Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

ROWAN

“He’s okay, Ivy,” I say into my phone, playing with the seam in the arm of a waiting room chair. It’s busted, like most of the things around me. Even the little Christmas tree in the corner has twisted limbs, and the menorah on the table next to it is dented. I guess there’s no need to give people perfect things while they’re waiting for shit news. Except the news I just got was actually not that bad. “They say it was a mild heart attack. I’m going in there to see him in a minute. A nurse just came and told me he woke up.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” she says, back at home now. When I first called, she was at a busy bar. The heroine in her next book is a female bartender, I guess, and she’s always been all about doing in-person research. Truthfully, I think she’s a bit like me, and she doesn’t want to settle for one boring job when she could have hundreds of little ones. Except I could barely string enough sentences together to fill out a greeting card, and she’s written millions.

I’m impressed by my little sister, even though I really wish she hadn’t chosen to write a book about a fireman. The guys doubled down on the Cupid nickname, and half a dozen copies of the book are always floating around the firehouse. People lend them out to their friends, for God’s sake.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Ivy continues, bringing my attention back to our conversation, “but I’m glad you were there with him. Ralph doesn’t seem like he’d be good in emergencies.”

“No,” I agree. “But Ethel had aspirin. That helped, I guess.”

“And was anyone there for you , Rowan?”

“Oliver was there,” I say, even as Kennedy flashes through my mind. She immediately hopped into action, and she didn’t stop. She even volunteered to call Kerry. When I first met her, I figured she was the kind of woman who liked to keep her hands clean, but I read her wrong. I wish she were here, to be honest, although it’s ludicrous to think the woman starring in my grandmother’s matchmaking show could sit side by side with me in this tacky hospital waiting room without drawing eyes.

I tried following up with Kerry, but there was no answer. I haven’t been able to get a hold of my other sisters either. Bryn and Holly are both at a big event related to the dating app they helped create, and Willow lives in Asheville. I’ll tell her, but not yet.

“Good. That’s good.” Ivy heaves a sigh, and I picture her running a hand through her short hair. The rest of us have dark hair, but hers is blonde and curly. When we were kids, people would ask if she was a visiting friend.

She feels like one most of the time.

“Well, looks like I’ll be up for Christmas, huh?” she says.

“Don’t sound so happy about it.”

“I’m not, dipshit,” she says, but it’s not without fondness. “I have been meaning to come visit for a while now,” she adds. “But I was hoping to wait until after the show. The last thing I want is for Nana to pull me in front of the camera as her romance mascot.”

Yeah, you’d rather leave that role to Bryn and Holly.

“That’s something she would do,” I agree. “But I see no reason to tell her about any of this. Jay’s not her son-in-law anymore. Ipso facto , it’s none of her business. Mom either. You’d be staying at the house with Jay, anyway, I’m guessing.”

She always does. Sometimes I wonder if my sisters are hurt by that, by Ivy’s closeness to Jay, but they’ve never said so. I think we all understand.

“Is Kerry there?” she asks. There’s a strange note in her voice, like she maybe knows something I don’t.

“No,” I say. “Kenn—my other friend who was there tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. She left a voice message. I left another one just now. I’m surprised she’s not here. You know how the gossip mill is in this town. Half the people in Jay’s address book probably already know about this.”

“Roger that,” she says. “Which is why I can’t imagine how you think I can keep my presence in Highland Hills a secret for more than five minutes.”

“Oh, you think everyone’s going to be talking about the famous novelist in town?” I ask, smirking. It feels good, teasing her. It feels a bit less like I’ve gone six months without seeing her.

I understand why Ivy’s kept her distance. At the same time, part of me still thinks of her as the little girl who kept crawling around after me and Willow when we were little. The kid sister I used to keep from swallowing “chokes,” as we called them.

I miss her, is what I’m saying.

“You know they will be,” she says, laughing. “I was more thinking they’d paint a scarlet A on dad’s door. Or at least some people in town would.”

She’s right. As with any small town, we have our share of prudes. “They’re just jealous,” I say.

“Thanks, Rowan.”

“You know, if you’d consider changing the bar in your book to a brewery, you could do your research right here,” I say. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to Holly recently, but she’s with Cole Garrison, the guy who owns Ziggy’s.”

“No shit. I’ll think about it,” she says. “But about Kerry. I think something’s up with her and Dad. I called him the other week, and she was shouting at him in the background. You know how he is, though. Nothing’s a problem. Everything’s great.”

“Huh,” I tell her, because I don’t care to think about that. I need to get through this current crisis before addressing the other ones lining up for attention. The nurse who came to see me earlier motions to me from the double doors. “I think I can go back now.”

“Take pictures. Call me. I want to know everything.”

“Will do, Little Bit,” I say, using her childhood nickname.

“Thanks, Rowan. Thanks for calling. For being there.”

“Of course,” I say. “Jay’s still family.”

In some ways, he is. In some ways, he’s not. He has been asking me to hang out a lot more lately, maybe because of the trouble she mentioned with Kerry, and now I feel like a real dick for not following up. It’s just…he did ask us, and especially me, to spend time with him after he divorced our mother, but the invitations eventually dried to a trickle. It was natural they would, but it also hurt, especially after my own father took off without a backward glance.

Jay did deserve better than our mother, and I never resented him for seeking it out. I just wished all us kids could have gone with him.

“You had to say he was your father to get in to see him, right?” Ivy asks.

“Yeah, I did,” I say through a throat that suddenly feels swollen. I swallow back the “what of it,” and tell her to get her ass up here.

I hang up, pocket my phone, and follow the nurse through the winding halls to Jay’s room. She tries to make small talk, and I answer in grunts. We walk into the room together.

I’m not a paramedic, but I know enough of them to have known what to expect, pretty much. Still, it sucks to see someone you know and care about hooked up to a bunch of machines to keep his clock ticking.

“Rowan,” Jay says, his voice husky, as I pull up a chair to his bedside. The nurse checks his vitals, then leaves. “Did you get through to Kerry?”

“’Fraid not, but I just got off the phone with Ivy. She’s coming. Bit of an extreme measure to get your daughter home for Christmas.”

He laughs a little, then winces, and I feel like an asshole for making a joke. A shitty one at that. If it’s going to hurt when he laughs, he needs to make it count. “That’s good,” he manages at least. “Really good.” He stares into my eyes for a long beat, then says, “Rowan, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. That’s why—” His mouth purses. He glances at the water on the side table next to the bed, and I bring it over to him so he can reach the straw.

After taking a long drink, he says, “Your mother told me something after the plans for the matchmaking show were finalized. There’s something she wanted to reveal on air.” He forces a smile. “You know she has a flair for the dramatic. I convinced her not to, thank God.” He squirms a little on the bed. “But you know your mother. I don’t totally believe she wouldn’t try something, even now, so I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

“And?” I ask, my tone tight. I shouldn’t talk to him with anything but butterflies and flowers in my voice, considering what he’s been through today, but it’s pretty obvious I’m not going to like where he’s going with this. I’m a little tired of bad news. I’m a handyman/fireman nicknamed Cupid who’s interested in a woman who’s currently living with six other men. I might as well have set my sights on Snow White. Isn’t that enough? How much can one man take?

“Rowan, you need to understand that I didn’t know this when you were a kid. I may have suspected, but I didn’t know. She only told me a couple of months ago.”

“What the f… What are you talking about, Jay?”

“I’m your father, Rowan.”

“Yeah, I know you said you’re still our stepdad after—”

“No,” he says, adamant. “I’m your father.”

His words and the way he’s saying them sink in. Shock roils through me, followed by a cold, numb feeling. “You’re my father. So. What? You were having an affair with my mother when she was still with my dad?” A humorless laugh escapes me. “Well, I guess he’s not my dad, not that he ever was much of one.”

“Yes,” Jay says, his face full of sympathy, like he understands what a barrel of shit he’s just unloaded on me and is sorry for it. Like he knows this is going to make me respect him less. “We started seeing each other before she had you, but it didn’t last long. She said she wanted to try to be a real family with you and her husband…and Bryn and Holly, of course. I don’t have an excuse, other than that I loved her.”

“Jesus, Jay. I always knew our family was fucked up, but this adds another layer,” I say, getting to my feet. Pacing. It’s a layer I could do without.

If Jay’s my father, I could have gone to live with him like Ivy did after our mother left. Only, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave Bryn and Holly. I definitely wouldn’t have left Willow.

Fuck. I’ll have to tell her this. Will she think I’m less of her brother once she finds out we’re only half-siblings?

“I’m sorry,” Jay says.

“Yeah, me too. I can’t… I need to go. For a while.”

“You take all the time you need, buddy,” he says, giving me a slight smile. “Just as long as you come back.”

My heart’s burning as I stomp off down the hallway, through the waiting room, and out to my truck, where the stupid, fucking tree is waiting in the bed. Suddenly, I’m exhausted. Thoroughly and utterly exhausted. All I want to do is go home, sit in a room, preferably dark, and drink whiskey until I pass out. And if that sounds horrible, then you have a limited imagination. The numb feeling that engulfed me in the hospital room is receding, and I don’t want to feel what lies beneath it.

My sister isn’t back yet by the time I get home, not that I was expecting her. Her app event is supposed to last all day. The house feels empty, though, and I don’t like it.

I find that long-sleeved T-shirt in the front seat, the one from Ralph’s. After I bring the tree inside, I go to the bathroom and pull it on. I’m wearing it while I sit in my chair. I’m wearing it while I pour myself the first drink. I’m wearing it when I push the bottle away.

Because it’s not the kind of comfort I want.