CHAPTER SIX
JULIA STUCK HER HEAD in her son’s bedroom Thursday morning. “Rise and shine. Breakfast will be on the table in ten minutes.”
“I’m not going today,” Matt mumbled.
“Of course you’re going today,” she said in her best cheerleading voice.
“It’s stupid. All we do is stand around.”
“Matt...” she said weakly, then gave herself a mental slap. She couldn’t afford to sound ineffectual. He’d run right over her. “You can’t spend your summer doing nothing. I want to know where you are.”
“You know where I am,” he said disagreeably. “I’m in bed.” He yanked the pillow over his head.
“Ten minutes,” she repeated, leaving his door open. Retreating to the kitchen, she dumped the already-beaten eggs into the frying pan she’d left heating and began stirring.
What if he ignores me?
The eternal question. Alec was long gone to work. She could not call the police chief begging him to come roust her kid out of bed, for heaven’s sake. This defiance wasn’t that flagrant. Matt hadn’t called her one of the horribly obscene names he had before, the ones Alec hadn’t heard. Matt was a teenage boy. Teenage boys were quite likely, she suspected, to reject the idea of organized activities designed to keep them busy and out of trouble. Maybe the orienteering was boring. Who knew whether the instructor was really an expert or was any good at teaching?
Should she let it go?
Could she afford to surrender even a small battle with Matt without losing ground she’d never recover?
Was it losing if she agreed he had the right to opt out of a summer activity? School, now, that would be different.
And, truthfully, she had a sneaking sympathy for him. She and her friends had run wild summers. In such a small town, it hadn’t occurred to their parents that they needed organized supervision. She’d loved summers.
She hugged Liana when she appeared and handed her a plate. “Eat up, kiddo. You want to digest before you go swimming.”
Her daughter thumped herself down at the table. “Matt’s not up.”
“He’s bored with the orienteering thing. He doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.” Julia dished up for herself.
“He doesn’t?” Liana sounded amazed.
“You don’t have to do swim lessons if you don’t want, either.” Julia mentally crossed fingers as she sat at the table, too.
“Well...I like to swim.”
And there was a cute boy to be watched.
“Riding camp starts on the twenty-ninth,” Julia reminded her.
“That will be so cool.” Liana gave a little bounce in her chair. She ate a couple of bites, then tore her slice of toast in half. “I wish I was going to be in Sophie’s class when school starts,” she said in a smaller voice.
“I know.” Julia gave her a hug. “But look how quickly you made a friend. You’ll make more.”
“I kind of like Jenna in my swim class. She’s my age, and she goes to the same school I will be.” She frowned. “I guess Lauren does, too, but I don’t like her that much. And there’s a couple of boys I might end up in a class with, but yuck.”
“How about the cute boy?”
She scrunched up her face. “He’s twelve. Soph says he’s mad his mom made him take swimming lessons, except he guesses it might be okay ’cuz he thinks he’d like to be on the swim team.”
“Boys do improve by middle school,” Julia conceded.
“You’re just going to let Matt sleep?”
“I guess I am.” Julia smiled to hide her self-doubt. “He can’t get in any trouble that way, can he?”
He still hadn’t put in an appearance when it came time for her to drive the girls to the pool. By the time they got back almost two hours later, she knew without even looking that he was gone. The loaf of bread sat on the counter, drying out with the bag left open. He hadn’t put the jam or peanut butter back in the refrigerator, either. Or wiped the counter. None of which was a big deal, but damn it, where had he gone?
She checked his bedroom, and sure enough it was empty, bedcovers thrown back, pillow hanging half off the mattress, yesterday’s laundry strewn on the floor.
She’d long since given up on the clean-bedroom rule. If he wanted to wade in dirty clothes, let him. All she insisted on was that he return dirty dishes to the kitchen and not let food rot in his room. So far, he’d cooperated that much.
The doorbell rang, and she found the cabinet guy wanting to talk about the fact that the corner wasn’t square in Alec’s kitchen and what he thought they should do about it. Julia was still amazed that his kitchen had not only been gutted already, but the new cabinets were being installed within days of her order. It turned out the store kept some of the more popular cabinets in stock, and Alec had chosen one of those styles. Remodeling never went this smoothly. Disaster would strike, she was sure. Maybe this was the first sign.
She went to take a look, but relaxed when she saw that the problem wasn’t as severe as he’d implied. They agreed the gap could be covered with a strip of oak, and the countertop could be cut slightly askew to match. Of course, the countertop guy might not be so compliant. Another strip...? What would that do when it came to tiling the backsplash? Ceramic tile wasn’t forgiving.
She’d worry about it when the time came. Windows and doors were never plumb, she knew that, corners never square, especially in cheap construction like the duplex. As Alec had said when she reported on various small holdups, so far, so good.
Disaster was probably waiting to strike when the work started on her side of the duplex.
Perhaps an hour before dinner, she heard the front door open and close so quietly she guessed Matt was trying to sneak in. Moving just as quietly, she intercepted him.
Alarm flared on his face, and all she had to do was breathe in to know why. He’d been smoking marijuana. His eyes were red, too, and he swayed slightly.
“You’re stoned.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said rudely.
“Where did you get the marijuana?” She barely recognized her own hard voice.
He sneered, “So now the truth comes out—Mommy dearest was a pothead.”
“Where?” she snapped.
“Like I’d tell you.”
“It doesn’t mean anything that your uncle is police chief in this town.”
“Right. Use Uncle Alec.” While she smoldered, he added, “Smoking weed is legal in Washington.”
Her anger nearly choked her. “We don’t live in Washington. And I’m betting it’s not legal there for minors, anyway. Matt, you are thirteen years old. No matter what kind of brat you’re being, I will not allow you to abuse drugs or alcohol.”
“Brat.” His laugh was long and disturbingly high. His expression was even more disturbing when he quit laughing. “Bet you can’t stop me.”
Julia couldn’t rid herself of the shock. This boy wasn’t her son, Matt. She didn’t know who this was. “What is wrong with you?”
Ugliness transformed him. “You know. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“I have no idea.”
“You’re a liar!” he screamed and barreled past her, knocking her sideways into the wall. His bedroom door slammed and she heard a scraping sound. He had to be pulling his dresser across the floor to block the door.
Julia stood where she was, rubbing her shoulder and shaking. Why, oh, why, was Matt’s rage still escalating? Had she done or said something so terribly wrong? Or had he found new friends who brought out the worst in him?
Dear God, what was she going to do?
* * *
“DAMN IT, MATT.” Alec stood in the hall, arms crossed, aware of Julia watching from the kitchen. “If you don’t open this door, I’
ll break it down. And you know I can do it.”
“She can’t come in,” his nephew said from his bedroom.
“It’s just me. I doubt your mother wants to talk to you.”
He waited through a pause, although his muscles were locked as tight as if he was preparing to smash through a door on a drug raid. He had a flash of picturing it—wearing black, bulletproof vest covered by a police windbreaker, heavy boots on his feet, weapon in his hand. The tension of knowing he might have to kill or be killed in the next minute or two. He summoned the ability he’d learned to block out all distractions, all doubts, all fears, to operate coldly and professionally until it was done.
This was a thirteen-year-old boy on the other side of the door, not armed dealers. A boy he loved.
The long scraping sound made him wince, thinking of the just-refinished hardwood floors. A moment later, the door opened a crack. Alec planted his hand on it and pushed, making Matt fall back.
No smoke hung in the air, but Julia was right; the kid stank of marijuana.
“What in the hell are you thinking?” Alec asked, closing the door behind him. Yeah, scratches marred the finish near his feet. Part of him was thinking they might buff out, even as the rest of him was grimly focused on a boy who seemed determined to self-destruct.
Matt hunched his shoulders, but his jaw was set defiantly. “Like you’ve never smoked weed.”
“I did in college,” Alec agreed. “Didn’t much like it.”
“Well, I do.”
“Where did you get it?”
“You think I’m going to rat some guy out to my uncle Alec, the police chief?” Matt asked incredulously.
Alec shook his head, letting it go. “You know there’ll be consequences for this.”
“You’re not my dad!” All the rage Alec had heard the first time Matt yelled that at him was in his voice again. This had to be all about Josh in some way Alec couldn’t understand.
He tried to keep his posture loose. “What do you think your dad would say about you smoking pot?”
Matt hung his head.
“I’m not Josh, but you and I both know he’d want me to be standing in for him when he can’t be here.”
The boy’s head shot up. “Can’t be here. That’s a good one.”
Alec tossed out a trial balloon. “He didn’t choose to die.”
“She said—” Eyes wild, he balked.
“What did your mother say?”
He only shook his head.
“Matt, you have to talk to us. We can’t fix what’s wrong if you clam up like this.”
His nephew only stared back, mouth clamped shut, eyes blazing.
“You’re on house arrest,” Alec said flatly. “We’ll talk in a week if you don’t try to sneak out, if you’ve done all the chores your mother asks of you and if you act like a decent human being. I had a good time kayaking Sunday. I was hoping you were interested in making a new start, but apparently not.”
Matt shrugged.
Alec toed the scrapes on the floor. “Whatever this costs to fix, you’ll be working off. Don’t move furniture again without precautions.”
He walked out of the room and went to the kitchen, shaking his head.
Julia looked stricken. There was utter silence from Liana’s bedroom, where she was no doubt huddled in fear of being splashed by the acid of her brother’s hate.
Weary, Alec pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. “Is it me? Does he resent me for trying to take Josh’s place?”
She stood backed up to the counter, arms tightly crossed as if she could hold herself together that way. “It’s not you. It’s me. I just have no idea what I did.”
“It’d be one thing if you and Josh had a screaming fight and he’d gone tearing out onto the freeway and hit an abutment at eighty miles an hour. Then Matt might blame you.”
Something ghosted over her face, moving too quickly to be identifiable. It was enough to catch his attention, though, and he asked himself for the first time whether she suspected what was going on with Matt. But...what could it be?
“Josh died on the job,” Alec said more slowly, watching her. “Didn’t he ever talk to Matt about how risky some of his missions were?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s Josh he’s really mad at, but Josh isn’t here. You are.”
She gave a broken laugh. “I don’t think Matt has ever in his life been mad at Josh. It was always me. I was the one who set the rules, the one who enforced them. Dad was the good-time guy who encouraged Matt to break them.”
Alec was silent for a moment, a frown pulling at his forehead. “You’re kidding,” he said finally.
“No. I could never understand it. He was a navy SEAL. He had to understand discipline. Would he have encouraged a young sailor to break the rules?”
Thinking back to the boy his brother had been, the sometimes-wild teenager, gave Alec a partial answer, one that made him uncomfortable. “I think he knew he needed discipline that came from outside himself. Growing up, most of us internalize the concept of getting things done because there’ll be consequences of some kind if you don’t. Josh, though, he didn’t bother with assignments if a teacher went too easy on him. He never listened to Mom. It took Dad, who’d pull out the belt if either of us didn’t follow orders.”
Julia made a helpless sound. “Thus Josh chose the military.”
“Maybe.”
She blew out a long breath and then tipped her head back. “I hate to say it, but that makes sense. It might have been sort of a disability.”
“I wish I’d known what he was doing.”
“Why?” She pinned him with those extraordinary eyes. “What could you have done?”
“Talked to him. Tried to make him see what he was doing to you.”
“To me? Don’t you mean to Matt?”
Alec shook his head. “It was you he was being unfair to. Matt and Liana had you to fill in what was missing. Two years ago, they were both great kids, whether Josh was a good parent or not.”
“So you’re saying...this doesn’t have anything to do with Josh.”
He shook his head again. “No, it has to do with Josh. But what?”
He watched carefully, but now she lowered her head and stared down at her bare feet, as if riveted by her toes. Her hair slid from behind her ears and partially veiled her face.
She was hiding from him. Hell, he thought. She did know something. Or feared something.
Or—maybe not. He had no idea how much grief she still carried. She’d implied that it was less than he had feared, because the marriage hadn’t been as solid as he’d believed. That might almost be worse, though; weren’t ghosts said to linger because something important was unresolved? Could grief be like that?
Huh. It occurred to Alec that the same explanation could be applied to Matt. What if, the last day or so before Josh went wheels up, Matt had been angry at his father? Angry at the absences? Oh, hell—the issue could have been anything. Fathers and sons fought. But in a kid’s head, if Dad died, could he blame himself? Or Mom, by extension, because she was the grown-up and maybe it was really her fault if Dad let Matt down?
I am reaching, he admitted. But—maybe.
The alternative was to think that Julia had a secret, too, and the possibility hurt.
Why? Wounds could be kept private. He’d never been entirely open with anyone, including her. He had a huge secret—he was in love with her.
The silence had been long enough she was sneaking looks at him. Suddenly the timer dinged, and she jerked.
“Oh, no! I haven’t even cut up the broccoli!”
He must have made a face, because she gave him the same chiding look she’d give one of the kids, then half laughed. “Oh, why bother? Liana doe
sn’t like it, either. Salad will do.” She hesitated. “Do we invite Matt to the table?”
“Stoned? Hell, no.”
After a moment, Julia nodded and grabbed a pot holder. “Why don’t you call Liana?”
Whatever was in the oven smelled good, but he had a suspicion none of them were as hungry as they should be.
He shook his head, passing Matt’s door and rapping lightly on Liana’s. The day at Elk Lake, the Matt he knew and loved had been present again. Had something happened since? Or had he been angry at himself for succumbing to the temptation to have fun with his family—even, God forbid, with his mother?
Alec had a suspicion that an everyday, average punishment like restriction wasn’t going to work on Matt. Whatever drove him to this furious behavior festered deep. Try counseling again? But when Julia had, back in L.A., Matt had refused to talk. You can lead a horse to water...
He was a kid. He’d crack eventually, and the poison would all pour out. Then they could do something to help.
The cracking part, though, didn’t sound like a lot of fun.
* * *
FRIDAY MORNING, JULIA was surprised to get a call from Nell McAllister, married to the Colin McAllister, who was running for county sheriff. They had talked at the wedding, and now she suggested they have lunch.
“If you can get away from the kids. Or you can bring the kids.”
Julia imagined Matt a happy fourth at the table and said hastily, “Any chance we can make it tomorrow or Sunday?”
“Tomorrow would be great. I’m off, and I think Colin is working.”
Alec only raised his eyebrows when Julia told him that evening after dinner about the invitation. “You talked to her at the wedding reception, didn’t you? She seems nice enough.”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
He grinned. “Are you asking me to babysit?”
All a Man Is Page 10
