Scare the Light Away
Page 33
I slipped my arm around his waist, and pulled my brother close.
“Their poor mother.” With a heavy groan, Shirley pushed herself off the edge of the rock. “Daughter dead, son responsible, husband run off.
“I’ll pop up to the house and say ’night to Dad. Won’t see you tomorrow, Rebecca. Have a good flight.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back in a month for Sampson. And I expect to see you and Dad in July. The two of you on your own if you like or as many of those grandchildren as seems appropriate.”
“I’ve always wanted to see British Columbia. I’ve heard it’s nice. ’Night, Jimmy. ’Night, Rebecca.”
“Good night.” We listened as she clambered back over the rocks, huffing and puffing the entire way.
“How’s Aileen?” I asked.
“Good. Doing good. She’s back with her therapist and making progress.”
“I’m glad. She fought like a demon, you know. Against Kyle.”
The silence stretched on. The rock reached cold probing tentacles into my bottom. A wisp of cloud covered the moon.
“I’d better be going in. Long day tomorrow.” I struggled to my feet, trying not to groan as my sister had.
“He was my father, you know.”
I sat down with so much force the shock traveled up my spine into the back of my head.
“Who was what?”
“Grandpa. May he rot in hell. He was my biological father.”
“How do you know?”
“I note, sister dear, that you don’t clutch your hand to your maidenly heart and cry, What nonsense is this? No confusion, no misunderstanding. You know more than you’ve ever said.”
“I’ve never been cursed with a maidenly heart.”
“True. But that’s no answer.”
It was also no answer that he didn’t tell me how he knew. But I decided not to press it. “It’s late, Jimmy. I have a long day ahead of me. But I have something to give you. Come by tomorrow, after I’ve left, bring the truck. There are three old-fashioned wooden tea chests in the cellar. Take them home. Open them. Then read the contents.”
I stood up again. Sampson pulled herself awake, stretched luxuriously and scratched the hated plastic cone against the rock. Unfortunately, for her, it didn’t come off.
“I’ll be back in a month, to get Sampson. I’ve told Aileen that I don’t use my chalet in Whistler much; it’s empty most of the year. You open those crates, and then, if you want, we’ll talk.”
I followed my husband’s dog across the rocks, over the crumbling lip of the embankment, across the road, over the wild patch of half-cultivated lawn to my father’s house. The moon sulked behind its cloud, and the braver and brighter of the stars came out in the western sky, over the lake. Bright, shining stars, the reflection of life long past and of worlds so far away they lay beyond my imagination. Shirley’s car was gone and a single naked bulb shone over the doorway.
One light, guiding me home.
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