lifetime of learning to hide everything about yourself because you had to,” Rory said flatly.
The hard spark of recognition in Marcus’s gaze reminded Rory of one thing Thomas had let slip about Marcus. He’d spent his teen years on the New York City streets.
“So Daralyn's up in the hot attic, doing most of the up and down ladder work because of Mom’s bad knee,” Rory continued. “Her stomach is cramping, she’s nauseous, but she carried some plastic bags up there and got sick in them, hid them behind some old suitcases. Mom assumed she would have taken them to the outside trash when no one was looking. But then on one of her trips down the ladder, she almost faints. When Mom grabs her, she realizes Daralyn is burning up with fever.”
Elaine got Daralyn into bed and called the family doctor. Rory had been outside doing chores while the situation unfolded. When he’d come to the house to get some iced tea, he’d ended up standing outside the open screen door, listening. In those days, his parents had had a lot of kitchen pow-wows about how to handle things with Daralyn.
“The panic in her eyes tore me up,” Elaine admitted to her husband, her voice strained. A quick glance inside showed Rory that his dad was gripping Elaine’s shaking hands with one of his large ones, the other on her back, the strength of his wide palm supporting and reassuring her. His weathered face and dark brown eyes reflected concern for his wife, and pain for the damaged girl they’d decided to take in.
“Even as I’m holding her because she can’t hold herself up, she kept saying ‘I’m fine. Really, I can do it. It's all right.’” Elaine shook her head. “I called Dr. Katz after I got her settled the way Dr. Mourning said to do. He’ll be here in about an hour. Dr. Katz said that Daralyn thinks if she can’t do something we want her to do—anything at all—we’ll send her away. Those monsters told her that getting sick, being useless, was what bad girls that nobody wanted did.”
“Son of a bitch,” his father had muttered, a sentiment that Rory emphatically agreed with. He hadn’t been sick often in his life, just the occasional cold or flu, but the one thing he’d never doubted was his parents’ care and patience about it. Evident when his dad made him stay in bed, not letting him help with chores or go to school until he was okay. Or his mom, fussing over him with fluids and blankets, checking his temperature with her cool, competent hands as he slept the sick away with bedrest.
He came back to the present and Marcus. “This all happened before Mom realized we couldn’t overreact. The flu thing got to her, and for the next few days she had all of us tripping over ourselves to care for Daralyn, do a hundred things to tell her how much she was part of the family. We just about smothered her.”
Rory grimaced. The more comfort and reassurance they tried to push on her, the more she shut down.
“That was when Mom realized coddling her made it worse. Ever since then, she’s treated every stumble Daralyn has the same way she’d react to one of us falling when we were toddlers. Caring, but brisk, practical. Pick us up, brush us off and help us move forward.”
It was at night, in her husband’s arms, Elaine had wept over it. Or talked to him about how much it shredded her, to see Daralyn struggling with the simplest things, trying so hard to cope. Rory found that out from Les, since her bedroom shared a thin wall with theirs.
“So that was what helped you keep it together last night,” Marcus observed. He’d stubbed out the cigarette and was studying Rory closely.
“She needed me to keep it together,” Rory said, which was the answer that mattered. But he added, “Her childhood was a nightmare. But through some miracle, there were things happening that allowed Daralyn to become Daralyn, and she hasn’t let that go. They didn't break her. When last night happened, I admit I had a bad oh shit moment, but I also stepped outside my own head and thought about how shattered she’d be if she thought she’d messed up what had happened between us inside her house. When I told her to come to me, when I didn’t act like something had gotten really fucked up, I told her