She saw him twice more in the next three days. Each time she ached with the need to say something—anything—to break through the terrible wall that lay between them. But she said nothing, did nothing. Just looking at him seemed to paralyze her vocal cords.
A week after the disastrous dinner date, her father came to see her. They'd spoken very little since he'd called the Social Services department to report Becky. Typically, he'd never apologized, apparently not seeing the need to do so.
Ann was seeing him in a new light. Flynn's words might have hurt but they had sunk in. She didn't want to believe that he was right. Of course her father cared about her.
"I understand that little girl McCallister was keeping is gone now." Robert Perry leaned back in his chair and sipped at the coffee his daughter had just handed him. Not the instant she usually made for herself but freshly ground, freshly brewed coffee. He didn't believe in instant.
"Becky is with her father now."
"Good. Best for all concerned. Gets McCallister out of your life, lets you concentrate on your career."
Ann sipped her coffee, trying not to be irritated by the cavalier way he dismissed Becky. She looked at Oscar who was lying on the back of the sofa directly across from her father. Oscar was staring at him, his golden eyes unblinking.
Robert Perry looked at him and then looked away and then looked at him again. Ann took another sip of coffee, hiding her smile in her cup. Her father shifted uneasily beneath the cat's steady regard.
"Does he always stare like that?"
"Not always." She could have gotten up and shut Oscar in her bedroom but she didn't move.
"Animals. Never could understand why anyone would want to have one."
"Oscar keeps me company." She kept her tone mild.
"Animals belong in a barnyard, not in a house. Keep them where they belong and everybody would be happier."
"I'm afraid Oscar is spoiled. I don't think he'd like a barnyard at all."
Oscar continued to stare and her father shifted again, apparently looking for a position that would shield him from the cat's impassive gaze.
"Animals. Don't know why you like them. Nasty, dirty things."
"Actually, Oscar is extremely clean." Ann set her cup down with careful deliberation. "I've been thinking about giving up my practice and going back to school."
"School! What on earth for? You've had all the training you need."
"Not to be a veterinarian." The words could not have had stronger results if she'd just announced that she was going to become a terrorist.
"Veterinarian!" He made the word sound like an obscenity. "Don't be ridiculous!"
"Dad, I'm not happy with my work. It's not that it isn't worthwhile. It just isn't what I want to do. I love animals and I love medicine. I'd like to combine the two." Her tone pleaded with him to understand. She might as well have been talking to the coffeepot.
"I forbid it! I don't know where you got this asinine idea but I absolutely forbid it."
"Dad, I'm not happy where I am. I want to try something else. There's nothing wrong with that."
"There's everything in the world wrong with it. A veterinarian. Hah! Do you think I spent all that money for your schooling just to watch you throw it all away on a whim?"
"This isn't a whim. I've given this a lot of thought and I think this will make me happy. Don't you want me to be happy?" There was a little-girl-lost quality in the question, but it was lost on him.
"Happy? What's happy got to do with it? People these days think that's all life is about. Well, it isn't. Life is about getting somewhere, accomplishing things, making something of yourself.
"I see where you get this stupid notion. It's that McCallister boy, isn't it? He's filled your head with a lot of twaddle. The man's a bum. He may not be in the street but that's only because his family has money. What's he accomplished in his life? Nothing, that's what. And he never will accomplish anything because he's a bum. Look at him. Is that the kind of life you want to live? Nobody respects him, nobody knows his name."
"I respect him."
"Just shows how far he's turned your head. I should never have let you move in here. Should have stopped it the minute I found out he was living across the hall. You'll move out immediately. You can move home and we'll get these stupid notions out of your head."
Ann stared at him, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. "Dad, can't you hear what I'm saying? This has nothing to do with Flynn, though he's the one who made me see how foolish it is to waste my life. I'm not happy. I want to do something else with my life. Don't you want to see me happy?"
"I want to be proud of you. I want people to know that my daughter is a success. I can't be proud of someone who's wasting their time on a bunch of filthy animals."
He glared at her, and Ann looked at him over an abyss so vast that there was no crossing it. Later it would hurt, but right now she felt numbed by the weight of all the years she wasted trying to please him.
"You don't care about me at all, do you? Not about me as a person."
"Don't be melodramatic. Of course I care. You're my daughter."
"But I'm not a person to you at all, am I? I'm just an extension of yourself. Something that you can point at for people to admire."
He stood up. "I think it would be best if I left before you say something you'll regret. I've always had your best interests at heart, Ann. When you've calmed down, you'll see that I'm right about this, too."
"I don't think so."
She listened to the door close behind him and waited for all the pain to come crashing down on her. But the only feeling that emerged was a tremendous relief. As if she'd known all along, and getting it out in the open had lifted the burden from her.
Ann didn't know how long she sat there thinking. All the turmoil of the past few weeks was suddenly gone and her mind was working clearly. She knew exactly what she wanted out of life. It was so clear that she couldn't understand how she could have let herself get so muddled about it.
And the first step was to find Flynn. Nothing else in her life could be right until he was back in it. Flynn was the key to everything. Why hadn't she seen that from the start?
She stood up so abruptly tharit startled Oscar, almost making him lose his balance. He dug his claws into the linen of the sofa to keep from falling and gave her an indignant look as she hurried by. But Ann didn't notice. She had more important things on her mind.
She knocked on Flynn's door and waited impatiently for him to answer. She wasn't exactly sure what she wanted to say but she knew the words would come once she saw him. He would understand. He had to understand.
She knocked again, waiting for a long time before finally admitting that he wasn't home. She leaned her forehead against his door as if she could will him to be there.
"I've got it all straightened out now, Flynn. Where are you?" The whisper went unanswered.
Chapter 13
"That was terrific. Mom." Flynn pushed his plate away and dropped his napkin beside it.
"You hardly ate enough to keep a bird alive. Are you sure you got enough?"
"I think that theory has been proven false. Didn't I read somewhere that birds have to eat twice their weight every day? If I ate enough to keep a bird alive, you'd have to roast another chicken or three."
His mother smiled but he read the worry in her eyes. He looked away. He knew that she could sense that something was wrong but he wasn't ready to talk about it. Not yet. The hurt was too new, too raw.
He reached for his wine, sipping it slowly. The crisp chardonnay was a far cry from the things he'd been drinking this last week. Stupid. It shamed him to think of how much time he'd spent drinking since the fight with Ann. There were no answers to be found at the bottom of a bottle. He knew that, and he hadn't really been looking for answers. He'd been looking for oblivion. Only that wasn't to be found, either.
It didn't matter how drunk he got, he could still remember his losses. Mark, who'd died much too y
oung, leaving so many unanswered questions and leaving Flynn with a burden of perfection he felt woefully inadequate to carry. Becky, darting in and out of his life and changing it completely. And Ann. God, how could he describe that loss? She'd given him a glimpse of heaven and then snatched it back.
Maybe she was right. Maybe the fault was his. He should have more ambition. Maybe if he'd tried harder to please his father, Mark wouldn't have had to carry the whole burden. Maybe he wouldn't have died.
Flynn shook his head. Stupid. He was what he was just as Mark had chosen his path. He couldn't make himself something he wasn't, just as his brother hadn't been able to be something he wasn't.
"Flynn!" Flynn's head jerked up at his father's sharp command and he realized that he'd been staring at the tablecloth, completely absorbed in his thoughts. David McCallister frowned at him sternly from across the table. "Your mother is speaking to you."
"I'm sorry, Mom. What were you saying?"
"Your mother shouldn't have to repeat herself. Have you been drinking? You act like you're only half awake." His father jabbed irritably at a steamed carrot and Flynn wondered if he was wishing it was his son he was poking.
"I haven't had anything today but I could change that if you'd like." The smile he gave his father was designed to make the older man's blood pressure rise. Their eyes fenced in an old challenge, one that neither of them had ever won.
"Flynn. David. Stop it, both of you." The look Louise gave her husband and son could have controlled an entire army. It served quite well with her family.
"Sorry, Mom."
David muttered into his coffee cup. The words might have been an apology or they might have been a curse. His wife chose not to ask for clarification.
The rest of the meal passed without incident. No one was in the mood for the chocolate pie the cook had made and left for the meal. The three of them adjourned to the study and, with a worried look at her husband and son, Louise left to make coffee.
When she returned, they were exactly where she'd left them. Her husband was seated in his favorite chair, his gaze focused on the wall opposite. Flynn leaned one shoulder against the mantel, his eyes on the snifter of brandy he held. It was raining outside, the first big storm of the season and a small fire crackled in the fireplace, more for psychological warmth than to supplement the heating. But it didn't seem to have done much good. The atmosphere in the room was chill with old hurts.
Louise sighed faintly as she wheeled the coffee tray into the room. She settled herself in a chair across from her husband, near the warmth from the fireplace. David accepted a cup of coffee from her but Flynn lifted the brandy snifter in silent refusal. She caught David's eye on his son and hurried into speech before he could comment on Flynn's drinking.
"Have you heard from Becky?"
"I got a letter yesterday." His face softened in the first real smile she'd seen since his arrival. "The spelling was a little shaky but I gather that she's happy. Rafferty took her into the mountains to see the snow and she's pretty impressed with it. They had a snowball fight and she won. The house is great and there's a huge backyard with a big tree. Rafferty has promised her a swing this summer."
"It sounds like she's happy. I'm so glad. She's a sweet child."
"Yes, she is. I miss her but it helps to know that she's happy. I know Rafferty is going to be a great father."
"It could have been such a tragedy. I think it's wonderful that everything worked out so well. How is Ann? She must be missing Becky, too."
Flynn's smile faded and his eyes dropped back to his drink. "I'm sure she is. Ann and I aren't seeing each other these days."
He said it casually, but his mother could hear the pain underlying the words arid her heart went out to him. Mark had always been the serious one, but Louise knew which of her sons felt pain most deeply. Flynn had always been so good at hiding his feelings, but his emotions ran deep.
"I'm sorry, Flynn."
He shrugged, his smile twisted. "So am I, Mom."
"Figures. Thought the girl had too much sense to be seeing you."
"David!" Louise's shocked exclamation brought a flush to her husband's face.
"No, that's all right, Mom. It's not like Dad's opinion of me is anything new, is it, Dad? Families should be honest with one another."
David's flush deepened at the sweet sarcasm in Flynn's tone. "The trouble with you, Flynn, is that you've got a chip on your shoulder. You're always looking to blame someone else for your troubles."
"I don't blame anyone for anything, Dad."
"And you lack sense. Any half-wit could see that Ann was a woman worth keeping. What do you do? You let her go.''
"What do you suggest I should have done? Chained her in the basement?" Flynn's smile stayed in place but his knuckles whitened on the brandy snifter. "She seemed to think that one of my major flaws was that I was too much like my father. Amusing, don't you think?"
David McCallister didn't see the humor. "Like me? Ha! Thought the girl had more sense. I can't imagine two people less alike."
"For once, we agree on something." Flynn lifted his glass in a mock toast.
"The trouble with you, Flynn, is that you lack any real direction. A man needs a career, something to focus his energies on."
"Dad, I focus my energies on enjoying life. That's enough of a career for me."
"Stop it, both of you." Louise's voice interrupted the budding argument. "I don't want to listen to this. Honestly. I don't understand why the two of you can't get along."
"Bad blood, Mom." Flynn shook his head mournfully. "I've inherited bad blood from your side of the family. No McCallister could ever be so worthless. You'll just have to live with the fact that you've tainted the McCallister line."
"Hah! What McCallister line?" Flynn winced at his father's barked comment. "There is no McCallister line anymore and there's not likely to be. Now, when your brother was alive, there was some hope for it. He had some sense."
"David."
He stood up; his frustration was too great to let him stay still. His eyes were on his younger son, anger and confusion in their depths.
"Don't 'David' me, Louise. It's not as if I'm saying something that we don't all know already. Mark would never have wasted his life the way his brother is doing. Mark had ambition. He had pride—in himself and in the family name."
"Mark didn't give a holy damn about the family name. Mark wanted to please you and he spent his whole life trying to do it." Flynn stopped with an effort, setting his jaw against the urge to say more.
"And what's wrong with wanting to please your father? Seems to me to be a worthwhile thing to do."
"There's nothing wrong with it. Look, Dad, why don't you just give up? I'm never going to be the model son Mark was."
"Don't think I don't know that." The older man's tone was bitter and Flynn whitened at the bite in the words. He set the brandy snifter down on the mantel. The faint ping of the crystal hitting the marble sounded too loud.
"Mark was a son a man could be proud of. If he hadn't been killed in the line of duty, he'd probably have presented me with a grandson by now. Instead, I'm left with you. A playboy." His tone made the word a curse. "A man who hasn't amounted to anything and never will."
Flynn felt something snap inside. It was as if he were suddenly standing outside himself, watching this confrontation. "I don't think that's too likely." The words seemed to come from somewhere outside himself.
"You don't think what's too likely? That you'll amount to anything? I know it's not likely."
"I don't think it's too likely that Mark would have presented you with a grandson by now."
"Flynn, no!" He heard his mother's hushed protest, but it didn't penetrate the wall of pain that seemed to be tearing him apart.
"Mark was gay." Father and son stared at each other across a gap that had been there for more years than either could remember. As soon as the words were said, Flynn wanted to call them back. He'd never planned to say them. Never wante
d to hurt his father with them.
The older man stared into his son's horrified eyes, reading the truth there. He seemed to shrink and age in a matter of minutes. He groped behind him for his chair, his movements shaken.
Flynn took a quick step forward, his hand coming out, but his father waved him away with a look of loathing so intense it seemed to burn into his soul. He sank into the chair, his hands gripping the arms, his knuckles white.
The stillness was thick, almost a presence in itself. Outside the rain poured down, splashing onto the brick terrace. Inside the fire popped, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. The sound, like the sparks, was swallowed instantly.
"You're lying." David McCallister's voice sounded old and feeble. There was no trace of his usual blustering tones. Flynn didn't hesitate. He'd have done anything to take the shattered look out of his father's eyes.
"You're right. It was a lie. I'm sorry." He backed away, picking up his brandy, his hand clenched over the crystal snifter.
"You're sorry? You're sorry?"
"David, please..." Louise might as well have remained silent.
"You impudent bastard!''
Flynn shrugged, staring at the glass he held. "I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have said it."
"You were jealous of him. You were always jealous of him." David's voice rose with each sentence. "He was everything a man could have wanted in a son. I couldn't have expected to have two sons like him but I can't believe I fathered a sniveling bastard like you."
"Don't feel too bad. It happens in the best of families." Flynn's flippant remark cracked at the end, but his father was too enraged to notice.
"Get out. Get out of this house. I don't ever want to see you again." Flynn whitened, his eyes burning in his face as he stared at his father. "Do you hear me? Get out!"
Flynn lifted the snifter and tossed the last of the fine cognac down his throat, feeling it burn all the way down. His smile was twisted, his eyes empty.
Tell Me a Story Page 18
