Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

“What the hell, Dad?”

He cuffs the back of my head lightly. “Watch your language.”

“You use worse when you work on the tractor.”

He lifts the brim of his hat and resettles it more comfortably. “That’s because I’m your father and can do what I want. Now, answer the damn question, Phineas.”

“Dad—Ouch! Stop!” I try to dodge the next swing of his hat, but it catches me across the ear anyway. “We aren’t doing...that. I swear!”

He frowns. “Is that normal? I mean, you’re both guys—”

“Oh my God, why are you asking me this?” I moan, wishing there was some kind of escape.

He humphs, but the hat returns to his head. “Well, whenever it happens, make sure you use protection. Safety first, that’s what all the sites say.”

“You haven’t been researching this, have you?”

“I guess I should tell you how relieved I am to know you aren’t going to be bringing home any little surprises anytime soon.” He raises his eyes toward the sky. “All those high school years spent worrying for no reason. Years off my life, Phineas.”

“Dad, I’m begging you. Please stop talking.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, holding up his hands. “Guess we should get started anyway.”

“What’s the plan?”

He points at the backup tractor. Well, what’s left of it, since its innards have been ripped out. Different parts are spread over an old canvas drop cloth on the ground and an ancient repair manual is held open with a box of spark plugs.

I stare at the disaster. “Wow, Dad, that’s... Wow.”

He stands back to watch while I wander the crime scene and tap the toe of my boot against different pieces. If we’re lucky, we might be able to get it back together today.

“Why are you doing this yourself?” I ask when I peer inside the empty cavity for a better idea of the problem. “Was Griff’s shop too busy to fit you in?”

My dad grunts, which I take as a yes. I frown when I notice the transmission box open and begin to poke around. “Want me to give Scotty a call? I bet if Mom promises to bake him some cookies he’d even come out here instead of making us haul this in to him.”

No response.

“Dad?” When it’s still silent, I straighten and glance behind me. “What’s going on?”

He glares at the ground while a frustrated scowl twists his mouth. I haven’t seen him this pissed since the Huskers buried the Hawkeyes. Before I can ask again, he rips the hat from his head in an abrupt motion and drags a hand through his hair. “We need to do the work ourselves.”

“Is this some kind of father-son bonding bullshit?” I joke, but he doesn’t smile.

Instead, he taps his hat against his thigh and replies, “Nah, Phineas. It’s some kind of we don’t have the money to get it fixed bullshit.”

“Oh,” I mumble, ashamed I made him admit it out loud.

He sighs, a deep, weary sound that scrapes on its way out, and gives me a wry smile. “Probably should have told you sooner, but your mom didn’t want to make you worry before the end of term. Once this harvest is done, we’ll be okay.”

“Dad—”

“School’s the most important thing for you,” he reminds me with a pointed finger. “If you want, once you graduate from that fancy college, you can get a nice job to support us in our old age.” He cackles a little at the idea and I try to laugh along with him, but guilt settles in my gut like lead. I can’t keep lying about this.

“Hey, Dad, about that—”

We have the same eyes and he’s as bad as I am about hiding what he’s feeling. Faced with his affection and amusement, I choke on my confession. “Will you and Mom be able to come to graduation?”

A few minutes later, Dad’s sharing their plans for making it out to Mathers for the ceremony, while simultaneously explaining what it’ll take to get the tractor running. I do my best to nod and hum my agreement at the appropriate moments, but I don’t hear a damn word he says. I’m already planning what Roark and I can do to fix this. Maybe I’ll call him and see what spells he thinks we should use so I can start practicing.