He stayed on the boulder and watched the river roar past.
Late that evening, as night crept in to steal the last glimmer of daylight, he went back to town and slipped into the house where he’d grown up. All the lights were off and he assumed his dad was still over at Aunt Beth’s until he walked down the hall past his father’s office and a voice said, “You back, son?” scaring the crap out of him.
The door was slightly ajar and he pushed it open. “Dad? What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”
“Just sitting and thinking.”
He heard a click as Dad turned on a lamp, revealing a lawyer’s lair. This was Dad’s private office, the inner sanctum his clients never saw. There was his big mahogany desk and the requisite green-shaded reading lamp. Tall barrister bookcases filled with legal tomes and literary classics lined the walls.
Dad was in his favorite leather reading chair in the corner. He looked sad and worn-out, like some John Grisham hero, ready to give up the fight.
Colin fell into the matching chair opposite him. “You didn’t go to Aunt Beth’s?”
“For a while.” Dad sighed heavily. “I needed to be alone. Your grandma was one of those people who...” He broke off and glanced away. “Of course, we all knew she couldn’t go on forever.” He shook his head. “Damn, but the heart attack came out of nowhere.” He swirled the remaining amber liquid in his crystal glass, then downed it.
Colin watched as Dad moved to his desk where the bottle of Scotch sat. “Care to join me?”
“I think I will.”
As Colin fetched another glass from the liquor cabinet he couldn’t help remembering the time he and his buddy Neal got into that cabinet and did some sampling. Dad caught them working their way through a bottle of brandy and just about broke it over their heads.
His father filled the glass, then lifted his own. “To your grandma.”
“To Gram,” Colin said, and they solemnly took a drink.
Dad returned to his chair, crossed one long leg over the other and downed some more booze. He was fit and lean and still pretty good-looking. And still single.
Colin knew his father’d had a few dealings with women—a short-lived fling with someone in Seattle, a date or two here and there—but he’d mostly kept his life female-free. Colin had once asked him why he’d never remarried after Mom left. “No reason to,” he’d said. Not exactly a shining testimonial to marriage.
Colin got it, though. Dad had gambled on love with Mom and lost. He could hardly be blamed for not wanting to throw the dice again.
Mom certainly wasn’t much of a poster girl for the wedded state. She’d been through a couple of husbands and had given up. Now she was in the process of moving to Italy to live with some business shark who owned a villa in Tuscany. A “relationship of convenience,” she called it. Colin didn’t expect to hear from her again anytime soon. Not that he’d heard from her very much in the first place.
“Don’t get married young,” she said one of the few times she’d met up with Colin for a visit, hoping to earn some good-parent points. “It never works out.”
Gram and Aunt Beth took a different view. As far as they were concerned, everyone’s life should be like a Vanessa Valentine romance novel. They’d considered Dad’s single state a condition in need of curing, throwing various women at him. Dad had remained incurable. It left the women in his family mystified, but after his own experience Colin understood.
“I’m glad you came, son,” Dad said. “It means a lot to your aunt Beth.”
Colin perched on the edge of the desk and took another slug of whiskey. “I get having to be here for the funeral, but I still don’t see why I have to be here tomorrow. What could Gram possibly have to leave to me? I already got Gramps’s coin collection and that signed Babe Ruth baseball.” Uncle Mark had inherited the tools and Dad had Gramps’s classic Ford truck. What else was there that a guy would want? Colin had no interest in Hummel figurines or quilts or jewelry.
Dad shook his head, a look of disgust on his face.
“What?” Colin prompted.
“It’ll all be clear tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’ve got a mother of a headache. I’m going to bed.” Dad tossed down the last of his drink, stopped to lay a hand on Colin’s shoulder as he passed then walked out of the room. “Turn off the lights when you come up.”
And that was that.
All this mystery. Why couldn’t Dad just tell him what Gram had left him and be done with it?
Oh, well. A few more hours, then he’d be out of here. He’d go back to Seattle and recover his equilibrium.
At least he wouldn’t have to see Mia again. She’d be gone, too. And that was fine with him.
Copyright © 2016 by Sheila Rabe
ISBN-13: 9781460396001
Three Christmas Wishes
Copyright © 2016 by Sheila Rabe
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