Joe left her once they reached the kitchen. She barely noticed because the smell of baking cake filled her senses. “I swear, if you could bottle that aroma, you’d make a fortune,” Lisa said, pulling out a chair at the round table. “It imparts comfort.”
“Good morning, dear,” Maureen said, wiping her hands on the old-fashioned apron she was wearing. A patchwork background with a ruffle around the hem, the bib was embroidered with the words Grandmothers cook with love. “You look frazzled. Coffee and cream or tea?” She said the last with a snort of distaste and looked to where her son had been standing.
“Nothing, thanks. I just had coffee with Brandon’s teacher and I’m a little jittery.” She held out her hand and watched it shake. “Of course, it could be from finding out my son might flunk English.”
Maureen’s “What?” embodied both surprise and concern.
Before Lisa could elaborate, Joe hurried into the room. He’d tucked his neatly pressed yellow cotton shirt into the waistband of his khaki shorts. His feet were in leather sandals. He looked like a tourist on vacation.
His presence made her throat close up. Would he judge her? And Brandon? Of course, he would. People who didn’t have children always thought they could do a better job of parenting. She stood up. “I just remembered something I have to do.”
Joe froze mid-step. “But you said…”
Lisa looked at Maureen, who appeared equally confused. “No. Sit. You can’t just pop in, say your son is trouble, then leave,” Maureen said. “We need to discuss this. As a family.”
Lisa felt her face heat up. “But Brandon will never speak to me again if he finds out I aired his dirty laundry in front of Joe.”
Maureen glanced at her son then said, “Tough. You can blame it on me, if Brandon throws a fit. Joe has been getting by too easy for too long. He’s a part of this family, and that means dealing with the messy stuff, too.”
Joe put out his hands. “I want to help if I can, but if Lisa isn’t comfortable with me here…” They both looked at her.
Lisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The weight on her shoulders at the moment seemed to be crushing her. She sank back down on the chair. “He barely speaks to me anyway. What difference does it make if he adds one more thing to his list of reasons to hate his mother?”
She sensed a presence beside her and looked up to find Joe squatting, one hand on the back of her chair. “I can’t believe such a list exists, but no one is taking the blame for my actions. I’ll make it clear to Brandon that I plan to be involved in all things that have to do with this family from now on. Okay?”
Lisa’s heart beat double time. Okay? Hardly, but what could she say? No. I’m not ready for this. Since when had either of the Kelly brothers adhered to her agenda?
“He’s flunking English—one of his best subjects. Apparently, he’s holding his own in his other classes, but Mrs. Day, his teacher, said several other teachers have expressed concern over Brandon’s attitude lately.”
“Normally, he’s a good student?”
“Not quite as good as you,” Maureen said, joining them at the table.
Lisa braced herself to keep from flinching.
“Well, it can’t be senior-itus,” Joe said. He pulled out a chair for his mother then sat down across from Lisa. “I don’t mean to make light. I was just trying to think back to when I was a junior in high school. Could his social life be interfering with his studies? A new girlfriend?”
Lisa and Maureen exchanged a look. “I know that he likes a girl,” Lisa said. “Her name is Nikki. But from what I’ve heard his friends say, Brandon has yet to ask her out.”
Joe looked puzzled. “Why is that? He’s a good-looking kid. He has personality, wheels. Why doesn’t he date?”
“He dates,” Lisa said defensively. She didn’t want Joe to think her son was a nerd. “He just hasn’t gone steady with anyone. That’s probably not the term they use nowadays, but you know what I mean. There was one girl last fall that he seemed kinda serious about—remember, Maureen? She was a varsity cheerleader.”
“I think she was a little too popular,” Maureen said. “She’d tell more than one boy at a time that she’d go out with him.”
“Late dating?” Joe asked. “She’d go to the movies with Brandon then meet someone else afterward?”
Maureen nodded. “And from what I understood, the ‘afterward’ usually included sex,” she said, her tone caustic.
Lisa wasn’t surprised. From eavesdropping on her fellow students who were just a few years older than Brandon, she’d learned that casual sex was the norm, not the exception.
“I told him girls who sell themselves short are often the most expensive in the long run,” Maureen said.
“Wow, Mom, I had no idea you were such a philosopher.” Joe smiled at Lisa but the look in his eyes remained serious. “So, if it’s not a girl that has his head screwed on backward, then what’s the problem? Mom’s wedding? Your graduation? Worry about the future?”
Lisa swallowed. Her mouth was so dry she could barely say the words aloud. “His teacher thinks drugs or alcohol involved.”
“No,” Maureen said sharply. “I don’t believe that. Not Brandon. After what happened to Patrick? He wouldn’t…”
“Mom, he’s a kid. You know what peer pressure is like,” Joe said, throwing his hands out in a gesture that seemed to say “What do you expect?”
Lisa, who was already close to the breaking point, nearly lost it when he added, “Kids today have access to things we didn’t even know existed. We’ll be lucky if it’s only alcohol. I—”
She jumped to her feet. The chair made a loud screeching noise on the tile floor. “Only alcohol?” she cried. “I can’t believe you said that. You of all people should know better. You saw what alcohol did to your brother.”
His cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. Yes, alcohol is a prob—”
“It’s more than just a ‘problem,’” she said putting air quotes around the word. “A ‘problem’ is when it happens to somebody else’s kid. This is my son we’re talking about. His future. His life. There’s no way I’m going to sit back and watch Brandon kill himself the way Patrick did.”
“I agree with you. We need to deal with this immediately. I’m just saying we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions without talking to him, first. He seems like a smart kid who—”
She stopped him by leaning down till her face was inches from his. “He is a smart kid. He’s also a Kelly, which means he’s glib and verbal and clever.”
Joe’s brows pinched together above his nose. “I’m a Kelly and I’m not an alcoholic. Just because my brother—”
“This isn’t about Patrick,” Maureen said, her voice catching ever so slightly.
Lisa was reminded of how much Maureen had been through recently. She put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have handled this myself. I just panicked when Mrs. Day told me Brandon might be drinking.”
Maureen stood up. “I need to check on the cake.”
Lisa watched her walk to the stove. She looked tired and discouraged. “I should go.”
“No,” Joe said firmly. “This is a family matter. If I sounded flippant before, it’s because I haven’t had much practice in this kind of thing, but I want to be involved. Once is enough.”
Lisa knew what he meant. They’d all lived through a tragedy that had altered the course of their lives. Lisa didn’t know how she’d go on if…
Joe reached out and took her hand. He gently pulled her down so she was seated again, then he let go. She had to close her fingers in a fist to keep from clinging to him.
“Let’s decide on a course of action. Maybe you want to handle it differently, but I’d suggest we talk to him. Like this.”
“He’ll accuse us of ganging up on him and take off.”
Joe shrugged slightly. “Well, then, maybe I could start a dialogue. One-on-one. In fact, the subject came up the first night I got here.�
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“He talked to you about drinking?” Lisa couldn’t believe it. “Whenever I bring up the subject, he says something like, ‘Yeah, yeah, Mom, I know all about it.’”
“He told me he sometimes feels pressured into going to parties with his friends. If he doesn’t drink, they give him a hard time.”
Her frustration mounting, she put her head in her hands. “Damn it. I know what that’s like. Your brother was always trying to get me to drink with him. But we’re not talking Friday night keggers here. This is happening in the middle of the day.”
“Pat did that, too,” Joe said softly just as his mother rejoined them.
“What did you say?” Maureen asked.
Lisa could see the torment in his eyes. He didn’t answer right away. Finally, he said, “Patrick had a special stash of vodka that he kept in his locker at school. He’d mix it with orange juice before homeroom. Or put it in one of those little cans of vegetable drinks you used to send in our lunches.”
“When he was Brandon’s age?” Maureen sounded shocked.
“Younger. I think he started in middle school.”
“Impossible,” his mother stated. “I would have known.”
Lisa tried to picture Patrick when she first met him. Would she have known? Probably not.
“I saw him, Mom. All the time. He was good at hiding it—especially from you and Lisa.”
Maureen frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me? Surely you knew that wasn’t normal behavior.”
Lisa saw the raw look of self-contrition on Joe’s face and understood completely. He’d honored Patrick’s wishes—just as Lisa had when Pat asked her not to tell anyone that she’d slept with his brother. “No harm, no foul, Leese-honey. This will stay between us.”
“But Joe knows,” she’d protested.
“Then it’s just between the three of us because Joe won’t tell. He’s the best secret keeper of all time.”
“Maureen,” Lisa said gently. “Patrick had a problem, and he hid the severity of it from all of us. We can’t change that.”
“But Brandon is a different story,” Joe said, leaning forward and taking his mother’s hand. “He’s not like Patrick. I can’t explain how I know that, but I do.”
Tears welled up in Lisa’s eyes. She was half a heartbeat away from telling him the truth when Maureen said, “Well, short of grounding him for life, what’s Lisa supposed to do about this?”
“I’d start by taking away his wheels,” Joe said.
“Maybe he could see a counselor,” Maureen suggested tentatively. “Your father never had time for such things, but after I was diagnosed with cancer, I talked to a wonderful woman who helped me a lot.”
Lisa listened to their ideas without comment. She was willing to try anything, but in the back of her mind she remembered arguing with Patrick about his drinking. She’d demanded, cajoled and cried; she’d threatened to break up with him and had broken up with him more than once. He’d still driven when he’d been dead drunk.
The only thing that gave her hope was that one sentence. He’s not like Patrick. If that were true, then, maybe her son was more like his father.
JOE DECIDED TO PUT OFF his talk with his nephew until after school. One, he wasn’t looking forward to it, and two, he had a whole list of things to do before then, including going over Lisa’s purchase proposal, which she’d made sure was on the table before she left.
“Mom, I’m taking this out back to read. If you need any help frosting that cake, just holler.”
She swatted him away. “I told you. I’m putting it in the freezer until Saturday morning, and then I’ll frost it for the party. Nobody listens to me. You’re as bad as your dad was.”
He paused, his hand on the sliding glass door. “Am I? I’ve always thought I was just like you. Everyone said Patrick was Dad’s mirror image.”
She smoothed a wide strip of the plastic wrap over the cake pan. “Oh, you have your share of Joe in you, too. He was the creative one, you know. The storyteller. I’m sure that’s what he liked most about the bar business—getting to tell whoppers to unsuspecting customers.”
“And when he wasn’t telling stories, he was arguing over the news,” Joe said, drawing to mind a picture of his dad behind the bar with CNN blaring.
“Joe and Patrick both shared the Kelly temper, though,” she said, shaking her head. “It was never fun to be around them when they got into a battle.”
Joe agreed. He could recall more than a few times when Pat and their father would get into an argument. Afterward, Patrick would storm off and get inebriated.
“Patrick was an alcoholic, Mom. You knew that, right?”
She gripped the container like a buoy on a turbulent sea. “He had a drinking problem. Your father and I disagreed on how to handle it. Joe thought Patrick would settle down once he and Lisa got married.” She shook her head. “I should have fought him on that. Made Patrick get help. But you know how forceful your father could be when he thought he was right.”
Joe knew. He wondered if the knowledge that he’d been wrong—dead wrong—had added to his father’s steadfast determination to hold on to the bar. Giving up Joe’s Place would have been tantamount to acknowledging that he’d contributed to his son’s death.
“I have to put this in the freezer then head to town,” his mother said. “I told Martin I’d cover for him this afternoon. If you need a car, I’m sure Lisa would lend you hers. She said she’d be studying for her last final.”
Joe waited until he heard the garage door open before going outside. He let out a deep sigh as he sat down in the padded lounge chair. He was just about done reading Lisa’s business plan, which had been included in the purchase offer, when he heard the back gate open.
To his immense surprise, Lisa’s mother came into the yard. Blond hair pulled back in a crisp twist, she was dressed for work in white shoes, white pants and a tropical-print uniform top. Constance carried herself with the same grace and dignity as her daughter did.
“Well, hello,” Joe said, scrambling to his feet. “I was wondering when I’d see you.”
Constance walked to Joe with her arms open, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “It’s been too long. I had a few minutes before work and thought I’d run by and say hi.”
She looked him over from head to toe. “You look good, Joe. Fit and healthier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Thanks. You look great yourself. Dare I say happy?”
Constance pulled a chair from the patio table and sat down, motioning for Joe to do the same. “Regular sex. I highly recommend it,” she said with a wink. “By that I mean sex on a regular basis. How you do it is up to you.”
Joe blinked. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.” Before he could react, she nodded at the paperwork he’d set aside. “I see you’re looking over Lisa’s proposal. What do you think?”
Joe wasn’t sure how to answer, considering he hadn’t discussed it with Lisa. “I’m still reading. But her business plan looks sound.”
Constance shrugged. “It should. She majored in the subject for two years. Before that she was going to be a physical therapist, a social worker, a carpenter, a mechanic…oh, hell, I’ve lost track.
“She’s graduating with a degree in education. But is she going to put that to good use? No. Now, she wants to run a bar. Some days I just want to shake her and say, ‘Make up your mind already.’”
Knowing Constance, she probably had said those words to her daughter at least twice a day.
“You think this is a bad idea?” he said, picking up the packet.
“I think she could and should be doing more with her life. Of course, I always thought that about your father, too. The man was a brilliant conversationalist, but he had the gumption of a peanut. I just never got that.”
Joe was too dumbfounded to speak.
Constance seemed to sense his dilemma because she reached out and put her hand on his knee. “Don’t get me wrong. I adored your dad. Would have gon
e after him in a heartbeat if I didn’t like and respect your mother so much, but I never understood what motivated him to spend nine-tenths of his day behind a bar, dispensing wisdom and advice for free when he could have been doing the same thing as a psychiatrist on Park Avenue and made obscene amounts of money.”
“My brother thought it was because at Joe’s Place, Dad was King,” Joe said, recalling a long-forgotten conversation. Dad makes the rules and enforces them, Patrick had said. He’s king of his world.
“Could be,” she said agreeably. “But that doesn’t explain why my daughter wants to buy it. She’s no queen.”
“According to Lisa, owning Joe’s Place is a temporary proposition, which will help her son through college and give her the cash she needs to buy a house wherever she chooses to relocate after she sells the place.”
Constance gave him an arch look. “Oh, honey, you’re still so naive. If Lisa wanted to leave Worthington, she’d have finished college the way normal people do. Instead, she chose to drag it out over nearly ten years. As far as I’m concerned, this is just another avoidance technique designed to keep her here—in bed with her ghosts.”
She looked at her watch and got to her feet. “Damn. I get talking to a handsome man and lose all track of time. I’ve got to go before Lisa decides to take a break from studying. She’d be furious if she knew we were talking. Promise me you won’t tell her.”
Joe hesitated. “Why?”
Constance gave a resigned chuckle. “Because she doesn’t trust me not to steal you away from her, of course. A person makes one little mistake and she’s branded for life.”
Joe had no idea what she was talking about, but Constance didn’t appear to notice. She blew him a kiss and rushed away, closing the gate behind her.
Feeling as if he’d just danced with a tornado, he let his head fall back against the soft cushion. The day was heating up, but the sun couldn’t chase away the lingering chill left by Constance’s mention of ghosts. Was Lisa still in love with Patrick? That might explain why she’d never married, but Joe didn’t believe it. Since his return, he hadn’t detected in her even the slightest bit of hero worship for his dead brother. If anything, she seemed mad at Patrick.
His Real Father (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 8