“I doubt your hands have had any rest lately.”
“Not a lot, but what they’ve been doing is a lot more fun.”
“Seriously, bro. Ashley’s great. I love her.”
Dale reddens slightly. My big brother is happy, and deservedly so.
“So…” I begin. “I’ll repeat myself. Spill it.”
He draws in a breath. “Okay. But this goes no further than you. Got it?”
“Got it.” I take a bite of burger and chew.
And Dale starts talking.
And with each word, my jaw drops farther.
“What do you mean Uncle Ry has a different mother? How does that even happen?”
“Dad didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push because I had other things on my mind at the time.”
“Yeah, I know. The fire. Ashley.”
“To name two.”
“I think we need to talk to Dad. Get some real answers.”
“I agree,” Dale says. “But Dad and his siblings kept all this shit secret for a reason. What would it do to Ava and Gina to know they’re not our full cousins?”
“I don’t know. We got over it. We’re not their cousins at all. Biologically, that is.”
“But we’ve always known that. What if we didn’t? What if we just found out now? As adults?”
“I don’t know. Would it matter?”
“Yeah, it would matter. It’d be like finding out you’re not who you think you are. I don’t want to do that to them.”
“Do you think Aunt Ruby knows?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. Dad and I didn’t get very far with the talk. Dennis had his stroke in the middle of our conversation.”
“So that’s where you disappeared to that night.”
“You actually noticed? You sure seemed busy with Callie Pike.”
“We were hanging out, that’s all. Nothing happened.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Good, because before I tell you about Callie—and there’s precious little to tell—I want the rest of what you know.”
He takes a bite of his cheeseburger, chews achingly slowly, and finally swallows. “The next part is tough, but when you find out, it’ll make a lot of sense.”
“Okay… Freaking out a little here.”
He clears his throat, eyeing the burger on his plate.
“No, no, no. Not another bite until you fess up.”
He sighs. “All right. It’s not like you and I ever talk about…it.”
It. No, we never talk about it. I’ve done my best for the last two decades to forget it ever happened.
“No, we don’t. But why does that have—” I drop my mouth open. “Oh, God…”
“Yeah. Dad had a similar experience when he was young. My age, actually. He was ten.”
“And Uncle Ry was my age. Seven.”
Dale nods. “Except Uncle Ry got away. Apparently he and Dad were attacked, but Uncle Ryan somehow escaped. Dad thought it was because he kicked the guy holding Uncle Ry and then he told him to run.”
“You would have done the same thing for me.”
“I would have, if I’d had the chance. But it turns out Dad didn’t do anything. Uncle Ry was never meant to be taken because of who he was.”
I go numb. Seriously. I want to say something—I’m not even sure what—but my throat closes. My tongue goes limp.
“Whoever his real mother is was behind it all.”
“Is she still alive?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Why the hell not?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t really explain. I was going through some shit right after Ash and I got married.”
I nod. When Dale says he’s going through some shit, we both know what that means. He had it a lot worse than I did during that time. He protected me as much as he could. He wasn’t always successful, but he was more than not. I owe him everything. I’m not sure I could have taken what he took. I’d be dead now. He was older, stronger, tougher.
He still is.
“I understand,” I say. “But we do need to figure this out. Grandpa had an affair with the Madigan chick. That’s got to be Ryan’s mother, right? She’s probably behind that quitclaim deed. She wanted everything to go to her kid instead of all of them.”
“They—Dad and the others—don’t talk about their father. Ever.”
“Then we ask, Dale. He’s our grandfather. We have the right to know.”
“Sometimes, ignorance is bliss,” Dale says, staring down at his half-eaten burger.
“Bull. Facts are important. Every single fact.”
“In your line of work, yes, they are.”
“I’m not talking about my line of work,” I say. “I’m talking about life. Knowledge is power, Dale. Ignorance is lack of power, not bliss.”
“I get that you believe that,” Dale says.
“So do you, in your heart. What’s eating you? I know you’re still upset about the fire, about the vines, but—”
“This has nothing to do with that.”
“Right. Those vines meant everything to you.”
“They did. They do. But Ashley means more. You mean more. The family means more. I’ve always known that, in the back of my mind. I understand why you think it’s about the vines, but it’s not.”
“What is it, then?”
“All I can say is that I was going through some shit.”