said for what had to be the twentieth time since she and Carl arrived at Shady Grove Memorial. In the window’s reflection, Neil saw Gerry look to Carl for confirmation. “They got to her in time so she’ll be okay.”
Neil faced them, saw the worry, the grief in their faces, how it aged them. Saw how much they loved Fay. And him. “She’s not okay,” he heard himself say, admitting what he’d feared since he got back to Shady Grove. “She needs help.”
Carl came over, laid his hand on Neil’s shoulder. “We’ll help her through this. If you’re worried about what’ll happen when you go back to Seattle—”
“That’s not it.” Or at least, it wasn’t just it. He did have to go back to work. Training started in a week and he still had that commercial to shoot, promised his agent he’d do a few promotional opportunities...
“Fay needs more than us watching her kids or telling her to be happier or stronger,” Neil said. “She needs professional help. A psychiatrist or a counseling group that deals with attempted suicide—”
“Oh, Neil,” Gerry said, her eyes red from crying. “We don’t know what happened. Let’s wait until Fay wakes up and can explain what happened—”
“She swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills,” Neil said flatly. Gerry flinched, started crying again. He sighed. Set his coffee down and crossed to her, gentled his voice. “There’s something wrong with her. It’s not her fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. It just...is. But we can’t pretend any longer, can’t act like her behavior, the way she reacts to emotional distress, is normal.”
His sister was sick. She’d tried to end her own life tonight while her sons slept in their beds and his daughter read. Thank God Bree had gone out to get a glass of water and had found Fay on the couch, the bottle of pills on the floor next to her. She’d called 911 and then him.
His brave little girl.
By the time he and Maddie arrived at Fay’s, the EMTs were already there, including Leo, who had Bree and the boys in the kitchen. Maddie had stayed with the kids while Leo gave Neil a ride to the hospital behind the ambulance. Gerry and Carl had met him there and he’d had to tell them what Fay had done. That she’d been so crushed by her husband leaving her for another woman, she hadn’t wanted to live without him.
“Neil’s right,” Carl said, his chin covered with whiskers, his face drawn. “Fay needs professional help.”
Gerry pressed against Carl’s side, laid her head on his shoulder. “I...I hate that she was that far gone. That she felt so hopeless.”
She started crying softly. Carl turned and they held on to each other for a moment and then Carl held his arm out. Neil hesitated—he’d never needed comfort, had never needed to lean on anyone.
Until now.
He stepped into Carl’s embrace, wrapped his arm around Gerry’s waist. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, clinging to each other, but at some point, Gerry sniffed and excused herself to freshen up and gather her composure.
Neil and Carl sat next to each other.
“I never thanked you,” Neil said, his hands dangling between his knees. “For all you’ve done for us. Please,” he added quietly when Carl started to protest. “Please. Let me say this.”
Carl nodded and leaned back.
Neil picked up his coffee and took a long swallow of the cold, bitter brew. “You took us in, you brought us back together. More than that, you gave us so much, little things that most people take for granted—three meals a day and new clothes—but you also gave us so much more. Your time and attention and your love and affection. You gave us security when we’d never had any. You gave me my sister back and for that, I’ll always be in your debt.”
“That,” Carl said, “is a bunch of B.S.”
Neil scowled. “What?”
“You think your mother or I want either you or Fay indebted to us?” he asked sharply. “We brought you into our home because we wanted children to love, to take care of. We didn’t raise you, discipline you and love you all those years so you’d owe us. You’re our children. Our blood may not run through your veins but you’re still ours.”
Neil was shocked by easygoing Carl’s flare of temper. More, he was ashamed by his own thoughts, by how all these years he’d felt as if a debt was owed when all that was owed was