“All I want to do is be here for her, Trudy. I care about her. But things are so…complicated. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under. From my dad, Principal Flint, the town…. And there are other issues at play here too. Things….” He clamped down on his words when Pam’s face popped into his head. How in the hell did his life get so damned twisted?
Trudy stiffened and her eyes flashed anger. She crossed her arms over her ample chest and glared at him. Brylan braced for impact. “Well, Brylan, just who’s damned life are you living anyway? Yours? Your dad’s? Flint’s? And who gives a rat’s ass about what the people in this town think? They don’t have to live your life, Brylan. You do. You need to go home and figure your shit out.”
Brylan crammed his hands into his pockets, finding it really difficult to maintain eye contact with Trudy. She had his number. He couldn’t argue with the truth. “That’s the same thing Stormy told me,” he said sheepishly.
“Yeah? Smart girl. Look, Brylan. That girl,” she pointed in Stormy’s direction, “She needs somebody that’s not wishy-washy. She deserves love. But not just when it’s convenient. She deserves somebody that can be one hundred percent committed one hundred percent of the time. Are you ready to be that for her? If not, then let her go. Walk away now.”
She turned on her heel and headed toward the last of the cars parked out on the long concrete driveway circling the cemetery, leaving Brylan feeling even more bewildered and confused than ever.
****
Pam’s car was the last thing Brylan wanted to see after the shitty day he’d had. How did the woman always manage to show up at the absolute worst times? It was almost as if she had some sort of radar.
He hesitated at the front door, expecting that she’d be all over him the minute he stepped through it. All he wanted was to be left alone. He gathered himself and turned the knob only to find the living room and kitchen empty.
Maybe, just maybe, she was napping and he’d have a few minutes to himself.
He quietly slipped off his loafers by the front door and loosened his tie as he padded silently down the hallway. He paused at the bedroom door when he heard female voices on the other side of it. One of them was Pam’s. She had her phone on speaker, and he recognized the tinny voice on the other end as belonging to Tessa, her annoying sister.
He released his hold on the door knob and turned to retreat back to the other part of the house when he heard his name mentioned. For some reason it made the hair on his arms stand up.
“So what are you going to do when he notices that your belly isn’t getting any bigger? You can make excuses for a while, but he’s not that stupid, Pam.”
Brylan’s hands balled into fists and his heart lurched into his throat. He heard Pam sigh loudly before answering her sister. “That won’t be an issue if I can make it happen for real within the next couple of weeks…but that’s a little difficult when he barely ever touches me.”
Brylan’s teeth ground together and the blood that was whooshing between his ears threatened to make his head explode. He ignored the tiny little voice inside that told him to turn around and leave and he burst through the bedroom door, eyes blazing. Pam’s mouth dropped open in a gasp and all the color drained from her face. Her phone dropped from her hand and hit the floor, Tessa’s voice still chattering away, “Hell-ooo? Pamela? You still there? What was that noise?”
“Pamela…” Brylan pushed her name through clenched teeth, “…will have to get back to you, Tessa.” He spat out the words like ammo through a paper target.
There was an audible gasp on the other end of the phone followed by, “Oh shit,” and a beep signaling the end of the call.
Pam rose slowly and carefully from the bed, never taking her eyes off Brylan’s. “Bry—”
He didn’t give her an opportunity to make excuses. “Get the hell out of my house,” he growled and turned to leave, unable to look at her and afraid of what he might say or do.
“B…but…”
Did she really think there was any way to justify what she’d done? He spun back around. “How could you do that to me, Pam? To me? How could you…” Becky’s face flashed in his mind. “If you only knew…. You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? How much you hurt me?”
Pam didn’t even have the good sense to at least look remorseful. She just looked…annoyed, and it pissed Brylan off even more. “You know, Pam…you’re just…” It was on the tip of his tongue to call her a heartless bitch, but he caught himself. His dad had raised him better than that. Instead of unleashing his fury on her any further, he darted for the door, eager to get away from her as quickly as possible.
****
His dad’s truck was parked in the driveway when Brylan pulled up to the two-story white farmhouse that he’d grown up in. The drive over to his dad’s had given him plenty of time to think about all the chaos in his life. But he was no closer to having any answers than he had been when he’d whipped his car out of his driveway an hour ago.
He sat in the car and stared at the front door, wondering if he had enough courage to step through it. The last encounter he’d had with his father hadn’t exactly gone well and he didn’t even know if he would be welcome in his father’s house. He’d been pretty hard on his dad that day he’d taken Nozz and Stormy fishing and he’d been kicking himself ever since, wishing he could erase the whole argument.
There were a lot of things he’s like to expunge from his memory, like the pain in Stormy’s eyes as she looked down into that casket; his whole relationship with Pam; the hurt that Nozz had gone through because of his father.
Brylan closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the steering wheel, silently willing his mind to shut off. It was all just too much and he needed a few minutes of quiet before he went completely insane.
A loud tap on the window startled the crap out of him and he hit his elbow on the inside of the door. “Shit!”
“Didn’t mean to make you jump outta your skin,” his dad said through the glass. “What are you doing just sitting out here?”
Brylan reluctantly exited the car and then leaned against the door, rubbing his left elbow that was still tingling. “I dunno. Just thinking.”
“Hmmpf,” Sam grunted and headed for the front porch, “well come on up. I’ll go fetch the bourbon.”
Brylan dragged himself up the broad wooden steps and over to the side of the porch that overlooked the lake. It was where he and his mother used to sit in the evenings and watch the sunset while sipping sweet tea and talking about the future. A fresh wave of grief washed over him at the sight of the old porch swing that his mother loved so much. He couldn’t bear to sit in it. Not today. He opted for one of the old wooden rocking chairs instead.
Sam returned with a bottle of bourbon and two short, thick, heavy-bottomed glasses in tow. He poured them each a drink while Brylan shed his blazer and rolled up his sleeves. His dad looked him over and shook his head. “Geez, son. You look like death warmed over. And what’s with the monkey suit? You look like you just came from a funeral.”
Brylan flinched at his dad’s poor choice of words. “I did, actually.”
The realization of his blunder showed all over Sam’s face. “Oh. I’m sorry, son. Anybody I know?”
Brylan let out a long, shaky breath before answering. “Do you remember that girl I brought out here a few weeks ago? Stormy?”
Sam’s face paled slightly, “Don’t tell me she—”
“No, no. It was her mom that passed,” Brylan corrected.
“That poor kid.” Sam hung his head and Brylan knew he was remembering when his own mother had passed on. “She’s not much older than you were when….”
“When we lost Mom. I know,” he finished for him. He hadn’t meant to open old wounds, but there was no way around it. These were shit circumstances.
The two of them sat quietly for a few minutes, sipping bourbon, both of them remembering that awful day…and the agonizing months that led up to it.
> “You know, Brylan,” his dad began somberly, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the last time you were here.”
Oh, no. Not this. Not today. Brylan couldn’t handle an argument. Not after the day he’d had. “Dad, please. I don’t want to rehash all that stuff right now.” Brylan sat his glass down on the small side table and got up to leave, but his dad stood up and blocked his path.
“Damn it, Brylan. Please, just hear me out.” Surprising to Brylan, Sam wasn’t angry. His eyes were soft and pleading, something Brylan had never seen before, and his guilt wouldn’t let him leave. He sighed loudly before reclaiming his spot in the rocking chair.
Sam sat down and faced Brylan, “I’ve been going over and over what you said that day. It’s been eating me up, and since you don’t come around much anymore, I figure I need to get this off my chest while I have a chance to.” He grabbed up his glass and took a long swig, obviously mustering up some liquid courage for whatever it was he planned to say. When the glass was empty, he set it back down and placed his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together loosely in front of him.
“When your mother died,” Sam began, “I made a promise to her that I would steer you kids in the right direction. Make you make something of your lives. I made a promise that I had no idea how to keep. Your brothers…well, they were all off doing their own thing already. But you…and Lily…. I didn’t know what the hell to do with you and your sister. Your mom always took care of all that stuff—shaping your lives and building up your character. She was the glue that held everything together. She took care of the big stuff…and I supported her decisions.”
Brylan didn’t fail to notice the wetness of his father’s eyes or the wobble in his voice. His dad was usually a man of few words so Brylan knew this conversation was hard for him. Brylan sat quietly through his dad’s monologue and nodded his understanding.
“I know I was hard on you, son. I could never understand why you weren’t more like me—pushy and ornery, business-minded. You’re so much like your mother. I used to resent the hell out of it. That big damned heart of yours. That willingness to put yourself out there, put yourself at risk, usually for the sake of other people…. I just never quite understood it.” Sam shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved that about your mother. Hell, it was one of the things that attracted me to her in the first place. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realized that I wasn’t really angry at you for being like her. I was just pissed off at myself for not knowing how to nurture those qualities in you.”
It was a lot to take in, and Brylan wasn’t quite sure how to process what he was hearing. On some level, he felt validated. It was what he had always wanted, for his dad to be human, to see Brylan as a person. But on another level, it was unsettling.
“I feel like a failure, son. I’ve always pushed you in one direction, and you always pushed to go the opposite way. Maybe I should have let you find your own way. Perhaps you would have landed somewhere in the middle.”
Brylan sipped his drink while he let the words digest for a minute. “You’re not a failure, Dad. I happen to think you did a pretty damn good job…all things considered.” Images of Stormy and Nozz floated through his thoughts, and all the crap their parents had put them through. His dad’s parenting faux pas didn’t hold a candle to theirs. “Trust me, Dad, you’re being too hard on yourself.”
Sam shrugged, “Maybe. But I don’t think so.” He picked up the decanter and refilled their glasses before settling back into his chair. “Hey, you never did tell me why I found you sitting in your car, draped all over your steering wheel.”
Brylan raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You haven’t exactly given me a chance to get a word in.”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. But I’m all ears, now.”
Brylan dropped his head to his chest, debating whether or not to dump his problems all over his dad. He almost decided against it, but then it thought it might feel better to get it all out in the open rather than carrying the load all by himself, like he’d been doing for months. His dad had just bared his soul to him. Maybe it was time to do the same. His subconscious had steered him to his dad’s house for a reason, right?
So Brylan told his dad every rotten thing that had happened to him, from his first encounter with Principal Flint, to his big blowout with Pam. And it was liberating.
Sam ran a hand through his thinning hair and let out a whistle. “Damn, son. I can see why you weren’t eager to talk to me about your problems. I wouldn’t wish that shit on my worst enemy. And I didn’t know your job was making you so unhappy.”
“It’s not necessarily the job. I like the idea of being a role model to those kids and all of that, but I don’t like the politics that go with the job. It’s just…I don’t know. Sometimes it’s like I’m wearing someone else’s skin.”
“I suppose that’s my fault,” Sam said apologetically. “I pushed you into teaching. I was shocked when you actually went through with it.”
Brylan shook his head. Yeah, me too. “Dad. What do you suggest I do?”
“You mean, other than keeping that Pamela woman from crossing my path?”
Brylan let out a sardonic snort of laughter. “Yeah. Besides that.”
“I’ve done enough meddling in your life, son. This time I’m letting you make your own decisions. Hell, if my dad hadn’t forced me into the family business…I’d probably be sipping lattés somewhere in France and painting portraits for tourists or something.”
Brylan nearly spewed bourbon all over the porch. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You? A painter?” It was an impossible thought. Surely his dad was just messing with him.
Sam nodded toward the opposite end of the porch, and sure enough, there stood an easel with an unfinished painting sitting on it. “Nope. Always wanted to be a painter when I was younger. Daddy always frowned on it. But he’s not around anymore…and since I’m semi-retired now….”
Brylan was utterly speechless. He stood and crossed the porch for a better look. It was a picture of the lake. Their lake. And it wasn’t half bad.
Brylan was still gawking at the blues, yellows and greens splattered across the canvas when he felt his dad’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. “Brylan. I can’t tell you what to do about your problems. You have to figure it out on your own. But I’ll back you up no matter what you decide to do. Okay?”
Brylan nodded. It wasn’t exactly the advice he was hoping to hear, but at least his dad was in his corner for once.
“You wanna sleep in your old room tonight? Give yourself time to think things over?”
Brylan smiled softly. “Only if you promise to go fishing with me in the morning.”
“Sounds like a plan.” The corners of Sam’s eyes crinkled in a smile as he went to gather their glasses and then disappeared through the squeaky screen door.
Chapter Twenty Two
Eleven Years Ago
“Stormy! Come in here! Look what we got!” Stormy put her Barbie with the missing arm down on the bed—the double bed that she and Mama shared in their one bedroom apartment—and ran to the living room to see what all the commotion was about.
Mama and Jimmy were carrying something big through the door. It was wedged in the doorframe and the two of them were arguing about the best way to get it through.
“Let’s stand it up.”
“No,” Jimmy told Mama, “It won’t go that way…it’s too tall.”
“Well, what if we turn it at an angle, with the back of it facing downward….”
They carried on like that for what seemed like forever in Stormy’s seven-year-old mind, and after a whole lot of grunting…and a few swear words…they finally got it through. Mama and Jimmy lugged the bulky thing across the living room and set it down in front of their tiny TV.
“We got a couch? A real live couch?” Stormy’s eyes were round with amazement. No more sitting on the floor or on those uncomfortable milk crates that left little squar
es imprinted on her legs. This was the real deal.
Jimmy chuckled while he flopped down on one end, breathing heavily from the exertion, and her mama sat on the opposite end. She patted the spot beside her, “Come on, baby. Come try it out.”
With a running start, little Stormy launched herself onto the middle cushion, right in between the two of them and grinned from ear to ear. “It’s bouncy.”
Mama’s blue eyes sparkled as she laughed. “Come here, you.” She pulled Stormy into her lap and squeezed her. “I guess that means you like it?” She kissed the top of Stormy’s head with a smack and stormy nodded enthusiastically.
“Yep. It’s the most beautiful couch in the whole world. You did good, Mama!”
“Hey! What about me? I helped.” Jimmy fake-pouted, pushing his bottom lip out and crossing his arms over his chest. Stormy giggled before sliding out of Mama’s lap and scooting over to Jimmy’s side of the couch. He wrapped his huge arms around her in a bear hug.
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