by Sue Pethick
When there was still no response, Travis decided to just concentrate on his meal. This was what it was like most nights in their house: brief, one-sided conversations punctuated by the occasional outburst when Hugh got upset about something. It wasn’t a bad life, but there were times when it felt awfully lonely. It was hard not to feel as if something, or someone, was missing.
If only Emmy could see how well Hugh is doing.
Travis shook his head. No. She’d made it clear that he had to make a choice. He could honor his wedding vows, or he could keep faith with his family. In the end, it wasn’t even the promise he’d made to his parents that had torn the two of them apart so much as his wife’s unwillingness to compromise. How could he have lived with Emmy if he couldn’t live with himself?
Poor Emmy. She hadn’t realized when she married me that there was another man in on the deal.
“I met a woman while I was there,” he said. “Her name was Renee, and she had pink hair.”
Hugh glanced up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Not all of it, just her bangs, but they were like cotton candy pink. Really bright.”
“I like cotton candy.”
“I know you do. I think you would have liked her, too.” Travis smiled at the recollection. “She was very nice.”
Renee had been nice, he thought. One of those people who just seemed to put other people at ease. Between running his parents’ business and starting up the Diehl Foundation, it had been months since Travis had had a casual conversation with a woman. He’d been sorry when she had to go.
Hugh reached for another piece of chicken.
“Why was her hair pink?”
“Hmm? Oh, she’s a hairdresser. I guess they color their hair sometimes to show people what they can do.”
When supper was through, the two of them cleared the table and walked into the kitchen for their nightly ritual: Travis at the sink, scraping and rinsing the dirty dishes, and his brother putting them in the dishwasher. Hugh was a master at getting everything to fit.
People like Hugh needed structure and predictability to function, and it was just one of many routines that kept everything running smoothly. It made life neat and orderly, but Travis knew that not everyone wanted to be bound to doing the same thing day after day. It was why he’d been reluctant to get involved with anyone else since the divorce. What was comforting to one person might feel like smothering to someone else.
Maybe that was what he’d liked about Renee and her pretty pink hair, he thought. There was something carefree about that arc of color sweeping across her forehead, something that had shocked him a bit, knocking him out of his day-to-day mind-set and making him feel as if there was more to life than the sort of Groundhog Day existence he’d been living since his parents died.
Hugh closed the dishwasher and looked at him.
“Trav?”
“Hmm?”
“They make blue cotton candy, too. Could she make my hair blue?”
“I’m not sure.” He grimaced. “You sure you want blue hair?”
Hugh thought about that.
“No,” he said. “Pink is better.”
“I agree, but unfortunately I don’t know where she works. I was going to ask her if she wanted to get a cup of coffee, but then she had to go, and I didn’t get a chance.”
Travis took out a dishtowel and started wiping down the counter.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should have left her a note or something.” He shrugged. “What do you think?”
He looked up, but Hugh had already gone.
* * *
With the dishes done and the kitchen clean, Travis grabbed his phone and headed to his office to do some work. Hugh was back in the living room, as sociable as a stone, with Max lolling on the floor at his feet. Travis took a seat at his desk, turned on the computer, and started writing an email to his lawyer.
Now that there were candidates for the school program, the stakes had gotten higher. He’d have to make sure that the funds to pay for testing the kids and hiring a therapist were in place before they were actually needed, and every step of the way would have to be documented and justified, lest they run afoul of the IRS. There were days when having to jump through so many hoops made him want to throw in the towel, but if it saved even one family from the kind of struggle his own parents had gone through, it would be worth it. And if it helped him ease the pain of their loss, Travis thought, so much the better.
He reread the email, then hit “send” and sat back, listening to the Tetris theme song as it drifted out from the living room. At thirty-six, Hugh was still childlike in some ways, and his ability to give himself over to a virtual world was one of the few things about his brother that Travis truly envied. What would he give, he wondered, to be able to let go of the responsibilities in his life for a few precious hours, without worrying that everything would fall apart?
His phone rang, and he checked to see who it was.
Savannah—again.
Travis sighed, feeling a pang of guilt as he let the call go to voice mail. It seemed as if Savannah Hays had known he was coming back to Bolingbroke even before he did.
Within days of his mother’s funeral, she’d shown up at the house with food and an offer of help, and Travis, overwhelmed with grief and loss, had been grateful for her kindness. Savannah’s knowledge of the people and places in Bolingbroke had been a boon as well, as he struggled to get himself plugged back into a community he’d left years before. But when it became apparent that Savannah had more on her mind than friendship, he’d found himself pulling back. With the trauma of his divorce still fresh, he simply wasn’t ready for another serious relationship.
Since then, they’d had the occasional cup of coffee or drinks with the gang down at The Growler, but the more that time went on, the surer Travis was that things with Savannah were never going to work out. As beautiful and accomplished as she was, Savannah was very insecure, and with Hugh to look after and five thousand employees at Diehl Industries counting on him to save his parents’ company, Travis had neither the time nor the energy to make her happy. Even so, he thought, they might have been able to make it work, but for one thing: Travis wanted children—adopted or his own, it didn’t matter—and Savannah did not. Once she’d made that clear, pursuing a relationship seemed not only pointless but cruel; he wasn’t going to change his mind and neither was she. Since then, his commitments had kept him busy enough that the two of them seldom crossed paths, but as things settled down and he became open to the idea of dating again, he was finding it harder and harder to keep his distance. Savannah could be as seductive as a siren, and just as hard to resist.
He heard scratching at the door, and Max pushed his way into the room. Getting a therapy dog had worked wonders for his brother, giving him confidence and nurturing the sort of social skills he needed in order to get a job. But lately, Hugh had been resistant to taking Max with him to work, saying he felt stigmatized for needing an animal’s help. So, with Travis busy at work and Hugh away at his job, Max now spent most of his days alone. Perhaps that was why he kept trying to get out of the yard, Travis thought. Maybe some canine instinct was telling him he still had work to do. Or maybe, he thought, Max was just looking for a playmate.
Max padded over and set his head on Travis’s lap.
“So,” Travis said, stroking the dog’s broad head. “No collar again today. What are you doing with them?”
He dug his fingers into the fur around Max’s neck, trying to find a reason for the disappearing collars. Was something hurting him there? A rash or a cut that bothered him enough to make him want to get rid of anything touching it? Or was he just making mischief while everyone was at work? Whatever the reason, Max needed to cut it out. There were too many ways to get hurt out there for him to keep wandering off the property.
As his hands passed over the big dog’s shoulder, Travis felt a small crusted patch on his skin.
“What’s this?” he said, grabbing his reading g
lasses off the desk. “Are you hurt?”
Travis leaned forward and parted the fur, examining the spot where he’d felt the scab. Sure enough, a chunk of fur had been yanked out, leaving a bald patch and a pea-sized crust of dried blood behind. He touched it lightly, and Max’s shoulder quivered.
“What on earth have you been doing?”
Max rolled his eyes upward, a look that seemed both sorrowful and apologetic, and Travis patted him gently.
“I know,” he said. “It’s hard being by yourself all day. Tell you what. I’ll see if I can stay home one day this week.”
He winced.
“No, not this week—too many meetings. Maybe this weekend. No, I’m meeting with the trustee on Saturday morning and there’s the award ceremony at the Jaycees.” He sighed. “And the board meeting the week after that, and then Hugh’s visit at the group home and Christmas party—”
Travis groaned. He’d almost forgotten about Christmas. He’d have to get a tree and take the decorations down from the attic. Then there’d be presents to buy and wrap and Christmas dinner to fix—all the things that Emmy and his mother used to do that were now his alone to handle. He felt his stomach begin to churn. With everything else on his plate, when was he going to find the time?
If only he could delegate some of the work to Hugh, he thought, but the guy was useless. He couldn’t drive, which meant that Travis had to either arrange for someone else to give him a ride or take Hugh himself, and letting him “help” with the shopping meant that it took twice as long to get it done. And because Hugh was always off in his own little world, he wasn’t even someone you could talk to.
He felt Max’s weight shift and looked down as the dog set a gentle paw on his arm. It was something he’d seen Max do hundreds of times whenever Hugh was in distress. Travis smiled.
“You understand, don’t you, Max? You always seem to know just what to do.”
He took a deep breath and sat back, embarrassed by his brief slip into self-pity. The fact was, Travis had it a lot easier than most family caretakers did. He might have more responsibilities because of his brother, but he had more resources, too—more, certainly, than his parents had had when Hugh was born. Plenty of people who were dealing with special needs relatives had no way to give them the help they required. That was why he was funding the special education program at their old elementary school. He wanted those other kids to have the same chance that Hugh had been given to make something of their lives.
He turned off the computer and headed down to his bedroom with Max following close behind. Trying to tackle everything at once was a recipe for disaster, Travis told himself. Christmas would arrive in its own good time, but the award ceremony was that weekend. If the Jaycees were going to make him their guest of honor, the least he could do was to look presentable.
Max jumped up on the bed and started circling his favorite spot. Travis’s mother had said it would spoil Max to let him sleep on the bed, but Travis hadn’t seen any evidence of that. Besides, Max was part of the family; you didn’t make family members sleep on the floor.
He opened the closet and checked to see if his best suit needed cleaning. No, it was fine, and his favorite tie was spotless. Then Travis ran a hand through his hair. How long had it been since he’d had a trim? A few weeks, at least. He should probably get a haircut, too.
A haircut!
A slow smile spread across his face. If he found out where Renee worked, he could drop by and see if she could do it for him. Then, if things went well, maybe he could ask her out for that cup of coffee. He got into bed, pleased that he’d thought of an excuse to see her again, and reached for his book. Beside him, Max settled deeper into the bedclothes and sighed contentedly.
CHAPTER 7
The rich aroma of her father’s lasagna greeted Renee when she walked through the front door. There was no one in the living room, but she could hear the television on downstairs and the singsong cadence of teenage gossip coming from McKenna’s room. As she hung up her coat and headed for the kitchen, she felt her mouth begin to water. After the day she’d had, she was ready for a little comfort food.
The lasagna was on the stove under a double layer of aluminum. Renee peeled back the foil and frowned. Wendell’s lasagna recipe made enough for a small army. Where was the rest of it?
Dylan, she thought. The kid was a bottomless pit.
She cut a modest slice of layered pasta and put it in the microwave to reheat, then grabbed a fork and took her plate over to the table. Dylan was hunched over an open textbook.
“Mind if I join you?”
He shook his head and moved the book out of her way.
“McKenna’s in her room,” he said. “Kieran’s downstairs with Grandpa.”
She blew on a bite of lasagna.
“You the only one with homework tonight?”
He shrugged. “Dunno.”
Renee nodded, chewing thoughtfully. Wendell was good about getting the kids to do their homework. Dylan was probably just doing some extra credit, making sure he kept his grades up. It was amazing how quickly kids learned when their coaches held the line.
“You’re taking McKenna to the dentist tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You think she remembers?”
“Probably not.”
She took another bite.
“I’ll remind her before I go to bed.”
“Kieran wants to know if he can walk home again.”
Renee let out a pained sigh.
“Oh.”
When she heard that Kieran had walked home from school on Friday, she’d been afraid this would happen. It wasn’t a terribly long way to go, but Kieran could get lost in his own thoughts, and she worried that if he found himself in a strange neighborhood, he might not be able to find his way home. Now that he’d done it successfully, though, that argument wouldn’t work.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Renee finished her dinner and went to check on McKenna. The door to the girl’s room was ajar; she rapped on it lightly and went inside. McKenna was lying on the bed, talking on the phone, with her feet propped up against the wall. When her mother walked into the room, she put her feet down and rolled onto her side.
“Hold on a sec.” She put the phone to her chest and gave Renee an impatient look. “What?”
“You get your homework done?”
“I didn’t have any.”
“Nothing to make up?”
McKenna rolled her eyes. “No.”
“You’ve got an appointment with the dentist tomorrow. Dylan’s going to pick you up from school, so don’t get on the bus.”
“I won’t. Geez, give me some credit.”
Renee felt her lips tighten. This level of insolence was rare, even for McKenna. Was she really that peeved, or was this little act just for show?
“Who’s on the phone?”
The girl’s face fell. “Tierney.”
So that was it. According to McKenna, Tierney was the most popular girl in school, the one all the other girls wanted to be and all the boys had a crush on. Gaining admittance to Tierney’s ultra-exclusive circle of friends had been high on McKenna’s to-do list since the day they’d moved in.
Renee pointed to her watch.
“Finish up and get ready for bed.”
McKenna nodded and rolled back over as her mother closed the door.
“It wasn’t anybody,” she heard her daughter say. “Just my mom.”
Downstairs, Kieran and Wendell were sitting on the couch, watching the television with the lights off. The bluish light drained the color from their faces, casting weird shadows that made them look like ghouls. Renee switched on the lights.
“That can’t be good for your eyes,” she said.
“Mom,” Kieran protested. “We were making it like a movie theater.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s time for bed.”
Kieran crossed his arms, blinking
furiously.
“Grandpa said it was okay.”
She looked at her father.
“It’s National Geographic,” he said, as if that overruled any notion of bedtime. “It’s educational.”
“Yeah,” Kieran said. “There was this shark and he came right out of the water and grabbed a seal like this!”
He jumped to his feet, demonstrating the maneuver.
“Grandpa said it probably chomped that sucker right in half.”
Renee raised an eyebrow.
“He did, did he?”
Wendell grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.
“Your mother’s right. It’s time for bed.”
“Aww,” the boy said, clinging to his grandfather’s arm. “Can’t I just stay up a little longer? We didn’t even get to the good part yet.”
“We’ll watch it another time,” Wendell said, patting his back. “Go on. Do as your mother says.”
Kieran slid off the couch and crawled slowly across the floor, going up the stairs on all fours. When he reached the landing, Renee turned back and looked at her father.
“Dare I ask what ‘the good part’ is?”
Wendell shrugged.
“It’s mating season. He wanted to know where the baby seals come from.”
Renee was surprised. She’d have thought Kieran was a bit young for that, but maybe not. All three of her kids were growing up so fast. Dylan would be in college next year, and McKenna seemed more like a young woman every day. She supposed she’d been hoping that Kieran would stay her baby a bit longer.
“Thanks for making dinner, Dad. The lasagna was great.”
“You’re lucky there was any left. Dylan must have eaten half of it.” He stood up, taking a few seconds to work out the kinks in his back, and gave her a hug. “How was your day?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll tell you about it in a bit. Let me get the kids in bed first.”
* * *
An hour later, Renee walked back downstairs to find her father standing over the stove in his kitchenette. They’d converted the downstairs into a one bedroom apartment, and so far things seemed to be working out well, but there were times when she worried that buying a house together had been a bad idea. Wendell had already raised two kids, and except for a few aches and pains, he was still spry, still had all his marbles. These should have been his golden years, she thought. Instead, he was taking care of her.