A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska)

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

  “Hey, there you are. Everything okay? I got your text about being snowed in at Morgan O’Hare’s house but why were you there in the first place?” she asked, not missing a beat. “Seems weird to hang out with your mother’s therapist.”

  “It’s not weird,” he disagreed, wincing when he heard his defensive tone. “We have a lot in common and we went out for coffee.”

  “And ended up at her house? What happened to coffee in an actual coffeehouse?”

  “Was there a point to this call?” he asked, irritated.

  “Geesh, you’re grumpy. And yes, there was a point to my call. Mom is being released from the hospital and she needs a place to go. She can’t stay with Florence anymore because she needs aftercare, which means she has to stay with me or Trace. And since Trace lives in the boonies and I live in town, it makes sense that she should stay with me and Jeremiah.”

  Criminy, that news ought to go over like a turd in a punch bowl. “Let me guess. You need me to help tag team Mom so she’ll go along with this idea.”

  “I hate to agree but yes. You know she’s not going to go willingly and we can’t take the risk that she’ll drag herself back to the house before we’ve had a chance to get it cleaned up. Oh, and about that, Trace has the cleaning crew slated for Friday so clear your schedule.”

  Friday...that was in four days. Good. He was glad things were finally moving. Maybe with some luck they could get this whole situation figured out by Monday and he could be on a plane by Wednesday at the latest.

  “When are you breaking this news to Mom?” he asked. “I’d rather get this over with quickly so we can deal with the aftermath.”

  “We can do it now if you like. I’m just about to get off work. I could meet you at the hospital.”

  “Might as well. The news is going to overwhelm her, no matter what. What’s the news on Dad?”

  Miranda sighed. “Nothing new. He’s still rotting in jail and refuses to come out. Personally, I feel it’s a different form of escapism. So he’s not sitting in the shed anymore, but he certainly isn’t helping Mom, either.”

  Wade agreed. But he could only handle one problem at a time. “Fine, he can stay there. Besides, if he’s not going to be helpful I don’t want him around.”

  “I just don’t understand why he’s acting like this. It’s like a pod person came and stole our dad and left this loser in his place. I mean, he looks the same but he’s not the same. I wonder if that’s how Mom feels, too. Maybe she’d be less hostile if Dad wasn’t so checked out. That has to be hard on her.”

  Wade didn’t have the answer. Right now, his whole life had taken on twisted proportions. Everything felt out of place. Including him. And the worst part? All he wanted to do was go back to Morgan’s. The past few hours spent with her were the best he’d had in years and it wasn’t just about the sex. Although that’d been pretty spectacular. He refocused his stubborn brain and said, “All right, I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  “Great. Don’t forget to wear your body armor.”

  Wade smiled grimly as he clicked off. Miranda may have been joking but it was a fairly accurate warning for the fight that was coming. He could only imagine what the collateral damage was going to be like. But one thing he knew for sure, Trace wasn’t getting off the hook. If he had to be in on the dirty work so did his brother.

  He quickly dialed Trace’s cell phone number and to his surprise his brother picked up. He half expected the call to go to voice mail. “Hey, Trace, you probably already heard but Mom’s being released from the hospital tomorrow and that means she’s going to have to stay with Miranda.”

  “Yeah, I know. Miranda and I talked about it. I offered to take her but it doesn’t make sense for her to be out in the middle of nowhere in her fragile state.”

  Wade couldn’t help himself and chuckled, even though there was nothing humorous about the situation. “Sorry, it’s not funny. I guess my nerves are just a little worn because hearing Mom being described as fragile was never something I would’ve imagined.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. So are you and Miranda going to the hospital right now to tell her?”

  “Yes. I was hoping you could meet us there. I think she needs to see that we’re a united front.”

  “Okay. I can meet you there in five minutes. Did Miranda tell you the cleaners are coming on Friday?”

  “Yes. How much is that costing? I can pitch in, if you like.”

  “It isn’t cheap. Between the organizer and the cleaners it’s going to eat up the paycheck that I got for that reality show pilot. So if you’d like to help that would be great.”

  Wade was frugal by nature and had plenty in savings, although he’d been eyeing a new Jeep, but this was far more important. “I’ll write you a check when we meet at the hospital.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Hey, Trace, how long are we going to be angry at each other? Seems now is the time that we need to come together.”

  “Yeah, I know. I don’t know why I was so angry. Maybe I’m just mad at the situation. Our whole family has gone to crap and it’s nothing the way it was when we were young. How am I supposed to have kids in this kind of environment? How am I supposed to introduce my kids to their grandpa, the felon? And grandma, the crazy hoarder?”

  Kids? Wade winced at the reminder of Elizabeth’s phone call. This wasn’t the way he wanted to have kids. He’d always imagined that when he had children, he’d be married to their mother, happy and content. But if Elizabeth was truly pregnant, the reality would be nothing like the fantasy in his head. And now his brother was thinking about having kids, too? Trace would have a family the normal way—with a woman he loved. “Don’t let our parents screw up your plans. If you want kids, have them. You’ll be a great dad.”

  “How do you know? Hell, for a couple years I was a really terrible brother. How do you know I’ll be a good father?”

  “Because I just know. You love kids and you always have. Besides, someone has to pass on those tracking skills. It’s a dying art, you know. I was never as good as you and I’ve gotten really rusty.”

  “That’s what happens when you sit behind a desk all day.” Trace was teasing but there was some truth to it. Tracking was a skill you lost if you didn’t use it. The last time he put his tracking skills to use was the night Simone died. He tried not to think of that night very often. Somehow Trace must’ve known where his mind had gone because he sighed and said, “I’ll see you at the hospital.” Nobody wanted to remember the night Simone died.

  “Miranda said we should wear body armor.”

  Trace laughed but he knew there was truth to that joke, as well. “Good idea.” And then he clicked off.

  Wade had meant what he said. Trace would make a very good father. But what kind of father would he be? A weekend father. The Disneyland dad. He hated that idea. He wanted to be there for homework, for baseball games, for dance recitals, whatever his child was involved in—he wanted to be there. But he didn’t want Elizabeth. He knew that with certainty.

  Maybe she wasn’t really pregnant. Maybe she was just late and this was all a big mistake.

  Please...don’t be pregnant. That seemed a terrible thing to pray for but it was the truth, just the same.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WADE AND HIS siblings arrived at the hospital nearly simultaneously. They didn’t waste time on small talk because they knew what was coming and they wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. When they walked into Jennelle’s hospital room her gaze narrowed with suspicion when she saw all three of her children.

  “What’s this about?” she asked, looking to Wade for answers and ignoring Trace and Miranda. “Something tells me you’ve come bearing bad news. Let me guess—you’re putting me into a home. Is there a place where ungrateful children stow away their parents they no longer h
ave a use for?”

  “Stop being so dramatic. Nobody is putting you into a home. Mostly because no one would take you,” Miranda muttered. “If you could stop being so mean for about two seconds things would get a lot better, you know.”

  Wade shot Miranda a look that said, slow down, slugger, and Miranda gave him a subtle nod to say she’d try. Of the three, Miranda had taken the brunt of their mother’s bad attitude, and he hated that. Wade came to stand by her bedside and tried a disarming smile. “How are you feeling today, Mama?”

  Jennelle didn’t trust him any more than she trusted his siblings and that much was apparent. “You’re up to something. Something no good, I wager. What’s this about?” she asked, going straight to the point.

  “Mama, there’s no need to draw lines. We’re all on your side, even if that’s hard to see right now,” he said. “Just try to remember that.”

  Jennelle sniffed and looked away. “This is what a mother with a broken heart looks like. Get used to it. Now what do you want?”

  Trace tried jumping in. “Mother, we have good news,” he said, breaking a charming grin that had always been his saving grace. “The hospital is going to release you tomorrow, which means you don’t have to choke down bland hospital food any longer. Lord knows you’ve done nothing but complain about it the entire time you’ve been here. Not that I blame you. That stuff looks pretty gross.”

  “You mean I get to go home?” The hope in Jennelle’s voice made Wade wince. When no one rushed to correct her, she clasped her hands together with a smile. “Thank heavens. I’m so sick of this place I could scream. Lord knows my flowers are probably dead by now.”

  Miranda shook her head. “Mom, your flowers are dead because it’s winter. Not because you haven’t been there to tend to them,” she said, shooting a quick glance at Wade for reinforcements. “And no, you can’t go home. You’re going to come home with me, Jeremiah and Talen. This will give you an opportunity to spend more time with your grandson. You’re only grandson.”

  “Me, go home with you? I’d rather sleep outside.”

  Oh, come on, Mama. Why do you have to make it so hard to be on your side? No one had ever accused Jennelle Sinclair of being a pushover, that was for sure. Time to be the bad guy. “Mama, stop being so mean,” he admonished, trying to be gentle but firm. “Here are the facts—you can’t live on your own and Florence can’t take care of you any longer. Trace lives out in the middle of nowhere and Miranda lives in town. It makes logical sense that you will stay with her while we figure out an alternative.”

  “And what I want means nothing? I just get to be tossed around like an old potato with no opinion as to where I land?”

  Miranda bracketed her hips with her hands. “Yes, that’s right. You old potato. Don’t you get it? You brought this upon yourself. If you hadn’t ruined the house you could still live there. But no, you had to fill it with so much crap that it was condemned. This is no one’s fault but your own. Stop trying to blame every single person you come into contact with for your own problems, which coincidentally, are also now our problems because we have to take care of you. So stop being so ungrateful, you mean old bitty.”

  “Miranda!” Wade shot his sister a look. “Was that necessary?” Miranda shrugged but her eyes glittered as if she was holding back tears. Whether they were tears of frustration or hurt, he wasn’t sure. They could’ve been a combination of both.

  Jennelle gaped at Miranda’s outburst and her eyes watered, and Wade knew he had to smooth things between Miranda and their mother before World War III happened and they were all collateral damage. “Mama, this is a temporary arrangement,” he promised her. “And this is a great opportunity to spend some quality time with Talen. You’ve always said that you don’t get enough time with your grandson. Well, this is your golden opportunity.”

  “Leave my grandson out of this. I won’t be bamboozled into accepting a false truth. Just come out and say what’s truly happening. Don’t try and pretty it up,” Jennelle quipped darkly. “I wasn’t born yesterday, and I can see right through your machinations.”

  “Can’t you see that we’re trying to help you?” Trace begged in a tone that betrayed his frustration. “Throw us a bone, will you? We’re doing everything in our power to help you get back into your house. All we’re asking is for just a little bit of help on your end.”

  Jennelle’s upper lip seamed to a tight, stubborn line before she said, “I’ve seen it before. First you’re tied to a bed, forced to drink pureed grilled cheese from a straw and the next, all your possessions are given to Goodwill and you’re left with nothing but the clothes on your back. I’ve seen it happen, though I never imagined it would happen to me.”

  “What are you talking about? Who have you seen this happen to?” Trace asked, irritated. “No one is going to force you to drink a pureed cheese sandwich.”

  “Gladys Monker,” Jennelle answered in a strident tone. “She broke her hip and then her family stuck her in a home. She died of a broken heart a year later.”

  “She died of pneumonia and she had dementia,” Miranda corrected her, shaking her head. “Good try, though. Not to mention, Gladys was, like, a hundred years old and you said yourself, her family waited too long to intervene on her behalf.”

  Jennelle glared at Miranda for daring to interject facts into her dramatic storytelling hour. She closed her eyes and shrugged. “You say pneumonia. I say broken heart. Her children betrayed her. Plain and simple. Same as me.”

  “Mama,” Wade warned, causing Jennelle’s eyes to open warily. “You have to stop attacking people who are trying to help you. You had a heart attack. You have needs that Florence cannot help you with. Plus it’s not fair to your friend to have to take care of you when you have three kids who are trying their damnedest to help. Stop pushing away the very people who love you. Please.”

  “I wish to speak to Wade alone,” she declared, her bottom lip trembling. Miranda and Trace made sounds of frustration but left the room. Once they were alone, Jennelle turned to Wade, beseeching his help. “You’re the only one who truly loves me, son. Those two people don’t care about me or my comfort. They’ll just throw me in a home as soon as your back’s turned. I guarantee it!”

  Wade sighed, praying for patience. “Mama, that’s not true. I don’t know what happened to you. You used to be a little more levelheaded than this. Something’s gone wrong inside your head and your heart if you truly think that your children would do something like that to you. We love you and we’re worried.”

  “Why is everyone so worried? I was doing just fine before everyone poked their noses where they didn’t belong.”

  He wasn’t going to have the same argument with her. He didn’t have the energy. “The facts remain the same. Your house is condemned and you cannot move back until the cleaners have done their job. Dad is in jail and there’s no one else who can help. Pushing away the very people who are turning their lives upside down to help you is very rude.”

  “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “Really? Because from where I’m standing, I see a stubborn woman who would rather cut off her nose to spite her face because she’s so blinded by her own pride to see what’s right in front of her.”

  His mother blinked back tears. “I never thought I’d see the day when you would turn on me, too, Wade.”

  “I’m not turning on you,” he said, gentling his voice because he knew the truth was a bitter pill to swallow but it had to go down just the same. “But you raised me to be a straight shooter and always speak the truth, even if it wasn’t pretty. So I’m not going to lie to you just because it might be easier. Trace is paying for cleaners to come and clean the house in the hopes that we can salvage your home. But there’s a chance that we won’t be able to save that house.” He let that truth sink in because he really needed her to understand that there was no going back to the
way it was before. “There’s a lot of interior damage caused by rot that might not be able to be fixed. I want you to know that. And on Friday when the cleaners come, you need to be there to see what’s happening and you need to be a part of the cleanup because this is your mess.”

  He drew a deep breath to say what really needed to be said but definitely wouldn’t be appreciated. “And the fact of the matter is, Simone died a long time ago. We have to let her go. We can’t change the past no matter how much we would like to. No matter how we punish ourselves it won’t bring her back.” Let her go.

  Wasn’t that what he needed to do, too? Had he truly been punishing himself all these years with her memory? Was it true that the root of his insomnia had Simone’s name written all over it? His knee-jerk reaction was to deny the thought and push it away but if he could plainly see that his parents were suffering the effects of unmitigated grief, why couldn’t he see that in himself? “It doesn’t matter how many rooms you fill up with stuff or how many boxes of cereal you collect. She’s never going to come home ever again. Stop trying to replace Simone with inanimate objects. It’s not going to work.”

  Jennelle clapped her hands over her ears as tears welled. “Stop! Stop saying these terrible things. I don’t want to hear it,” she cried, but Wade couldn’t stop. Not now. Things had gotten to a place where going forward was the only way to survive.

  “Mama,” he said, gently pulling her hands away from her ears. “We all loved her and we all miss her but we have to move on. Because we’re still living. Remember that, Mama? Remember that you have three other children? This has to stop. Sometimes I don’t even know who you are when such mean and hateful things pour out of your mouth. It’s not you. You didn’t raise us to be petty and small, which is why I can’t reconcile what I see in the woman before me. And I’m sorry if what I have to say is harsh but I expect more from the strong woman who raised me and that’s just the way that it is.”