Hard Edge - Tess Oliver Page 0,21

you drive off to?”

“Poplar’s Beach.”

Dad stopped drying the dish he was holding and stared out the window. “Grady loved that beach. All of you spent a lot of time there, as I recall.” A deep, lonely sigh rolled up from his chest as he placed the newly dried plate on the stack. “Cade, your brother’s death has steeped me in so many memories, good and bad, I can’t keep up with them all. But I keep coming back to you. I know it was hard on you, living in two separate houses. And God knows your mother and I didn’t have a smooth as cream relationship after the divorce. I don’t know where our heads were. We thought it would make things easier on you, living so close to each other, but I know now, it was a mistake. I’m sorry that we failed you.” His voice shook, like it had dozens of times since I’d gotten home. In all the years growing up, I’d only seen my dad cry once, at his mom’s funeral. And those tears had almost taken effort on his part. But this week, it seemed every other sentence or thought shook him at his core. He’d endured what was no doubt the worst pain anyone could go through—losing a kid. Even though I’d lost a brother, the depth of my agony couldn’t be even close to what he was feeling. And I’d acted the complete ass last night and today, the day of his son’s funeral.

I stopped washing dishes for a second and looked over at him. “Dad, I’m not letting you and Mom take the blame for all my fuck-ups. I own those. Not you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you today.”

“You were there. Even if you weren’t in the church or at the wake, you were with me, Caden. You always are.” He stared into the frothy suds in the sink and seemed to be lost in thought for a second. Then a faint smile crossed his face and he looked over at me. “When you were across the world, in Afghanistan, I woke up plenty of times in a heavy sweat and with my heart racing as if I was right there with you in the war. I was so damn relieved when your tour of duty was over for good. I couldn’t keep up with the gray hairs anymore.” He picked up the dried stack of plates, and he swallowed to steady his voice. “Guess it’s the horrible stuff you don’t see coming that finally nails you in the end. All those times I worried about you boys, but this time—” He took a deep, steadying breath. “This time, I hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. I was looking forward to having the both of you home for a bit. Not even a second of worry.” He turned and walked to the table and pulled out a chair. He sat down hard as if the wind had just been knocked out of him. “Just don’t think we’ll ever get past this.”

I put the last dish in the rack, dried my hands and leaned against the counter. “Don’t think it’s a matter of getting past it, Dad. It’s a matter of being able to accept and deal with it and still live a somewhat normal life. But getting past it is never going to happen for any of us. Grady was too big a part of our lives.”

Chapter 9

Kenna

“Mom, I think I’ve discovered a new form of intoxication.”

Mom looked up from her stove as I sealed off the last box of brown sugar truffles.

“What’s that, Kenny?”

“I’m feeling lightheaded from vanilla and brown sugar fumes. Who knew you could get drunk on the stuff.”

“I don’t even notice it anymore.” She leaned down and adjusted the heat on the stove, before wiping her hands on her apron and joining me at the packing station. Our small breakfast nook had been transformed into a mail order warehouse, stacks of unfolded boxes and reels of silver and gold ribbon cluttered the buffet that at one time had held my mom’s prized china set. But she’d packed away her favorite place settings, including the ones with pine trees and reindeer that she only took out for Christmas Eve, and had Dad carry them all up to the attic. Even some of our family photos in the dining area had been replaced by a giant whiteboard that Dad had gridded with blue painter’s tape so