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He’d never seen Jenna’s house before. They always met in town because she said her house was too remote and her father didn’t like visitors. Maybe that was true. But as he drove Jenna and the ranting man in the backseat down a long dirt road that seemed to wind on forever, he realized that wasn’t the only reason. She’d been embarrassed. Or anxious about what her father would say or do.
He helped her wrangle Richard Scarlett into his bedroom, moving past enormous canvasses piled against walls and tarps covering hidden works-in-progress. The house was a converted barn, with high-raftered ceilings and a loft reachable by a ladder. Jenna had told him that her childhood bedroom was a loft, but he’d pictured something more spacious than a cramped dark space crammed up against the ceiling.
“Who’s that?” Richard demanded as he flopped onto his bed—handmade frame, exposed foam mattress. He pointed at Billy.
“That’s Billy. He’s my friend.” Jenna didn’t look at Billy as she found a comforter balled up on the floor and spread it over her father. “He’s helping us, so be nice to him.”
“You like him, don’t you? I can tell you like him. I want to paint him. Will you pose?” he asked Billy.
“Uh…” He stole a panicked glance at Jenna.
“We can talk about it tomorrow.” Jenna dug in his nightstand drawer for a bottle of aspirin, which she set on top of it.
“Pose for me. You want to be with my daughter? Pose for me.”
“I’ll do it,” Billy said quietly, feeling his face heat. He and Jenna had only gotten together about a month ago. But he was crazy infatuated with her, and she seemed to be just as wild for him.
“So you want to be with her.”
“Yeah.”
“There ya go.” He waved a hand at Jenna. “Doing my paternal duty. Now you know.”
Jenna’s face was pink with embarrassment. “Good night, Papa. I’ll bring you some water. Make sure you drink it in the morning.”
“Go. Get out.” He flopped an arm in her direction, then let it collapse onto the bed. Billy saw that his hands were covered in paint, mostly yellow and green.
“Should we stay?” he whispered to her once they were out of the bedroom.
“No. Believe me, you don’t want that. Hungover Papa is much worse than Drunk Papa. That’s what Annika always says.” The woeful expression on her face tore at his heart.
“Let’s go, then.” He held her hand tightly as they left the house. “Are you okay?” he asked as they settled back into his decrepit Sentra.
“Are you?” The question was a challenge, and when he turned to meet her gaze, he saw a deep gnawing fear that made him feel as if he was looking into his own soul.
“Do you think seeing your father like that changes anything for me?”
She chewed at the inside of her mouth. Everything about Jenna was so fresh and bright, like a daisy washed by rain. It killed him to see her so nervous. “Maybe,” she ventured. “I wouldn’t blame you. He does that every few months or so. The rest of the time, he barely looks up from his oil paints.”
“You don’t understand, Jenna. Take your father and multiply that by ten, then subtract the paints, and you have my mother.” His throat closed up around the words. He didn’t like talking about his mother because he still missed her, despite everything. He called her sometimes, and sent her money through Western Union whenever he had any extra. His brothers didn’t know.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He and Jenna gazed at each other in perfect mutual understanding. That helplessness, that clawing love combined with fear…she got it. She got all of it.
The next time they kissed, it was different. Deeper. More real. More…everything.
“How is he?” Billy asked Archie through the lump in his throat. “Jenna’s father.”
“I don’t see him much. You know how he is. The silent time, until he wants to drink wine and recite poetry. I’d go check on him but I don’t know where he lives.”
“Jenna probably keeps an eye on him.” She and Annika referred to him affectionately as “the Hermit” because he didn’t generally appreciate visitors.
“Not so much anymore. I guess he told her not to come around for a while so he could finish some masterpiece. Jenna told me all about it right after, asked me to let her know if he turns up. She’s such a doll, that one. Real sweetheart.”
Jenna hadn’t mentioned any of that to him. Why would she? They didn’t communicate about anything personal that didn’t involve the boys.
“Refill?” Archie asked.
