to close behind them before he looked at his brother again.
Mason raised a curious eyebrow, and Nathan ignored it. He walked in the opposite
direction Janelle and her father had just gone, and Mason slowly followed.
“Lover’s spat?” Mason asked, his voice laced with humor.
“Shut up,” Nathan muttered in response as they continued past the desks and toward
the front door. Mason was kind enough to hold his tongue until they were outside,
where he promptly chuckled out loud. Nathan rolled his eyes and clenched his fists
beside him, failing to see what was so funny.
“How do you not know what happened at the funeral? Have you not spoken to her since
then?” Mason rested his hips against the wall in front of the building.
“No, I haven’t talked to her in a week,” Nathan confessed.
“Really? Still pissed that she didn’t tell you about your daughter?” All signs of
Mason’s professionalism had disappeared, leaving the annoying brother persona behind.
Nathan shook his head. He’d gotten over that fairly quickly. At least he thought
he had—he hadn’t had the chance to hash it out with Janelle, so he couldn’t be completely
sure.
“Look, if you’d seen what we witnessed at the funeral, you’d probably understand
a little better why she stayed with him and kept your daughter from you,” Mason said,
all lightness and joviality leaving his voice and face.
“What happened?” Nathan asked.
Mason told him everything.
Nathan wasn’t surprised to hear about Martha’s reaction. She’d always been slightly
less offensive than her big brother, but just as irritating. Gladys assaulting Janelle
so publicly didn’t sit well with Nathan, but he could forgive her a little. She was,
after all, there to bury her only son.
Hearing about Mary’s reaction, however, had Nathan seeing red. He kept his comments
to himself and let Mason wind down his recollection.
“How could she do that to her own daughter?” Mason mused, almost to himself, and
Nathan could imagine him talking to his wife, Charlotte, about it. “I mean, the asshole
kidnapped her grandson, shot and nearly killed her daughter, and she still comes
to his defense over that of her own children.”
“That’s just the way she is,” Nathan replied.
He was just as baffled by Mary as his brother was. He knew that Mary had refused
to have meals at Janelle’s house if she’d known in advance that Nathan would be there.
Christmas dinner had been tense while the children had been at the table; the comments
from Mary had poorly veiled her hostility toward Nathan, and to a lesser degree Kelsey
and Janelle.
Nathan had been confused and asked Janelle about it after Mary and George left shortly
after the kids had gone to bed. Janelle’s explanation was simply to shrug it off
as normal, as something she and Kelsey tended to ignore.
“So, if it’s not because of your daughter, why are you not speaking to Janelle?”
Mason’s seriousness took Nathan aback.
Nathan looked at his brother, saw the concern in his eyes and tried to smile. “Buy
me lunch, and I’ll tell you all about my meeting with Captain Little.”
Eight
Janelle sat in the hard chair beside her father, waiting for the investigators to
join them, trying not to think about Nathan’s behavior in the hallway. Her heart
had raced ahead when she came around the corner and recognized his dark hair and
broad shoulders. It had taken a control she hadn’t thought she still possessed to
keep her pace slow and deliberate as she approached him and Mason. And then to have
him ignore her attempt at conversation had brought her joy crashing down. It had
been a week since she’d had a conversation with him; she couldn’t really count what
happened in the hall as a conversation. His aloofness had nearly brought her to tears.
He obviously wanted nothing to do with her, not that she could blame him. She had
known what she was doing when she’d denied, repeatedly, that she was pregnant with
his
Mason raised a curious eyebrow, and Nathan ignored it. He walked in the opposite
direction Janelle and her father had just gone, and Mason slowly followed.
“Lover’s spat?” Mason asked, his voice laced with humor.
“Shut up,” Nathan muttered in response as they continued past the desks and toward
the front door. Mason was kind enough to hold his tongue until they were outside,
where he promptly chuckled out loud. Nathan rolled his eyes and clenched his fists
beside him, failing to see what was so funny.
“How do you not know what happened at the funeral? Have you not spoken to her since
then?” Mason rested his hips against the wall in front of the building.
“No, I haven’t talked to her in a week,” Nathan confessed.
“Really? Still pissed that she didn’t tell you about your daughter?” All signs of
Mason’s professionalism had disappeared, leaving the annoying brother persona behind.
Nathan shook his head. He’d gotten over that fairly quickly. At least he thought
he had—he hadn’t had the chance to hash it out with Janelle, so he couldn’t be completely
sure.
“Look, if you’d seen what we witnessed at the funeral, you’d probably understand
a little better why she stayed with him and kept your daughter from you,” Mason said,
all lightness and joviality leaving his voice and face.
“What happened?” Nathan asked.
Mason told him everything.
Nathan wasn’t surprised to hear about Martha’s reaction. She’d always been slightly
less offensive than her big brother, but just as irritating. Gladys assaulting Janelle
so publicly didn’t sit well with Nathan, but he could forgive her a little. She was,
after all, there to bury her only son.
Hearing about Mary’s reaction, however, had Nathan seeing red. He kept his comments
to himself and let Mason wind down his recollection.
“How could she do that to her own daughter?” Mason mused, almost to himself, and
Nathan could imagine him talking to his wife, Charlotte, about it. “I mean, the asshole
kidnapped her grandson, shot and nearly killed her daughter, and she still comes
to his defense over that of her own children.”
“That’s just the way she is,” Nathan replied.
He was just as baffled by Mary as his brother was. He knew that Mary had refused
to have meals at Janelle’s house if she’d known in advance that Nathan would be there.
Christmas dinner had been tense while the children had been at the table; the comments
from Mary had poorly veiled her hostility toward Nathan, and to a lesser degree Kelsey
and Janelle.
Nathan had been confused and asked Janelle about it after Mary and George left shortly
after the kids had gone to bed. Janelle’s explanation was simply to shrug it off
as normal, as something she and Kelsey tended to ignore.
“So, if it’s not because of your daughter, why are you not speaking to Janelle?”
Mason’s seriousness took Nathan aback.
Nathan looked at his brother, saw the concern in his eyes and tried to smile. “Buy
me lunch, and I’ll tell you all about my meeting with Captain Little.”
Eight
Janelle sat in the hard chair beside her father, waiting for the investigators to
join them, trying not to think about Nathan’s behavior in the hallway. Her heart
had raced ahead when she came around the corner and recognized his dark hair and
broad shoulders. It had taken a control she hadn’t thought she still possessed to
keep her pace slow and deliberate as she approached him and Mason. And then to have
him ignore her attempt at conversation had brought her joy crashing down. It had
been a week since she’d had a conversation with him; she couldn’t really count what
happened in the hall as a conversation. His aloofness had nearly brought her to tears.
He obviously wanted nothing to do with her, not that she could blame him. She had
known what she was doing when she’d denied, repeatedly, that she was pregnant with
his
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