A Thousand Letters(22)

But all my careful planning proved useless when I walked in the door.

The house was louder than usual, the air charged with new energy. I paused just inside the door, listening, aware. And then I heard my father laugh from the living room.

I swallowed and closed the door, taking my time hanging up my coat and bag, trying to prepare myself. And then I took a deep breath and walked into the room to face them all.

Dad was in the middle of a story, hands gesticulating, his little Chihuahua Rodrigo trembling in his lap, his natural state. He looked the same as he always had, calculating and critical, a little bit older and a little more flamboyant. I hadn't seen him in several years; once he and Beth moved to Miami, they lived in their little bubble, because nothing could possibly exist outside of Miami. Out of sight, out of mind. It worked well for me too.

Beth sat next to him, just as much of his pet as Rodrigo was, listening like she'd never heard the story — though he'd clearly told it a thousand times — snacking on a bowl of cashews that she chewed without closing her lips. Charlie seemed more interested in his scotch than he did my dad, but Mary listened intently, laughing.

They all saw me, but no one stopped what they were doing, though Charlie nodded to me in greeting. No one wanted to interrupt Dad — we'd never hear the end of it. So, I sat on the floor where the kids were playing quietly, which was a miracle on its own.

"And then everyone turned to him and said Watch where you put that banana!"

Everyone laughed except for me and the kids, and Rodrigo barked at the burst of noise. Dad finally turned to me. "Ah, Elliot. Come here and give me a hug."

I stood and did as I was told. "Hi, Dad."

"You look well. You were too skinny last time I saw you. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," I said, knowing full well he didn't want a real answer.

"Oh, Daddy," Mary said, touching his arm. "Rick Winters has brain cancer, can you believe it?"

He gasped, touching his chest. "You're kidding."

Mary shook her head and took a sip of wine. "Elliot's been over there for the last two days. He's coming home tomorrow, but they've only given him a couple of weeks to live."

I twined my hands behind me — they spoke about me like I wasn't there, and they spoke about Rick like he was gossip fodder, not out of sadness or respect. Tears threatened my composure, and I squeezed my fingers tighter as I moved to sit back down with the kids.

Charlie cleared his throat. "How did it go today, Elliot?"

"Oh," I breathed, turning to face him. He smiled kindly, and for that I was grateful. "They delivered his bed and some equipment, and I helped prepare the library for him."

Dad's brow was judging. "Why were you there? Surely you'd have been in the way during such a trying time for their family."

"Sophie asked me to be there." I didn't mention how important Rick was to me, a topic that Dad hated. Strangely, I think he was jealous, though he'd made no real attempts to be close to me. We didn't bond over gossiping like he did with my sisters — he thought I was boring.

"Well," Dad said, gesturing with his glass, "I hope it doesn't interfere with Mary and Charlie's schedules."

Mary opened her mouth to speak, but Charlie cut her off. "We'll be fine. The kids are in school a couple extra days a week, and we're taking care of them in the afternoon when Elliot's not here."

Dad made a face and took a sip of his drink.

"So," I started, needing to change the subject, "when did you get in?"

He lit up at that, always happy to talk about himself. "This afternoon. We had the most awful flight. Sat next to some horribly fat man who wouldn't stay in his seat. And the weather here — I don't know how you stand all this cold. Miami is beautiful this time of year … I haven't used a coat in years!"

I smiled amiably, a complacent expression I used as a curtain behind which I could hide my own feelings. "I'm so surprised to see you. Will you be staying long?"

He shrugged and took a drink. "We didn't want to put a time limit on it, so we bought one-way tickets."

Mary laid her hand on his leg and smiled. "You can stay as long as you want, Daddy."

He patted her hand. "Thank you, dear."

I didn't miss Charlie rolling his eyes as he tipped his drink back until it was gone. "I need another drink," he said as he stood. "Anyone else?"

They chimed their yays or nays, and he turned to me.

"Elliot?" His brows rose, tone implying that he figured I needed one.

"I'm fine, thanks, Charlie." He left, and I kept asking questions, wanting to keep the conversation off myself. "What brings you to New York?"

He frowned, feigning hurt. "What reason should I have other than to see my daughters and grandchildren?" He said daughters, but didn't look at me. His eyes were on Mary, filled with something akin to worship. Maven toddled around the room and up to Dad, speaking gibberish, and he took her hand, making a face when he touched her. "She's sticky."

Mary gave me a look. "Elliot, maybe you should give them a bath?"

"But they haven't eaten. They'll just get all sticky again."

"Well, then maybe you should feed them first."