Blood and Sympathy (6 page)

"My Uncle Jeb has already made it clear that
he doesn't want Brogan on the property. There's not much he can do to keep him
from going back to Hensteeth, but he'll be fending for himself, ma'am."

She nodded. "I see. I know he's blood and
all, but blood is no reason for sympathy."

I nodded and tried to swallow my nerves. Things
were going pretty good, and I had no reason to be so fidgety.

"You'll have your GED soon?"

"Yes, hopefully I'll be ready to take the
exam by the end of May."

"Okay then." She sat back in her chair
and smiled for the first time since I arrived. "I'll make my recommendations
to the powers that be. We'll need to verify the information you've given me
with your uncle, and then we'll see what we can do about getting you out of
here by the first of June. How's that sound?"

It felt like a ton of weight I'd been carrying
around on my back for the past five years had just lightened by a few hundred
pounds. "It sounds real good, Mrs. Delmonico. Thank you."

She stood and shook my hand. "I'm proud of
the man you've become."

I left her office and headed for the cafeteria to
grab some water. I had a few minutes to kill before I had to be at my next class,
so I checked to see if the mail had been delivered yet. I was rewarded by
another sweet smelling letter from Claire.

She'd sent a picture of herself. It was just a
small black and white, but it was easy to see she'd turned into quite a beauty.
I wondered if it would be too forward for me to ask if she had a boyfriend.

I wrote her back the first chance I got to tell
her the good news. I didn't expect her to want to see me or anything. I just
felt like I needed to share this with someone before I split apart at the seams
from holding it all inside.

Dear Claire,

Your letter brought a
smile to my face, as usual. Thank you for sending your picture. You're even
prettier than I remembered. You must have men lined up outside your door for
miles.

If you were to go to
college, what would you study? Where would you go?

Before I forget, what
the heck is "LOL"? Lots of luck?

Lady luck may finally
be smiling down on me after all this time. I met with my counselor today and
she's going to recommend I get released by June first. That's earlier than
expected. I don't have to tell you, I can't wait to see this place in the
rearview mirror.

I'm sure your dad only
wants what's best for you. I think we all tend to take things for granted, and
then when they're gone, we wish we would have done things differently. I know
there's a whole mess of things I'd like to do over. 

Maybe I'll have to see
if I can remember how to ice skate and teach you. I won't let you go out on the
ice if there's a chance of falling through.

Next time Uncle Jeb
comes for a visit, I'll make sure he brings home a music box just for you.
They're nothing special. I don't know why everyone makes such a big deal out of
them. I'm proud of my work, and they're nice and all, but they're not that
great.

I don't really want
anything to do with my brother. My counselor recommended that I don't have
contact with him, and I'm okay with that. Uncle Jeb's already made it clear
that Brogan isn't welcome at the marina. If he comes back to Hensteeth, running
into him will be unavoidable, but as long as he's not living with us, it won't
be so bad.

It looks like I'll be
taking you up on that cake. I remember my Aunt Carol used to make the best
carrot cake in the world. You don't really have to bake one for me. I'd be just
as happy with a store bought one.

The tattoo I want is
just a simple quote that reads, "By the strength within, I shall
succeed." If your daddy didn't kill me, we could go get one together. But
you can't tell him it was my idea.

Yours truly,

Braden

I sealed the envelope and went down to the
woodshop to work on the music box for Mrs. Collins. As soon as I finished that
one, I'd be able to get started on the one I promised Claire.

Claire
Copeland

It was my turn in the kitchen and I started dinner
as soon as I got home from school. Perfection couldn't be rushed. Olivia walked
in about half an hour after I started cooking. She pulled off her boots and
smiled. "Mmm smells good. Homemade beef stroganoff?"

"Yeah, Dad mentioned something the other day
about wanting me to make it." The timer on the oven went off and I reached
for the pot holders to check on the cupcakes. They looked perfect, so I pulled
them out. "Would you mind mixing the cream cheese frosting for me?"

"Not at all, let me wash up first." She
disappeared up the stairs, and I checked the potatoes for doneness. When she
walked back into the kitchen, she pulled an envelope from her handbag that was
addressed to me. "Here, looks like another letter from the felon."

I tipped my head to the side and narrowed my eyes
at her. "Felon? Really, Olivia? Don't you think that's kind of nasty, even
for you?"

She giggled and kissed me on the check.
"Chill. I'm only teasing."

I swiped her kiss from my cheek with the back of
my hand. "Not funny."

"Why so defensive?" She squinted her
eyes and nodded slowly. "Oh, I see. You've got a crush on the mysterious
bad boy, haven't you?"

I snatched the letter out of her hands.
"Don't be ridiculous."

"That's good." She shrugged and pulled a
large mixing bowl from the cupboard. "Daddy would never approve."

I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to tell
her that
Daddy
not approving was reason enough for me to become
more
interested. "Heaven for-fucking-bid," I mumbled.

Dad arrived home around six, and we ate shortly
thereafter. Olivia helped me clean the kitchen and I loaded the dishwasher for
the night. I was about to go up to my room when Dad asked, "Claire, could
I have a word with you?"

"Yes," I said. My pulse quickened as all
of the things he could possibly want to talk to me about flashed like lightning
through my brain.

Olivia wiped and re-wiped the kitchen counter, stalling
until he cleared his throat and said, "That'll be all, Olivia. You don't
want to wash the color off the countertop, do you?"

I stifled a snort as her cheeks turned pink.
Busted
,
I wanted to say. "Oh, sure, Daddy." She draped the dishrag over the
faucet and dried her hands before leaving the room.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at
the table. "Have a seat, Claire." The kitchen chair scraped against
the tile floor noisily as I took a seat. "Relax. You look like the cat
that ate the canary."

A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
"I'm fine." I was actually sweating bullets, but he didn't need to
know that. There wasn't a mean bone in my dad's body, but he still had a way of
reducing me to a quivering mess with just a look.

"You'll be graduating soon," he drawled,
sipping from his mug. "I've been wondering what your plans are?"

"Plans? You mean for the summer? Or…?"

"College, Claire. Have you made any decisions
on what you're going to do about furthering your education?"

"I was thinking maybe I'd take a year off.
Get a job and save up some money," I said.

"I see," he said. "I want you to
know that I'm completely opposed to that idea. I know you, and I know that if
you can put something off, you will. You're a procrastinator, Claire.
Procrastinating about a decision as important as college is something you can
ill afford to do. I suggest you rethink your plans."

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I could
sense the disappointment dripping from his voice. Disappointment laced with
disdain.

"I was thinking about taking some classes at the
community college. I'd like to do something with my cooking skills."

"Really, Claire. Cooking is a hobby at the
most. Do you think you can earn a living working in the bakery at
Walmart?"

My eyes filled with tears, and dammit, I didn't
want them to do that. I blinked and stood up from the table. "I'm sorry, Dad,
but when God was passing out kids, you got one good girl, and then you got me.
Maybe I'll never live up to your expectations, but you know what? I don't have
to."

I turned and fled up the stairs to my room and slammed
my door hard enough to shake the pictures on the wall. I was so fucking pissed
that I wanted to fucking scream my lungs out. I flopped onto my bed as hot,
angry tears tracked down my cheeks.

I took a hot shower and spritzed on my favorite
cherry vanilla body mist before settling in to read Braden's letter. His notes
always made me smile and in spite of my mood, I decided to answer him right
away.

Hey Braden,

I smiled when I saw
the envelope from you. Some days really suck, and this was one of those days,
so hearing from you brightened an otherwise shitty day.

That picture was out
of last year's high school yearbook. Thanks for the compliment, but no, I don't
have anyone lined up to date me. I tend to have the opposite effect on boys
around Hensteeth. I think most of them are scared of dating the preacher's
daughter.

My dad and I argued
about college tonight. I told him my idea about taking a year off. He didn't
like that. So I suggested maybe going to the local community college. I want to
do something with my cooking skills. His response to that was pretty insulting.
I shouldn't let him get to me, but he does. Telling me not to do something only
adds fuel to the fire, making me want to do it just to spite his ass.

I wish I believed that
my father wanted what was best for me. More and more, I'm convinced that he
wants me to do what's best for him. Don't want to do anything that tarnishes
the good reverend's name.

LOL stands for
"laughing out loud." I like "lots of luck" better. I could
use a little of that right now.

Braden! That's great
news that you're going to be getting out early. I'm real happy for you.
Seriously!

I'll watch you ice
skate this winter, but don't expect me to join you. Yes, I am a chicken.

Well, if you're coming
home in June, you can just hand deliver that music box in person. That would
make it even more special. How often does Jeb come to see you? Maybe he'd let
me ride along? Is that even allowed? Would I have to get some sort of special
permission or something if I wanted to visit you?

Do you think Brogan
will come to live in Hensteeth when he gets out?

I'll make you that
carrot cake, and no offense to your Aunt Carol, but I make a pretty mean carrot
cake myself.

"By the strength
within, I shall succeed." I like that. I think it suits you. If I can
figure out what I want, I'll get one with you. What Dad doesn't know, won't
hurt him (or me).

I look forward to
hearing from you soon.

Always,

Claire

The full moon shone a golden beam through my curtains.
I pulled my robe tighter and opened the window. The night was crisp and clear
and the stars seemed close enough to touch. I lit a cigarette and leaned my
elbows on the sill as I stared across the silent lawn, wishing I was anywhere
but Hensteeth, Tennessee.

Braden
Sayer

When they hear you're getting out, it can earn you
a couple different reactions. Some of the guys are happy for you and give you a
fist bump. Others can be jealous fuckers, trying to do what they can to thwart
your plans. I had to watch my back, try not to piss anybody off, and avoid the
usual troublemakers. Including my brother. No, scratch that.
Especially
my brother.

I knew Brogan wouldn't be standing in line to
congratulate me on my early release. He didn't even pretend. He called me a
suck-up, a pussy, and a few other choice names I tried to ignore. I refused to
take the bait and let him push my buttons. There was once a time when that
might have happened, but no more.

He stood in my doorway watching me through narrowed
eyes. "What's that picture on your wall?" He nodded toward the tiny
black and white photo Claire had sent me of herself. I'd taped it to the
cinderblock wall above my desk.

"Just some girl I've been writing to," I
said, shrugging my shoulders. I tried to play it off like it was no big deal.

He twisted his head, looking over his shoulder
into the hallway, and quickly stepped into my room. In two strides, he was
across the small space with his nose practically touching Claire's smiling
face. "Da fuck is this?" he asked. He shot me a smirk and snorted.
"You're dreaming bro if you think a pretty girl like that would ever be
interested in a fucking loser like you."

"It's not like that, Brogan. We're just pen
pals."

"What-the-fuck-ever," he said. He
reached up and snatched the photo off my wall before I could do anything. Not
that there was much I could do that wouldn't jeopardize my clean record. My
jaws clamped tightly around the few choice things I wanted to say to him. "Freak.
You're a damn
virgin
. What the hell you got to offer a hot piece of ass
like her, anyway? I'll tell you what. Not a fucking thing."

He laughed and walked out of the room, taking
Claire's picture with him. I sat on the edge of my bed and pounded my fists
against my thighs repeatedly. It was better to bruise my legs than bloody my
brother's face the way I wanted to, the way he deserved.

Claire's latest letter was folded inside my
history textbook. I pulled it out and inhaled her scent of cherries. It was
comforting and helped me get over my irritation at my asshole brother's antics.