The Silent Sister(51)

I sighed. “I’ll bring it to you, then,” I said, not looking forward to lugging the computer around with me. “It’s a big clunky old PC. You don’t need the monitor, right? Just the computer?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gave me a flat look I couldn’t read, his blue eyes catching the faint light from the front windows. I wanted to ask him if this was how he spent his days—sitting alone in this sticky booth in this disgusting building. Did he even know these guys at the pool tables? Was there anyone here he could call a friend? Yet, that’s not what came out of my mouth at all.

“The other day, when you said those things to me about not being a good counselor, I was hurt,” I said, the words spilling out in an unexpected rush. “I worked hard for my degree, Danny, and I’m good with the kids I counsel. I know I am. Maybe you’re right that I’m out of my league when it comes to someone like … someone who’s been through what you have. But you don’t have to belittle me or cut me down the way you did.” I leaned forward to make my point. “It really upset me,” I said.

He tightened his hand around his beer and my whole body went stiff, afraid of what he was doing to do, but he only lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow. When he set the bottle on the table again, he looked at me. “I’ll come to the house to help with the computer,” he said, sliding out of the booth. “You don’t need to bring it over.”

It took a moment for his words to register, and I knew this was his way of apologizing. I felt strangely euphoric as I slid out of the booth, and he waited for me before heading toward the door. He walked next to me, a shield between me and the cretins at the pool tables, and for the first time since we were kids, I felt the protective arm of my brother slip around my shoulders.

Outside, I started to ask him if he was okay to drive, but thought better of it. He seemed perfectly sober. I had the feeling his tolerance for alcohol was pretty high, and anyway, the last thirty seconds had left me with a sense of joy that I didn’t want to damage.

“Follow me?” I asked, opening my car door. I was suddenly afraid this was a ploy to get me off his back. Maybe he’d drive away from me once we got on the road and I’d be stuck trying to track him down again. But I didn’t think so. The way his arm had felt around my shoulders seemed to change everything. At least, for me it did.

* * *

Driving home, I remembered Jeannie and Christine were at the house. Oh, great. It was one thing for Danny to be there with me alone. Another for him to have to deal with those two.

I was relieved to see that Jeannie’s car was gone when we arrived and I figured they were on a lunch break. I pulled into the driveway and Danny parked on the street. We met on the lawn and walked together up the front steps, and as soon as I opened the door, I could see Christine in the dining room.

“Where have you been?” she called to me as we walked into the living room. “A collector was here and bought the lighters and compasses. Isn’t that great? But we have thousands of questions for you.” She appeared in the doorway between the dining room and living room, and when she spotted Danny, she let out a squeal. “Danny MacPherson!” she said. “Oh, my God! I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy!” She started toward him, arms outstretched, but I stepped between them before she was anywhere within touching range and she wisely stopped walking. “You are gorgeous,” she said. “Seriously. Wow.”

“I can’t do this.” Danny headed for the door, but I grabbed his hand and nearly dragged him toward the stairs.

“Later,” I snapped at Christine, shooting her a look that could melt steel.

Danny offered absolutely no resistance as I led him up the stairs, holding his hand as if he were a small child. I walked him past his old room without a word and into our father’s office, where I let go of him to shut the door and turn the lock.

“Who the hell…?”

“Jeannie Lyons’s daughter,” I said. “Christine. Do you remember her?”

He shook his head and walked straight to our father’s desk. “What’s she doing here?” he asked as he sat down at the computer.

“Remember I told you she and Jeannie are setting up an estate sale? And then Jeannie’ll list the house and the RV park for me. For us. I’m sorry she ambushed you. It’s like having two pit bulls in the house. They’re in every room every time I turn around, and they treat the house more like it’s theirs than mine.”

Danny stared at the computer screen. “You have no idea what his password might be?”

“No.”

He looked up. “Do you know where his boot disk is?” Our voices seemed to echo in the room.

I shrugged. “I don’t know if he even has one. This computer’s so old.”

“Let’s start looking.” He got to his feet, and while he looked through Daddy’s file cabinet, I checked the drawers of his desk.

“This is it,” Danny said after a few minutes. He was crouched over the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet holding up a white-sleeved disk. He sat down at the desk again. “See if he has an external hard drive somewhere. You should copy everything to another drive before you wipe this one clean.”

“I have one.” I picked up the small, brand-new hard drive from the shelf by the door and handed it to him. Christine had given it to me days earlier, hoping it would encourage me to attack the computer. I sat down on the only other chair in the office—an upholstered antique in the corner—as Danny got to work. Only then did I realize that the glass-fronted cabinetry on the east and west walls of the room now stood empty. The lighters and compasses had been sold, Christine had said. No wonder our voices seemed to echo. Although I’d had no attachment to those collections, the emptiness in the room suddenly struck me hard. It was as though Daddy was disappearing from the house bit by bit.