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“For being weak.”
“It’s not your fault you had a stroke. You’ve done everything you can to get better.”
“She knows that. She’s mad anyway. I always took care of her, and now she has to take care of me, and it pisses her off. It’s emotions, not logic. They aren’t the same thing.”
Caleb turned that over in his mind for a while. “She doesn’t have to do everything. I’m trying to help.”
“That makes her mad, too.”
“She doesn’t seem angry with me. Just … strange.” Disapproving. Manipulative.
“She wants you to have your own life. She doesn’t think you should have to be here living ours.”
Caleb finished his beer. “This is my life. It’s my responsibility. My choice.”
His father smiled, his dark eyes dancing beneath the brim of his hat. “I know that. She’ll come around eventually. Meantime, you can butt heads with her, or you can play along. Doesn’t matter which, she’s the same. Believe me, I’ve tried every possible approach over the years. Even took her on a cruise one year. She put on a bikini, laid herself down on a deck chair, and refused to speak to me the whole week.”
Caleb grinned despite himself. He could easily imagine his mother doing that. “Why do you put up with it?”
“I love her,” Derek said simply. “Always have. Always will. Besides, she’s not always so bad. She gets tetchy
around you kids. We have our fun when you’re not around.”
The way he said it … confident. It made something slot into place for Caleb. His parents didn’t need him to rescue them. The stroke had changed his father, but it hadn’t destroyed him. It hadn’t rendered him incapable of negotiating his own life, his own relationship with Mom.
Caleb had moved home to help. He had good hands and a strong back. That was all he owed them. It was all they needed from him. And any issues between himself and his mother were just that—issues between him and Mom. Old misunderstandings. Habits they’d figure out a way to break, with time.
Caleb handed his father the empty and waved off a third beer. Three bottles in twenty minutes, and he’d be liable to fall off the ladder and break his neck.
His father clapped him on the back. “You’re a good man, Caleb. You were a good kid and a good soldier, so it stands to reason. But you worry an awful lot. You can’t fix everybody’s problems. Nobody expects you to do that but you.”
He hung his head, disturbed to have his father’s approval when he was so far from deserving it. “The business is going under, Dad.”
Derek wrinkled his nose, then took another drink. “Nah. It might look that way, but you’ll figure something out. You always figure something out. It’s your specialty. And even if you don’t, what’s the worst thing that can happen? We own this pile of bricks. We’ve got a place to live. A family. We’ll work something out.”
He stood, polished off his beer, and tucked the empty in his bag. “I’d better get back to the apartment before your mother catches on I’m up here. You about done?”
Caleb looked at the row of skylights stretching out in front of him. “No.”
“Well, lunch is in an hour or so. Why don’t you see what you can get finished before then and let the rest of it go for today? It’s not like you’re ever going to be done caulking the goddamn skylights.”
Caleb smiled, grateful for his father. Grateful to feel like his son for a change, and to be able to let go of some of the pity he’d been carrying around.
Just before his red cap disappeared down the ladder, Derek paused and said, “I saw that woman in the paper, too. The one who was wearing your shirt. I figure she’s who’s got you looking like you just ate a bag of nails.”
Caleb didn’t answer.
“If I were you,” his dad said, “that’s the problem I’d be trying to fix.”
And then he was gone, and Caleb picked up the caulk gun and laid down a perfect bead along the seam of the skylight.
At least, with twenty years of practice, he could do that right.
Chapter Thirty
“Where’s Clark?” Jamie asked, wadding up a clean shirt and tossing it into his bag. Ellen took it back out and folded it before returning it to the top of the pile.
He’d come by to pack up some of his things for a longer stay in town. Carly wouldn’t be released for another day or two, and Isadora would need to remain in the NICU for at least a week, maybe longer, depending on how she did.
