The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(78)

“Then yes, I want to see it. Can you help me find it?”

“Sure. Where’s your computer?”

“In my sewing room. I only use it to look up recipes, patterns, pay the bills, that sort of thing. I don’t have fun on it like some of my friends.”

“Come on. I’ll find it for you.”

They went together to Gwen’s sewing room. Iris sat down at the old computer and, of course, had to update some of the software to show the video. “I’ll leave you to it, Gwen. I’m going to go home.”

“Are you going to tell Seth what you did, showing me the movie?”

“Of course,” she said. “I’m not going to start keeping things from him now. I don’t know how he’ll react. In fact, I never expected something like this. I think it’s important.” She gave Gwen a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.”

* * *

Norm shuffled in the door a little earlier than usual, a little grouchier than usual.

“Oh, good, you’re home before dinner. There’s something I have to show you. It’s about Seth and it’s important.”

“After dinner, Gwen,” he said. “I got some mean heartburn today.”

“When did that come on? What did you eat?”

“It was a couple hours after lunch. I didn’t eat bad. I just had Stu’s pulled-pork sandwich, which wasn’t as bad as usual. And I felt fine.”

“Is it food poisoning?”

“I don’t feel that kind of sick. It’s just heartburn.”

“I’ll get you an antacid.”

“I hate that shit,” he grumbled, sitting in his favorite chair.

“Do you like heartburn?” she asked, skittering off to the kitchen. She brought back the pink jar and a spoon, poured it, aimed it at his mouth.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes,” she said, the spoon steady and unrelenting. “Do as I say. I have to show you a video on the computer. Seth is in it.”

He opened his mouth, swallowed and made a great many shudders and melodramatic faces. Gwen ignored him. When she returned after putting away the medicine Norm was even grumpier. “Put it on the TV,” he said.

“I can’t. It’s on the YouTube. Iris showed it to me and now I have to show it to you. Right now.”

“Jesus,” he grumbled, holding his belly as he got to his feet. “You just live to make my life difficult.”

“You live to make your own life difficult. If you’d ever go to the doctor you might find out how to stop having heartburn and headaches and all your other twitches and complaints.”

“I went to the doctor for that insurance.”

“Nineteen years ago!” she said.

“It wasn’t that long.”

“Sit down. I’m putting it on for you. Just make no more noise or complaints and watch this because this is our youngest son and it’s important.”

“He get an award or something?” Norm asked.

“Not that I know of,” Gwen said. “Surely not from you! Just watch.”

“I mean to tell you, that medicine shit does not work a bit!” he griped.

“I’ll go make you something to drink. You watch.”

He groaned, but he watched. Gwen went to the kitchen and made him a very watered-down brandy to settle his stomach, but she didn’t hurry back with it. In fact, she checked her watch and crept close to the door to her sewing room and listened to Seth’s voice on the computer. She could hear Norm make the occasional sound—murmur, grunt, groan. Only Norm would expect a spoonful of medicine to work in sixty seconds.

By the sound on the computer, the video was almost over. She wondered if it would reach Norm the way it had her. She’d had tears on her cheeks. She’d told Norm years ago that if he didn’t talk to his sons, let them know how much he treasured them, he’d live to regret it. But Norm didn’t listen to his wife.

Well, to be fair, he had listened to her a few times and actually surprised her. She got breast cancer and was pretty sick from the chemo and was frankly astonished at how concerned and doting Norm was. It wasn’t as though he did all that much talking, especially never betraying how he felt, but he was there. Every time she rolled over in bed he was awake asking her if she needed the bathroom, a drink of water, a painkiller, anything. That was one of those times she knew how much he really loved her. But when she passed the crisis he stopped being so attentive. Which was all right, she supposed. He’d given himself away.

She’d long ago accepted that they were never going to be the romantic couple they’d been so many years ago. She could live with that. He still kissed her good-night, turned over his paycheck, thanked her for breakfast and told her if dinner was good. That should probably be enough at their ages. But she hoped she died first. She thought Norm was going to be a pain in the ass to take care of and thought it unlikely he’d be able take real good care of her when she became a withering old woman.

“Gwen,” he said from the sewing room. She thought his voice sounded strangled with tears.

She rushed back to the kitchen, grabbed the diluted brandy and rushed back to the sewing room.

Norm was bent over in his chair, his hands on his chest, his face completely white. “Gwen, I can’t stand up,” he said in a strained whisper. “Call Seth.”