The Lucky Ones(37)

“Allison, baby,” he said, suddenly serious. “It’s okay. This isn’t a big deal. People have sex. It’s normal.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, it’s not normal to have sex with your big brother who also happens to be a monk, but who wants to be normal? I don’t.”

“You were almost helpful. Almost. So close and yet so far...”

Deacon laughed and it was a lovely laugh.

“I know he’s not your big brother,” Deacon said. “I tease because I love. Glad you’re back. Are you?”

“I was until the wildly inappropriate questions about last night.”

“You can ask me some wildly inappropriate questions if it’ll make you feel better,” he said. “Hit me. I have no secrets.”

“Why is the attic locked?”

“Except that.”

She glared at him again.

“What do you want in the attic?” he asked.

“Roland said he found one of my old books in the attic. I thought more of my stuff might be up there,” she said, and hoped he bought it.

“Dad keeps some medical equipment and files up there now. If you want to see it, I’ll show you. You’ll regret it, though.”

“I’ll regret it?”

“Damn skippy, you’ll regret it. Not even joking, sis. You still want to go?”

“More now than ever.”

“You’re my kind of girl,” Deacon said. He stood up and she found he’d grown nearly as tall as Roland. She experienced a moment’s vertigo when she realized the last time she’d seen him they’d been the same height.

She followed him into the house and up the first and second flights of stairs.

“So,” he said, “I have to tell you the truth.”

“About what?” Allison asked. They went into Dr. Capello’s office where Deacon dug around the desk drawers until he found a key on a plastic tag.

“The reason I came to see you.”

“Which is...?” She already regretted asking.

“Roland. You. You and Roland.”

“There really is no me and Roland. We spent one night together. We’re not planning the wedding yet.”

“Thora and I don’t want to see him get hurt. I love the man,” Deacon said. “I can’t help but be protective of him. He’s...a little out of practice with women.”

“I didn’t plan last night.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he said as he unlocked the attic door. “I mean, if you were going to plan on sleeping with one of your former siblings, it would have been me, wouldn’t it?”

“Not Thora?”

“Oh...” he said. “I like the way you think.”

He opened the door and reached way up to pull the cord on the light. Deacon immediately headed up but Allison stayed at the foot of the steps.

“Are you coming up or are you going to stand there checking out my ass all day?” Deacon asked, looking over his shoulder and down at her. He stood at the top of the steps, holding on to the railing on either side. Twelve hardwood steps between them. She’d counted. Enough of a push and anyone could break their neck on these steep narrow stairs.

“I was trying to remember something,” she said. “And check out your ass.”

She’d made the joke to cover her nervousness, but Deacon noticed.

Deacon turned around, faced her. “It wasn’t me,” he said.

“What?”

“Whoever pushed you down the stairs, it wasn’t me. And you didn’t fall down the attic steps, anyway,” Deacon said. “It was the third-floor stairs you fell down. I know because Thora and I ran into the house and saw you on the second-floor landing with Dad kneeling over you. You don’t forget a day like that. You don’t forget the day you saw your father scared shitless for the first time.”

Allison couldn’t speak. Deacon spoke for her.

“Roland told us you thought someone might have pushed you on purpose and that’s why your aunt came and took you from us,” Deacon said. “If you think that’s what happened, I believe you. But it wasn’t me or Thora.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” she said. “I mean, if you did do it.” Roland was the only Capello she felt completely comfortable around. He wasn’t home the day of her fall. No way he had anything to do with it.

“Good point,” Deacon said.

“That doesn’t comfort me,” she said.

“Sorry. I’m too honest, I guess.”

“Can I trust you?” Allison asked.

“I hope so. But in case you don’t...”

Deacon stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled something out. He tossed it down to her. She caught it, poorly, but still caught it.

“Mace? You carry mace with you?” Allison asked.

He shrugged. “Pepper spray. It’s for you. Lot of psychos out there, you know. Now are you coming up?”

She did go up the stairs.

But she kept the pepper spray in her hand.

The attic smelled of years and dust and must, but it was a pleasant sort of smell, comforting, like old books. Everywhere she saw boxes, many of them with RC written on them. Roland must have stored all his things up here when he went to the monastery. There were also old wooden filing cabinets, steamer trunks and unmarked boxes sealed with layers of tape.