A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska)

by Kimberly van Meter - A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska)

  Jennelle’s lip trembled and a tear escaped to slide down her cheek. He felt bad for being harsh but damn it, it had to be said. For a long moment she remained silent until she said in a choked voice, “I don’t mean to hurt anyone. Sometimes things come out of my mouth before I can stop them and then I can’t take it back.”

  “I know,” he said, wiping away the tear and fighting his own. “We need to work on that. Because you’ve been saying some really awful things to your own children. To Miranda, particularly. She’s trying so hard to help you and all you do is push her away. Lord help you, there will come a day when you will succeed in finally pushing her away for good. And then you won’t have any contact with your grandson or any other grandchildren that may come. Is that what you want?”

  “She doesn’t let me see Talen anyway,” she retorted mournfully. “She prefers that Indian woman over me.”

  “I don’t believe that but even if a tiny bit of that statement were true, maybe you should ask yourself why? Maybe Talen’s other grandmother doesn’t judge Miranda for every little thing that she does or doesn’t do. A person can only take so much before they break.”

  Jennelle’s bottom lip trembled. “And what about all of you? You never visit, you don’t call...Wade, you haven’t been home in eight years. That’s a mighty fine glass house you’re sitting in. Why haven’t you come home? Not even once?”

  He fell silent. He wouldn’t lie to his mother but he wasn’t quite ready to admit the truth aloud. “Mama, I’ve got some things to work out in my head, too. Simone’s death screwed with us all. Things just fell apart and I couldn’t face it. I’m sorry.” He could’ve come home. He chose not to. Simone’s ghost had kept him away and he was ashamed to admit it. He drew a deep breath and let it out, his insides shaking like the legs of a newborn fawn. “The thing is, we’ve got a long road to walk and it would go a lot more smoothly if we didn’t have to fight you every step.”

  “You’re asking a lot of me,” Jennelle said, looking away. “My whole life has been destroyed and I’m not supposed to be upset about it?”

  “No, I understand that things are not ideal but we’re trying to fix it. Can you trust us, just a little bit, to get you where you need to be?” Jennelle lifted one shoulder in a helpless gesture, as if she didn’t even know where to start, and Wade took that as a tiny step in the right direction. “How about this, Mama...consider this an opportunity to get to know Talen better and then it’s something positive rather than a negative,” he suggested. “Things are going to change in this family. They have to. Otherwise, we’re just delaying the inevitable. This family is going to implode and there’ll be nothing and no one around to pick up the pieces.”

  Jennelle said nothing. Wade wasn’t fool enough to harbor hope that his mother had had an epiphany but he wasn’t above hoping for a little luck that the tide was finally turning their way. He’d meant what he’d said. He felt bad that Miranda had been bearing the brunt of their mother’s rage when they all should’ve been there to help her. But they’d all bailed. His father included.

  Shame followed the private admission, and he knew the biggest piece of the puzzle was still missing. “I’m going to find a way to get Dad out of jail,” he announced, making up his mind. Jennelle looked very vulnerable and sad and he wondered how fragile his parents’ marriage was right now. “It isn’t right for Dad to hide out and expect everyone else to do the work when he should’ve been there for you.”

  “It’s not your dad’s fault,” Jennelle said, surprising Wade with her defense of her husband. “He’s had a lot to deal with.”

  “No, Mama,” he disagreed. “We’ve all got stuff on our plates. Nobody gets a pass. Not even Dad.” If it was time for everyone to start dealing with the past, Zed Sinclair didn’t get to sit it out. This shit had gone on long enough.

  And if he had to drag the man out of his cell with his bare hands, he would do it. Wade stepped forward and pressed a kiss on his mother’s forehead. “I have some errands to run. Do me a favor, bite down on that sharp tongue of yours before you say something you can’t take back. I will be here tomorrow to help you get settled into Miranda’s house. Promise me you’ll be nice,” he said.

  She nodded reluctantly, and he took that as an important step. Now he just needed to find a way to get his father out of that jail cell.

  He met his siblings in the hallway, away from Jennelle’s doorway. Miranda was biting her fingernail, a habit she hadn’t quite lost from childhood, and Trace paced in small steps. Both stopped when he said, “Okay, she’s calmed down a bit. She’ll be nice. I think.”

  “How’d you manage that?” Miranda asked, spitting out a tiny sliver of nail. “Did you perform an exorcism?”

  Trace barked a short laugh, but when Wade didn’t share their laugh, he sighed and said, “Okay, so moving day tomorrow. She say anything else?”

  “She said plenty. Nothing new. Listen, let’s all try to remember that this is a pretty big transition, okay? Don’t take the bait even if she throws it at you. Sometimes she can’t help what comes out of her mouth.”

  “You’re asking us to be the bigger person?” Miranda asked wryly. “I’ve spent my adult life being the bigger person with Mom. It’s getting old.”

  “Well, seeing as she’s going to be your roommate, you might want to keep the status quo.”

  “Good Lord, heaven help me. Maybe we should put her in a home.” Wade shot her a dark look and she shrugged. “I’m kidding. Sort of.”

  “In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can get Dad out of jail by Friday.”

  “Why?” Trace asked. “It’s not like he’s going to be much help.”

  “Because I think it’ll help Mom deal with the cleanup. She feels alone. Her husband abandoned her to that house. If we can see that, she can, too.”

  Miranda nodded, flushing with shame. “You’re right. It’s hard to remember when they were different. Always laughing, hugging and kissing...they’re like different people now. They probably haven’t had sex in years.”

  “Blech,” Trace said, his face wrinkling in disgust. “Thank you for that lovely visual. I could’ve gone my whole life not thinking about my parents’ sex life.”

  “Hey, a healthy sex life is integral to a healthy marriage,” Miranda quipped, and Trace made a gagging sound.

  Wade bit back a grin, recognizing that Miranda was deliberately trying to gross out her brothers. Miranda had always been a bit of a troublemaker, and he’d loved that about her. Somewhere along the way, they’d all lost a bit of themselves and it was high time they reclaimed it. “Wish me luck,” he said, turning to leave. “And remember...be nice.”

  “I’ll kill her with kindness,” Miranda promised with false sweetness. “And if that doesn’t work, a good, old-fashioned pillow over the face will.”

  Wade laughed and kept walking. He knew she was kidding. At least he hoped she was.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “WHY THE SUDDEN need to spring clean? It’s not even spring yet,” Remy said, idly picking through the clothes hanging in the large walk-in closet of Morgan’s bedroom. “And am I on the clock? If not I’ve got better things to do with my time unless you’re going to share what’s going on in that cuckoo brain of yours.”

  Morgan exhaled a short breath and shot Remy a look that said keep working but said, “Yes, you’re on the clock.”

  “Mmm-hmm. So what are we doing here, looking through David’s dusty drawers? You should’ve unloaded these ancient threads three years ago.”

  Yes, she should’ve. But when it had come time to throw it all out, she’d hesitated. If she were truly grieving, would she be in such a hurry to get rid of his things? She hadn’t wanted to seem anything but the grieving widow and thus, the clothes had remained as David had left them—perfectly organized by color and type—as if he were going to walk through the door at
any minute. “Do you see anything you like?” she asked her cousin as he eyed a particularly fine Calvin Klein suit. “You’re about the same size, right? You can have whatever you want.”

  “Are you kidding? Don’t tease me when Calvin Klein is on the line.” He pulled the dark navy suit and made a sound no man should make when talking about clothes. “This is exquisite and so classic. Your David had impeccable taste. Are you sure he wasn’t gay?”

  “He was pretty straight,” Morgan said. “And homophobic.”

  “Ohh, honey, that’s a dead giveaway that he was hungering for something he would not allow himself to have.”

  Morgan suppressed a shudder. It was hard enough to remember David period, much less try to imagine him with another man. “Well, guess it doesn’t matter now. Help yourself to whatever you like. Everything else is going to Goodwill.”

  Remy chortled like Tim Gunn at a runway show and began picking through the suits, exclaiming here and there at his good fortune. “Not that I’m not tickled pink but I have to ask...what’s happening with you, sugar pie?”

  “Nothing. Just time to let go.”

  “It was time to let go of that man the minute his body cooled. He was a dirty, rotten SOB—with impossibly gorgeous tastes in clothing—and you’re better off without him. But why now?”

  She didn’t know. Something felt different inside her. Maybe it was breaking the seal on her self-imposed celibacy post-David that had made the change. Maybe it was spending time with a man who was an overall good person and not just surface deep. Everyone thought David was a good man but that was because no one actually knew him. Except Morgan.

  “David had wanted to start trying for a baby,” she said, pausing at the dresser. “Can you imagine?”

  “It was a blessing in disguise that you lost that baby,” Remy said, pursing his lips at the sad memory. “And an even bigger blessing that you didn’t get knocked up again afterward. Can you imagine, indeed. That man...you should’ve pressed charges when you had the chance.”

  “And who would’ve believed me? David was a pillar of the community. Beloved, even. I doubt anyone would’ve taken a police report even if I’d tried to report the abuse. I would’ve gotten a stern talking to, to try and work things out, and then David would’ve punished me even more for embarrassing him.” She shook her head at the idea. “No, there was no out for me except the way it’d happened.”

  Remy shot her a warning look. “That’s a terrible burden to carry around, sister. Someday those shoulders are gonna bow from the weight. Are you at least coming out of your fake mourning?”

  “It’s not fake. Not exactly. I am a grieving widow.” Grieving the loss of her ideals, hopes and dreams, at the very least. “I wonder how things would’ve been different if I hadn’t met David but someone else, instead.”

  “You’re in a philosophical mood today. Fate is a funny thing.”

  “Sometimes I wonder how I ever fell for David’s charm in the first place. Perhaps I’m just jaded now because I feel I’m not even the same person in my memories.”

  “You were a young, idealistic girl and you were taken in by the idea of marrying a rich, successful man who appeared to dote on you. How were you supposed to know he was going to turn out to be a sadistic bastard?”

  She shrugged. “I’m a therapist. I should’ve seen some kind of sign.”

  “Would you have paid attention? We see what we want to see. I never told you this but in college, while I was out discovering my true self, I thought I’d fallen head over heels in love with the first man I’d slept with. I put up with a lot of bullshit from him and it included abuse.”

  “Remy...you were in an abusive relationship?” She gaped, shocked that her flamboyant, outspoken cousin had found himself in an abusive situation such as herself. “What happened?”

  “The first time? I told myself we were both emotional and things just got out of hand, and the reason he hit me was because he was scared of the idea of losing me. I thought his freakout was a testament to my worth. I mean, why not? No one had ever cared that much about me to raise a fuss if I wasn’t around. It felt good to be so madly desired for once. But it got harder and harder to stick to that thinking after he kept beating the shit out of me.”

  Morgan stared, stunned by Remy’s revelation. “How did you get out?”

  Remy smiled. “I may be a flaming queen but I was raised by a hard-living fisherman. One night he came at me—pissed off because I’d dared to make a joke about his hair—and I realized that SOB didn’t love me, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve me. And then I laid him out. After that, I collected my things and walked away. Best damn thing I ever did. Just as it was the best damn thing you ever did by getting away from David.”

  Tears burned behind Morgan’s eyes, so incredibly thankful for her wild, outlandish cousin who kept her secrets and felt safe enough to share a doozy of his own. If only she’d had Remy’s courage and had walked out on David before that night. “Why couldn’t I have inherited some of that bravery?” she whispered, mostly to herself, but Remy caught it and scowled as he tossed the suit in his hand to the pile growing on the bed.

  “Don’t do that,” he warned, shaking his head. “You are braver than you know. Braver than you give yourself credit for, and you need to stop beating yourself over something that was an accident.”

  “Is it an accident if you wanted it to happen?” she dared to ask, lifting her gaze to Remy. “So many times I wished David dead...what if I made it happen somehow?”

  “Listen to me...he slipped and fell down the stairs. That’s all anybody ever needs to know. Now wipe that look off your face and hold your head up. You’re acting like the judge, jury and executioner are coming to dinner. He was a rotten man and he deserved what he got. Who cares if you wished it a thousand times? I wish to win the lottery every damn day but it hasn’t happened yet. Our thoughts don’t manifest into reality and I don’t care what the self-help gurus say. David’s death was a happy accident. Leave it at that.”

  A happy accident. She wished she could embrace that perspective. Maybe if she could lose the crushing guilt that she carried every day, she could actually move on.

  But move on to what? She looked to Remy. “Have you ever considered moving away from Homer?”

  He shrugged in answer and made a silent exclamation of joy at a wool coat he found. “Honey, home is where you make it. I can live anywhere I choose.” He cast her a pointed look. “And that goes for you, too. I’ve long thought that maybe it’s time for you to move away and start fresh someplace else.”

  She waved away that idea. Move away? Where would she go? Her home was here. “This is where I belong. I have no interest in moving away. Besides, I’ve built my practice here. I wouldn’t want to start over someplace else.”

  “Why not? Sounds fun to me. You’re in a rut, girl. You need something—or someone—to shake you loose.”

  Morgan couldn’t help the private smile at Remy’s comment because it conjured all manner of delightful memories spent shaking things up with Wade. What would it be like to say goodbye to everything she’d ever known and start fresh? Somewhere where David’s ghost didn’t dog her every step? Where no one knew she’d ever been married to the horrid man? That would be fantastic.

  And impossible.

  She was firmly entrenched in her life here. She had to take the good with the bad. That was being a grown-up.

  “Sometimes being a grown-up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she murmured. Without missing a beat Remy snapped his fingers and nodded.

  “Amen to that.”

  Morgan smiled and pushed away thoughts that bordered on dangerous. Her life was here. And that’s where it would stay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  WADE WALKED INTO the jail with one purpose—to convince his father to let them bail him out and come help them
with Jennelle. He had no idea how he was going to do that, seeing as his father had already been given many opportunities to get out of jail. But Wade hadn’t come all the way to Alaska, disrupting his own life and career, for his dad to hide out in jail.

  As before when Wade visited, Zed was led into the receiving room and for as long as Wade lived he would never fail to wince at the memory of his father in shackles. There are just some things you can never imagine are going to happen and this was high up on that list. Wade waited for his father to sit before he started talking. “I’ve come to get you to see reason,” he started, determined to make his dad see what a mistake he was making. “This business of you hiding in a jail cell while everyone else cleans up our family’s mess is unacceptable. Talk to me, Dad. What’s going on with you?”

  * * *

  ZED LOOKED AS if he’d aged ten years in the time that he’d been incarcerated, and it hurt Wade in a deeply private place to see his dad so diminished but he needed to focus. “I need to try to understand what’s going on because right now I’m at a loss. Help me to understand,” Wade pleaded with his father, feeling much like a young kid again, trying desperately to understand why the man who had once been his hero had regressed to a sad, pathetic mortal.

  Zed glanced away, shame in his gaze. “You think I don’t want to be there for your mom? Of course I want to be there. But I’m not what she needs right now. She has you kids, and you guys can help her through this. I’ll just get in the way.”

  “She doesn’t need us, she needs you. She’s falling apart. You guys have been together since you were teenagers, and you can reach her in a way that we never could. We need you, Dad. Don’t abandon us now.”

  “Come on, Wade. You’re not babies anymore. You’re grown adults. I don’t need to hold your hands any longer.”