Chapter Eight
“Is he okay? He seems really quiet this evening.” Dad kept his voice low while he loaded the dishwasher.
Micah knew exactly what he meant. “It’s not just this evening. He’s been like this all day.” Greg had seemed subdued, and though Micah had tried to raise a smile, his efforts had clearly fallen short.
Dad shrugged. “Maybe he has a lot on his mind.” He leaned closer. “Do you think it has something to do with that phone call to his mom?”
It was the only suggestion that made any sense.
“Let’s find out.” Micah poured out three mugs of coffee, and then picked up two of them.
He walked into the living room, Dad following him.
Greg was sitting on the couch, his leg propped up.
The TV was on, but the sound was turned down.
Not that Greg was watching it. He was staring at the fire.
Micah walked over to the couch and handed him one of the mugs. “Here you go.”
Greg flashed him a tight smile. “Thanks.”
Micah wasn’t about to let that distract him from his course of action. He sat beside Greg, picked up the remote, and switched off the TV.
Greg blinked. “What was wrong with that show?”
Micah gave a casual shrug. “I don’t know. I wasn’t watching it. More to the point, neither were you. So I thought our time would be better spent trying to figure out what’s eating you.”
Greg frowned. “Nothing’s eating me.”
Dad snorted. “Son, I may not have known you all that long, but I know bullshit when I hear it.”
Micah rolled his eyes. Sometimes, Dad could be about as subtle as a train-wreck.
Greg glanced at Micah, his lips twitching. “I don’t recall your dad ever being this… blunt before.”
Micah nodded. “Yeah, well, you’ve obviously never had a conversation with him when his bullshit detector was working properly. He’s just had it repaired.”
It took a second or two for his words to register, then Micah heaved an inward sigh of relief when Greg chuckled. “Bullshit detector. I like that.”
“So does that mean you’re gonna stop lying to us, and tell us what’s wrong? You never know. Maybe we can help.”
Greg sighed. “It’s nothing that can be fixed, honest. I… I was thinking about stuff my mom told me. I guess it’s just taking its time sinking in.”
“What kind of stuff?” Dad leaned forward in his armchair.
“Well, for one thing…” Greg looked him in the eye. “Mom knew about you.”
“Wait—what?” Micah sat upright. “You don’t mean… your mom knew that your dad loved my dad?”
Greg nodded. “He told her, before I was even born. Hell, all I said was that I’d delivered a letter for Dad, and she came right out with your name, Joshua, just like that.”
“I’m damn sure that’s not what’s got you thinking,” Dad commented quietly.
“No, you’re right about that. She was telling me about why my dad left, why he stayed away.” Greg sipped his coffee. “I guess it was a conversation that needed to happen.”
“The way you’re talking, it doesn’t sound like it was a bad conversation,” Micah remarked.
Greg shrugged. “That’s because it wasn’t.”
Micah scrubbed his hand over his cheek. “Then I don’t get it. Why are you so… reluctant to go home? Why did you say in the hospital that you weren’t sure you had a home anymore?”
“Oh, I see.” Greg stared into his coffee for a moment. “Okay. When Mom met Damon, my stepdad, I was fine with it. He was obviously good for her.”
“How old were you at the time?” Dad asked.
“Six or seven, I guess. Damon was the only father I’d ever known: I had no memories of my own dad. Anyhow, we got along fine. I liked him.”
“Then what went wrong?” Micah asked softly.
“Nothing went wrong, as such. I went off to college, and they were both so proud of me. I didn’t have to worry about student loans or anything like that.
Mom and Damon paid partly for my studies, and the rest was paid for from a trust fund that Dad had set up when I was born.
” He expelled a breath. “So strange, now I think about it. He wouldn’t stay, for fear of ruining our lives, yet he cared enough to make sure my schooling was taken care of. ”
Micah wasn’t sure he fully understood some of that comment, but he let it go. “So you went to college. And?”
“I’d just received my Bachelors, and had gone home for summer vacation. When I got there, Mom had some surprising news for me. After fifteen years of marriage, she and Damon were going to have twins.”
“Wow.” Dad grinned. “I don’t envy her, no, sir.”
“Yeah, it was kind of a shock to both of them. But after that, everything changed.”
“How?” Micah wanted to know.
Greg took a mouthful of coffee before responding.
“Every time I went home for a weekend, or for the holidays or summer, it felt like… it wasn’t my home anymore.
Like I didn’t belong there. Damon and Mom had the twins, and their whole life revolved around them.
I just felt like I was in the way.” He shook his head.
“I’m not saying they shut me out, or anything.
It’s just that their focus changed.” Greg frowned.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I was jealous of my new little brothers, believe me. ”
“I don’t think that for a second,” Dad said promptly.
“I think I understand what you mean. You grew up believing your dad didn’t want you, which I suppose is common among kids whose parents divorce early.
Then your mom has not one, but two children late in life.
One minute you were the center of her universe, and the next?
You felt… replaced. I can imagine that would only make you feel… alienated, somehow.”
Judging from Greg’s expression of astonishment, Micah guessed his dad had nailed it. “Then what happened?” He knew there was more to come.
“So I went back to school to do my MBA. I spent less time at home. When I was finished with my studies, that was about the same time I found out about Dad’s diagnosis. I told Mom I was going to stay with him awhile.” He swallowed. “I ended up staying five months, until the day he died.”
“You… were with him?” Micah knew all too well what that felt like.
“Yes. I was there for the funeral too. He’d paid for everything ahead of time, and there wasn’t anything for me to do, but stand there and mourn him.
Hardly anyone was there, and that made me so sad.
He’d moved to Wyoming to start a new life—he even went back to school— and yet, by the time I got to know him, he had no life to speak of. ”
Micah jerked his head up at that. “Wyoming?” He glanced at his dad, who seemed unperturbed by this. “Did you know where he lived?”
Dad shook his head. “I only found out when I read the letter.”
He shoved down hard on his frustration, and kept his voice even. “Before either of you says another word, I think I need to read this letter for myself. Unless you object?”
Greg opened his eyes wide. “You haven’t read it yet? I sort of assumed Joshua intended on showing it to you.”
Dad got up from his chair. “I’m sorry, Micah. You’re right. You need to read it too.” He left the room.
Micah stretched out a hand toward Greg. “I know what you went through. With your dad, I mean. I was there when my mom….” His throat seized up.
To his surprise, Greg clasped his hand tightly. “I know, it hurts. I don’t expect that will ever go away entirely.” They sat there in silence, connected by their grief in a surprisingly intimate moment.
Dad coughed, and Micah pulled his hand free of Greg’s. Dad held out the folded sheets. “Here.”
Micah took them and sat back against the cushions.
The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, the hisses that came from the logs.
He read it slowly, trying to take it all in.
Then he raised his head and stared at Dad, but the words wouldn’t come. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
“I know,” Dad said simply. “I think I’ve read it over twenty times since Greg gave it to me.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know about you two, but I’ve had enough tears for one day. I think we should do something to lighten the mood.”
Micah wiped his eyes. “Sounds good to me. What did you have in mind?” He could understand Dad not wanting to talk about it. And that letter… so much emotion in so few words.
Greg nodded. “I’m with you. It’s been quite a day.”
Dad went over to the bookshelves next to the fireplace. “I vote for a movie and popcorn, and I know exactly what I want to watch.”
Micah caught Greg’s gaze. “Be afraid. Be very afraid. Dad’s taste in movies is almost as bad as his cooking.” He winked, and Greg smothered a snicker. Relief flooded through him at the lightening of the mood in that room. Nice one, Dad.
“Just for that, you get to go make the popcorn. I’ll have chocolate caramel, please. And make Greg whatever he wants. We got cheddar cheese, caramel, you name it.” Dad beamed at him. “Well, get to it, popcorn boy.”
Micah shook his head. “Uh uh. Not until you share which movie you’re thinking of putting on.”
Dad’s smile morphed into something almost wistful. “Star Wars, Episode IV.”
Micah could live with that.
Greg was feeling nervous.
Not that he had anything to feel nervous about. He was only going to meet Naomi, after all. Why meeting Micah’s nineteen-year-old sister should bother him so much, he wasn’t sure, but he’d had butterflies in his stomach all day.
Micah and Joshua hadn’t helped matters. They’d started discussing the preparations for Thanksgiving, and Greg had asked if there was anything he could do to help, providing he could do it while seated. Joshua had glanced at Micah, before nodding.
“Now you mention it, there is an important task you can do.”
“Sure, name it.” Anything to stop feeling so useless.
Joshua’s eyes gleamed. “You can be the turkey plucker this year. Can’t he, Micah?”
Micah nodded solemnly. “I think so. That’s a really important task.”
“Turkey… plucker?”
Both of them nodded again. “Around here, we have to go out and catch the turkey first, but Micah and I will take care of that. Can’t really ask you to do that, can we? Not when you’re on crutches.”
“You have to catch the turkey?” Greg knew Wright was in the middle of nowhere, but surely not….
“Uh huh.” Micah smiled. “This is a big honor, you know. It takes years of training to be a fully-fledged turkey plucker.” Then his lips twitched, and that glint in his eyes suddenly made sense.
“You pair of—”
“Careful now,” Joshua admonished, grinning. “Insulting your hosts will result in significantly smaller portions tomorrow.”
Greg arched his eyebrows. “I can’t make up my mind whether that’s meant to be a threat or a promise.”
Micah guffawed. “You’re quick. I like that.”
Judging from Joshua’s grin, he liked it too.
“They’re here!” Micah called out.
Greg was yanked into the present, his butterflies going on a rampage in his belly. Joshua had gone to Gillette to meet Naomi’s bus.
Micah came into the living room and gave him a stern glance. “You look fine, she’s dying to meet you, and she doesn’t make a habit of eating people.” He grinned. “Well, she might nibble you a little.”
“You are not helping. Again.”
Micah opened his mouth, no doubt to say something witty, but was cut off when the door opened and a young woman with long, dark brown hair entered the room. She marched right over to the couch and stood beside it, staring down at Greg with ill-concealed interest.
“So you’re Greg? You don’t look like you got bashed.” She looked him up and down. “I thought you had a cast on your leg.”
Greg had to smile. “Amazing what a pair of sweats can hide, isn’t it?” She was so like Joshua: they both had the same brown eyes, the same blunt way of expressing themselves.
Then she smiled, and her eyes lit up just like Micah’s did. “Have these two been looking after you? Were you always this skinny, or is that how you’ve gotten after six days of avoiding my dad’s cooking?”
Greg was more than ready to defend Joshua. “I like your dad’s cooking. It’s good.”
Naomi stared at him, her mouth open. Then she swiveled to look at Micah. “You didn’t tell me he’d suffered a head injury too. Poor boy’s obviously delusional.”
Joshua snorted. “‘Poor boy’, she says, like you’re some little kid, when you’re almost Micah’s age.”
“It’s fine, Joshua.” Greg grinned. “I can take care of myself.”
Naomi studied him for a moment, her eyes shining.
“Apparently.” She turned to Joshua. “I suppose you haven’t started preparing all the vegetables yet.
I’m guessing you’re gonna leave that to me and Micah again.
” She flicked her gaze back to Greg. “Having said that… you might make a pretty good kitchen assistant.”
“Whatever I can to do be of help,” Greg said with a smile. “But I’d recommend giving me tasks that don’t require movement. I’m pretty lethal with those crutches.”
“That’s okay,” she replied with a sweet smile. “I’m pre-med. I could always practice my bandaging techniques.”
Greg snickered and met Micah’s gaze. Micah gave him the thumbs up.
What on earth was I nervous about? Naomi was adorable.
Greg was suddenly looking forward to Thanksgiving.