Читать книгу Father by Choice - Amanda Berry - Страница 7

Eight years earlier

Brady Ward didn’t stir as the bed dipped and rose. Maggie’s bare feet slapped lightly against the wood floor. The sound of her gathering her scattered clothes from around his childhood room broke the otherwise silent morning. Even the old rooster hadn’t woken to greet the day.

The last few stragglers from Luke’s graduation party had left minutes before. The sound of engines starting had awakened him from the light sleep. Apparently, it had woken Maggie, as well. His side cooled where her body had been moments before.

Brady remained still so she could slip out of his life as easily as she had slipped into his bed last night. He could almost taste the potential in the air. That this could be more if they wanted it to be. If things were different, they could be more than just one night.

The metal rattle of his doorknob stopped suddenly and he swore he could feel her gaze on his bare back. As if giving him that final moment to reach out and welcome her back into his bed, give her the promise of something more. But he couldn’t give anyone that.

The light floral scent of Maggie drifted over him like a Siren beckoning. Her soft voice lingered in his mind—I don’t normally do this. Her rich, blond hair had felt like silk in his hands while her hazel eyes had made him feel like the only man in the world.

The door whispered open with a sigh, and she was gone.

Brady rolled and stared up at the ceiling. The graying plaster had cracked, and a daddy longlegs had taken up residence in the corner of his room. He rubbed the dull, familiar ache in his chest.

Last summer had been hard enough. He’d come home from college to help Sam with the farm and tried to keep Luke from getting into too much trouble. Burying the fact that without their mother and father, the three brothers weren’t as close a family as they once were.

No use pretending sleep would come. Brady rolled out of bed and pulled on some jeans before plodding down to the only bathroom in the house for a quick, cold shower.

As if he hadn’t been away at college for a full year, he fell into the rhythm of chores like he’d always done, because it was expected. Summer break didn’t mean he got to laze around the house all day.

By the time the cows were fed and milked, the sheep moved into a new pasture and the pigs slopped, Brady’s muscles ached. Being home felt like slipping on a suit that didn’t fit right. It had never fit.

Kicking off his muddy boots on the porch, he walked into the kitchen in his socked feet.

“Morning.” Sam stood at the stove with a spatula, pushing around brown chunks of what might have been sausage at one point in Mom’s cast-iron skillet.

“Morning.” Brady started the coffee and hoped there was some cereal or something that didn’t need to be cooked—or in Sam’s case, burned—for breakfast.

“Glad you could make it out of bed this morning.”

Noting the sarcasm, Brady said, “I’m not here to argue with you.”

Sam grunted but kept pushing around the darkened meat. “The back forty needs to be plowed. I promised John at least two loads of hay. The barn needs repair and a fresh coat of paint.”

“Where’s Luke?” Brady tried to divert the conversation from the long litany of chores.

The back of Sam’s neck tinged red like it did when Mom had caught him out late. “He went out this morning.”

“What did you do?” Reaching into the old white metal cupboards, Brady pulled out their father’s favorite coffee mug with #1 Dad emblazoned on the side in red.

“Nothing.” Sam cranked the stove off and slammed down the spatula. “Breakfast is ready.”

“That nothing is definitely something,” Brady mumbled as he found a box of Cheerios toward the back of the cupboard. Even stale, it would be more edible.

“Leave it, Brady.” Sam’s tone left no room for additional conversation. Typical Sam. Which meant that something had happened but Sam was unwilling to confront it. Instead, it would stew inside until he lashed out. Confrontation had never been the Ward family way.

Luke had only been fourteen when Dad died and sixteen when Mom died. If that weren’t enough, dealing with Sam for the past two years as his guardian couldn’t have been easy. The kid had promised Brady he would straighten out for his senior year. And he had. Luke had graduated with honors and a full-ride scholarship to University of Illinois. He’d managed to escape Tawnee Valley High without a permanent record, an unplanned fatherhood and with all his limbs intact.

With a bowl of cereal and a slightly bent spoon, Brady joined Sam at the table. Sam scarfed down the burned food on his plate. Probably so he wouldn’t have to taste it. When he finished, he leaned back in the chair with his cup of coffee and studied Brady.

Undaunted by the appraisal, Brady ate his cereal at his own pace. He might have slowed down slightly to irk his brother. Each bite felt like a lump into his stomach. He should have written a note and left. But he needed to act like the man he wanted to be.

“Maggie Brown is a good kid,” Sam said.

Brady knew it had been coming. Ever since Mom got sick, Sam stuck his nose into everyone’s business.

“She’s not a kid.” Even though Brady had seen Maggie around for years, he’d never gotten to know her. Two years behind him in school, she’d just graduated with Luke.

“I suppose not.” Sam folded his hands over his stomach. “She seems to have her head on straight. I’m not sure why she slept with you.”

The spoon clattered against the bowl. Heat flooded Brady’s system, rising until even the tips of his ears were warm. “What of it?”

“She isn’t a one-night kind of girl.” Sam’s fatherly tone had Brady biting his tongue.

Not that it was any of Sam’s business, but neither of them had made any promises last night except one night was as far as their relationship would go. There wouldn’t be any holding hands in Parson’s Park or heading over to Owen, the next town over, to watch a movie and get some dinner. Even if he wanted to, they were at different points in their lives. His plans were taking him far from this place.

“She’s the kind of girl you settle down with,” Sam added.

Brady shoved away from the table and rose slowly to glare down at Sam’s dark hair. “Are you going to arrange a shotgun wedding?”

Sam didn’t budge. “I’m thinking you should give the girl a chance. You’ve only got two more years of school before you come home. She’d make you a good wife and would probably be a better cook than I am.”

“If you want a woman’s touch around the house, why don’t you get married?” Brady tried not to think of what Sam was proposing.

“I’m not exactly the catch of the county.” Sam’s smirk was Brady’s undoing. The same damn smirk Sam used to give him when they were kids and Brady had made better grades than Sam had.

“Neither am I.” Brady ran his hand through his hair and stared up at the yellowed ceiling tiles. “Don’t you see how the people in town treat us? Don’t you see the pity? The poor Ward brothers who lost their parents. Hell, in their eyes, you are probably a saint for raising Luke, while I’m the coward that ran away.”

“You didn’t run away.”

“Didn’t I?” Brady stared into the blue eyes of his brother that were duplicates of his father’s and his. “You don’t think I wanted to escape when Mom died? That I needed to escape?”

“And you did. and I didn’t stop you.” Sam’s voice had a slight edge to it. “You went to college, and I stayed here with Luke. I kept the farm going and when you get done with college, you can come home and help out.”

“Home?” The word was so foreign to Brady that it tasted bad in his mouth.

“Like Dad always wanted. Like Mom wanted. The three of us together.”

The backs of Brady’s ears burned. “This isn’t home.”

Sam’s lips tightened. The humor and patience drained from his face. He stood, but the extra inch of height Sam had on Brady wouldn’t intimidate him today.

“God, Sam, have you deluded yourself that much?” Brady wouldn’t back down. “This can’t be home, because home is Mom and Dad. Home was an illusion we had as kids. A safety net to keep us protected. Now? Home is shattered all around us.”

“Stop it.” The threat behind Sam’s words only made Brady push harder. This had been building for too long.

“Luke is a mess. You are a mess. I’m a freaking mess. We don’t belong anywhere. You can’t keep trying to bind us to this place. We don’t belong together.”

“Stop.” The word was an angry whisper.

“I’m not staying here anymore, Sam.” Brady took in a deep breath and the weight released off his shoulders. “I have an internship and scholarship waiting for me. In London.”

“England?” Sam staggered backward as if Brady had hit him.

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. It’s what I always wanted.” Brady changed tactics as some of the anger drained from him. “They don’t offer this to just any student, Sam. I’d be a fool not to jump on it. Most people who go end up getting a job overseas. My flight leaves in two days.”

“And that’s what you want?” Sam straightened to his full height. “To be as far away from here as possible?”

“It’s not like after school I’d return to Tawnee Valley, settle down with someone like Maggie Brown and raise a passel of children. The farm is your dream. Not mine.”

“What about Luke?”

“Luke?” Brady looked out the window toward the old barn across the drive.

“Who’s going to protect Luke? Who’s going to watch his back as he tries to become a man?” Sam’s voice was tight.

“You were—”

Sam shoved Brady. Caught off guard, Brady almost fell over a chair. The sibling rivalry that had been playing out for years rose to the surface, bringing with it the pent-up rage. But Brady held himself in check, even though he wanted to plant his fist in Sam’s face.

“That’s right. Me. I’m the one who left college to come home when Mom got sick and Dad died. I’m the one who is stuck on this farm, destined to watch everyone leave our dying hometown. I’m the one who had to step in when Luke made bad decisions. I’m the one who will have to clean up the messes you two leave behind.”

“I never asked—”

“Mom did.” Sam didn’t raise his voice, but he’d struck for Brady’s heart.

“But you didn’t have to.” Brady knew his reply was weak as it left his mouth. The venom from Sam’s words seeped through Brady’s veins and sapped away his anger.

Their mother meant the world to them. Their parents had tried for years to have children before finally getting pregnant with Sam. Their father had a heart attack when he was fifty-three. That same year their mother found out she had widespread cancer. If the boys could have, they would have taken her place. But none of them could and it was time to get on with their lives.

“I can’t keep coming back.” Brady took in a deep breath. “Mom’s in every square inch of this house. I keep expecting her to come around the corner, to shout from the bedroom for help, to be here. Every time that door squeaks and slams shut I keep hoping to see Dad coming in from work. You have to stay. But I don’t have to.”

Sam turned and braced his hands against the sink as he stared out the window.

“Please don’t ask me to.” Brady tried to sound confident, but the words were a shaky whisper.

Sam stared out the window for so long Brady lost track of time. Sam’s shoulders sagged from the weight he carried and Brady had helped put it there. Away from Tawnee Valley, Brady could pretend that everything was fine, but here…it hurt to breathe.

Sam finally pushed away from the counter and turned to face him. Brady braced himself to defend his decision. Sam wouldn’t understand how hard this was on him. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

“I won’t ask you to stay.” Sam lifted his gaze to meet Brady’s. He didn’t raise his voice, but Brady knew he meant every word. “I won’t ask you to come home. Not now or ever.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Brady knew this was goodbye. He’d hoped to be leaving on better terms, but knowing Sam, how else could he leave?

“I’ll tell Luke.” Sam picked up the dishes and took them to the sink.

The conversation was over and so was their relationship. “I’ll send what money I can.”

The dishes crashed into the sink. Brady winced as the cup he’d given his father cracked.

Sam’s words were stilted as he bit out, “I don’t need your money.”

Brady nodded, but he would send some, anyway. “Bye, Sam.”