The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels

by Girard, Dara

  Chapter 9

  The man was obviously lost, the clerk concluded. She toyed with her strawberry-blond hair as she watched him make his way through the aisles. Men like him usually didn't end up in a used bookstore like Papertrail Books where stacks of hardcovers and paperbacks lined the shelves. He was an incongruous shape, standing in the dusty children's section surrounded by old dolls and used toys. Yet something about him made it seem all right. He didn't have the hurried impatient look of most businessmen, but she couldn't picture him with a family. He had a distant, isolated quality about him. Perhaps he was looking for a family member. Maybe he'd forgotten someone's birthday, but that still didn't explain what brought him here when there were plenty of stores to buy things new.

  "Can I help you?" she asked, unable to curb her curiosity.

  He barely offered her a glance. "No, I'm just looking."

  "If you need anything in particular, I'm right up front."

  He picked up a picture book, then set it back. "Thanks, I will." It was a clear but polite dismissal.

  She shrugged and turned to a woman in the reference section.

  Eric lifted a hardcover book, running his hands over the cloth cover. He remembered Drake getting him books when he was sick. They usually were the ones the library or high school was giving away. They were cheap magical gifts that gave him a reprieve from life. He entered worlds where people weren't always hungry, weren't always cold, weren't always sick. The characters were strong and preserved—winning out in the end.

  He wished he had brought Nina with him so that he could point out books he'd used to read and let her make her own selections. He would do that next time. Right now she was recovering from a cold and was probably feeling awful and depressed. He planned to make her feel better. He gathered a few books and headed for the counter.

  * * *

  "We haven't seen you in a while," Ana said as she did Adriana's nails.

  She felt glad to be back in a salon. She smiled serenely. "I've been busy." Trying to keep my life from going down the toilet. Thankfully, Nina was recovering and back at school, but that wasn't her real concern. It was Eric. She shouldn't have made him hold her the last night they were together. Now every time she lay in bed she longed for his arms, his hands, him. It was a longing that had dipped into a haunting ache. An ache she hadn't felt since her divorce.

  He had angered her when he'd made her return the clothes. She had wanted to strangle him but days later it had been a relief. She didn't have to look at her purchases with guilt and shame. Yes, she had to scheme how to pay for her childish revenge, but it wasn't nearly as much as she would have paid if she'd kept the other items. Plus seeing him with Nina that night continued to tug at her heart, his gentleness, his strength. She had felt glad he hadn't left her to wake in the morning without him.

  They had gone to lunch and had a wonderful time. He was beginning to play a large role in her life. Too much like her father, a dominant bully who loved his children while he suffocated them. It was unsettling. She liked to keep her men on the sideline. Unfortunately, she knew Eric wouldn't last very long there. If they were going to have any kind of relationship, short or long, she would have to draw some limits.

  Eric called later that day to say he had something for Nina. He arrived at the house soon after. Adriana opened the door and folded her arms at his package, peeking out of his jacket. "My birthday, and my daughter gets the gifts."

  He looked startled. "It's your birthday?"

  "Joke." She pulled him in and closed the door. "It's a joke."

  He took off his coat. "When is your birthday?"

  "If we last that long, I'll tell you." She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Eric frowned. Recently she seemed to be doing that a lot, reminding him that their time together was limited. He brushed away the annoyance that always followed her hints.

  He went to the living room where he found Nina on the couch wrapped in a blanket of a cartoon character he couldn't identify. "Feeling better?"

  She sniffed and nodded. "I went to school."

  He sat next to her. "I bought you something." He handed her the package. The wrapping looked like something someone had dropped and broken, but she didn't notice.

  She said, "It's not my birthday."

  "I know."

  "And it's not a holiday."

  "I know."

  She carefully unwrapped the paper and sighed in awe. "Books and a garden." She hugged him. "Thanks, Uncle Eric."

  "You're welcome." He lifted a long box. "This is your own herbal garden kit so you can start something on your windowsill." He shuffled through the books. "This is When We Are Six by the author of Winnie the Pooh. It's a little young but has some funny poems, then A Little Princess and one of my favorites, The Secret Garden."

  She sighed again. "It's wonderful." She handed him The Secret Garden. "Read this one first, please."

  He hesitated. "But it's for you to read yourself."

  "I know I can read it, but it's much more fun to be read to." She looked anxious. "You don't mind, do you?"

  "Not at all." He settled into the couch. Nina scooted next to him. Elissa sneaked onto her lap.

  Eric opened the book and began, " When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen...."

  A half hour later, Adriana came into the room. Eric and Nina looked up. Nina leapt to her feet with an enthusiasm Adriana had never seen before.

  "Look at the beautiful books Uncle Eric bought me."

  Adriana stared down at the worn hardcovers and a paperback lying on the coffee table with bent covers and creased spines. One had the jacket missing. She picked it up, disgusted by the musky smell that seeped from it. "But they're used." She tossed it back on the table. "Couldn't you have gotten her new ones? I know you like to save money, but who knows what germs these are crawling with?" She looked at them. Her stomach dropped at the impact of her callous words. She had hurt him. She didn't see it in his face, but felt it in her heart.

  He quickly gathered the books as he spoke. "You're right. I'll get her some new ones. I'll bring them by tomorrow." He stood and headed for the door.

  Adriana followed. "Eric, wait."

  His tone was casual, conversational. "Don't worry, there's a bookstore I know of. I'm sure it carries great children's books." He opened the door.

  "No!" Nina cried, stunning both adults. "No! No! No!" She stomped her foot for emphasis. "No!"

  Adriana turned to her, appalled. "Nina, keep your voice down!"

  "No!"

  Eric shut the door. "Stop that."

  She tossed her blanket on the floor. "You said those books were mine!"

  "They are, love, but—"

  "Then why are you taking them back!"

  "I'm going to get some new books exactly like these."

  "No. You gave those to me and said they were mine. I don't care if they're used, I don't care if they're old. Library books are old and I read them all the time. They're mine and I want them back."

  Eric glanced at Adriana and sighed, resigned. He looked at Nina. "You're right." He handed them to her. "They're your books and I had no right to take them."

  She held them close as if someone would try to take them again. She glared at him.

  "I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?"

  Her expression didn't change, but she nodded.

  He looked at his watch. "I'd better get going. I have some errands."

  Adriana stepped toward him. "Eric—"

  "I'll call you," he tossed over his shoulder before he left.

  I'll call you, the kiss of death. He'd dumped her and closed the door. She didn't blame him. She stared at his exit until she felt an awareness, a warning, a sense of impending doom behind her. She spun around and saw two dark, burning eyes.

  Nina trembled with rage. "You hurt his feelings."

  "I didn't mean to," she said helplessly, feeling as though she had
failed both of them. "I was just pointing out that these books are old. He can afford to get new ones. Besides, you already have A Little Princess. A new version with lovely watercolor pictures."

  Nina shook her head, not sure how to put her feelings into words. These books meant more. "The only friend I have and you hurt his feelings. I bet he won't ever come back now and then you'll be stuck with me and I know you don't like me."

  "That's not true."

  "It is true and you don't like him either. You're always calling him names. I hear you talk to Aunt Cassie. You laugh at him." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "You think he's dull and a nerd just like me. But he isn't. He's nice. He's my friend. All your friends are stupid like you and they dress weird and I don't like them. They're dumb and scary.

  "Now Uncle Eric is gone and it's all your fault. I hate you. I hate you more than anyone in the whole world 'cause you're mean and selfish. I wish you'd send me to boarding school." She raced to her room.

  Adriana fell into the couch. She didn't realize she was crying until she tasted her tears.

  * * *

  Nina slammed the door and dropped her books and garden kit on the bed. She pounded the pillows, then threw them across the room. She sat on the bed and ran her hand over the worn book covers, and smelled them. They had a woodsy smell like Uncle Eric because he'd kept them in his jacket. She tossed them down. Now he was gone and they'd never finish The Secret Garden or any book. He would never help her start a garden on the windowsill. She was all alone again. She climbed under the covers and cried.

  * * *

  He should have known better, Eric told himself for the tenth time that day. He should have known that Nina deserved more than a bunch of used books. Adriana's disgust continued to ring in his ears. She had probably never bought something used in her life. She'd never had to. The difference in their backgrounds was a gaping hole between them. Instead of hiding their differences he had accentuated them and hurt a little girl. He wanted to apologize, but Adriana wouldn't return his calls. A loud snap cut into his thoughts. He looked at the broken pencil in his hands.

  Drake pushed his chair from the dining table and held his hands up in surrender. "That does it." His hands fell to his lap. "Is your mind gone? What's wrong with you? Three days you've broken pencils and cursed under your breath."

  Eric dropped the broken pencil and picked up a pen. "Would you rather I curse aloud?"

  "What's wrong?"

  He kept his gaze focused on the sheet in front of him. "Nothing."

  "I may not be as brilliant as you, but I'm not stupid."

  He scribbled down a few numbers. "It's nothing."

  Drake folded his arms. "You have a fight with Adriana?"

  He glanced up, twirling the pen in his fingers. "My relationship with Adriana is none of your business."

  Drake's eyes hardened. "It is my business when you can't do your job."

  "I'm doing my job," he said quietly.

  Drake picked up a sheet of paper and tossed it on the table. "These numbers are wrong and I know the calculators aren't broken."

  Anger propelled Eric to his feet. "Get off my back."

  Drake rose as well. "Is it Nina?"

  He grabbed Drake's shirt by the lapels. "Drop it," he said, his voice as cold as his eyes.

  Drake stiffened, his gaze like polished amber. "You wanna fight me, little man?"

  It was a name he'd used to taunt him when they were younger. It had the same effect now. He punched him in the face; Drake hit him in the stomach. A war was waged as they sought to do as much damage to each other as possible. They fell over the couch and landed on the coffee table, shattering a porcelain vase and glass bowl. Suddenly, a splash of cold water soaked them. They turned and saw Cassie holding a large pot.

  She rested the pot against her hips. "What the hell is going on here?" Her voice dropped dangerously. "And since you have destroyed my property, the answer better be good."

  Eric shoved Drake away and stood. "I'm leaving."

  "Sit down."

  He grabbed his glasses from the floor and headed for the door.

  She blocked his path. "Eric—"

  He made a move around her. "I'm not in the mood—"

  Drake's deep voice cut through his words. "Disrespect my wife and I'll make the mood worse."

  Eric spun around and cracked his fist. "Perhaps I should have aimed for your mouth instead."

  Cassie darted between them before another battle began. "That's enough! Sit down and don't argue with me."

  Both men sat on opposite sides of the couch.

  "What happened?" she demanded.

  Drake leaned back; Eric glanced at a painting.

  "Eric?"

  He turned to her.

  "You're not leaving until your temper cools. Then you're going to apologize to me for your behavior. Then you're going to apologize to Drake, who's kept me up two nights smoking like a chimney because he's worried about you—"

  "I'm—"

  "Then you're going to apologize to your nephew, who is crying in his room because his daddy and uncle are fighting."

  Eric swore; Drake stood. "I'll go to him."

  "Not looking like that." She turned to Eric. "You know where the bathroom is. Take a shower, cool off, and clean up."

  He took the towels she handed him and left the room, humbled. Cassie watched him go, then turned to her husband, who was wiping blood from his nose. His left eye was swollen shut and blood drops stained his shirt. A long tear threatened to detach his sleeve. She handed him a box of tissues.

  "It's stopped," he said.

  She sighed and sat down next to him, gently touching his face to check the bruising. "What am I going to do with you?"

  He tried to smile but winced instead.

  "Should I even ask what you said to him?"

  "I handled it all wrong, as usual. He's never been one to confide in me. I don't know why I thought he would start now."

  "Because he's your little brother and you love him."

  "Right now that's debatable." He sighed. "For some reason he hates me."

  She looked stunned. "No, he doesn't."

  "Maybe it's not hate, but deep down there's something about me that gets to him. I don't know what it is."

  "He loves you, he's just... I don't know." She shook her head. "I've never seen him like that. He's always so... cool."

  "He has his moments. Something's gone wrong. He hates when things get out of control or he's made a mistake. I bet you it has something to do with Adriana."

  "I'll have to agree. She won't return my calls. I'll go by and visit soon." She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with an ice pack.

  Drake tightened his jaw as she placed it against his bruise. "I knew he and Adriana shouldn't have gotten involved," he grumbled.

  "You couldn't have stopped it. Besides, I think they're good for each other."

  "Unfortunately, it's not good for us." He stood. "I'm going to check on Marcus."

  "Change your shirt first and take the scowl off your face."

  Drake changed, then met Eric as he came out of the bathroom.

  "Come on," Drake said as he walked to the nursery. "Let's pretend we like each other."

  They entered the room. Marcus's cries were now whimpers as he lay on the bed, his face buried in a pillow. Drake sat on the bed. Eric stood near the window.

  "Marcus," Drake said gently, rubbing his son's back.

  He turned, looked at them, and began to cry again.

  Eric moved toward the door. "We probably scare him."

  Drake sent him a look. "Stay."

  He scowled but returned to the window.

  Drake stroked Marcus's back. "It's all right."

  "You fighting," Marcus said.

  "We didn't mean it."

  Marcus turned to him. "Your faces is bwoken."

  Drake nodded. "You know how you get in trouble when you play rough with your friends?"

  He nodded.

  "
We did that and got in trouble. We won't do it again."

  "In the house," Eric added.

  Drake glared at him.

  Marcus wiped his eyes. "Was Mommy mad?"

  "Very," Drake said.

  His eyes widened. "You have to sit in corner?"

  Drake shook his head in regret. "No, it's worse than that."

  "What?" he whispered, intrigued.

  "No dessert."

  His mouth fell open at the harsh punishment. "Oh."

  "We want you to know we're sorry."

  "I'm okay. Mommy's making coco cake. You won't get none."

  "Any," Drake corrected.

  Eric knelt. "If you give me a hug I will feel better."

  Marcus ran and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. "All better?"

  He smiled. "All better."

  Drake spoke up. "Mommy's in the kitchen now. Tell her we said we were sorry."

  "Okay." Marcus ran out of the room.

  Eric headed for the door. "I'll go now."

  Drake seized his shoulder. "You're staying for dinner. I'll have to insist."

  * * *

  Eric hadn't called and Nina still wouldn't speak to her. Adriana stared at the phone. No one had called her. She was invisible. She picked up the phone to call Cassie, then put it down again. Cassie was probably busy. She had no right to disturb her with trivial affairs. She had created her own trouble. She stared at the phone again and then noticed the ringer had been turned off and the answering machine had been disconnected. She checked her mobile. The ringer was off too and she guessed her daughter had erased messages too.

  Adriana stormed into her daughter's room. Nina sat at her desk coloring. "Did you turn the ringer off the phone?"

  She didn't look up. "Yes and more."

  "Why?"

  "Because I felt like it."

  "Nina, look at me."

  She picked up another crayon.

  Adriana took a deep breath. "I run a business. Phone calls are important. You can't just turn off the ringer and get rid of messages."

  Nina turned to her. "Why don't you just send me to boarding school?"