Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(25)

Jack sucks in a breath. He wasn’t expecting such a big space, two stories with a high loft ceiling held up by thick cedar beams. It may look rustic, but my uncle has his share of the inheritance. The furniture is the same, finished logs fitted together into chairs and a sofa around a big slab of a table that looks like it was just hewn from a tree.

“Let me get you something,” he says. “Beer?”

“Yeah, I could use one,” Jack sighs.

Uncle Rod throws his arms around me and I squeak as he picks me up from the floor, hugging me tight.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” he says, and never takes his eyes from my face. “How are you holding up?”

“Not very well.”

He nods. “Sit, I’ll be right back.”

He comes back with the stems of three beer bottles clasped in his thick fingers in one hand, and a plate of cheese and sliced cold cuts and sausage in the other. I remember him talking with my dad about the beer; it has no label, it’s his own brew. He hands me one, then Jack, then sits down with his own and takes a long pull.

“What, fourteen years?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning the bottle in my fingers.

I work up the courage to take a pull on it. Beer and I are not close friends, but this tastes good enough, very heavy. After a few sips I feel a little lighter, if no less sleepy. Jack drinks half of his and then puts it down on the table and starts shoveling food in his mouth.

“What are you doing out here?”

“It’s complicated,” Jack says.

“Don’t remember asking you, boy. Ellie?”

“It is complicated. I’m sorry I haven’t called you or anything, Uncle Rod. I’ve just been…”

“I know what the problem is,” he says before tearing a thick slice of sausage in half with his teeth. “It’s that bitch Jessica. I refuse to call her your mother, she has no claim to that.”

I sit up. “Don’t call her—”

“Why not? I wanted to see you when you were in the hospital. She was your guardian, you see. She said no, she’s in intensive care, you can see her in the rehab hospital. Then I came to see you in the rehab hospital, and the nurses wouldn’t let me in. Not their fault, mind you. I don’t blame them. Orders from Jessica, as your guardian. So I called again when you got out, and she said no, she’s healing, later. Always later, later, later, for years until I finally gave up. I still sent you a Christmas card and a birthday present every year. I make things out in my shop, you see.”

I sit there, blinking. “You sent me presents?”

“Of course I did. You’re my brother’s little girl. You meant the world to him, you know. He was so proud. Every time we talked it was Ellie did this and Ellie did that, Ellie is so smart and talented, Ellie met this boy and she’s over the moon for him… That must be you.” He looks at Jack.

I can feel myself turning red. I curl up on the couch and grab the beer. I need a drink.

“I never got any cards or presents,” I say slowly, “and Jack says he sent me letters when he was overseas. I never got them, either.”

Uncle Rod nods. “Your mother threw them away, I’d stake my life on it. Now, what are you two doing out here? This place doesn’t even have a zip code. Don’t tell me you felt like a Sunday drive.”

Jack coughs. “I kidnapped her.”

Uncle Rod sits up. “What?”

I grab Jack’s arm. “I went along with it. We sort of got into trouble and we had to leave.”

My uncle glances back and forth between us. “Are you pregnant?”

“Not yet,” Jack smirks.

I punch his arm.

Uncle Rod laughs then suddenly turns serious.

“Yet?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not happening.”

He looks at me with a subtle smirk on his face. “Alright.”

My uncle rises. “You kids eat?”

“We had Wendy’s.”

“That’s not food, good Lord. Eat the cheese tray. Eat it!”

I jerk and start picking off slices of cheddar. Jack eats hungrily. Where does he put it?

My uncle sits down and leans back.

“You look like your mother,” he says, after a time. “Your real mother.”

“Who, me?” I blink.

“Yes, you.”

“Maybe, if she had half her face ripped off.”

“I always wondered how a spud like your father landed a prize like her.” He laughs sadly. “She was a real catch. It’s a shame what happened.”

“Dad didn’t talk about it much. He just said she got sick.”

“She did, too young. It took her hard. I’m glad you were too small to remember that.”

“I remember her a little. Not much. Just a feeling, really. Sometimes Dad fades a little, too.”

Jack moves closer and puts his arm around me.

“I never got to say goodbye to him,” I croak, pressing my hand into a fist. “It’s like he was just plucked out of my life.”

A shock of pain jolts up my left arm. I was trying to make a fist with both hands.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Uncle Rod says. “I was starting to think I never would.”