The Little Lies We Hide, page 11
“Over in the Jock River.”
“I caught a carp and wanted to take it home and cook it but you just threw it back.”
“Carp should be spelled crap,” Henry said. “No one eats those damn things. You did good that day. Stayed the whole day. Didn’t once whine to go home. In fact, you whined when I said it was time to go.”
Bradley remembered. David had not come with them, and out in the small rowboat with his dad, he’d found peace. That year was the year David had started to torment him, and going fishing with his dad on that hot late-August day had become a memory that had stuck with him until this day.
“Too bad we never had more of those,” Bradley said.
Henry slapped him on the back. “We should have spent more time together but you always had your nose in those books.”
“Only because it was the only way—” He stopped himself. No point bringing up the past. It couldn’t be changed, no matter how badly he wished it could. Life wasn’t a Star Trek episode where you could time-travel and meet your younger self. There were so many things he’d love to tell that Bradley.
“He’s gone,” Cassandra said.
Bradley looked puzzled. “Who’s gone?”
She gave a nod toward Henry and when Bradley glanced at his dad, he saw the confused glaze in his father’s eyes. That’s what gave it away: the lack of comprehension in the eyes.
“It was nice to talk to him.”
“It was nice to see you two talk,” Cassandra said. “He and David never did that much over the years. A lot of times—most times, really—it’s me and Angel who come for Sunday dinner. It hurts your mom not to have her two sons here.”
“Wonderful soup,” Bradley said.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m just complimenting you on the soup,” he said. “Tastes just like Mom used to make.”
“Your mom showed me a lot.”
They stared at each other, nearly two decades of lost years between them. He noticed how worn out she looked. Not tired, but worn out, like she’d been overused. Didn’t take a genius to understand how that had happened.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
That’s when they heard Angel’s heart shatter like it was made of porcelain.
* * *
Lilly was first to run out of the kitchen and Bradley grabbed Cassandra’s arm when she went to get up.
“I’ve got to go see what happened,” Cassandra said. “Angel needs me.”
Bradley shook his head. “I think she needs a friend right now.”
“But—”
“Trust me,” he said. “Being in this house, she probably just realized that her grandmother is gone.”
“That’s why she needs me, not Lilly.”
“Give it a minute,” he said.
Cassandra pulled her arm away. “No offense, Brad, but you can’t just come back and think you can tell me how to care for my daughter.” She stood and started to walk away.
“Cassandra!” he said and slid off the stool. “I’m not—”
She waved him off with her hand and left the kitchen. Bradley took two steps forward, then stopped. She was right. He shouldn’t be trying to tell her how to care for Angel.
“So, what do I do, Dad?” he said as he took his seat again. He picked up his spoon but didn’t bother to finish his soup. “It’s not like I know anything about raising kids, but I remember when I was Angel’s age. I didn’t want either you or Mom when I was feeling like crap. What I needed was my best friend, but unfortunately, I’d lost her.”
“I got an itch in the middle of my back I can’t reach,” Henry mumbled. “Why can’t my hand reach that spot?”
Bradley moved his hand over the middle of his father’s back and assessed whereabouts the itch would be, and scratched gently. It was sort of weird since he’d never shared that sort of physical connection with his dad, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. Maybe, just maybe, he could figure out this parenting thing.
And maybe he and Kate could get married and have a baby. Maybe he wasn’t too old just yet.
He really should call her.
* * *
Cassandra walked back into the kitchen, an uncomfortable look on her face. She glanced back down the hallway toward the front of the house, then joined Bradley at the island.
“Okay, so maybe you were right,” she said, taking a seat across from him. “Lilly was holding her like I would and rubbing her back like I would and they were talking quietly so I decided not to get in the way.”
Bradley grinned.
“Don’t you dare, Bradley Knighton,” she said, completely annoyed. “I see that mocking grin on your face.”
“I tried to tell you.”
“How would you feel if someone had just showed up and was trying to tell you what was best for the daughter you’d raised practically by yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
They looked at each other, two people who had so much to tell one another, but were unsure how to go about it. It was Henry who broke the silence.
“You got any more of that soup, Irene?”
“Dad, that’s not Mom, it’s Cassandra.”
Henry studied Cassandra. “She looks like Irene.”
“You can call me whatever you want,” she said as she took his bowl and refilled it. “I like a man who enjoys my cooking.”
“And I like me a girl who can cook,” Henry said and winked at her.
Bradley hung his head down against his chest. “The last thing I want to see is my dad flirt with my sister-in-law. Nothing good can come of that.”
“When did you become such a fun-sucker?” she said.
“Fun-sucker?”
Cassandra laughed. “Angel used to throw that in David’s face all the time when he wouldn’t join us on a fun day because he had to work. Do you have any idea how many times I hosted her birthday parties all by myself? Well, your mom and dad and Emily always helped, but your wonderful brother was always MIA. I actually don’t think he ever made it to a single one of her parties.” She plastered a fake smile on her weary face. “Isn’t that shameful?”
“You don’t need to convince me that my brother is—” he said, but stopped.
The floorboard in the hallway had just creaked.
A throat was cleared.
Cassandra had her back to the kitchen entrance and didn’t turn immediately. She tried to make eye contact with Bradley but he was looking right past her.
Instantly, all the air in the kitchen seemed to have been sucked out.
“Hello, little brother,” David said, the tone of his voice as warm and welcoming as a January blizzard. “Nice to see you.”
THIRTEEN
Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she turned her head to face David, and when she saw her husband standing at the edge of the kitchen sporting that grin she had once loved, even thought it made him look cute, her insides hardened. The passage of time had a way of reshaping reality.
Too bad he’d come so early. She’d barely had enough time to break the ice with Bradley and would have loved to catch up for a while longer. With any luck, he’d be in and out and they could all relax.
“We didn’t hear you come in,” she said.
“That was pretty obvious,” he said while looking at Bradley. “Well, look what the cat dragged all the way from the west coast.”
“Mom’s only been dead for a whole day,” Bradley said. “So kind of you to finally show up and make time to mourn her passing.”
A frosty silence filled the room.
“I had deals to close,” David said with an air of self-importance. “And Mom isn’t going anywhere.”
Cassandra could feel Bradley was about to explode and quickly glanced over, seeing his usually calm blue eyes burning. She put a hand on his arm.
“Well, aren’t we chummy,” David said.
Cassandra pulled her hand away. “Can’t you two behave? For your mom’s sake. It’s what she would want.”
“You know what our mother wants now?” David said, his tone mocking. “Is she talking to you from the grave?”
Bradley stood and moved toward his brother. “I’d hoped the years might have changed you, but I see you’re still an ass.” He walked past David and headed towards the sitting room.
“There he goes, running away again,” David said. “I guess it’s easier than taking a stand like a man.”
“Really, Dave,” Cassandra said. “Give it a rest. You haven’t seen him in years . . . and for your information, yeah, I know what your mom would want. I actually made time for your parents.”
Cassandra stood and thought of following Bradley, but she couldn’t leave her father-in-law alone to fend for himself.
“Henry, you want more soup?”
Henry stared at her, glared at David, frowned, and shook his head.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“You remember where it is?”
Henry nodded, got up, and walked out of the kitchen, passing by David without saying a word.
“Jeez, he didn’t even say hello.”
“I didn’t hear you say hello either,” Cassandra said. “He’s your dad.”
“Yeah, well . . . it’s not like he understands what I tell him anyway. He looks confused all the time.”
Cassandra took a couple of deep breaths.
“He’s not an idiot,” she said. “His memory is failing but he still understands plenty. Sounds to me like you’re the one who’s confused.”
She noticed how uncomfortable her husband suddenly seemed. It made her feel sorry for Henry, not David. How sad that her husband had no idea how to interact with his father now that he was sick. With Irene gone, there would be nothing to hold the family together.
And this was the only family she had left.
Maybe that had also kept her from ending her marriage. She loved this family, had made it her own.
“If you’re afraid to talk to your dad, then why did you bother coming? That’s why we’re all here; to take care of him, help him get through this. Help each other get through this. Your mom was such a wonderful woman, like a mother to me.”
The truth of it hit Cassandra hard and the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of her husband. If she could be proud of one thing she’d done over the years, it’s that she had never cried in front of him. She gave him a fake smile and got busy clearing the dirty dishes, then poured the leftover soup into a container and put it in the fridge, and wiped down the counters.
She then left the kitchen to go see what everyone else was up to.
* * *
When Cassandra reached the sitting room, she saw Bradley sitting in the sofa chair across from where Angel and Lilly were on the couch. Angel was under control now and gave her mom a reassuring smile.
“You okay, honey?”
Angel nodded and wiped her nose with a tissue. “Grandma’s absence became real when everyone went to the kitchen and I was all alone in this room. She loved to sit in the chair Uncle Bradley is in and read or knit or just enjoy the silence of the house. That’s what she told me once when I was staying overnight and I came down from my room and found her there sitting in the dark with a cup of tea in her lap.”
A knowing grin spread across Cassandra’s face. Irene had loved to add a splash of whiskey into her tea, which reminded her: she needed to find that bottle.
“Is Dad here?” Angel said. “I thought I heard his voice.”
“Yes,” Cassandra said. “He’s in the kitchen.”
“He walked right by me and Lilly and didn’t say anything?” she said, annoyed.
Cassandra shrugged. She was done making excuses for him. She had made so many over the years and she no longer saw the point in trying. Maybe when Angel had been young, she had believed her mother, but she was too old for lies now.
The toilet in the powder room flushed and Henry came out without his pants on.
“Henry, your pants!” Cassandra said.
“Grandpa,” Angel said as Lilly turned her head away. “Gross.”
Bradley jumped to his feet, grabbed his dad by the arm, and walked him back to the powder room.
“Why does he do that?” Angel said.
“He’s forgetting, honey.”
“I thought he’d just forget, like, things that happened in the past, not putting on his pants.”
“It’s going to get worse.”
“Seriously?”
“Unfortunately,” she said. “He’s going to forget who we are, where he lives. He’s going to forget how to do basic things like go to the bathroom.”
“Oh, I don’t want to clean that up.”
Cassandra wanted to agree with her daughter, but she knew none of that was going to be Henry’s fault. Every day that went by, he got a little worse, and every day Cassandra felt a part of her ache a little more watching him deteriorate that way, knowing there wasn’t anything that she could do.
“At some point we’re going to need to place Grandpa in a home,” she said. “To keep him safe, and have trained people care for him.”
“First Grandma, and now Grandpa,” Angel said. “I hate that they got old.”
“No one can stop time,” Bradley said as he returned with his dad, fully clothed. “Your mom is right. We’ll need to look for a good home for Grandpa.”
“What’s with the we?” David said. He’d just joined them, a glass in hand with something that made Cassandra lick her lips. “You’ll be back on that plane before the dirt hits Mom’s coffin, leaving us to deal with Dad.”
Lilly whispered something to Angel and walked out onto the porch.
“David—” Cassandra said. “Right in front of your daughter and her friend.”
“Why is her friend here anyway?” he said. “Angel’s a grownup now. If she doesn’t want to hear any of this, she can leave too.”
“I’m not leaving,” Angel said.
David raised his glass to his daughter.
“Jesus, Dave,” Cassandra said.
“If we’re going to air out the Knighton family closet, she has a right to stay,” David said and took a generous sip. “I applaud her for it.”
“You’re an ass,” Cassandra said.
“It’s fine, Mom.”
Cassandra simply shook her head.
“It’s okay, Cass,” Bradley said.
“Well, the chumminess keeps getting better,” David said and raised his glass again. “Cass.”
“Seriously,” she said, hating the need to defend her friendship with Bradley. “Your brother and I were friends long before you and I started dating. He’s always called me Cass. I actually don’t remember him ever calling me by my full name.”
The room went quiet. David sipped his drink, his steely eyes on her. Cassandra felt not just her husband’s stare but Bradley’s and Angel’s too. She suddenly felt excluded, the stranger in the room. She could feel her insides melt with loneliness.
She wasn’t real family.
Her eyes began to water. Without looking at anyone, she turned on her heels and left the room.
“The bottle’s in the hutch,” David called after her.
* * *
Bradley watched Cassandra leave the room, then glared at his brother. He wasn’t really sure what had just happened but it was obvious that David and Cassandra hated each other. This wasn’t a couple going through a hard spell; this was a very unhappy and unhealthy relationship. He’d heard the insinuated undertones in Cassandra’s words earlier, but to actually see this hostility out in the open, in front of Angel—thank God Lilly had had the common sense to excuse herself—made him wonder what had happened between them. He knew a lot of marriages didn’t last, especially when a couple married as young as David and Cassandra had been, but he honestly hadn’t expected this.
Neither Emily nor his mom had mentioned how bad things were between his brother and his wife.
“What was that all about?” Bradley said.
“Your little Cass tends to be overly dramatic.”
“You really need to let that go,” Bradley said. “That’s your wife, the one you said your vows to—”
“The last thing I need is a lecture on marriage from you,” David said. “If you’re such an expert, why aren’t you married? Oh, let me guess—”
“You’d better stop right there,” Bradley said. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“Well, goody for you.”
“Why did you bother to come if all you’re going to do is start trouble? We’re supposed to be here for Mom.”
“Hear, hear,” David said, lifting his glass. “I’d drink to Mom, but I’m all empty.”
“Why don’t you boys show some respect?” Henry said, his voice strong. He was standing in front of the fireplace, looking at the framed wedding picture of him and his wife. “Your mother died yesterday. She loved you boys. Broke her heart the way you two have been bickering all these years. I should have smacked some sense into the two of you long ago.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Bradley said.
Henry turned around to face his sons. “I know I’m sick. My mind is going and I’m becoming a burden. So I’ll say this now while I can. You boys are family and family should stick together. I don’t know what stick you have up your ass, David, but it’s time you pull it out. No one here is your enemy.” He paused and stared at David. Then he looked at Bradley. “And you came home. Your mother would have liked that, knowing that you finally came home. You should have done that long ago. She talked about you all the time. She loved your phone calls, but when she hung up, she’d put the phone on the kitchen counter, make herself a cup of tea—and sat in that chair right there. It broke my heart to watch her sit so still, her back ramrod straight, the cup in her lap, and . . . and tears running down her face. It wasn’t easy for her, to have her son so far away while the one that was close by couldn’t be bothered with us.”
Henry glared at both of them.
Bradley stared down at his feet, his shame too big to swallow. “She always sounded like she was happy for me.”
