Return to Mystic Lake
Page 19
“No excuses. I was on a mission and got here as soon as I could. How is he?”
“Busy saving strangers and can’t be bothered at home.” Brian grabbed a fifty-pound bag of feed, throwing it to his shoulder like a bulky pillow, then stomped toward the shed. “Go see for yourself. Alicia usually leaves him in front of the television.”
Guess it wasn’t the right time to remind his brother he’d called a couple of dozen times in the past two days. John rubbed his side, then his jaw, and dusted some of the dirt from his body. What a welcome.
“Dad?” He pushed the screen door open with the hesitation of entering the unknown. He didn’t know what to expect. Light on his feet, soundlessly moving through the kitchen and sitting room, he was afraid of what he’d find in front of the loud television.
A severe stroke ten days ago when he’d been working horses. That’s all John knew. He’d left messages on his dad’s cell, but no one had called back. His dad kept him up-to-date. Sad, but he didn’t know his brother’s number.
Bad communication skills were nothing new before he’d left for the navy. More bad habits had formed when he’d been in training and not allowed to call. Then long missions with no communication. Different time zones. Easy after that to avoid calling home by just being too busy—or pretending to be. His father had accepted the excuses. His brother had told him never to look back and meant it.
He was a different man. They both were. They had time to fix what was wrong. Later.
Right now it was about his dad—who was asleep in a wheelchair in a room that no longer resembled his mother’s favorite in the house. Full of a hospital bed, pulleys, a portable toilet and other medical stuff, everything familiar had been removed. There was a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall.
He heard the water running in the kitchen behind him and jerked around, surprised Brian had entered without making a sound.
“Dad, wake up.” Brian shoved a shoulder into John as he passed. His angry twin turned a gentle hand to touch their dad’s shoulder and not startle him awake. “John’s home.”
He understood the pain. His brother had a right to be upset, from the serious look of things. He’d been here taking care of the ranch and their dad. Alone.
The last time they’d been face-to-face, they were skinny kids eating their dad out of a ton of groceries. Identical twins who could have passed for each other—and had fooled more than a teacher or two. Not to mention the girls. There were differences now. The most obvious was their hair. His was the navy regulation, high and tight over his ears. Brian’s was longish, touching his collar.
John knew the tense jaw-clenching muscle all too well. Strange seeing what it looked like to others. Their bodies were toned from different types of exercises—his PT and Brian’s ranch work. Weird that they still looked so much alike.
“I got here as soon as I could. I had no idea,” John apologized. He would not complain about the lack of information provided by his brother. It would just upset his dad.
“That’s an understatement,” Brian mumbled.
His dad shook his head. Upset. Brian patted his shoulder. “I know, Dad. I told you I’d explain things when he got here.”
He kept his mouth shut, stunned at the fright he saw in his father’s eyes. The stroke had left him paralyzed. He couldn’t talk. Brian lifted a straw to the left side of his dad’s mouth and patiently waited, that angry gleam still in his eyes when he connected with John.
“Dad had a stroke and was lucky to survive. Recovery’s going to take a while, but he’s doing great.” He put the mug on the table. “Looks like Alicia wore you out as usual, old man. Time for a nap, right?”
Brian moved swiftly. John moved in to help but was waved off. In two shakes, J. W. Sloane was back in bed. Brian maneuvered him quickly and with the same calm ease he handled troubled animals.
“I got this. Go get cleaned up and I’ll get him settled. I’m sure you have things to explain.”
Things hadn’t changed; his brother issued orders for him to follow. And just like every day of his life, he followed orders well. Stowing his gear back in a room that hadn’t changed except for the layers of dust, he wondered if the day would ever come where he’d be deciding his own fate.
Copyright © 2014 by Angela Platt
ISBN-13: 9781460331866
SCENE OF THE CRIME: RETURN TO MYSTIC LAKE
Copyright © 2014 by Carla Bracale
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