could snatch it back. Not that it mattered. God had probably tuned her out by now, anyway.
Stepping into the room, she set the tray on top of the dresser across from the foot of the bed. After putting a muffin she didn’t want on a plate, she picked up a glass of milk and sat in the upholstered chair beside the door. From there she had a good view of Brian’s stony profile.
“Help yourself to a muffin. They just came out of the oven.”
He didn’t respond as she put her milk on the small skirted table beside her.
A full minute ticked by in silence.
Finally, willing her voice to remain steady, she followed her instincts and went with the direct approach. “You know, I thought you were growing up. But refusing to talk to someone is pretty immature.”
He didn’t move a muscle as she broke off a piece of muffin. Put it in her mouth. Chewed.
It tasted like sawdust.
Just when she thought he was going to ignore her, he turned his head and gave her an accusatory look. “You don’t talk to Grandpa.”
Blindsided by his comeback, she fumbled for her milk andtook a swig, trying to dislodge the muffin that had stuck halfway down her throat.
“That’s different.” It was a lame response, and she knew it.
The slight curl of Brian’s lips before he refocused on the ceiling told her he did, too. “Right.”
Trying to regain her footing, Heather squeezed a piece of the muffin into a hard, doughy ball. It felt like the lump in her stomach.
How had he managed to turn her words around on her? Refusing to talk to someone was immature—unless there were good reasons. And she had plenty of those when it came to her father. Brian’s refusal to talk to her, on the other hand, was based on guilt by association. He was mad at his mom for sending him to Nantucket, and Heather was her ally. The situations were completely different.
Weren’t they?
Of course they were, she assured herself.
But his comment did give her the opening she needed to try the empathy tactic she and J.C. had discussed.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your grandfather and me.” Somehow, despite her nervousness, she managed to maintain an even, conversational tone.
He didn’t say anything, but he did give her a wary look.
“When I was fourteen, my mom and dad split, just like yours did. Not only that, but Mom and I moved here, which turned my whole world upside down. I left behind the house I’d always lived in, all my friends and all the places I liked to hang out. I felt like my whole life was out of control, and I was very angry.”
She set the glass back on the table. “My dad did what your dad has done many times. He broke his vow to remain true to his wife. That changed my life forever. Thanks to him, I ended up here, away from everything I knew.”
“But you like it here.”
That was true, Heather acknowledged. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Now. But that was beside the point. “I didn’t in the beginning. The thing is, Brian, it’s normal to be mad when people disrupt your life. I know exactly how you feel, because I’ve been there.”
“Then how come Mom doesn’t get it? Grandpa’s her dad, too. I don’t think she ever felt this way.”
“She was already away at college, creating her own life apart from the family, when everything fell apart. So the breakup didn’t affect her as much.”
He shifted onto his side, propped his elbow on the pillow and rested his head in his hand, a frown creasing his brow. “I guess I should be mad at Dad, like you are at Grandpa. But I don’t want to be mad at him. He’s always been a good father, you know?”
Yes, she did. Walter Anderson had been a good father, too. Unlike a lot of dads, whose business commitments seemed to take precedence over family, he’d always been there for the events in the lives of his daughters. School plays, soccer games, piano recitals. Even report card conferences. He’d never failed to show up.
All at once, a long-buried
Stepping into the room, she set the tray on top of the dresser across from the foot of the bed. After putting a muffin she didn’t want on a plate, she picked up a glass of milk and sat in the upholstered chair beside the door. From there she had a good view of Brian’s stony profile.
“Help yourself to a muffin. They just came out of the oven.”
He didn’t respond as she put her milk on the small skirted table beside her.
A full minute ticked by in silence.
Finally, willing her voice to remain steady, she followed her instincts and went with the direct approach. “You know, I thought you were growing up. But refusing to talk to someone is pretty immature.”
He didn’t move a muscle as she broke off a piece of muffin. Put it in her mouth. Chewed.
It tasted like sawdust.
Just when she thought he was going to ignore her, he turned his head and gave her an accusatory look. “You don’t talk to Grandpa.”
Blindsided by his comeback, she fumbled for her milk andtook a swig, trying to dislodge the muffin that had stuck halfway down her throat.
“That’s different.” It was a lame response, and she knew it.
The slight curl of Brian’s lips before he refocused on the ceiling told her he did, too. “Right.”
Trying to regain her footing, Heather squeezed a piece of the muffin into a hard, doughy ball. It felt like the lump in her stomach.
How had he managed to turn her words around on her? Refusing to talk to someone was immature—unless there were good reasons. And she had plenty of those when it came to her father. Brian’s refusal to talk to her, on the other hand, was based on guilt by association. He was mad at his mom for sending him to Nantucket, and Heather was her ally. The situations were completely different.
Weren’t they?
Of course they were, she assured herself.
But his comment did give her the opening she needed to try the empathy tactic she and J.C. had discussed.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your grandfather and me.” Somehow, despite her nervousness, she managed to maintain an even, conversational tone.
He didn’t say anything, but he did give her a wary look.
“When I was fourteen, my mom and dad split, just like yours did. Not only that, but Mom and I moved here, which turned my whole world upside down. I left behind the house I’d always lived in, all my friends and all the places I liked to hang out. I felt like my whole life was out of control, and I was very angry.”
She set the glass back on the table. “My dad did what your dad has done many times. He broke his vow to remain true to his wife. That changed my life forever. Thanks to him, I ended up here, away from everything I knew.”
“But you like it here.”
That was true, Heather acknowledged. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Now. But that was beside the point. “I didn’t in the beginning. The thing is, Brian, it’s normal to be mad when people disrupt your life. I know exactly how you feel, because I’ve been there.”
“Then how come Mom doesn’t get it? Grandpa’s her dad, too. I don’t think she ever felt this way.”
“She was already away at college, creating her own life apart from the family, when everything fell apart. So the breakup didn’t affect her as much.”
He shifted onto his side, propped his elbow on the pillow and rested his head in his hand, a frown creasing his brow. “I guess I should be mad at Dad, like you are at Grandpa. But I don’t want to be mad at him. He’s always been a good father, you know?”
Yes, she did. Walter Anderson had been a good father, too. Unlike a lot of dads, whose business commitments seemed to take precedence over family, he’d always been there for the events in the lives of his daughters. School plays, soccer games, piano recitals. Even report card conferences. He’d never failed to show up.
All at once, a long-buried
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