A Few Tables Away (Glenhaven #1)

by Deb Rotuno

  The glass in his hand shattered against the wall by my head. I felt the ice bounce off my sneaker. Faith ducked just in time, and I pulled her behind me.

  “You ungrateful bastard!” he snarled, walking quickly to me, and I stood my ground, bracing myself for his barrage of degrading words.

  He wouldn’t touch me. He truly hadn’t physically touched any of us since we were in the hospital after the wreck, and even then, it was only to save face around his peers. My father was a lot of things, and at the top of that long, twisted list, he was smart. To touch me at nineteen would risk me telling someone or pressing charges. Just below that, he was a coward. I could see it in his eyes as he glared at me from the step below mine. Fists balled up at his side and his face red with anger, he stared me down.

  “Ungrateful for what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, while inside I braced for whatever he was about to do. “Nothing you’ve ever done for any of us was out of the kindness of your heart, Dad. Nothing. It was merely obligation and to save your reputation in this small-minded town.” I almost asked him about the “bastard” part of that accusation, but I was pushing my limits with him already.

  He glared at me like I’d truly struck the heart of the matter, but he didn’t address that. Instead, he pointed his finger into my chest, and I flinched a bit but kept my eyes on his.

  “She’s not going to Florida to be with you.”

  “She is.”

  “I am,” Faith piped up, coming to position herself between us. “It’s a full ride, a good school, and I’m going.”

  His lip twitched. “Get out of my face. Both of you. Tomorrow, you’ll have a list of shit that needs to be done around here. Your sister’s been goddamn worthless since you’ve been gone. You’ll show her how to keep some shit up, and you’ll do it all or face the consequences.” He opened his mouth to continue, but his phone sounded from the end table by the sofa.

  The benefit of his job—for my siblings and me—was that he was constantly needed, whether on the phone or at the hospital. He snatched his phone up, answering with a loud, “Shaw!”

  My nostrils flared in anger as I exhaled roughly, and I turned to head upstairs to my room. I could hear, feel Faith following me, and once I dropped my things down on my old bed, I turned to face her.

  “Welcome home, big brother.” She snorted at the sarcastic tone she let out, and I smirked, shaking my head. “Did you write down that shit you just told him?”

  I barked a humorless laugh. “Some of it…and that was before I left for Edgewater.”

  “You’re different,” she whispered, walking to me and giving me a hug. “I knew getting out of here would be good for you. I can’t wait to get down there and out of this house.”

  Kissing the top of her head, I said, “Soon, Faith. And I can’t wait, either.” Smiling, I hugged her closer and then let her go. “Speaking of…I need to call Dani before it’s way too late. I just need to grab something out of the library.”

  “Tell her I said hello,” she said, walking from my room to hers across the hall.

  I smiled and nodded, rumbling down the stairs. I could hear my dad still on the phone, but he’d moved his conversation into the kitchen. The library—or really, it had been my mother’s home office—was just off the living room. I stepped in, turning on the lights, and my heart constricted at the memories of this room. It was where my mother would grade papers, pay bills, and write. It was where she’d taught me how to write. It was this room my siblings and I would come to in order to talk to her. It was a lot like Dani’s library, except the long back wall was nothing but windows facing the woods behind our house. There wasn’t a lake, thankfully, but there was shelf after shelf filled with books.

  I’d left Dani the copy of The Count of Monte Cristo because she’d checked it out of the school’s library, but I’d also wanted my mother’s copy. Actually, there were a few things I made mental note to take out of here before my break was over. Things I’m sure my father wouldn’t miss—photo albums, my mother’s journals, and the first editions of my mother’s published works. Those things were important to me, and I wanted them before I left, even if I had to ship them to the Bishop house for safekeeping. But they were things I needed to do when my dad was at work and not after I’d just pissed him off.

  My gaze, my fingers, trailed over the spines of my mother’s most beloved titles—mostly classics, with a few more modern stories thrown in for good measure. The sight of them made me sad but made me smile too because Daniel had some of the same books in his own library. They would’ve been good friends. I was sure of it.

  I found the old copy of the Count and pulled it off the shelf, jumping when my father’s voice met my ears.

  “Not even an hour in this house, and you’re in here with your head in the fucking clouds.”

  Sighing, I held up the book. “Left mine back home,” I stated firmly, leaning on the last word for a reason. “I need this one before I go back to school.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and I could see him debating on arguing, but he stayed quiet as I brushed past him in the doorway. I could’ve sworn I heard him mumble something about growing some balls and whores and my mother, but I was already hitting the steps and pulling out my phone.

  “Hey, baby,” Dani sang sweetly after only one ring.

  “Hi, pretty girl. I miss you.”

  “Miss you too. So…my turn, right?”

  “That’s right. Get to readin’, Dani,” I teased her, smiling at her sweet giggle and falling down onto my bed next to my bags that I would deal with in the morning. “I need your voice.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Evan

  AS A LITTLE KID, I never thought to question my parents on certain things. Robyn Shaw had always been open and forthcoming with all three of us. She’d explained things, taught us things, and she’d done it all with patience and love and hugs.

  Crack!

  The sound of the splitting log was dull in the snowy late morning. I stood the next one up and swung again as my mind sorted through memories.

  Crack!

  I was trying my damnedest to remember if my father had ever hugged me—or any of us, for that matter. Other than the occasional medical issue, I was pretty sure he’d never touched us. Actually, I’d never really wanted to be anywhere near the man. I’d been perfectly content in my mother’s presence.

  I swung the axe again, simply to lodge it into the stump I was using, and it landed with a thunk. The crunch of snow met my ears, and I smiled at Faith as she grabbed the logs I’d just cut.

  “You don’t have to…”

  She laughed. “I’m not a damsel in distress, Evan,” she countered, setting them on the back steps in their bin. When she faced me again, she pulled her wool hat down a bit. “I’m not the fairy princess in your story.” She picked up a few more logs.

  Laughing, I shrugged. “Fair enough. What’s left on his damn list anyway?”

  “Way too much, but I guess he wanted to keep us busy until you go home,” she stated.

  The word home made me think of Dani. Pulling out my phone, I checked to see if she’d texted back. I smiled at silly pictures of her and Wes at Sunset Roast, multiple messages of her love for me, and a few stating how much she missed me. I sent one back after taking a picture of the snow-covered backyard, teasing her about her thin Floridian blood, along with the fact that I loved her and missed her more than I could explain.

  I’d been back in Montana for ten days. Christmas was just a few days away. I’d kept my word to Dani about daily chats and messages, not to mention reading to each other just about every night. I’d also kept my word to my dad, taking his ridiculously long list of chores—punishments—and he’d kept his about staying out of my face. After each job was finished, I’d cross it off and move on to the next one. Faith helped most of the time, but chopping the wood was hard work and heavy, not to mention it left my hands sore and tender, even with gloves on.

  “We should tackle
the attic next,” Faith suggested, grimacing.

  “Well, if we do that, then we might as well decorate for Christmas, don’t you think?” I asked, grabbing the axe to put it away in the now spotless garage—one of the first chores we’d done on his stupid list. “I mean, the ornaments are up there.”

  “The church is selling trees,” she whispered, and I knew why she was tentative about it. Mom was buried in the cemetery across from the church. “Maybe we could…should…”

  Nodding, I took a deep breath and let it out, and it plumed out of me like a white fog. “Okay, let me clean up. We’ll go get the tree, stop at the cemetery, and maybe grab something to eat. When’s Dad supposed to be home?”

  “I heard him leave about six this morning. So we’ve got all afternoon. Why?”

  “Because if I eat at the diner one more time, I may vomit,” I said, rolling my eyes at her laugh.

  “Spoiled to Southern home-cookin’?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” I answered with a laugh, reaching for her hat and yanking it down hard over her face. “I may have even learned a thing or two. We’ll stop at the market on our way home.”

  Once I was showered and in clean clothes, I walked down the hallway to open the attic door and pull down the ladder. Tyler and I had just cleaned it a few years prior, and no one really went up there, so I couldn’t imagine there was much that needed to be done, except for maybe some sweeping. My brow furrowed at a few boxes that were open, but I didn’t pay them much attention. I was looking for the Christmas ornaments my mother used to meticulously pack away every year. The last time we’d decorated was the Christmas of Tyler’s first year at UM. He’d already met Jasmine but they weren’t dating yet, and Faith and I wanted to celebrate having our oldest brother home for the holidays.

  I found the box I was looking for and dragged it to the edge of the attic hatch.

  “Here, big brother. Hand it down,” Faith said, and I slowly lowered the box into her hands. It wasn’t heavy, but the sound of bells shifting around inside made her smile.

  Once I was back down in the hallway, I said, “There’s not much to do up there.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  Grinning her way, I nodded. “There are some boxes that were opened after the last time Ty and I cleaned. You been up there?”

  “Huh? No! Spiders, Evan! Are you fucking crazy?”

  I laughed, holding up my hands in a surrendering gesture. “My bad!”

  I wanted to tease my very strong, fearless sister about bugs, but I couldn’t find it in me to do it, not when I still couldn’t step near or even look at large bodies of water without cringing and breaking out into a sweat.

  “So I’ll be cleaning up there, I see,” I did say teasingly, rolling my eyes when she looked up at me pleadingly. “Fine, fine.”

  Just before we left the house, I checked the kitchen to see what I needed, though I was expecting I would need just about everything. I could see that Faith kept a few things in there for herself—cereal, soda, milk, eggs, some things for salads, and frozen dinners and pizzas. All of that was pretty standard in the Shaw house, since our dad didn’t eat with us much. The cabinets were just about the same—cans of soup, boxed mac and cheese, and instant oatmeal.

  “What are you making?” Faith asked, her eyes wide with amusement as we walked to her car.

  “Um, I was thinking chili. Dani’s mom taught me the last time she made it. It’s pretty easy, and the weather’s perfect for it since we’re gonna get more snow tonight. I’ll make enough to last through tomorrow.”

  The drive to the church was slow with the weather, but Key Lake wasn’t all that big anyway. There was a tent set up in the front parking lot, and most people had already gotten their trees, though I was happy to see there were a few left.

  “We don’t need a big one, Faith, but you pick it,” I said, getting out of the car. “Besides, you want to be careful about tying it down on top. A small one will fit in the trunk.”

  Pastor Sean greeted the two of us, hugging my sister. He was around our parents’ age, and he’d always been very kind. He and my mother had known each other a long time. After she died, he’d tried to keep checking on the three of us. I sighed at the memory of that time. Mom’s funeral had been a huge deal since she’d been a teacher at Key Lake High School. Her lady friends had dropped by with food, Pastor Sean wanted to check on us, and the rumors had started to spread like wildfire. It was that last thought that had me glancing across the street to the cemetery. I hadn’t visited my mother’s grave in a year—the last Christmas.

  “Evan,” Pastor Sean said softly, his hand landing gently on my shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son. You’ve shot up an inch or two since the last time I saw you. How’s college?”

  Smiling politely, I nodded. “I’m good, sir. School’s good too.”

  He studied my face for a second. “And your father? I only see him in passing when I visit the hospital.”

  Smiling ruefully, I answered honestly. “The same as always.”

  The man laughed lightly, if not knowingly. “I bet.” He squeezed my shoulder, pointing to a table filled with potted poinsettias. “Just got these in…if you want to…” He gestured across the street to the cemetery.

  Swallowing nervously, I nodded. “Actually, yeah, I would.”

  When I reached for my wallet, he stopped me. “Those are on me, son. Go on. I’ll take care of Rylee Faith and send her over there once she’s picked a tree. You can pay for it when you’re done.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” I muttered softly, picking up the bright red flower.

  Crossing the street was surreal, and despite how long it had been, I felt twelve years old all over again. The funeral seemed like yesterday, not a little over seven years prior. I remembered everything—the tie around my neck that felt too tight, my suit that rubbed against my very sore stitches, holding Faith’s hand but sticking to Tyler on his crutches like glue, the sound of sniffles and nose blowing, and the smell of impending rain. I remember following the broad shoulders of my dad in his black suit, but I also remembered he never uttered a single word to us.

  Mom’s grave was on the other side of the cemetery in the corner at the edge of the woods. It was beneath a small fir tree, which seemed fitting with the holiday and the snow that weighed down the branches; it was like she had her very own Christmas tree. Her granite headstone was a harsh reminder of the cold, abrupt loss of her. It seemed so fucking wrong for her to be there. I wasn’t sure what I believed when it came to life after death. I wanted so badly to imagine my mother like the angel I knew she was on earth, but I’d never had a prayer answered, so all of it was confusing.

  I removed my wool cap and knelt down, taking my gloved hand and brushing the snow off her tombstone. I also cleared a spot for the poinsettia, which was shockingly red and green against the white/gray of its surroundings. I brushed more snow off the words “Loving wife and mother,” frowning at them.

  As always, with the grief, the missing her, came the anger. I missed her to the point of pain, but then, I was mad at her too. She’d said she was right behind me, but she hadn’t been, so it felt like a lie, no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it or let it go. And what she’d left behind was what made my anger that much sharper. Had she known what Dad was like? Did she realize what he’d become if she was no longer with us, if she could no longer protect us? All three of us had wondered about it more than one time, but not one of us had bothered to voice it to Dad, and there was an angry, bitter part of me that wanted to confront him about every damn rumor we’d had slapped in our faces. Maybe she had been leaving him. Maybe he really cheated on her…or she did on him. Maybe he’d never really wanted us, which was obvious with how he treated us, but then a few questions remained…Why would he give a shit about grades and colleges and personal lives? Why would he care what we did and where we went as long as we were no longer his legal responsibility? And if he never really wanted us, then why not just…walk away?

&nbs
p; “You okay, big brother?” I heard behind me, and I nodded, wrapping an arm around my sister when she knelt beside me. She was quiet for a moment but finally said softly, “I wish I could talk to her just one more time.”

  Kissing the side of her head, I whispered, “Me too.”

  Faith turned to face me. “What would you tell her?”

  Smiling, I stood, and Faith followed suit. “I dunno…Lots of things. I’d…I’m…I’d like to tell her about Dani, about school and Glenhaven. She’d love it there, with the warm weather and the beaches and the sunsets. I…I think she’d love Dani…and her family. I wish she could read some things I’ve written. I’d…I’d ask her why she said she was following me out of the car and she didn’t.” I shrugged a shoulder, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “But if I think that way, then I want to be mad and ask her about Dad, and not a bit of it would do any good.”

  Faith nodded, and despite how young my sister had been when Mom died and despite how strong she always appeared to be, her voice cracked a little when she said, “I miss her.”

  I pulled her into a hug, nodding a little.

  “I miss the little things—hugs, cookies, back-to-school shopping, her laugh. God, her laugh was just…perfect.”

  Chuckling, I sighed deeply. “Yeah.” I glanced around when fluffy white flakes started to drift down around us, and I pulled back to look at my sister. “Did you find a tree?”

  “Yeah, it’s cute. Like two feet or something.”

  “Cool. C’mon,” I said, gesturing to the weather. “Let’s get to the store and then back home before this becomes ugly.”

  “Okay, that needs to stay on low for a bit,” I told Faith, jerking a thumb to the big pot of chili on the stove.

  “Smells yummy,” she said with a grin, looking up from behind the box of ornaments.