The Good Father

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

HE STOOD NAKED and let the water sluice over him. Eyes closed, arms raised with his hands splayed above him on the porcelain tile in his hotel room, Brett dropped his chin to his chest. Monday morning after the longest weekend of his life and he wasn’t ready to face the week ahead. Water pressure that was fine for cleansing, wasn’t strong enough to wash away the tension knotting the muscles along the back of his neck.

He knew how to stay in control. Of himself and of his life. He had his rules clearly established. When emotion threatened to get the better of him, he headed for a hot shower. A completely private and personal relaxation that would allow his emotion to dissipate without hurting anyone else.

The water swirled down the drain. But it didn’t take his emotions with it.

He stood there anyway. Planned to let the hot water run out and then to remain in the cold for as long as he could take it.

Anything to ease the tension.

Maybe if he’d been home, in his own shower, his own space, he would have found some peace. He’d shaped his life, made his choices, so that he had a place he could always return to when he needed to find calm.

His phone rang. Brett wanted to let it ring. To stay right where he was and give every drop of that water a chance to help him feel better.

But Ella was pregnant. And Jeff was in therapy. And they both might need him.

His phone was always ringing. Because he’d given his life to the outside world, rather than creating one in his own space. Another conscious decision.

He stood with droplets running down his body, a towel held to his front side, when he saw the name on his caller ID.

“Hello.”

He prepared himself for a cryptic message. Followed by a hang-up.

An important message. But one he could get from the voice mail she’d leave if he let the phone ring.

“How are you?”

Trembling, Brett almost dropped the phone. Almost fifteen years he’d waited.

And on a normal day, out of the blue...

I’m fine, Ma. How are you? The millions of words he wanted to say were there, but none of them came.

With the silence hanging on the line, he pulled on his robe. Avoiding looking at himself in the mirror as he left the bathroom part of his suite.

“Ella’s pregnant.” He finally said what mattered most and choked up.

He was ashamed. She’d told him to let Ella go.

“I know. You’re going to see the announcement in this morning’s High Risk report. She sent in a notice by email early this morning. She’ll be taking a leave from the team after the baby is born.”

His mother’s voice. Speaking a full sentence to him. He’d begun to think he’d never hear that sound again. Tears filled his eyes, and he felt like a fool.

“It’s mine.”

“I wondered.”

He stood at the French doors in his room, looking out at the artificially lit garden beyond his balcony. The sun had not yet risen. “It was one night,” he said, his hand squeezing the back of his neck. “Jeff is having anger issues. You know Chloe, the cook at the Stand. She’s his wife. She left him until he gets help.”

She’d have seen all the paperwork regarding Chloe. Approved everything on his behalf.

It was all so damned complicated.

“I didn’t believe Ella at first when she told me how Jeff had been treating Chloe. Ella asked me to look into it. We ended up spending a weekend at a cabin on the lake, all four of us. It seemed like Chloe and Jeff were going to be fine. I drank more than normal. Left the cabin. Was going to spend the night outside by myself. Then Ella came out.”

“You loved her once.”