Enemy Dearest

“Anyway, Kara is an attorney who specializes in employment law. She’s been putting together a wrongful termination case for me. At least she’s been trying. Sounds like they might settle out of court, maybe in the six-figure range. It’d be life-changing for us. We could pay off both mortgages, drive a reliable car for the first time in our married life, pay off all of your mother’s medical bills, cover your tuition, and sock the rest away for retirement.”

“I’m sorry, but how can you afford a lawyer if you’re not working?”

“She’s doing it pro bono—as a favor to us. You were probably too young to remember, but Kara was quite the fixture around here back in the day. She sort of looked up to us as the parents she never had. I’m the one who encouraged her to pursue a law degree. Guess she felt she wanted to pay it back, bring it full circle, what have you.”

“Okay …” I wrap my head around that. “So if you’ve been off work the last couple of months, where have you been going in the middle of the night?”

“Out to the cabin,” he says, referring to a family friend’s one-room fishing cabin on Lake Graystone. They’ve always given Dad free reign to use it, and it’s about thirty minutes outside of town, so it’s plausible.

“So you just … go hang out at the cabin all night? Five nights a week?”

“I stay busy,” he says. “Sometimes I do some midnight catch and release. Other times I read a book. Take a nap. Watch an old movie on VHS. The time passes quickly enough.”

“And Mom has no idea?”

“None.”

“Why haven’t you told her?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She can’t handle even the slightest stressful event. Can you imagine how she’d handle a lawsuit rollercoaster? That and I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case it didn’t pan out. She’s had enough disappointment in her lifetime.”

“So why couldn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve had enough on your plate for one year. I didn’t want you to worry. You were already entertaining the idea of putting off college. If you knew I wasn’t working, there’s no way I’d have gotten you to leave.”

He’s right. I’d have stayed, taken on full-time hours at the cell store, and insisted I contributed to our family’s bottom line.

“I want to believe you,” I say, after absorbing everything for a moment.

“Well, you should. It’s the truth.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were accused of killing your sister? That you were arrested for it?”

He folds his hands, clasping them until his knuckles turn white. “Because that was one of the darkest moments of my entire life. And I was worried you’d never look at me the same.”

“I’d rather have heard it from you than read it in a faded newspaper article.”

His jaw sets. “I would’ve told you eventually.”

Guess we’ll never know.

“Now that I’ve told you everything you need to know, Sheridan, you need to tell me what really happened with Vince’s son. Tell me why he’s paying for your mother’s nurse.”

I can’t tell him everything.

I just can’t.

But I can tell him the abbreviated version.

“We met this summer.” I pick at a loose thread in the carpet. “And we hit it off. I mentioned I was worried about Mama, that she might need some help while I’m gone … he offered.”

Dad runs his palms along his thighs, unsettled, unable to look in my direction. He isn’t stupid. I’m sure he sees through my story. Nothing in this life ever comes for free.

“We really like each other,” I add, keeping my head held high and my voice crystal clear. “He’s a good person. He’s not like his father. Maybe if you met him, you—”

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand as he rises. “I’ve heard enough.”

“What?”

“I will never meet him and you’re never to associate with him,” he speaks through clenched teeth. “Do you understand?”

I want to tell him it isn’t right that they’re still using Mona. That he doesn’t get to hate August and take advantage of him at the same time. But I’m sure he’d refuse to hear me out. And in the end, Mama would suffer the most.

I rise as well. “No, Dad. I don’t understand you. If you could just—”

“—this isn’t up for debate.” He walks to my door. “We don’t associate with Monreauxs. That’s just how it is. How it’ll always be.” He pauses. “The worst thing you could do is accept money from one. Once they have you in their pocket, you’ll owe them for life.”

I fold my arms. “It’s not like that with August.”

“That’s what you think now.” He heads to the door. “End it. Immediately. And never speak of him again. Do you understand?”

His words slice through the room with an icy chill, and the man speaking them resembles nothing of the father who raised me.