In the Shadows

they woke up Charles . . .

“You can’t ask me to do this.”

Thom let out a relieved breath. Here was the domineer-

ing man he knew. Even though they’d never gotten along, Thom

realized he depended on the stability of his father’s power.

Heeled footsteps echoed off the marble floor of the office,

slow and uneven, as though the woman were walking around the

room, examining it. “Willingly give one, or be stripped of all. Your

decision. You agreed.”

When Thom’s father spoke again, he sounded as broken as

Thom had felt since Charles had gotten sick. “I’ll make the

arrangements.”

“There’s a good boy,” the woman said.

Thom barely made it around the corner before the office door

opened. Unsettled and unable to ask his father what the con-

versation had been about, Thomas dragged his own pillow into

Charles’s room and slept on the floor, counting Charles’s breaths

until he finally fell into sleep.

The next morning Thom awoke with a pounding headache to find

Charles leaning over the bed, grinning slyly at him.

“Had yourself a bit of a bash last night, I see.”

Thom groaned, swatting ineffectively at his brother. But

secretly he was thrilled, feeling lighter in spite of the pain. With

Charles awake and teasing, it was going to be a good day. A

hopeful day. “I heard some new ragtime,” he croaked. “I think I

remember enough to play it for you.”

“Boys,” their father interrupted from the doorway.

Charles raised an eyebrow quizzically, and Thom rubbed at

his own forehead, renewed unease washing over him. If his father

was here, that meant that last night hadn’t been a dream.