Promises of Home by Jeff Abbott

Isn’t that enough?” He paused. “What about when you found out Bob Don was your daddy? Didn’t you want to know him better?”
    “Mark, that’s totally different.”
    “Maybe so. You had grown up with a father. I haven’t.” His voice was soft and bitter.
    “Then hop to it. You know he’s living at Dwight Kinnard’s—and old Dwight’s in the phone book. You could sneak over there. You just got to be prepared for the consequences.” I didn’t want to encourage him to disobey his mother, but I knew the idea had already entered Mark’s mind.
    “But I don’t want to go by myself. What if he doesn’t want to see me?” He looked at me with his father’s dark eyes and thin-lipped frown. “Do you think he wants to see me?”
    That was a question I’d sooner not answer. “If I take you to your daddy, your mother will skin my ass and make herself a wallet. And she’ll do the same to you.”
    “She doesn’t have to know. If you go with me, she won’t get mad at either of us.” I didn’t quite follow that logic.
    Mark explained, “She
can’t
stay angry. I’m her son and you’re her brother. She’d have to forgive us, right?”
    “Pardon my skepticism. I saw last night just how tightly she holds a grudge.”
    “Please, Uncle Jordy—you’ve known Daddy forever. Please go with me.”
    I closed my eyes. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get in the middle of this feud. Taking sides was increasingly hard. I couldn’t forgive Trey for what he’d done, but in the two times I’d seen him, I’d sensed—what? Remorse? Or something deeper that made me feel leaving his family hadn’t been a simple jaunt in the rodeo? Maybe his accident opened his eyes to what was important. And Sister, she had every right to be angry—but to forbid Mark to contact his father was as much a punishment of Mark as it was of Trey. If Mark wanted to speak to his father, how could I stand in his way? I would give anything to see my daddy, Lloyd, who had raised and shaped me. I couldn’t; he was long dead. Now Mark’s father had come back from his self-imposed exile. Was I going to be a bystander to Mark’s pain—or a good uncle?
    I got up and walked over to the phone before I could get all clever and analytical. I found Dwight Kinnard’s phone number in the book and dialed.
    Trey answered. “Hello?”
    “Hello, Trey, this is Jordan.” I saw the longing gleam in Mark’s eyes. “How are you feeling today?”
    A moment’s pause. “Fine. Your sister’s got a hell of a right cross. But I’ve been hurt worse.”
    And you’ve hurt others worse.
“Look, I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I’m going to put my balls on the line. Not for you, but for Mark. He would like to visit you.”
    I heard a hard, long intake of hopeful breath on the other end. “He does? Arlene won’t approve of that.”
    “Arlene doesn’t know, and she doesn’t have to find out until she’s calmed down. Do you want to see your son?”
If you say no, you son of a bitch, don’t ever speak to me again.
Mark hovered near me and I held my breath.
    “Yes, God, yes, Jordy, thank you. Thank you.” The happiness in his voice was nearly physical.
    “When would be a good time? I don’t think he’d feel comfortable around Nola and her son and her uncle.”
    “How about now? They’re all gone. Scott’s shooting baskets at that covered court over by the junior high. Dwight and Nola are running errands. Arlene’d be at her cafe, right?” Trey’s voice boomed with excitement.
    “Let me see if I can get a friend to sit with Mama. We can’t leave her alone, and I’m not taking her out in this weather. Give us a few minutes.”
    “Thanks, Jordy, God bless you. I knew you were still my friend.”
    I hung up without further comment. Mark watched me, expectation in his whole face.
    “Go get your jacket, and I’ll call Clo.”
    He dashed for the closet, but found time to give me a quick hug on the way.
    I’d been lucky—depending on