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“It’s been hours for me, that’s for sure,” Dad said when no one else spoke. “How about we all three have a good lunch before anything else happens? We don’t even have to talk, let’s just all eat something.”
“Spoken like a true Pearce,” Michael said. “If we like anything, it’s food. You’d think we were Italian or something, but we’re not. Hell, I don’t even know what we are.”
“You got some Irish in you, boy. Probably why we can all hold our liquor.”
Michael laughed, and even Josiah’s lips twitched. “How about we do a fridge clean-out? Josiah, you do what you need to do, and I’ll see about lunch for us all.”
“Okay.” Josiah stood and headed directly for the downstairs bathroom.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Michael went to stand by Dad’s bed. “I need you to be honest with me, old man, and tell me if you’re still comfortable with him being your caretaker while I’m at work.”
“I am.” Dad didn’t hesitate for a second. “He’s a good kid, and I think he’s just hitting a rough patch. And I’m on board with him living in the trailer for a while if that’s what he needs. We don’t talk about a lot of personal stuff, but I like him. He, uh, he’s a good listener, especially when an old man starts to ramble about his life.”
Michael wanted to say he’d listen to Dad ramble in the evenings, but they rarely had any serious conversations. The past, especially, was still too painful. Maybe, though, they could make some new, less painful memories now. “Well, I’ll go figure out lunch. And I need to call Brand. Let him know I’m coming back in a bit.”
“You do that.”
In the kitchen, Michael made the call.
“Hey, is everything okay at home?” Brand asked. Wind blew over the microphone, so he was outside somewhere on the ranch.
“Yeah, we’re all okay. Josiah is having a minor personal crisis, but I think it’ll be fine. He just...” It wasn’t really Michael’s gossip to spread, so he stayed vague. “He needed some reassurance. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
“You can take the afternoon if you think you need it, Michael.”
“I appreciate that.” He also got the feeling Josiah wouldn’t like Michael hovering or treating him like a fragile flower that would crumble at any moment. “But we’re good here. I’ll be back.”
“See you then. And if there’s anything my family can do for whatever’s going on, let me know.”
“I will, boss. See you in a bit.”
Michael set about pulling various containers out of the fridge and arranging them on the counter. They had bits and bobs of different lunch and dinner meals from the last few days, and while nothing really made sense, they had a lot to choose from. He put a plate together for Dad and stuck it in the microwave to reheat.
By the time he had the food and a drink on Dad’s rolling table, Josiah returned from the bathroom. His face was red and his bangs damp, suggesting he’d washed his face. He immediately took over helping Dad with his fork. Learning how to eat hot food left-handed wasn’t something Michael ever wanted to try, thank you very much.
“If you want to eat, I can do this,” Michael said gently.
“It’s fine. I’ll eat when Elmer is finished,” Josiah replied, his tone more clipped than before. “You eat. You’ve got to get back to work.”
Michael glanced at Dad, who shrugged with his eyebrows while trying to spear a piece of pasta. Okay then. With orders to eat, Michael scraped out the last of the leftover noodle bake, some steamed vegetables, and a final scoop of mashed potatoes. Heated them up and ate alone at the kitchen counter, not wanting to disrupt whatever lunchtime routine Dad and Josiah had created. Afternoon news still droned on in the background, because no one had changed the TV channel, and Michael blocked it out. He couldn’t deal with the real world right now.
He ate slowly and still had a few bites left when Josiah came in with Dad’s plate. Josiah rinsed and washed everything, then placed them in the dish drainer to dry. He made his own plate and popped it into the microwave, but seemed to make a point about rinsing and washing empty bowls, before nuking his own lunch. The guy didn’t have to impress Michael; Dad liked Josiah and that worked for Michael.
For now.
“You never answered me before,” Michael whispered once Josiah took his steaming plate out of the microwave.
Josiah put his plate on the counter and sat with a stool between them, so stiff Michael half expected the guy to snap a limb or something. “About what?”
“When was the last time you ate?”
Several long seconds passed. “Yesterday at lunch. I didn’t want to eat your father’s food for dinner last night, and when I got home...dinner was over.”
“Because of that thing you were late for?”
“Pretty much. And I don’t want to talk about it. I appreciate the lead on a place to stay, but we aren’t friends, Mr. Pearce.”
Ouch. “Okay. I don’t wanna pry into your personal life. Just to offer help if you need it. As a friend. I’ve taken a few licks recently, so I know how it feels to struggle. And how it feels to chafe when it comes to asking for help.”
