Keep You (35 page)

             
“Thank God.”

             
Another almost-smile bloomed. “They don’t say things like that.”

             
“No, they’re just cutthroat with the gossip.”

             
“Yeah. They are.”

             
A beat passed, full of the waning summer sunlight between them and the outdoor sounds of suburban nature.

             
“What happened with you and Tam?” Delta asked.

             
“Well, that depends. Do you still want to marry my brother?”

             
She nodded.

             
“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna need your help.”

**

              There were townhouses all over Georgia, metro Atlanta specifically, but the little row in Buckhead where Mike lived had an air of casual, sophisticated affluence about it. It said:
this is where I spend my work week when I come into town from my country estate
. In Mike’s case, it said:
I can’t afford a house around here, but I wanna be a Buckhead-ian so bad I can’t stand it
. In the dark, the English lampposts along the sidewalk caught the faint, nickel glimmer of mail slots and elegant doorknobs, the copper flashing along the roofs. An intentionally eclectic mix of building materials had been used; Mike’s place sat on a coveted end, white brick with black doors and shutters, a crabapple growing at the front corner that threw long black fingers of shadows across its little lawn, like skeletal hands reaching for her as she climbed out of the car.

             
“Wish me luck,” Jo told Delta, and then headed up the walk.

             
The June night was alive with the chirping of insects and the muted thump of music somewhere. Low cloud cover reflected the ambient city light and the sky overhead was a swirling mix of light gray tones, despite the indigo blackness that hugged the ground. AC units whirred, people down the street going into a party were welcomed by a swelling din of voices, laughter echoing off the stone house fronts. The air smelled like cut grass, exhaust fumes, steaks being grilled, and a faint undertone that had floated all the way up here from the Starbucks three blocks down.

             
It was summer – it smelled and tasted and felt like it – and the world was full of drowsy, content people. Jo had a fleeting hope that, at some point during the night, four more souls would gain a little ground on those drowsy, contented masses.

             
The narrow front stoop was wreathed in shadow, the security light just touching the top step, but not reaching the door, and Jo was glad for the anonymity as she rang the bell and listened for feet to thump toward her through the foyer.

             
A hall light came on, yellow beams popping through the front windows, and it did unflattering things to Mike’s haggard face when he opened the door. The circles under his eyes could have been shiners. He hadn’t shaved in days, blonde stubble coming in thick on his cheeks and chin. His hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it continually since they’d left Ireland. And he was not happy to see her.

             
“Wait.” Jo propped a palm against the door as he tried to close it on her without so much as a
get lost
. She didn’t have the strength to hold it, but it bought her enough time to give him her most determined scowl. “I’m not here about you and me, Mike, so get off your damn high horse already. I come with a peace offering; I brought you yours, now I want to see mine.”             

             
“What the hell are you talking about?”

             
“I called Mom. I know Tam’s here.” She stuck her foot over the threshold and stretched up on her toes, getting into his face as much as their heights allowed. “
I want to see him, Michael
.”

             
He blinked. Some of the tension left his face. “You brought Delta?” he asked, disbelieving. “Where is she?”

             
“In the car. Either she’s nervous you won’t see her, or else she’s never been in a Ford before and can’t figure out how the door locks work.”

             
“You’re not funny for shit.”

             
“Neither are you.”

             
They regarded each other a moment and Jo felt like they’d had some less serious version of this argument a thousand times before. Him not wanting her to tag along on a bike ride, but her insisting. Him not wanting to be seen in public with her, but being forced to deal with it anyway. They had never been close; always butting heads, more foes than friends.

             
“You’re supposed to be with her,” Jo said, “and I’m supposed to be with him. Other people took that away from us and it’s not fair.”

             
His whole face pulled to the side and he scratched at his hair. “Life’s not fair.”

             
She knew, like she’d known with Delta, that one wrong word would get the door slammed in her face. “No it’s not,” she agreed, “but you and me, we need to be fair with each other here. Honest. You never loved me like a little sister, so don’t play the protective big bro now.” He frowned. “I can’t say Delta’s on my short list of new best friends, but you guys are perfect for each other.”

             
“You lied to me,” he accused, but some of the bite was bleeding out of his voice. He sounded exhausted.

             
“I never told you,” she corrected, “but it was always right there if you’d cared to notice.”

             
Mike snorted.

             
“Don’t take this out on Tam. His mom - ”

             
“I’m not.”

             
A car passed behind her on the road, its windows down, Lady Gaga blaring. When the noise had faded, Mike gave her one last look, green eyes thoughtful, and swung the door wide so she could enter. “He’s in the guest bedroom,” he told her, and Jo felt a sudden swell of love for her brother as she hurried across the foyer toward the staircase. “Jo,” he said, and she paused, her hand on the newel post at the end of the bannister, turning to face him.

             
All the tension had gone out of his face; a faraway look had come over his eyes. “That Memorial Day,” he said, his voice touched with a dreaminess born of the past, “the one where Mom and Gram got into it.”

             
Jo knew the one. Beth’s mother hadn’t met a person alive who lived up to her expectations, and while they were all well equipped to cope with that, the perfect storm had been brewing and Beth had snapped. The ensuing shouting match had driven all the kids out of the house. Randy’s truck had been blocking the end of the driveway, so Mike, Tam, Jordan and Jo had all squeezed across the cab and gone for ice cream.

             
“It was already happening, wasn’t it?”

             
She’d been sixteen, breathless and supercharged with the kind of fizzing teenage love that was half obsession and half what-could-be. Even in front of her brothers, it had been hard not to stare at Tam, to watch the sunlight on his hair and trace every line of his face with her eyes – besides, Jordan knew and Mike was oblivious. She could remember the little things about that evening: the family of six with a whole table full of bouncing, redheaded children, babbling like chickadees. The heavy, sweet smell of waffle cones. The lazy crawl of traffic through the parking lot around the Bruster’s stand. The shiny green dribbles of mint chocolate chip overflowing her cone and running down over her fingers.

             
Her ice cream had gone tumbling off the cone on the first lick, landing with a wet
splat
on the bricks under her feet. None of them had any cash – they’d bought their prizes with change out of the glove box of Randy’s truck – and Mike had made a face at her like she was an idiot. “Eat it off the ground ‘fore the ants get it,” he’d told her.

             
But Tam had scooted over closer to her and told her he would share. At the time, Jo had thought Mike was the biggest idiot in the world, but the touch of sadness behind his already-wounded eyes now…maybe he’d been more trusting than stupid.

             
“He was never taking advantage, Mike.”

             
He snorted, a non-smile pulling at his mouth. “He should have come to me. I’m not Walt. I woulda decked him one time and that would have been the end of it.”

             
A lump formed in her throat. If only they’d just told him…

”And now?”

              He nodded toward the stairs. “He’s in pretty rough shape.”

             
Which was her cue, his blessing. She didn’t wait for him to change his mind, but hurried up the stairs, and heard the front door close as he went out to see Delta.

             
The upstairs of the town house was cramped, two bedrooms, a bath, plus a master suite all crammed in together. The bedroom right next to the hall bath was Mike’s home office, the one down at the end the guest room. Jo listened at the door a moment, not sure what she was hoping to hear or not hear. She took a series of deep breaths that did nothing to calm her, fluffed her hair, and then let herself in without knocking.

             
There was a standing lamp on in the far corner and its soft light fell over the bed, and Tam. He had stripped down to his jeans and was stretched out on his stomach, arms under the pillow, head turned toward her. His eyes were shut, but they popped open as she closed the door with a soft click. She hadn’t seen him since Ireland, but she’d seen those eyes.

             
The lump in her throat doubled as she waited to see if he would react at all. When she realized he wasn’t going to move, Jo kicked off her shoes and went to him, climbing up onto the bed and settling beside him, her arm across his shoulders, her face pressed close to his. He reeked of cigarette smoke. He’d smoked as a teenager, thoroughly James Dean with a cigarette stuck behind an ear or clenched between his teeth. He smelled like he’d sucked down a whole pack in the last hour.

             
“I met your mom,” she said, voice shaky, tears threatening, and she hated it, because she was the one who needed to be doing the comforting.

             
“She told me.” He was numb. She could see it in him just like she’d seen it in herself in Ireland.

             
Her hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers stroking through the hair at his nape. “I’m so sorry, Tam.”

             
“She was fifty-one.” His voice was disconnected. His eyes were on her face but they were flat, sightless. “And now she’s dead.”

             
“She was very sick for a long time.”

             
“It’s a relief,” he said with a weary, lung-emptying sigh that ruffled Jo’s hair. “I’ll go to hell for saying that, but it’s a relief she’s gone. She…” He blinked, and then didn’t say anything else.

             
“She’s not in pain anymore,” Jo said in a choked voice. “And it was too much for you to take on by yourself.” She rubbed his smooth, bare back and bit her lip when she felt how little meat there was around his ribs. “I wish you’d told me, sweetie. I wish you’d let me help you.”

             
His eyes closed and he sighed again, like just the effort of breathing was too much work. “I didn’t want you around that. Any of it. Around me.” Another sigh. “You should just go.”

             
She knew what he was doing, but it didn’t make it any less hard to hear. She took a deep, steadying breath. “No.”

             
His eyes opened again, and this time, they sparkled, full of pain and grief and frustration.

             
“No,” she repeated. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t push me away or scare me off.”

             
“Please,” he said through his teeth. “I can’t do this. Just…”

             
Jo reached up and laid her hand gently against the side of his face, thumb skimming down his jaw toward his chin. “Tam.” She bent her head toward his, until all she could see were his eyes, and pushed her words out through her own. “You are so sweet, and so kind. You have always been patient and responsible beyond your years. You are
not
your asshole father,” she said fiercely, “and bless your sweet mom’s heart, but you’re not her either. You’re my family.”

             
He closed his eyes, dark lashes throwing spiky, wet shadows across his cheeks.

             
“And I want you to come home with me,” Jo said. “We’ll help you bury your mother, but please, Tam, please, just come home.”

             
She held her breath. Downstairs, the door opened and the soft murmur of voices echoed off the hardwood: Mike and Delta coming inside. The door was reclosed, footsteps moved up the stairs, and the two of them shut themselves up in the master suite.