The Cantaloupe Thief by Deb Richardson-Moore Page B

once.
    It was the night he came to her dorm room to tell her he was dropping out of college. Certainly she’d heard the rumors; heard about Davison’s reputation for being the hardest drinking frat man at the University of Georgia — which was saying something.
    She had watched him uneasily the preceding summer, when he stayed overnight at friends’ houses more often than he came home. She had heard whispered conversations between her parents, and much louder confrontations between them and Davison. She had walked into his bedroom and been stunned by the boozy smell.
    But she wasn’t prepared for what he was saying that fall evening in her dorm. He wasn’t fully sober, though it was just past dusk. He had failed every mid-term, he said. He was giving up.
    â€œBut what about law school?” she cried, honestly bewildered.
    He laughed bitterly. “No law school’s going to take me.”
    â€œBut Davison, why? You’re throwing away three years of school.”
    He waved her words aside as if they were mosquitoes. “Do you remember the weekend we spent at Gran and Pa’s that spring they went to Texas?”
    She nodded.
    â€œAnd you remember that was the first time I tasted a beer?”
    She nodded again.
    â€œWell, something happened that night. It was the first time I felt normal. It was the first time I felt what other people feel like all the time.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about? You’re not making sense.”
    He sighed. “Anyway, Brani, I just wanted you to know. Mom and Dad don’t get it and never will. But I’m not like you. I’m not like other people.”
    He got up to leave then, even as she was attempting to argue him out of this rash plan. He quietly closed the door while she was in the middle of a sentence.
    It would be two years before she saw her brother again.

CHAPTER NINE
    Branigan’s first stop the next morning was the house she had grown up in, two blocks from the stately Resnick home. She wanted to catch her folks before her dad left for work.
    Her father was eating cereal, and her mother was drinking a glass of cranberry juice when she arrived. Her mother hugged her, and poured coffee into a mug without asking. Her dad remained seated at the breakfast table, but pulled her in for a quick hug.
    â€œWhat brings you out so early?” he asked.
    â€œI need to tell you both something.”
    They glanced at each other.
    â€œIt’s good. It’s Davison.”
    Her mom’s eyes widened, and her dad’s jaw tightened. Davison had caused them so much pain.
    â€œHe’s back?” breathed her mom. “Davison’s back?”
    She nodded. “Apparently he wants to go to rehab. He got in touch with the treatment counselor at Jericho Road. Liam called me.”
    â€œWell, I guess that is good,” said Mrs Powers. She’d been down this road before, knew not to get too excited. Branigan’s dad only cleared his throat.
    â€œThere’s one more thing,” Branigan said. “He wants to tell Chan.”
    â€œWhy?” asked her dad.
    â€œSomething about Chan going off to college. So he’ll know his gene pool regarding addiction.”
    â€œThat may not be a bad thing.”
    â€œIt’ll be good for you guys too,” she said. “To finally let Chan know you’re his grandparents.”
    As friends of the Delaneys, they knew Chan — knew him well. But with Liam and Liz’s decision to keep Chan’s junkie parents a secret, they hadn’t known his parentage until Chan grew into his tall and loose-limbed physique. Branigan had come to them with her suspicions and they realized instantly that she must be right. But they respected the Delaneys’ decision and said nothing to anyone outside the family.
    Now her mom nodded, sitting down to take in this new development. She blew out a slow breath. “Tell Liz and Liam to call us when they’re