Along Came Trouble(13)

“You should try not to get so mad at Mom,” she said.

“She’s mean to him, and he’s weak. It ticks me off.”

“She can’t help it. It bugs her that Dad doesn’t remember things anymore. She thinks he just needs to try harder.”

“Yeah. It’s a problem.”

Before the stroke, Derek Clark had been a model husband and father. He’d managed the Camelot Arms Apartments with a capable good cheer, and he’d provided a decent living for the family. These days, the physical therapists pronounced him recovered, but he remained easily distracted. His short-term memory was pretty much shot. He seemed oblivious to how much his condition had deteriorated.

It made Caleb feel like shit to think about it, so he tried not to.

Katie exhaled loudly, blowing off steam, and opened the fridge door to put away a few bottles of salad dressing.

“I don’t get why she doesn’t just call me when this stuff comes up,” Caleb said.

“She doesn’t want to bother you.”

“She’s supposed to bother me. Being around for her to bother me is the whole reason I moved back here.”

“I know that, Caleb. She knows it, too, but she’s used to you being gone. I think she’s afraid to depend on you in case you decide to reenlist or something. Give it time, huh?”

Unconvinced, he grunted his assent. He’d already given it six months.

Katie pulled the trash can out from under the sink and started shoving used disposable cups and cutlery in it, her mouth set in a grimace he’d seen too often lately. Between working as his office manager, studying for the online college class she was taking, and nursing whatever private pain she’d brought back from Alaska, she had too much on her plate.

All of them did. Mom and Dad’s apartment complex was aging, getting more expensive to run every year, and the price of their health insurance seemed to double every time he blinked.

Someone had to take care of them. That someone was him.

Heading back into the living room, he wiped up the mess on the floor. He’d been hoping it was water, but it didn’t smell like water. Next week, the dog stayed home.

He returned to the kitchen and tossed the sodden paper towels over his sister’s shoulder and into the trash. Direct hit. Katie looked at the bag. Looked at him. “Don’t throw pee towels at me, Buster. I am not the enemy.”

True, that. She was the best friend he had in this town. Most of his old buddies had moved on years ago, drawn away to Columbus or farther afield. Katie had gone all the way to Anchorage with her high school boyfriend and started up an outfitting business, but a few months before their dad’s stroke she’d come back alone, flat broke, refusing to talk about Alaska. Caleb had given her the house to live in rent-free, never expecting they’d end up sharing it.

When he had first moved home, he’d been shocked by the change in her. She spent nights tending bar and sat around listless in yoga pants all day, snacking and watching reality TV. It was as if someone had stolen his sister—usually all restless motion and cheerful wit—and replaced her with a zombie. He’d offered her the job in the office to get her out of the house, and it seemed to have helped. She was much more herself lately.

But he still worried.

He nudged Katie away from the sink with his hip so he could wash his hands. “I don’t have any enemies.”

To his surprise, Katie put her arms around him. “That’s right,” she said. “Everybody loves Caleb.” He turned, holding his wet hands away from her back and looking down at the top of her head resting on his chest.

Affection from Katie was a rare thing. She had a big heart and a barbed sense of humor that she used to keep anyone who didn’t know her well from guessing it. “You’re getting soft,” he told her.

She poked him in the stomach. “Compared to you, everybody is soft.” When she met his eyes, he saw her concern. “You worry too much,” she said. “It’s going to be fine.”

“What is?”

“Everything.”

He sure as hell hoped so. When he started the company, he’d been counting on some business from the college. The woman who ran the campus security office had made enthusiastic noises about contracting with him for the protection of visiting speakers and dignitaries, and they’d developed a plan to set up car and bike patrols of the campus under his supervision—something the college needed but couldn’t afford to do itself, since adding a staff of full-time security employees would cost a fortune in salary and generous Camelot College benefits, whereas Caleb could do it mostly with part-timers.