CHAPTER 30

Unexpectedly, Deirdre showed up for dinner.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” asked Sean, as he set another place at the table.

“He’s been working us so hard,” said Deirdre. “He gave us the afternoon off and said we should all go home and relax.” She gave a little eye-roll at the ridiculousness of that idea.

Aunt Vivvy sat quietly at the table, gazing out the window. “Windy,” she said.

It was, in fact, somewhat more breezy than usual, and the air made the leaves of the red maple in the backyard do a little staccato dance. Sean and Deirdre glanced at each other.

“So . . .” said Sean, ladling chili into Deirdre’s bowl. “You feel it’s going pretty well?”

“No. It’s not. I’m just barely getting in stride, and everyone else has had months to prepare.” She stared down at her meal. “I’m the weak link.”

“Come on,” Sean gently chided. “You’ve never been weak at anything. You’ll do fine.”

She glanced up at him. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Don’t what? I’m being supportive.”

She snorted derisively. “No, you’re being patronizing and clueless. You don’t know anything about the pressure I’m under, so don’t act like you do.”

Sean was slightly stunned by this declaration but recovered quickly. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t. What I do know is that I’ve made it possible for you to do nothing but work and rehearse for the past two months. If that comes off as patronizing, I can stop right now.”

She glowered at him for a moment, then lifted a spoonful of chili to her mouth and ate. “Pretty good,” she said.

Sean nodded, accepting the apology. “In the developing world you get to know your way around a can of beans.” He glanced at his aunt, still staring out the window. “I think the chili’s cool enough now, Auntie.” She looked over at him as if he were speaking another language. He picked up her spoon, handed it to her, and indicated her bowl.

“Ah,” she said, nodding, and dipped the spoon in. They ate for some time in silence, Deirdre’s gaze unfocused and slightly ­perturbed-looking.

“Dee,” said Sean. “I know it’s a bad time to tell you, but there’s something I think you should know.”

“Oh, God,” she said. “What.”

“I got a phone call the other night. From Da.”

She blinked at him a moment. “Our da?”

Aunt Vivvy looked up from her meal.

“Yeah.”

“He’s still alive?”

“Apparently. And he wants to see us.”

Deirdre shook her head. “No.”

“No,” Aunt Vivvy echoed. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Deirdre squinted at her uncomprehendingly, then turned back to her brother. “I don’t even know him,” she said. “And I sure as hell don’t want to get into it now. You know what this means to me, Sean—I can’t afford to lose one ounce of focus.” She scooped another spoonful of chili, but set it down in the bowl without eating it. “Are you going to see him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would you? He dumped us.”

Sean was reminded that over the years Deirdre had felt the ­repercussions of that blow more than anyone, raised from early childhood only by their stoic aunt. He glanced at Aunt Vivvy, who was staring out the window again. “Yeah,” he said. “And that wasn’t exactly agreed upon. Apparently the homeowner never wanted the package.”

Deirdre smirked. “And you’re just figuring that out now?”

* * *

The next day was too quiet, especially since Sean had no interest in being alone with his thoughts and the quandary about his father. Cormac didn’t need any help at the Confectionary, and Deirdre had left early for a double shift at the diner. Aunt Vivvy came down for a cup of tea and a piece of toast. She ate silently, then went back to her room for a rest.

Kevin was notably absent.

Sean looked at George and let out a resigned sigh. “Where’s your leash?” This caused a surprising round of tail wagging. They were almost out the door when Rebecca called.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m about to go for a run—want to join me?”

Sean hung the leash back on its hook, grabbed the car keys, and headed out to meet her at The Pal parking lot by Lake Pequot. When he pulled in, she was a couple of spaces down, wearing a pair of black running shorts and a pale blue tank top. Her hands were pressed against the trunk of her car, one leg behind her to stretch her calf. She switched legs and stretched the other, her movement graceful and decisive.

She looked up when he approached. “I don’t run that fast. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m pretty sure my aunt could beat me,” he said, “so you’re gonna kick my ass.”

She smiled at him, mouth lopsided, eyes crinkling unevenly, and he felt a quick little intake of air, as if his oxygen supply wasn’t quite prepared for the beauty of her expression.

They set off around the lake, their pace easy and relaxed. “How did it go with Kevin and the tape?” she asked.

“Perfect,” he said. “He practically went into a trance.”

“Sean, that’s great! I’m so glad for both of you.”

“Yeah, it’s a huge relief. And it’ll make it easier when I leave, knowing he has that to help him.”

Rebecca’s head turned to look out over the lake; they ran for a few minutes in silence.

“So, I don’t think my adoption’s going to go through,” he said, but still she didn’t turn back. Sean raised his voice a little. “My father called.”

Her head snapped toward him. “What? You’re kidding! What did he say?”

Sean relayed the gist of the two conversations. “Deirdre won’t see him. She’s too wrapped up in her play, and she doesn’t even remember him. And he doesn’t know about Hugh.”

Rebecca’s hand came out and rested on his shoulder for a few strides.

“Yeah,” said Sean. “How do you tell a guy his kid’s been dead for six years?”

“Oh, Sean,” she sighed. “So you’re going to see him?”

“Jesus, I don’t know. I really don’t want to. It’ll be so awkward . . . and then what? He goes back to wherever, and I take off for the next place, and we send postcards a couple times a year? Why bother?”

“Maybe he just wants to explain.”

He considered this for a few strides. “Maybe. But is there anything he could possibly say that would justify it? And does it even matter anymore? I’m going to be forty-four in a couple of months. I’m not looking for a daddy.”

“So he’ll never know about Hugh.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you don’t see him, he won’t know. You’d never say something like that over the phone.”

Actually, it was exactly what he’d been thinking he’d do. But when she put it that way, he knew the option was gone.

The houses they passed were small former camps that had been weatherized for year-round residency. They approached a couple standing on the front step of one of the houses. The woman’s hair was dark and curly, the man slightly balding; she had her arms crossed, his hands were in his pockets. The casual-seeming stances were belied by the looks of intensity on both faces. It was only when Sean drew closer that he realized the woman was Cormac’s cousin Janie, and the man her new love. Sean was about to call out to her but sensed he’d be intruding. She never glanced up, locked as she seemed to be in a war of wills.

Wonder what that’s about, thought Sean.

“Hey,” said Rebecca. “I’ve been doing a little research on sensory integration, and wanted to send you some links. You don’t have an e-mail account, though, do you?”

Sean chuckled and shook his head. “Is there some organized campaign to get me on e-mail, or is this just a coincidence?”

“I’m not part of a coordinated effort,” she said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if there was one. Not having e-mail is pretty last-century, pal.”

“In America, maybe.”

She glanced up toward a hawk circling the shoreline. “Well, I may be wrong,” she said, “but it looks like that’s where you happen to be at the moment.”

When they had completed the loop around Lake Pequot, Rebecca opened her car and pulled out a water bottle. Sean bent over, resting his hands on his knees. She held out the water to him; he took a couple of gulps and handed it back. “Thanks,” he said. “So what’s next? You feel like grabbing some lunch or something?”

“Well, I was planning to do a little yoga, then meditate. Want to join me, Swami?”

“I follow my guru wherever she goes.”

When they got to her house, he said, “Okay, one little chore first.”

“Look, I know how much you love redecorating, but can we give it a rest just this once?”

“We can rest all day—after we pull the desk out of that room.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Okay. But first we sign you up for an e-mail account.”

“No dice.”

“No dice, no desk.”

He shook his head. She shrugged. “Okay, just so long as you understand it’s a deal breaker. Not one stick of furniture moves until you have e-mail.”

“Give me one good reason.”

She gazed at him, and he sensed she was trying to decide which of several good reasons to mention first. “Kevin,” she said.

“Nice try. Kevin doesn’t have e-mail.”

“No, but you told me there’s nobody on the parents’ listserv from the school for him. This way you could keep up with what’s going on. You could e-mail his teachers if you needed to. And, you could get him an account, too. Kids don’t talk anymore. They text and e-mail and Facebook.” She smiled. “And it’s just a hunch, but I’m betting you’re not quite up to dealing with Facebook.”