Eight Days a Week (20 page)

“Bye-bye,” Debra said quietly as the three of them headed down the front walk.

I hesitated at the door. “Maybe try giving her a hug next time,” I said. “Don’t let your opinions about me change the way you treat your daughter.”

She pursed her lips and looked away.
 

“Have a good day, Debra.”

“Okay, guys, remember to be on your best behavior. No running around the pool. No throwing food.” Gwen gave a pointed look to Brady, and Bree nodded and waited for us to let her out of the car. “It’s Dee’s birthday, so please be polite to his family.”

“They’ll be fine,” I said, telling myself the same thing.
 

My conversation with Debra was resonating in my mind, and I tried to wrap my head around what I was feeling. Gwen had once told me I needed to let my dad know I loved him, because she’d have given anything to be able to say it to hers. I imagined that maybe I could do it. That maybe enough time and hurt feelings had passed that I could put my ego behind me and tell him it was okay and we’d move on from there.

All those kind, peaceful thoughts flew out the window when I saw my father standing at the door, staring toward my ragtag family gathered around the car to get their bags. Maybe he was mesmerized by the pretty, shiny Hyundai. Maybe he was enamored by Gwen’s beauty. Maybe he was horrified at the sight of me, with kids in tow, showing up at his house for the first time in over two years.

Whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t how damn much he loved his son, because the look on his face was of cold indifference as I stepped up to the door.
 

His eyes met mine, and I gave him a tight smile, my insides churning under his gaze as I took a step closer.

“Dad,” I said with a short nod. “I’d like you to meet Gwen, Bree, and Brady.”

He smiled and showed his capped white teeth. “It’s very nice to meet all of you. The pool is straight back, and the food is almost ready.”

Gwen led the kids toward the backyard, and I stood toe-to-toe with my father, bracing myself for verbal impact. His eyes traveled over my face, processing whether or not I’d changed since I’d seen him last. Then his lips pulled into a tight line and he sighed.

“You look good,” he said.

“Thanks. I am good,” I said quietly.

He hadn’t aged. He’d just gotten better-looking. His jaw was sharper, his eyes lighter—even his hair was perfect. He was lean and tall, strong and proud.

Something flickered in his eyes, and I turned away, afraid of what I’d see there if I stared for too long. He lifted a tentative hand and squeezed my shoulder. “Well, happy birthday, Andrew. Your mom is waiting to welcome you home.”

I looked toward the backyard and took a deep breath.
Home
. This wasn’t my home.
 

Brady ran by the door while Gwen chased after him, and my heart swelled at the sight. On the run. Messy and disorderly.
They
were my home.
 

Raking my hands through my hair, I made my way out the back doors into the sunlight, taking in the sounds and smells that surrounded me: the grill, the chlorine, the flowers from my mother’s garden, the water splashing, and Brady laughing. The look of raw emotion in my mother’s eyes.

I swallowed, frozen in place. She was so tiny and fair, and she didn’t seem to have aged either. She was in a flowing sundress with a sun hat to guard her complexion. Her soft brown and silver-streaked hair caught the breeze as it rolled through, and her huge diamond ring blinded me as it reflected the light.

There was a soft spot in my heart for my mother. Regardless of how I felt about my father and my upbringing, there was just something about the way she looked at me. It was like I was five years old again, hiding in the laundry hamper and swearing it was a magic trick because I’d made myself disappear. She always played along, and I wanted her approval more than anything.

Even now, as we stood a few feet apart, I wanted her to be proud of me. I could never have admitted that before.

Her eyes softened, and she brushed what looked to be a tear off her cheek as she opened her arms and closed the gap between us. She smelled of sunshine and lilies, Downey softener and lemonade. She smelled like childhood.

“Hey, Mom.” I squeezed her tighter. From the corner of my eye I saw Cece beaming at us, and I tensed and pulled away, unwilling to give my sister the satisfaction of feeling like she had anything to do with this. But then I looked back at my mom and let it go.

She took a step back and smiled up at me, all toothy and teary-eyed. “Happy birthday, Andrew.” She pressed her soft hand to my face and sighed. “I bought you a cake,” she whispered, like it was a secret.

“Thanks. The kids will be excited to get some sugar in their systems before I have to put them to bed.”

She looked toward the pool and then back at me. “So you work with Gwen, too? Watching her kids?”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the inevitable look of disapproval, but she appeared interested. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Actually, Brady and Bree are her godchildren. Their parents died, and Gwen took custody of them.”

My mom smiled. “Yes, your sister told me. That’s very noble.”

“Yeah, she’s selfless like that.” I gazed across the pool where Gwen was talking with Tess and Ian. “So, yes, the short answer is that I take care of the children. Like a nanny.”

My mom chuckled and shook her head. “You’re no more just a nanny than Gwen is just a godmother.” Her eyes crinkled against the sunlight. “But you’re the happiest I’ve ever seen you. They’ve changed you.”

“I guess they have.” Without another thought, I pulled my mom to my chest and kissed her head. “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry I haven’t called. You know it wasn’t you.”

She trembled and clutched the sides of my shirt, sniffling as I held her. I hated that I was the one who’d made her upset. She didn’t deserve it.
 

I took a steadying breath and looked over her head to see Gwen watching with big eyes, a wistful look on her face.

“Dee!” Bree shouted, and I loosened my grip on my mom and stepped back to let Bree push in between us. “Look!”
 

I bent at the knees, and Bree opened her hands to reveal a monarch butterfly. “Nice, Bree. I thought you didn’t like bugs!”

She made a face. “Butterflies aren’t like
real
bugs.”

“Ah, of course. Hey, don’t touch her wings. The powder on them helps her fly, and if you rub it off she can’t use her wings anymore.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows high.

“Yes, really. You didn’t think I knew that kind of stuff, did you?” I gave her a sidelong glance, and she blushed.

“You’re the smartest guy I know,” she whispered, and then she leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I was gonna give you the butterfly for your birthday, but I don’t want to kill her.” She turned and lifted her hands to the air, and it flew away to land on a flower.

My mom watched us, her hand to her mouth and her eyes watery.
 

“Bree, did Gwen introduce you to my mom?” I asked.

Bree stood primly and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

My mom shook her hand and laughed as Bree walked away. “She reminds me of your sister.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it.”

I went over to the grill where Xander was handling the burgers and hot dogs. Cece was grinning, and I knew she thought life was a fairy tale, but shit didn’t work like that.

Xander jerked his head toward the cooler. “Want a beer, birthday boy?” He didn’t even wait for an answer, and then I had a Heineken in my hand.

I wriggled in between him and my sister to look over the burgers. “I want mine pink in the middle.”

“Pervert,” Cece mumbled.

I gave her my most appalled expression. “Cecelia, how dare you infer I meant anything perverse when I asked Xander for some
pink meat
. Tsk tsk, young lady.”
 

Xander snorted, and I took a long drink from my beer bottle.

Bree and my mother were looking at flowers, my mother no doubt teaching her their names and the proper way to water them in the summer. Gwen was leaning back in one of the white plastic chairs by the pool, chatting with Tess and Ian while Brady and Joshua swam.
 

“Dee! Wook!” Brady called from the diving board.

“Whoa. Who said you could be on the board, li’l man?” I asked, starting toward him.

“I did, Daddy Dee.” Gwen laughed and sat up. “He’s okay, and I’m watching him. Relax, all right?” She waved at him and he jumped, then bobbed to the top of the water with the help of his floaties. “It’s your birthday. Consider this your day off.”

I didn’t get days off. How did I turn off the instinct to protect the people I loved?

I sank onto the chair next to her and smiled when she leaned in to me and rested her leg against mine. Tess didn’t even flinch at Ian’s dopey grin. He gave her a wink, sipped on his beer, and pulled her closer.

We were quiet as we watched the boys swimming. I started getting fidgety, so I grabbed Gwen and threw her into the pool, then stripped off my shirt and dived in after her as she surfaced and screamed at me.

“You jerk!” She grasped my shoulders and tried to push me under.

“Come on, you were planning on swimming anyway.” I palmed the top of her head and dunked her. Within seconds, Brady and Joshua were surrounding me, splashing me and climbing on my back, trying to get me under. Then Ian jumped in with Tess, and Xander carried Cece to the edge and threw her in.

Bree watched from the side, and I caught hold of her legs and pulled her in, too. She kicked and splashed, yelling for me to stop, but she grinned the whole time. We were a huge mass of bodies, slipping under and over the water, flipping and dunking and acting like children. It took five of us to get Ian under, but I was pretty sure he went down because Tess stuck her hand down his shorts.

My mom watched us from the porch, smiling. Geoffrey emerged and announced that the food was ready, so we all climbed out and dried off. After we’d finished eating, Bree demanded we wait the requisite thirty minutes until we swam again, and we all obliged because it wasn’t worth getting scolded by a seven-year-old. Brady curled up on the chair next to me and fell asleep with his head on my lap, so I carried him inside, wrapped him in a dry towel, and tucked him into the guest bed.
 

Once he was secure, I headed back down the hall, passing by my father’s study. Geoffrey was standing in front of his bookshelf, holding a book and staring at its spine.

I sighed and ran a hand over the back of my neck. Then I cleared my throat, and he turned, giving me a small smile and putting the book back in its place.

“Is it time for cake?” he asked.

“No. Not yet.”

He nodded and sat down in his chair, his eyelids drooping. He paused for a painful moment before finally speaking. “Why did you leave, Andrew?”

My feet froze as I stood in front of his desk. “Leave? Which time?”

A stern expression crossed his face.
There
was the father I knew.
 

“Why did you leave for two years, son? What did we do that was so bad? I gave you everything you needed, didn’t I? Anything you asked for. But still you ran.”

I laughed without humor. “That’s just it, Dad. You gave me every
thing
I wanted. But you know what I wanted the most?”

Geoffrey leaned back in his chair.

“I wanted
you
. I wanted you to see me for me. Not for what you wanted me to be because Cece had set the standard. I wanted you to just take a damn interest in what made me happy. To be proud of me for what I was trying to accomplish—”

“I
was
proud, Andrew!” he shouted, and I jumped. “Do you have some warped perception of your childhood?” Geoffrey sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “This has been so hard on your mother. You have no idea how much she’s cried.” He looked up at me with haunted eyes. “You’re good with those kids. But you know that’s not what I wanted for your future. And yet I don’t want you to just walk away from them either. This situation you’ve put yourself in—I would hate to do that to those children. To Gwen. I don’t know her very well, but your sister speaks highly of her and . . .” He threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know what you’re doing with yourself. What do you want me to say?”