Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(111)

“You give good presents. That’s important. Presents are important.” She bent back over her drawing.

He smiled.

“You always take good care of me,” she added, and her words clamped like a vise around his heart.

“You take good care of me, too,” he said unevenly, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

She glanced at his picture. “That’s the worst cow I ever saw.”

* * *

THE LAST TIME HE’D BEEN in Dresner had been two Christmases ago, at his brother Peter’s house. He’d stayed out of the way, gave all the kids the latest model of iPod and counted the minutes till he could leave. Only Mary Elizabeth, who left Beckham Institute for holidays and one weekend a month, had been really happy to see him.

He hadn’t been to his parents’ house in, oh, maybe seven, eight years.

The place looked the same. His father’s pickup was in the driveway, along with Mom’s old Buick. Not that she drove much anymore.

He knocked on the door, heart pumping in slow, heavy beats. His mother answered. “Yes?” she said.

“Hi, Mom,” he said.

“Oh, James! Hello! Come in, honey! What a nice surprise.” She was slurring, and her hair was matted on one side, as if she’d just woken up.

He kissed her cheek dutifully. Yep. Thems were Jack Daniel’s fumes.

“Frank, look who’s here! It’s James!” Mom weaved into the kitchen and sat down. “You want some coffee, honey?”

“No, I’m good,” James said. “Hey, Dad.” He extended his hand; his father shook it, not looking him directly in the eye.

“So what brings you here?” Mom asked, taking a sip of her own doctored beverage from a mug.

“I’m on my way home,” James said, sitting down.

“You still working for that Ponzi-scheme guy?” his father asked.

“Actually, I’m unemployed at the moment.”

“So your brother tells us.” Frank Cahill looked both pissed off and pleased.

“It’s good to see you, honey,” his mother said, smiling. She’d always been the kind of drunk who thought she covered well.

“You, too, Mom.” He shifted in his chair, the same worn vinyl chairs they’d had since he was a kid. “I just saw Mary Elizabeth.”

“My angel,” Mom murmured, her mouth wobbling. His father rose to leave.

“Dad, wait. Please. I need to ask you guys something.”

“Frank, sit down!” Mom said. “James is hardly ever here.”

His father sat back down. “What?” he growled.

James took a deep breath and looked at his parents, his bleary- and blue-eyed mother, his angry, bitter father. “I want you to forgive me,” he said.

“Ah, Jesus,” his father said.

“Dad, Mom, I wish—”

“You wish! Who cares what you wish? You were supposed to take care of your little sister!” his father barked, slamming his hand down on the table. “You said you’d stay home and watch her, and instead I come home to find her half-dead! All because you wanted to watch the f**king television!”

“I know.”

“And look at her now!”

“I know.”

“So how dare you ask us to forgive you? Your mother’s never gotten over it. Neither have I. And Mary Elizabeth…” His voice choked off. “She has to be cared for the rest of her life.”

“I know,” James said. “And I’ll always take care of her. I’d have her live with me, if you’d let me. I’ve asked you that before.”

“Right. So you can ignore her again? She’s got the mind of a seven-year-old, James! You can’t take care of her!”

“Yes, I can. And I would. I’d—”

“No. You can’t.”

James looked down at the table. “Okay. She’s your daughter.”

“Damn straight.” Frank sat back in his seat and folded his arms.

James sighed. “I’d still like you to forgive me.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” his mother said, pulling a tissue from her pocket and wiping her eyes. “This is not pleasant.”

“Look,” James said, looking at the scarred tabletop. “I screwed up. But I was twelve years old, and you know how she was. She did what she wanted, and we all let her get away with it. I told her not to go swimming, and she didn’t listen, and yeah, I should’ve watched her better. But, Dad…kids screw up. I tried to save her. I did my best. I did everything I could, and I’ll always be sorry it wasn’t enough. I would’ve given my life for her. But I can’t keep living under what happened when I was twelve. It’s killing me, Dad.”

“You don’t look dead to me,” his father said coldly. “You destroyed this family.”

James nodded wearily. “But I love my sister.”

Frank gave a disgusted snort. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

How easy, James thought, staring at his father’s face, to pin all the blame on someone else. His father had spoiled Mary Elizabeth most of all, had made excuses for her not listening, had let the rules change according to what Mare wanted. His father had been the decision maker in the family, the one who deemed James old enough to watch his sister for the day.