A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska)

by Kimberly van Meter - A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska)

  And it had. Angelica had had a reputation around school and he’d gone to her house without further thought beyond the exciting possibility of getting laid.

  His dad had always been filled with quiet wisdom like that.

  Wade sighed as the wave of nostalgia brought an unexpected crack of pain.

  And now Zed was in jail.

  What the hell happened?

  How had their family disintegrated so completely?

  “Simone...” he said softly, her name drifting from his lips like a prayer, and that was all that needed to be said. Life wasn’t fair and he’d never suffered under the assumption that it was, but damn, if that message hadn’t been drilled into his family with brute force.

  He supposed there was no point in putting off the inevitable. Tomorrow, after he took Talen to the park, he would visit his father in jail. A small groan escaped as he squeezed his eyes shut, not looking forward to the visit. He’d rather eat nails.

  Or relive that excruciatingly embarrassing dressing down from Ben Ramon.

  Anything but talking to his father with bars between them.

  He rolled to his side and tugged his clothes off. Without bothering to find his pajamas, he climbed into bed nude and clicked off the light. Sleep, as always, was a long time in coming.

  But then, he was used to that.

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY, Wade picked Talen up after school, smiling as memories of his own childhood spent within those walls came back to him. Talen, an adorable tyke with impossibly dark eyes native to his Yupik heritage, squealed with excitement when he saw Wade, even though they’d never actually met face-to-face.

  “Uncle Wade!” Talen ran and jumped into his arms without reservation. Wade swung him up and placed him on his shoulders as they walked to the car. “Mom said you were picking me up today and that’s all I thought about all day.”

  “All day? What about your schoolwork?”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t paying a lot of attention. My teacher said I was woolgathering. Whatever that means.”

  He laughed. “It means you were daydreaming.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess I was.”

  “Who is your teacher?”

  “Mrs. Eagan,” he answered as Wade helped him from his shoulders and into the car. “She’s nice.”

  “Yeah? That’s a good trait in a teacher. I remember my third-grade teacher. Her name was Mrs. Winchell. She was real nice, too. I remember she always had a graham cracker for the kids who’d forgotten to bring a snack.”

  “My mom always packs fruit. I wish I had a graham cracker.”

  “Graham crackers are good, I’m not going to lie, but fruit is so much better,” he said, pulling away from the school and heading for the park. The boy didn’t look anything like Miranda but he was a good-looking kid nonetheless, which made him think that Talen took after Johnny. Thankfully, the kid would never have to know what a pathetic asshole his biological father had been. Wade had to give Miranda credit; even when her head wasn’t on straight, she always managed to put Talen first and it showed. “So what do you think of Jeremiah and your mom getting married?” he asked, maneuvering the streets toward the park.

  “It’s good. Mamu says that Great Spirit puts people in our lives for a reason and I think Jeremiah helped my mom not be so sad,” Talen said.

  “Your mom was sad?” Wade prompted, curious. “What was she sad about?”

  “I don’t know but she didn’t get a lot of sleep. Sometimes when I would wake up for a glass of water, she’d be awake still. That happened a lot.”

  Insomnia. God, did they all suffer from that wretched curse? “I’m sorry to hear that, buddy. Does she sleep okay now?”

  “Oh, yeah, she sleeps good. Jeremiah puts her right to bed.”

  Wade swallowed a guffaw. Ah, the perception of kids. Gotta love it. “I’m glad your mom is sleeping again. Sleep is important.” Wish I could get some. Just a wink would be great. “Your Mamu seems pretty smart. What else does she say?”

  “All kinds of stuff. She’s full of smart stuff because she’s real old.”

  He chuckled. “Yep. Wisdom often comes with age.”

  Talen turned to Wade, his dark eyes curious. “Are you here because of what happened to Grandma Jennelle?”

  Mamu wasn’t the only smart one. He smiled at Talen. “Yeah, buddy. Grandma Jennelle needs a lot of help right now.”

  “Yeah, it makes me sad because she’s so sad inside.”

  “You think she’s sad?”

  “Don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’m just surprised you can see that.”

  “It’s easy to see. Grandma Jennelle seems mad but it’s really sadness. Her heart is hurting. That’s why it decided to stop working.”

  Wade regarded his nephew, amazed at how intuitive the kid was for such a young age. “I think you’re right. We need to help Grandma Jennelle get past the hurt and sadness. Has your mom talked to you about what’s happening at Grandma’s house?”

  “Sort of. Grandma Jennelle’s house is a mess and it smells terrible but she showed me how to take care of the plants outside. She’s fun sometimes.”

  “Yeah, she used to be a different person,” Wade said wistfully, remembering when his mother used to smile, laugh and bake like there was no tomorrow. He swallowed the sudden lump that had risen in his throat and blinked back a wash of tears that came from an unexpected place. “Man, how about we put a pin in all this serious talk and hit the swings?” he told Talen as he put the car in Park and shut off the engine. “We have a mission to have as much fun as possible for the hour that we’re together. Sound good?” Talen gave Wade a thumbs-up with a gap-toothed grin, and Wade nodded in approval. “All right, then, let’s get this party started, my little man. Time’s wasting.”

  “Race you to the swings!” Talen dashed from the car and was sprinting to the swings before Wade could even get his car door open. He laughed at the boy’s boundless energy and followed, realizing with a pang Skype wasn’t nearly enough when it came to spending time with his nephew. He’d missed out on too much. But he supposed that was how it had to be. At least he had Skype. It was better than nothing.

  * * *

  WADE WALKED INTO the small jail building and after the requisite security checks he was led into a small visiting room where he awaited his father. His stomach churned, but he tried to keep his mind focused on what he wanted to accomplish today. He needed Zed to agree to let Rhett or Trace or him bail him out. That was the objective.

  But even as he gave himself a mental pep talk, an immediate frown formed on his face the minute the guards escorted his shuffling father into the room and directed him to the metal chair opposite the table where Wade was sitting. The jail-issued clothing hung on his father’s formerly robust frame and he looked a shell of the man Wade remembered.

  Zed, upon seeing who was visiting him, let out a long exhale as if he’d known this moment was coming but hadn’t been looking forward to it any more than Wade. A guard remained close by, hands folded but watchful as if Wade was going to slip Zed something to pick his handcuffs with, which Wade tried to ignore. “Hey, son.” Zed stretched back in the chair, his manacles rattling on the metal table. “Wish you’d picked a better time to come visit.”

  “Yeah, me, too. What do you want me to say, Dad?” Wade asked, unable to play the polite card as he’d rehearsed in his mind. He knew he’d catch more bees with honey but all he had was vinegar in his blood at the moment. He was too bound up at seeing his father—correction, the man who used to be his father—in this situation. Where was the man with the quiet wisdom? Where was the man who’d taught him everything he knew about being a man? Gone. And in his place was a stranger. “Miranda tells me that you won’t let anyone bail you out, even though Rhett and Trace both offered. Why?”


  “It’s like this, son. I’m better off in here.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion. Did it occur to you that we could use your help with Mom? Things are falling apart. We need your help to get her to see reason.”

  Zed shook his head. “You don’t need me. You guys got this in hand. Besides, I need to be in here.”

  Wade didn’t hide his impatience. “No, what you’re doing is hiding in here. I see what you’re doing. You don’t want to face the mess that our family has become so you’re hiding out in this jail cell. Well, that’s bullshit. You need to let one of us bail you out so you can lend a hand.”

  “I know it looks that way and maybe it is that way but I can’t leave yet.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess you could say I lost my way. And I finally found some clarity right here. I’m not ready to let that go yet.”

  Damn, that meant Miranda was right. Zed was fighting addiction and this was the best way for him to do it. What could Wade say to that? If his dad was truly trying to get clean and right in the head then who was he to force him out into the cold? But that meant it was just more work for them, and Wade wasn’t okay with that. “Mom has a problem. Why didn’t you help her? Why did you leave her in that place? She had a heart attack, Dad. Do you understand she almost died? Your wife nearly died in that train wreck of a house. And what’s with that room of Simone’s? She’s made a shrine of that bedroom and it’s creepy. Surely you had to have known about what was going on?”

  But Zed remained silent. Whether he didn’t have the strength to protest or he was silenced by shame Wade didn’t know, but it didn’t matter because his father’s silence spoke volumes to Wade.

  “Dad, I can’t believe how bad things have gotten. I can’t believe you let this happen. The dad who raised me would’ve never let his wife disintegrate like this. He would’ve taken the situation in hand and helped his wife find the closure she needed. But instead, you buried yourself in that shed and spent all of your time tending to an illegal garden.” Wade shook his head. “Dad, you used to have talent. You were an artist, for crying out loud. But now you’re just a criminal. How am I supposed to make peace with that?”

  “That’s your own struggle. I can’t take that on.”

  “Yeah, that’s rich. Seems to me you can’t take anything on. Somewhere along the way you turned into a selfish bastard.”

  “Is that all you have to say? I haven’t seen you in eight years and all you want to do is bust my balls? If so, you can take yourself right back out the door. I’ve got enough on my plate than listening to a pup like you give me what for. I screwed up. Sure, I know that. What about you? I raised you to stand up and all you did was run away, so don’t sit there and lecture me about doing what’s right. Because you sure as hell didn’t. You split the minute things got hard. And don’t you try to deny it. Maybe we all needed to stick together. Who knows? Too late now.”

  “I had a job opportunity,” Wade shot back, refusing to take that on. “What was I supposed to do? Give up on my dreams because we had a tragedy in the family? I was trying to hold my life together, too.”

  Zed shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ve all got reasons for acting the way we did.”

  Yeah, that was probably true, but Wade didn’t like the way Zed made his statement. Somehow it made Wade feel guilty. And he had nothing to feel guilty over. “If we don’t get the house cleaned up, she’s never going to be able to move home. Trace is spending some of his money that he got from that reality show to hire a team of professionals to go in and clean. And they’re likely to throw everything away because it’s all ruined. You okay with that?”

  “I guess I have to be. You do whatever you need to do to help your mom. She needs you.”

  “She needs her husband. She needs the man she married to stop hiding behind excuses and take control of the situation.”

  “You’re delusional if you thought I was in control of anything when it concerns your mom. Your mom was always the boss so what makes you think I can stop her from doing anything that she wants? She fixed up that room to remember Simone. I didn’t see the harm in it. By the time I realized she was spending too much time in there and everything else was going to hell, it was too late. It was like trying to stop a train that’d already jumped the track. When that happens, the wreck is imminent.”

  “Yeah, but at least you can check for survivors. You don’t just leave the scene and wipe your hands. I don’t care what you say, Dad. You screwed up. You abandoned us. Worse, you abandoned Mom. And I’m not letting you off the hook on that.”

  “If that’s the way you feel, then so be it. I got my reasons and they’re my own.”

  They could go on all day arguing like this. Neither would back down nor concede to the other. Both were stubborn and assured of their own position. Wade supposed there was only one thing left to say and he didn’t mince words. “I’m disappointed in you, Dad. I never thought in a million years I’d say that to you. I never thought that this kind of situation would ever touch my family but here we are. So while you’re in here licking your wounds and coddling yourself, I’ll be out here taking care of your family. If you’re all right with that, then you’re definitely not the man who raised me.”

  The only indication that Wade’s statement had touched Zed at all was the subtle tremble of his bottom lip, but he said nothing. Zed ducked his head as if accepting Wade’s opinion and signaled to the guard. “I think my son and I have said all that needs to be said. I’m ready to go back to my cell.”

  The metal chair scraped against the tile floor as Zed rose and allowed the guard to lead him from the room. Wade watched him go, a burn in his chest spreading throughout his body as he realized his hero was dead. The visit hadn’t gone as he’d hoped but it’d gone as he’d expected. Childish tears welled in his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall. He wouldn’t cry for that man. He wouldn’t waste a single tear.

  As he left the building, he fought the urge to run. He could be on a plane and flying home within a few hours. Miranda and Trace could handle this. But even as he leaned dangerously close to making that decision, he knew he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t abandon his family like that again. He wouldn’t give that man the opportunity to say that he had run away. Not this time. He’d been wrong to leave the first time—he saw that now. There was nothing he could do about the past but he could do something about the present. So buck up, he told himself. You’re going to see this through. Your family needs you and you will be the man that your father couldn’t be.

  It wasn’t until he was halfway to his hotel room that he realized his cheeks were wet after all. Some pain just wouldn’t stay down, no matter how hard you tried to stuff it in a private place.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MORGAN SETTLED IN the uncomfortable chair across from Jennelle Sinclair and turned on her recorder. Later, she would transcribe her notes and she didn’t want to miss anything important. “Jennelle, let’s talk about how you feel today.”

  Jennelle sighed, as if irritated by the entire process and shrugged. “How should I feel today? Well, let’s see, I’ve been tossed from my home, my children have betrayed me and my husband is a criminal. I’d say I’m feeling pretty low. And how are you today?”

  Morgan ignored the bite in Jennelle’s voice. “Well, I think we can address some of those issues if we work together. As for how I’m feeling, I’m feeling fairly well. Thank you.” That was a complete lie. She was actually rattled today but she’d made a successful career out of pushing her own feelings aside and focusing on the feelings of others and today would be no different. The fact was, she was still upset at her sister, Mona, for bringing home Wade Sinclair. And the fact that she was bothered, bothered her. She shouldn’t care. Wade was the son of her client. She never crossed those kinds of boundaries—ever. And yet here she was, suffering the pangs of jealousy. She forced a smile. “
How are you feeling healthwise?”

  “As good as can be expected for a woman who’s just gone through open-heart surgery, I suppose. But what does it matter? My heart is broken and I’m not sure the surgeons could do much more damage, anyway.”

  The surgeon saved her life but Jennelle wasn’t about to recognize that fact in her current frame of mind so Morgan let it go. “Let’s talk about your home, shall we?”

  Jennelle’s expression shuttered so quickly Morgan thought she heard the slam echoing in the room. “What is there to say? Apparently, my home doesn’t belong to me any longer.”

  “That’s not true. It’s still your home, and we want to do our best to return you to it. But you have to understand that your children are very concerned—rightfully so—and you cannot return to the home the way that it is now. But let’s not focus on that right this second. Let’s talk about what your home meant to you when all four of your children were alive. Talk to me about Jennelle as the mother and the homemaker. What was it like then?”

  Jennelle startled at the question, caught off guard by her request. And that was the point. Morgan needed Jennelle to start talking so they could reach those painful places through back doors if needed, and the best way to do that was to go before the trauma, back when things were good.

  “Why do you want to know? Everyone keeps telling me we can’t live in the past. They’ve accused me of living in the past and now you want me to go there?”

  “This is just you and me, talking. Woman to woman. I want to know you as a person, not a patient. Can we do that?”

  “I suppose.” Jennelle looked away, focusing her gaze on that scene outside her window, but it was several moments before she started talking and when she did, Morgan could hear the wistfulness in her tone. “It was an active house,” she began, halting as if afraid of touching on those memories. Morgan maintained a respectful silence, waiting for Jennelle to continue. A slow breath rattled out of Jennelle as she slowly continued, dragging the memories from her locked box. “There was always something going on. Between sports, school activities, clubs and organizations, Zed’s carving business, there was never a moment in our house that wasn’t filled with life.” Jennelle stopped as if buffeted by the echo of the past, and when she started talking again there was a subtle tremble to her voice. “So much love. Do you have children?” Morgan shook her head, and Jennelle sighed. “There’s nothing like the energy of children to fill a house with love. I have always wanted kids. Back in my day it was perfectly acceptable to be a homemaker. Nowadays, it’s almost a bad word. But I liked keeping a home. We grew our own fresh vegetables and fruits, Zed and the kids hunted in the mountains for fresh meat and we had plenty to keep everyone busy. Life was good.”