life and then taking off again in a week or two. He’s been through enough. Leave him alone.”
Another change in Helene became evident as she put herself in her husband’s path. “I’m
warning you, Monty, I won’t have any arguing just because Gabe is back. If either of you wants to make hurtful comments to the other, you’re going to have to do it somewhere else. And don’t let me hear about it if you do, because you’ll wish I hadn’t.”
His father’s scowl deepened, but the explosion of anger Gabe expected never came. “It’s my house, too, Helene. Remember that.”
“Gabe is our son. Remember that. He’s welcome to stay as long as he wants.”
Monty grunted. “Don’t get your heart set on a long visit. I’m surprised he’s still here.”
With a determination Gabe had never heard before, Helene said, “I’m warning you, Montgomery, if you drive him away again, I’ll never forgive you.”
But even that didn’t get his father going. Shrugging off her warning, Monty peeled off the lightweight jacket he’d been wearing, tossed it over the banister and headed, stoop-shouldered, back down the stairs. “Do whatever you want, then. Just don’t blame me if you end up with another disaster on your hands.”
But she wouldn’t, Gabe vowed silently. One way or another, he’d make sure of it.
CHAPTER TWO
BALANCING ON three-inch heels on a slick linoleum floor, Siddah King hurried after her boss as he pushed through the door of the County Courthouse and out into the bright summer sunlight. Offices on both sides of the corridor emptied as staff members from various county offices left for lunch.
Siddah had skipped breakfast and the aromas coming from the employee break room made her stomach growl. But as much as she wanted to eat, she wanted to talk with Evan alone even more.
As if in answer to her prayers, a new position had just been announced that morning—one with more responsibility and a significant jump in pay. It was fate. Siddah just knew it. And she intended to take advantage of it.
Evan was halfway across the parking lot before she made it outside, so she kicked off her shoes and carried them as she ran along the sidewalk after him. “Evan? Can I talk to you for a minute?”