Chapter 4

DIANA

Iwas not looking forward to dinner with the family. Usually, I did, but I knew things were going to be tense. When my father got in one of his moods, we all felt it. I pulled up to my childhood home and prayed Jessie was sick and couldn't make it to dinner.

As expected, the house was heavy with tension when I walked in. The usual warmth was absent. "Hey, Mom," I greeted her in the kitchen.

"Oh, Diana, you're early." She smiled. "Would you do me a favor and set the table?"

"Of course. How was your day?"

"Good, good." She nodded.

It wasn't her usual answer. I could tell she was nervous about dinner. That only happened when she knew my father was in a mood. She tended to withdraw and do her best to keep her head down to keep from rocking the boat. I could hear the television on in the den and assumed my father was watching baseball or golf.

"Did you see it's supposed to be really warm next week?" I asked while pulling the correct number of plates from the cupboard.

My mother glanced over at me, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. "Yes, I did. Maybe we can all go for a hike or have a picnic."

I smiled at the thought of spending quality time together as a family, something that had become increasingly rare over the years. But we both knew a family picnic wasn't going to happen. We were all busy with our own lives.

"What about Sheila?" I asked. "Are you guys doing book club next week?"

"Oh yes." She smiled.

She checked the time, knowing Jessie would arrive soon. My father's heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, signaling his presence before he even entered the room. His stern expression made my heart sink, and I braced myself for whatever storm was about to hit.

"Is dinner ready?" he grumbled, barely sparing me a glance.

"Not yet, dear. Diana just got here. Why don't you call Abigail and see if she's on her way?"

He nodded at me. "Diana."

"Hi, Dad." I smiled. "How's the game?"

"Yankees are losing," he replied.

I laughed. "Sorry."

"I'll be in the den," he said and walked away.

I set the table in silence, feeling the weight of my father's disapproval hanging in the air. I stole a glance at my mother, who avoided my gaze. The tension was palpable, suffocating me as I tried to focus on the task at hand. I decided to try and diffuse some of the tension before Jessie arrived.

"Has he talked to Jessie at all?" I asked quietly.

"No. Those two are like two lions when they get around each other. I'm just waiting for one of them to go after the other's neck. I don't know what gets into Jessie's head. He should know better."

"He's bored, Mom. Jessie is an adventurous man. We've lived in this place our whole lives and I think he's just looking for some excitement."

"We all get bored, but that doesn't mean we get naked and break into houses," she replied dryly.

Jessie always had a rebellious streak, but his recent escapades had crossed a line that none of us had anticipated. I felt guilty for not being able to stop him, to steer him away from the destructive path he seemed hellbent on following.

The sound of the front door opening announced Jessie's arrival. My mother and I shared a knowing look, bracing ourselves for the trouble that was about to walk through that door. Jessie sauntered into the room, his devil-may-care attitude clashing with the tense atmosphere. His smirk faltered slightly when he caught sight of our expressions, but he quickly schooled his features into a nonchalant mask. He knew he was in trouble and I knew it bummed him out, but he was always going to play it cool.

"Hey, everyone," Jessie greeted, his voice too casual, too forced.

My father emerged from the den, his eyes narrowing at Jessie. "You're late," he stated flatly.

Jessie shrugged, unconcerned. "Did I miss dinner already?"

I shot Jessie a warning glance, silently pleading with him to just go along with it for tonight. But I knew Jessie. He never backed down from a challenge, especially when it came to our father. Abigail arrived just after Jessie, breezing into the house with her usual energy.

Everyone was feeling on edge as we took our seats at the table. I took a bite of the roast beef, convinced it lacked its usual flavor. My mom was a good cook, but it lacked something. Maybe that was because the environment felt sour, so the meat tasted a little off.

"I want to quit my job at the clothing store and become a server," Abigail declared. My little sister was always the loudest voice in the room.

"No," my father said without missing a beat.

Abigail ignored him. "I'm tired of feeling stuck, of not being challenged. I want something new and exciting."

Our father shook his head disapprovingly. Despite being adults, our father still called the shots. Most of us just went along with it. "That's not honorable work, Abigail," he admonished. "You'd have to work nights, wear skimpy clothes, flirt to make decent money. It's not the kind of job our family should be associated with. The clothing store is a respectable job. That's where you'll stay."

Abigail's shoulders slumped in defeat, her hopes dashed by our father's disapproval. Abigail was twenty-four and the baby of the family. My father seemed to think that was exactly what she would always be.

My sister turned to our mother for support. Usually, Mom stuck up for her. But not tonight. Mom was suddenly very focused on arranging her green beans on her plate.

Abigail turned to me, her eyes pleading for help. It was an unspoken fact I was Dad's favorite. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the task ahead. "Salt is a fine-dining experience, Daddy," I began, choosing my words carefully. "You go there all the time for business meetings. If it was such a risqué place, you wouldn't go. I think Abigail would make a fine server at a place like that. Or the country club. It's a good way for her to meet people."

To my surprise, our father relented. "Fine," he sighed. "But I don't want you dressing in a way that is unbecoming of our family name."

Abigail grinned. "I'll be respectable. Don't worry!" She jumped up from her seat, kissing our father on the cheek. "Thank you."

"Don't make me regret this decision," he said as Abigail sat down again.

My father looked at Jessie, who had been sitting quietly at the table. I knew he was just trying to stay invisible to avoid drawing fire.

But my father wasn't going to let it go. "We have a mess to make up for," he said, staring at my brother.

The atmosphere at the table grew tense all over again. Without a word, Jessie got up and left, his abrupt departure leaving a palpable void in the room.

"Jessie," Mom called out.

He was already on the move. There was no bringing him back to the table.

"I'll get him home," I said and got up from the table. "I'll do dishes next time, Mom."

"Tell him to call me," Mom said.

I nodded and walked outside. It was just starting to rain. Jessie was already making his way down the road. I quickly got in my car and drove toward him, my headlights hitting him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw me but kept walking, like the stubborn kid I would always see him as.

I rolled down the passenger window. "Get in, dumb ass."

"I'm walking."

"I can see that, but you don't need to walk. Get in and I'll give you a ride."

"I want to walk," he said, sounding like a petulant child.

I leaned my head out the window, raindrops splashing against my face. "Jessie, just get in the car. We can talk. Mom's worried about you."

He hesitated, stopped in his tracks, and then finally relented. With a defeated sigh, he opened the door and slumped into the passenger seat, dripping on the upholstery.

Jessie stared out the window.

"You know he's going to get over it," I said.

"I don't care."

"Yeah, you're clearly not bothered by it all," I said.

"I think he likes being mad at me," he said. "I could never do anything right in his eyes."

"Jessie, you were buck naked in the pool with a woman," I reminded him. "Trespassing."

"It wasn't just any woman, it was?—"

I cut him off. "It doesn't matter who it was, Jessie. You embarrassed Mom, and she's been worried sick about you. And committed a crime."

"It's barely a misdemeanor," he muttered, running a hand through his wet hair. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Well, you did. And now you need to face the music."

Jessie fell silent, staring out at the rain-slicked streets passing by. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between defiance and remorse.

"We all make mistakes," I said gently. "Dad's not perfect either."

"The perfect mayor." He scoffed. "The man that has never even looked sideways at someone out of fear of causing a scandal. He's just pissed that the family he produced isn't quite as perfect as he is."

"I think Dad just wants us to be better," I said softly. "He's trying to protect his reputation, and he sees your actions as a reflection on him."

Jessie let out a bitter laugh. "Well, I guess I've really tarnished that reputation now, huh?"

I sighed, knowing that my brother was struggling with his own demons. "We all have our flaws, Jessie. You just seem hellbent on making sure everyone sees yours. It's okay to hide some of the crazy. Or at least keep it behind closed doors."

I was trying to tease him, get him laughing. But it wasn't working.

"I guess I'm not going to be winning an Oscar anytime soon for acting like everything's fine," he muttered. "I'm not a goodie two shoes like you."

"I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of our father's disapproval," I said.

"I'm not like you," he said. "You've got a good job and are Daddy's little angel. You can do no wrong."

"That's not fair," I retorted. "You don't have to be like me, Jessie. You just have to figure out who you want to be for yourself. And don't trespass."

The steady rhythm of the rain against the windshield filled the quiet. I didn't know how to help him.

I pulled up outside his apartment building. He lived with a couple of friends, something else our father didn't like. He wanted Jessie to have a nice house and preferably a good woman for a wife and the icing on the cake would be a couple of kids to make the mayor look like a doting grandpa.

"Jessie, it's not so bad," I said.

He looked at me with disgust. "It is. At least in Dad's eyes it is. He really expected me to follow in his footsteps. He wants me to become the mayor when he finally retires. I think that's why he's really pissed. All of my scandals are tarnishing my ‘good name.' For me to get elected would take a small miracle. He knows it. He sees his chances of his dream going up in smoke. That's why he's such a bully."

"You don't have to be the mayor," I said gently. "You need to find your thing."

"My thing isn't here," he said. "I can't live in this town for the rest of my life. Thanks for the ride."

He got out of the car and rushed inside in an attempt to dodge the rain. I shook my head and pulled away. I really hoped Jessie found something he loved to help settle him.

As I drove through the quiet streets, lost in my own thoughts, I spotted a man hitchhiking by the side of the road. Without hesitation, I pulled over. It was pouring rain and no one should be out walking. It was Cold Springs. I was sure I knew the guy.

I knew everyone.