Rainshadow Road (Friday Harbor #2)(38)

“I’m not ready to be a father. I’m worried as hell that I’m going to drop the ball.”

“Don’t worry about dropping the ball. It’s dropping the baby that causes problems.”

Mark scowled. “I’m trying to tell you that I think I’m more screwed up than I seem.”

“I’ve never doubted that,” Sam said, and grinned at his expression. Sobering, he continued, “You, Alex, and I are all screwed up by virtue of being Nolans. But you’re the one most likely to turn out okay. I can picture you being a pretty decent father. Which is a miracle, and a hell of a lot more than I could say about Alex or me.”

“I had it better than you and Alex,” Mark said after a moment. “Mom and Dad weren’t as bad early on in their marriage. It was only after Alex was born that they became raging alcoholics. So I had the benefit of … well, it wasn’t exactly family life … but it was as close as the Nolans ever got. You had no one.”

“I had the Harbisons,” Sam pointed out.

Mark paused in the middle of dipping a paintbrush. “I’d forgotten about them.”

“I’d be as bad off as Alex,” Sam said, “maybe even worse, if it weren’t for them. Fred had no kids of his own, but he knew a lot more about being a dad than ours. Which leads back to what I was saying … you’re going to do fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Remember when we first got Holly and she was bouncing off the walls at ten P.M., and the pediatrician had to explain to us what ‘overtired’ meant?”

“Yeah. What does that have to do with it?”

“Only that we knew nothing about raising kids, not even the most basic stuff. But in spite of that, Holly’s doing great. You’ve been more than good enough. So you’ll just have to keep figuring it out as you go along, which as far as I can tell is what most parents do. And if you’re going to err on the side of anything, err on the side of love. Because that’s the point of all of this, isn’t it? You’re getting another person in your life to love.”

“Jesus, you get sentimental when you’re high on paint fumes.” But Mark’s face had relaxed, and he smiled. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“So considering all this advice you’re giving me … are you going to change your mind at some point?”

“About getting married? Hell, no. I like women too much to do that to one of them. I’m not cut out for it any more than Alex is.”

“Hey … have you seen Alex recently?”

“A few nights ago,” Sam said. “Just for a minute.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s overtired.”

A grim smile touched Mark’s face. “Lately every time I see Alex, he’s at least halfway tanked.”

“I think that’s the only way he can face life.” Sam paused. “He’s hard up for cash now. Darcy cleaned him out.”

“It’s what the idiot deserves, for marrying her in the first place.”

“True.”

They stained wood in silence for a couple of minutes. “What can we do?” Mark eventually asked.

“Wait until he hits bottom.”

“What if Alex doesn’t survive hitting bottom? Neither of our parents did.”

Unable to tolerate the fumes anymore, Sam replaced the top on the can of stain and went to the open window. He took a few deep, cleansing breaths of fresh air. “I guess we could try some kind of intervention,” he said doubtfully.

“If it gives us the chance to kick his ass around for a few minutes, let’s do it.”

Sam cast a brief smile over his shoulder and looked out at the vineyard, the green canopy reaching skyward. “Wouldn’t work with Al,” he heard himself say. The air was filled with the scent of growing vines, of sun-braised house shingles and plump blackberries, and the salty, fecund smell of False Bay.

When things had gotten especially bad in the past year, Alex would come over to work on the house or just sit on the porch. Sometimes Sam had persuaded him to walk through the vineyard or down to the bay with him. But Sam had had the feeling that the scenery was all shadows to Alex … he was moving through life without experiencing it.

Of all the Nolan offspring, Alex had had it the worst. With each year their parents’ neglect had metastasized until there had been nothing left for the youngest son. Now, long after Jessica and Alan were gone, Alex was like a drowning man—you could see him submerged just below the surface. But there was only so far you could go in the effort to help Alex. Get too near someone who was drowning, and in their desperate struggle, they would claw, grasp, and drag you down with them. And Sam wasn’t at all certain that he was in any shape to save anyone—at this point it was still unclear whether he could even save himself.

* * *

Lucy awakened in the morning in a welter of confusion. She’d been plagued by dreams that had left her with impressions of sliding, twisting, pleasure-tensed bodies … of herself, caught beneath the heavy welcome weight of a man. She had been dreaming of Sam, she acknowledged with mortified annoyance. Maybe it was a good sign—it certainly signaled that she had moved on from Kevin. On the other hand, it was idiotic. Sam was a guy for whom any relationship was a guaranteed dead-end street.