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Chapter Thirty Eight

Blanche met us halfway to pick up Krista. Few words were exchanged, except for Krista's subborn declaration that the whole thing had been her idea. Blanche and dad exchanged a few, what looked like heated, words. Joe had been reduced to cross-armed silence. His eyes were red; every so often he'd duck his face down. I had seen many faces of Joe, but sad was something I rarely saw.

"It's going to be okay," I whispered right before dad got the car. I put my hand on his shoulder; for once, he didn't try to shrug it off.

I was dying to know what dad and him had said when I had gotten distracted by Brenna. I didn't dare ask while waiting for dad. Brenna was chattering a mile a minute. I also didn't dare ask when dad got in the car.

So instead of asking, I just started to fidget in my seat. The toll of the day had worn on me. I had given up the front seat for Joe. I purposely nuzzled my head next to Bren's and somehow I fell asleep with my neck against the hard plastic of the booster.

Dad must have carried me inside and taken off my hearing devices because the next time I awoke I was in the guest room at Shelby's. The last few rays of sun told me it was evening. I reached for my implants in the little tray on the nightstand. It took a few seconds, but my ears finally honed in on the sound of intense conversation in the living room. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and went to see if I would be granted entry into the discussion.

Shelby, Mason, mom, dad, and Joe were sitting in the living room. Shel and Mason were clutching hot cups of coffee. Mom ran her fingers along the sweat that had beaded up on her glass of ice tea. Shel was the first one to notice my arrival.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I replied. I thought for a second about bringing up the fact that she was wearing sunglasses in the house, but again, I kept quiet. Her and her husband were obviously still nursing hangovers.

Mom was the next to acknowledge me. She patted the cushion next to her on the couch. I gratefully sank down next to her, inhaling the familiar aroma of mom-ness. Often I wondered what my biological mother had smelled like; I didn't know whether that made me greedy or not. I chose not to dwell on that at the exact moment, especially when mom wrapped her arm around me.

Dad addressed me next. He glanced at Joe and then at me, his brown eyes thoughtful.

"When we get home, I need to give each of you something."

Joe didn't answer. He hadn't looked up; his eyes burned into the carpet. I looked at mom; her face gave nothing away.

"What is it?" I asked.

Dad let out a sigh that held a lot more emotion than I expected.

"Hopefully something that will help ease part of these horrible teen years," he admitted. "You need something that I can't give you. Something I think you've always wanted."

His message was too cryptic for me to understand. I looked at mom, but she didn't seem to be willing to give any answers. Shel was hidden behind her glasses. Mason leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"I know this summer didn't work out like anyone planned," Mason said. His normally smooth voice seemed hoarse. "But I hope you two won't consider it a wasted summer."

Joe didn't answer. Mason slid his own pair of sunglasses down his nose and looked at me. My stomach did a flip-flop. It was only the first week of July and it seemed like summer had stretched on forever. I thought about the teen home, Cole, Krista, the horses, Addy's pregnancy fiasco, my own breakdown, and Joe's attitude and subsequent attempted flight. Had it all really happened in a month? Had I really wasted the time?

No, I thought to myself. It wasn't wasted. Even though we all couldn't see it then, I was pretty sure each and every one of us had grown in our own way. I exhaled loudly.

"I'll never forget this summer," I said. "I mean that in a good way. And a bittersweet way."

"One things for certain," Shel croaked. "Life in the McLean / Richardson clan is never dull."

Dad gave his eldest daughter a warm, loving smile. "You've got that right Shel-ster." He turned to Joe. I watched as he leaned over and placed a hand on my brother's knee.

"Let's go for a walk," dad said gently.

I was prepared, as I think we all were, for a Joe blow-up. At least a 'fuck-off' or just ignoring the command completely. Instead Joe nodded, hardly perceptible, but a nod nonetheless, and stood up. Dad put an arm around Joe's shoulder, something I hadn't seen him do in a long time.

"We'll be back," he promised.

Everyone was quiet until we heard the kitchen screen door open and close. I looked at mom.

"Do you know what happened between them?" I asked. A small smile played out on mom's lips.

"The two most stubborn men in our family came to a crossroads," she said. "I don't know all the details, but somewhere between Joe tackling your father and your father realizing that he was dealing with his mirror image, I think they've found a place where they can begin to figure out how to get their relationship back on the right track." "Joe used to idolize him," I said, thinking back to a time more than a decade ago when Joe was our dad's shadow.

"It's the old self-fulfilling prophecy thing," Shel added. I looked at her in confusion. She shrugged.

"Dad's always been scared that his relationship with Joe would turn out like the relationship with his own dad was," she elaborated.

"How do you know that?" I asked.

Shel smiled. "Old ice cream dates at two a.m."

A rare emotion bubbled in my gut. Jealously. After Shelby had left, dad never bothered sharing ice cream dates with me. He had never confided his fear. Did he think I couldn't handle it?

"Aw, Al, don't look like that," Shel begged. "All of us know you've always been the sensitive one of the bunch. Dad didn't want you to carry more than you already do on those skinny shoulders."

"I care because every single one of you is a piece of me. If one of you goes away, I'm an incomplete puzzle," I said. I knew I was whining. I didn't care. "Part of caring is sharing."

It was corny. Hell yes it was. But it was true. Mom squeezed me to her.

"I think we could all do more sharing," mom agreed.

"But it's not too late."