paperwork.’
Chapter Nine
Scott sat alone at one end of the long polished wood bar, staring morosely at the glistening tinsel on the Christmas tree. The cheerful decorations seemed almost to mock him as he lost himself in memories of Christmases past. He should have happy Christmas memories, but any he did have were overshadowed by the darkness of those later years when he and his father had lived alone, barely speaking to each other. Times when the holidays had been barely acknowledged in the house behind the garage. Dark times.
There was movement in the corner of his vision as his father walked into the pub.
A flash of surprise crossed Trish Warren’s face as she looked up from pouring a beer and saw who her new customer was. Scott guessed his father didn’t make a habit of going to the pub. Ed had never been the sociable type. Scott turned his attention back to the cold beer in front of him, running a finger through the wet droplets of condensation running down the glass onto the beer mat beneath.
‘I guess I could join you for a drink.’
‘I guess you could.’
Ed parked himself on the next bar stool. Not too close, but close enough for a conversation that would be as private as any conversation could be with Trish in the same room.
Scott took a pull on his beer, and watched out of hooded eyes as his father did the same with the glass of Fosters that Trish placed in front of him.
A palpable silence settled over them.
Where did you start, Scott wondered. After so many years, where did you start trying to reconnect? There wasn’t going to be an apology on either side. Eight years was far too long for that. But there had to be some way to start rebuilding some sort of relationship. Ed was the only family he had and this was the only chance they were going to get to put the past behind them. But what could he say that wouldn’t seem banal, or critical or at the very least draw attention to the huge gap between them?
‘So. You’re staying at the pub.’
It wasn’t a question.
‘Yes. I …’ Scott let his voice trail off. He didn’t want to say that he thought he might not be welcome in his father’s home. He also didn’t want to say that he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to set foot inside that house again. Neither comment was going to help the two of them cross the enormous gulf that lay between them.
Silence settled again.
‘That your Prius outside?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hybrid?’
‘Yes.’
‘Any good?’
‘Yes.’
Maybe it was genetic. This thing about cars. In those dark years after his mother left, the only real conversations he and his father had shared had been about cars. The arguments had been about everything else. So Scott guessed it wasn’t really surprising that this, the closest thing to a conversation they’d had in so many years, would be about a car.
The silence was back.
Scott was very conscious that his father was making some sort of effort. He was the one who had sought Scott out. And if his conversation has been stilted, at least he’d said more than just one word. But what could he say that wouldn’t bring back the past?
The bar door swung open and some people walked in. Even before he looked up, Scott knew that Katie was one of them. He heard her laugh. She was with the doctor and an attractive dark-haired woman. As the three of them greeted Trish and found seats at the bar, the dark-haired woman and the doctor seemed to be always touching each other. A casual brush of fingers together, a hand on an arm. That spoke volumes, and Scott found he was secretly a little relieved. He didn’t like the idea of Katie being around that doctor too much, but if he was already spoken for—
She saw him and her face lit up. His heart did a little skip when that happened. It dropped into a different rhythm as he watched her excuse herself from the doctor and start towards him. He was very conscious of his father’s eyes moving from Scott, to Katie,
Chapter Nine
Scott sat alone at one end of the long polished wood bar, staring morosely at the glistening tinsel on the Christmas tree. The cheerful decorations seemed almost to mock him as he lost himself in memories of Christmases past. He should have happy Christmas memories, but any he did have were overshadowed by the darkness of those later years when he and his father had lived alone, barely speaking to each other. Times when the holidays had been barely acknowledged in the house behind the garage. Dark times.
There was movement in the corner of his vision as his father walked into the pub.
A flash of surprise crossed Trish Warren’s face as she looked up from pouring a beer and saw who her new customer was. Scott guessed his father didn’t make a habit of going to the pub. Ed had never been the sociable type. Scott turned his attention back to the cold beer in front of him, running a finger through the wet droplets of condensation running down the glass onto the beer mat beneath.
‘I guess I could join you for a drink.’
‘I guess you could.’
Ed parked himself on the next bar stool. Not too close, but close enough for a conversation that would be as private as any conversation could be with Trish in the same room.
Scott took a pull on his beer, and watched out of hooded eyes as his father did the same with the glass of Fosters that Trish placed in front of him.
A palpable silence settled over them.
Where did you start, Scott wondered. After so many years, where did you start trying to reconnect? There wasn’t going to be an apology on either side. Eight years was far too long for that. But there had to be some way to start rebuilding some sort of relationship. Ed was the only family he had and this was the only chance they were going to get to put the past behind them. But what could he say that wouldn’t seem banal, or critical or at the very least draw attention to the huge gap between them?
‘So. You’re staying at the pub.’
It wasn’t a question.
‘Yes. I …’ Scott let his voice trail off. He didn’t want to say that he thought he might not be welcome in his father’s home. He also didn’t want to say that he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to set foot inside that house again. Neither comment was going to help the two of them cross the enormous gulf that lay between them.
Silence settled again.
‘That your Prius outside?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hybrid?’
‘Yes.’
‘Any good?’
‘Yes.’
Maybe it was genetic. This thing about cars. In those dark years after his mother left, the only real conversations he and his father had shared had been about cars. The arguments had been about everything else. So Scott guessed it wasn’t really surprising that this, the closest thing to a conversation they’d had in so many years, would be about a car.
The silence was back.
Scott was very conscious that his father was making some sort of effort. He was the one who had sought Scott out. And if his conversation has been stilted, at least he’d said more than just one word. But what could he say that wouldn’t bring back the past?
The bar door swung open and some people walked in. Even before he looked up, Scott knew that Katie was one of them. He heard her laugh. She was with the doctor and an attractive dark-haired woman. As the three of them greeted Trish and found seats at the bar, the dark-haired woman and the doctor seemed to be always touching each other. A casual brush of fingers together, a hand on an arm. That spoke volumes, and Scott found he was secretly a little relieved. He didn’t like the idea of Katie being around that doctor too much, but if he was already spoken for—
She saw him and her face lit up. His heart did a little skip when that happened. It dropped into a different rhythm as he watched her excuse herself from the doctor and start towards him. He was very conscious of his father’s eyes moving from Scott, to Katie,
Similar Books
