A Deep and Dark December(63)

“Like shaving my beard.”

“You’re not in Los Angeles anymore. You’re back here where you belong. Dorans have been trusted to keep San Rey safe for generations and we’re going to keep on doing that. Your son—”

“What if I have daughters? Or no children at all?”

“Stop being flippant, Graham. This is serious.”

“Pop, you’re not going to want to hear this, but you need to. I’ll make that speech. I might even shave, but the rest is none of your business. I get that you don’t like Erin although I don’t know why. I hope as you get to know her—”

“Get to know her? Oh, I know her. I know her kind. Beauty is temptation. Descended from Eve, women tempt men into sin. You must not let your lust for her deter you from your duty—”

“Her kind?”

“You can do better.”

“No, actually I can’t.”

“She’s twisted you around so you can’t see clearly. I’ve been there, son. I know what it’s like to be tempted, to partake of forbidden fruit. To be drawn in. It’s enticing. Exciting. But you’ll see I’m right soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Eventually she’ll show her true colors. Your lust for her will fade and you’ll see her for what she is.”

“Stop hinting at it. Say it plainly, Pop. What exactly is she?”

“First Keith Collins and now you. He was a good man and if it weren’t for her, he’d still be alive. Look at what’s in front of you, son. Look at it.”

“You can’t be serious. You think she had something to do with Keith’s death?”

“She traded a maybe for a somebody.” He pointed at Graham. “You.”

Graham stood. “I’m not going to listen to any more of this.”

“Don’t go against me.” Ham leaned forward in the bed. “Or I’ll make sure your little hussy is exposed for what she is. Her and her family.”

“That’s enough.”

“I hear her aunt overdosed. A combination of pills and alcohol. She’s right here in this hospital—”

“Not one more word about Erin or Cerie or anyone else I care about—”

“I might look like a weak old man, but I have more power than you know. Jobs dry up, leases get revoked, people fall on hard times, can’t pay their bills.” Ham waved a hand. “Happens all the time.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“That’s the thing about living in and serving the same small town for generations, people think they owe you.”

“Why? Just tell me why you dislike the Decembers so much.”

Ham leveled his son with a look that knocked him back to the days when he lived in his father’s house and had to abide by his rules without question. Only those days were gone. And in the ensuing years Graham had learned to question everything, including himself. Especially himself. A lesson left over from the nightmare in L.A.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Ham said. “Do as you’re told.”

If Graham had hoped to compromise with his old man, he knew now that option had never existed. Ham didn’t negotiate. He set the terms and everyone else abided by them. He stared at his father, saw himself in the set of his jaw and the color of his eyes, and did the only thing he could—he went against his father for the first time in his life.





Erin arrived at her father’s house just after dark, more exhausted than she ever remembered being. She let herself into the small cabin tucked into the hills above San Rey where she’d been raised. Following the sound of the television, she did her best to scrub the worry from her expression. There’d been no change in her aunt all day. Erin had left Cerie’s bedside with little hope for her aunt’s recovery.

She found her father in his recliner, staring blankly at the TV screen. The light from the television cast a sickly blue glow over his form, giving the scene a macabre feel. Kneeling next to the chair, she took her dad’s hand. He turned toward her, his eyes burning bright in the darkened room.

“Hey, Daddy. How are you feeling?” No response. “Aunt Cerie is doing well.” She stumbled on the last word and Donald’s eyes widened a fraction. Or had she only imagined it? “Have you had dinner?”

“I fed him.”

Erin jolted at the sound of Mabel’s voice.

“Sorry,” Mabel said. “I thought you knew I was here.”

Erin squeezed her father’s hand and rose. “You stayed with him all day?”

Mabel motioned for Erin to come back to the kitchen with her. Erin gave her father a sad glance and followed.

“Have you had dinner?” Mabel asked.

“No.”

“Sit down. I’ll warm up a plate for you. How’s Cerie? I wished I could’ve come to the hospital to see her today.”

Erin sat at the little dining table and filled Mabel in on Cerie’s condition, watching Mabel navigate the kitchen as though she cooked in it every day, going straight to what she wanted without having to search. Which spoke volumes about Mabel’s relationship with Donald. She couldn’t help the tiny seed of bitterness toward the woman. It should’ve been Erin’s mother sliding a plate of food in the microwave for her, not this placeholder in her father’s life.