just didn’t tell his mother things like that.
“Con’s said he’s in jail for hitting her. Con said he used to hurt her real bad, and he drank a lot and gave her bruises and everything. They’re getting divorced.”
“I see.” She’d seen plenty of men who were Joe Dolin’s type in her life, but that didn’t stop her from despising them. “Did he hit Con, too? And Emma?”
“Not Emma.” Here was another dicey part, but Bryan heard himself blurting it out before he could stop. “But he hit Con. Not when his mom was around and could see. He’d call him names and shove him. He said Conwas a sissy ’cause he liked to read books and write stories. Con’s no sissy.”
“Of course he’s not.”
“He’s just real smart. He doesn’t hardly have to study to get the answers right. But he doesn’t raise his hand in class very much. The teacher calls on him anyway.” As he stared off into the woods, Bryan’s face darkened with rage. “Some of the kids give him a hard time about things. About his father, and how he’s teacher’s pet and how he can’t throw a baseball very far. But they back off when I’m around.”
Savannah closed her eyes, laid one cheek on Bryan’s head. “You’re quite a guy.”
“Hell—heck.” He corrected himself quickly. “Bullies are just wimps underneath, right?”
“Right. Con’s not the only one who’s smart.” She let out a sigh. “Bryan, I need to talk to you. Do you remember the other day, when you came home and Mr. MacKade was here?”
“Sure.”
“He’s a lawyer, and he came here on business.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.” She turned him so that they were face-to-face. “We’re not in trouble. We’re fine. He came about… My father died, Bryan.”
“Oh.” He felt nothing but mild surprise himself. He’d never met his grandfather, knew of him only because his mother had explained that Jim Morningstar was a rodeo rider who moved around a lot. “I guess he was pretty old.”
“Yeah.” Fifty? she wondered. Sixty? She didn’t have a clue. “I never really explained things to you, exactly.Your grandfather and I had a fight a long time ago, and I left home.”
How could she tell this child, her beautiful child, that he’d been the cause of it? No, that she wouldn’t do. That she would never do.
“Anyway, I left, and we sort of lost touch.”
“How did Mr. MacKade know he was dead? Did he know him?”
“No, it’s a lawyer thing. Your grandfather got hurt, and it started him thinking, I guess. He hired this lawyer out in Oklahoma to find us, and the lawyer called Mr. MacKade. It all took a while, then Mr. MacKade came out to tell me. And to let me know that your grandfather left some money.”
“Wow, really?”
“It’s about seven thousand—”
“Dollars?” Bryan finished for her, eyes popping. It was all the money in the world. Enough for a new bike, a new mitt, the Cal Ripkin rookie baseball card he lusted for. “We get to keep it? Just like that?”
“I have to sign some papers.”
The dollar signs faded from his eyes long enough for Bryan to read his mother’s face. “How come you don’t want it?”
“I… Oh, Bryan.” Defeated, she curled up her legs and rested her brow on them. “I don’t know how to explain it to you. I’ve been so mad at him all these years. Now I’m mad at him for waiting until he was dead.”
Bryan patted her head and thought it over. “Is it like him saying he’s sorry? And if you take it you’d be saying you were sorry, too?”
She let out a half laugh at the simplicity of it. “Why couldn’t I have thought of that?” Wearily she lifted her head, studied his face. “You think we should take it.”
“I guess we don’t need to.” He watched Cal Ripkin fly gracefully away. “I mean, you’ve got your job, and we’ve got a house now.”
“No,” she murmured. “We don’t need to.” She felt the weight slip from her shoulders. They didn’t need to, and that was
“Con’s said he’s in jail for hitting her. Con said he used to hurt her real bad, and he drank a lot and gave her bruises and everything. They’re getting divorced.”
“I see.” She’d seen plenty of men who were Joe Dolin’s type in her life, but that didn’t stop her from despising them. “Did he hit Con, too? And Emma?”
“Not Emma.” Here was another dicey part, but Bryan heard himself blurting it out before he could stop. “But he hit Con. Not when his mom was around and could see. He’d call him names and shove him. He said Conwas a sissy ’cause he liked to read books and write stories. Con’s no sissy.”
“Of course he’s not.”
“He’s just real smart. He doesn’t hardly have to study to get the answers right. But he doesn’t raise his hand in class very much. The teacher calls on him anyway.” As he stared off into the woods, Bryan’s face darkened with rage. “Some of the kids give him a hard time about things. About his father, and how he’s teacher’s pet and how he can’t throw a baseball very far. But they back off when I’m around.”
Savannah closed her eyes, laid one cheek on Bryan’s head. “You’re quite a guy.”
“Hell—heck.” He corrected himself quickly. “Bullies are just wimps underneath, right?”
“Right. Con’s not the only one who’s smart.” She let out a sigh. “Bryan, I need to talk to you. Do you remember the other day, when you came home and Mr. MacKade was here?”
“Sure.”
“He’s a lawyer, and he came here on business.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.” She turned him so that they were face-to-face. “We’re not in trouble. We’re fine. He came about… My father died, Bryan.”
“Oh.” He felt nothing but mild surprise himself. He’d never met his grandfather, knew of him only because his mother had explained that Jim Morningstar was a rodeo rider who moved around a lot. “I guess he was pretty old.”
“Yeah.” Fifty? she wondered. Sixty? She didn’t have a clue. “I never really explained things to you, exactly.Your grandfather and I had a fight a long time ago, and I left home.”
How could she tell this child, her beautiful child, that he’d been the cause of it? No, that she wouldn’t do. That she would never do.
“Anyway, I left, and we sort of lost touch.”
“How did Mr. MacKade know he was dead? Did he know him?”
“No, it’s a lawyer thing. Your grandfather got hurt, and it started him thinking, I guess. He hired this lawyer out in Oklahoma to find us, and the lawyer called Mr. MacKade. It all took a while, then Mr. MacKade came out to tell me. And to let me know that your grandfather left some money.”
“Wow, really?”
“It’s about seven thousand—”
“Dollars?” Bryan finished for her, eyes popping. It was all the money in the world. Enough for a new bike, a new mitt, the Cal Ripkin rookie baseball card he lusted for. “We get to keep it? Just like that?”
“I have to sign some papers.”
The dollar signs faded from his eyes long enough for Bryan to read his mother’s face. “How come you don’t want it?”
“I… Oh, Bryan.” Defeated, she curled up her legs and rested her brow on them. “I don’t know how to explain it to you. I’ve been so mad at him all these years. Now I’m mad at him for waiting until he was dead.”
Bryan patted her head and thought it over. “Is it like him saying he’s sorry? And if you take it you’d be saying you were sorry, too?”
She let out a half laugh at the simplicity of it. “Why couldn’t I have thought of that?” Wearily she lifted her head, studied his face. “You think we should take it.”
“I guess we don’t need to.” He watched Cal Ripkin fly gracefully away. “I mean, you’ve got your job, and we’ve got a house now.”
“No,” she murmured. “We don’t need to.” She felt the weight slip from her shoulders. They didn’t need to, and that was
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