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We walked back to the parking lot, and my nephews begged to ride with me. At first, Damon seemed unsure, but he eventually agreed and put Trent’s car seat in the back.
I thought about Ella and Greg for the next ten minutes on the way to the house. Today was the day I hadn’t been able to save him.
Ten minutes later, we all walked into the house. I tried to focus on the present, on the activity happening around me. I’d always loved Sunday dinners growing up; my mom always went all out.
Kayla bustled around with an apron on, putting different things on the table. She paused next to me. “You okay today?” she whispered.
“Fine.” I eyed her. Maybe she realized what today was. I wasn’t sure, but she didn’t have the same demanding edge that she’d had yesterday.
My father was sitting in the recliner, reading the paper.
I walked over and sat next to him, trying to act normal. “How are you feeling today, Dad?”
He lowered the paper, peering at me over the rims of his glasses. “Tired of people asking me how I’m feeling.”
Ouch. I put my hands up. “Sorry.”
After a few seconds of trying to read again, he folded up the paper and set it aside. “I’m glad you decided you could spare some of your very important time for your old man because I had a heart attack.”
I blinked at his brash tone. “Uh. I guess I don’t know what to say.”
His face hardened, and he started rocking in the recliner hard enough to make it rattle. “Say that it takes a heart attack for you to come home for more than a day. Say that you think it’s okay to shut your family out—well, except for Christmastime when you bequeath your presence on us. A time when I can’t be angry at you because it wouldn’t be Christian to do so.”
“I wasn’t trying to bequeath anything on you.”
Silence reigned for a few seconds, and I was grateful that my siblings and nephews weren’t paying attention.
Finally, I said, “I’m home this week, Dad. What can I do to help you?”
He let out a long breath, studying me. “Do you really want to help me this week, son?”
“Time to eat,” Kayla called out from the kitchen.
I kept my gaze on my father. “I do. Just tell me what you need.”
My dad stood, then snorted. “I’ll have to think about it.”
That was weird. I felt like he was using my guilty conscience as a way to leash me. It wasn’t like my father. “Okay,” I said, downplaying it with a shrug.
At the table, Jason pointed to a chair between him and Trent. “Sit here, Uncle Noah.”
Happy for a distraction, I teased the boys as I sat, trying to pretend I was okay. How long could I keep the same old sadness about Greg and Ella at bay? Now there was this niggling annoyance about why Clint Long had been talking to Ella, too. Ugh. Plus, I had to deal with my father needing help but not telling me what he wanted me to do.
Everything was harder today because I was back home in Refuge Falls. I’d just seen Ella for the first time in years, and I hadn’t been prepared for the deep sadness in those blue eyes. I had to wonder why she was divorced, who else was trying to date her, and why she cared how long I was staying.
Kayla eyed me. “How was church?”
“Good.” I wasn’t about to go into detail.
Across from me, Canyon grabbed one of the rolls and shoved it in his mouth. “Noah didn’t even sit through Pastor Jones’s whole sermon.”
“Don’t rat me out.”
Mom gave me a pensive look. “You did leave early.” But she was distracted by Canyon stuffing his face full of food. She smacked him over the head. “No eating before grace. Or you do dishes by yourself.”
Canyon pried the food out and mashed the chomped bite into his plate. “Sorry.”
Damon, who was sitting on Canyon’s other side, cocked his eyebrow at me. We both grinned at Canyon’s antics; he’d never been able to wait for his food.
