A Little Learning by Margot Early Page B

said. “I’m...angry about the way Janine died. I’d prefer not to share that anger with them.”
    Oh.
    Rory considered this. Couldn’t he spend time with his kids without Janine’s death coming into it?
    Maybe not. Maybe that would be difficult to avoid, indeed. Because it wasn’t necessarily the kind of thing people were supposed to avoid.
    “I lost it with Lauren last week,” he admitted. “I said too much.”
    “That must be difficult to keep from doing,” Rory reflected. “I have that problem in everyday life—without big issues at stake.” And Lauren, Rory reflected, considered her mother to be a heroine. A role model.
    It was possible that Seamus actually hated Janine. For buying a gun and then dying because of it.
    “Wow,” she said, as much to herself as to him. “This seems like a big issue. Really big. But Seamus, your kids need you.” The answer came to her even as she spoke. “They need to be with you more than they need not to see you angry with their mother. Maybe they’ll be mad at you for not loving her or supporting her memory the way they think you should. But they’ll be more angry—or something worse than angry—if you avoid them, rather than lose your temper in front of them.
    “It’s kind of like my situation, I think. My mom was being unfaithful to my dad when she died, and I think that’s part of why he’s never had much to do with me. It’s not...adult...to act that way.” One of her hands flew from the steering wheel to cover her mouth. Had she really said that about her father? Had she said that his reaction to her mother’s death—his treatment of her, his daughter—was immature? “I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what I mean. These aren’t easy things.”
    But Seamus was thinking about what she said. “You think I should just risk it.”
    “Well, you’ve got to talk to other adults, someone, about how you feel. Then, maybe you won’t need to talk to your kids about it. I mean, if I were a parent and my spouse bought a handgun, I would be frightened. I would be mad at him for making a unilateral decision. I think lots of people would probably feel the way you do. Have you ever talked to anyone about that?”
    “You mean a counselor? Yes. For quite some time. But I’m still angry, and I’m still not willing to go through the motions with my children, pretending that I think their mom was a great person. She was insecure and stubborn and seemed to have a native inability to listen. It makes me sick that Lauren sees her as the patron saint of all things wise and strong.”
    It was the first time Rory had heard venom in his voice. They’d reached his house, and now she slowed in front.
    “Wouldn’t you like me to help you carry everything into your house?” he asked.
    “I can manage.”
    “Did you find the python?”
    “Actually, no.”
    “So it’s not really safe for you to be there alone.”
    Rory shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. The chance of Lola reappearing and getting aggressive with me is slight.”
    “But such things do happen,” he pointed out.
    “I wish she would turn up,” Rory admitted. “Look, I have your number. I’ll call if there’s a problem. Samantha and Desert will be home in a few hours.”
    Seamus reluctantly headed up the walk, just as his SUV pulled up to the curb behind Rory’s car. Fiona was back with the children.
    Rory drove away, her mind on Seamus, on her initial prejudice against him, and on what really lay beneath his distance from his children. The problem was not what she’d imagined. She respected his wish not to criticize Janine in front of his children, but in his voice this evening she’d heard something close to hatred. His fear did not seem unreasonable to her. His feelings on the subject were neither mutable nor casual.
    She let herself in the back door of the pink house and switched on the mudroom light, then carried her gear inside and looked around.
    Lola was curled on top of the