Текст книги "Rock"

Автор книги: Anyta Sunday

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–“to get close like this.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Maybe we could make him jealous of you.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I had a wonderful night with this incredibly hot guy named Wesley, friend of the bride—”

He kisses me. Our masks and noses bump, and his lips press firmly against mine, sucking in my

bottom lip. His arms draw tight around me and I moan into the kiss, deepening it with my tongue. I

press my groin against his and lightly thrust while I cup the back of his neck and massage him closer.

He shifts, his thigh slipping between mine, and suddenly I’m passionately shoved against the

railing and one of our glasses falls and cracks on the grass below. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says,

rubbing his nose against mine and staring into my eyes before resuming our kiss. “But I can’t do this,”

he says as his kisses trail over my jaw and under my ear. “I can’t. It’s not fair to you.”

“Of course you can, Wesley,” I say. “You’re just a one-night stand. I know not to expect you in the

morning.”

“That’s not right,” he says again, but his hands explore my back and he holds me so close his heart

hammers against my chest.

“Please don’t stop,” I whisper.

“Cooper—”

“Please.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, like he’s trying with every ounce of restraint to pull back but

he can’t. His warm lips crush against mine once more and his fingers tickle as he drags them up my

neck to thread into my hair.

A cool breeze hits my back, and with it, I push us back to the balcony door and through to my

bedroom.

The lights are off and it’s dark, but we stumble to my bed, kick off our shoes and yank down our

pants while locked in kisses. The heat of his hard cock nudges mine, and the length of his thigh presses

warmly between my legs. I thrust against him, eliciting an animalistic groan.

His fingers are trembling just as mine are as we fumble to undo the buttons on each other’s shirts.

His comes off first and drops to the floor.

Jace rearranges his cock so it’s between my thighs, rubbing lightly at my balls. He finishes the last

button and sweeps his hands over my shoulders and down my arms until my shirt hits his. His full

length is against mine, everything hot save the cool bite of his greenstone hook jammed between our

chests.

I maneuver us to my side table where I pull out supplies. I’m aching to have him inside me, and I

make quick work of rolling on the condom and lathering him with lube. I poured too much on my hand

and Jace scoops some up on his fingers as he takes my cock in his hand and strokes me lovingly.

His lube-laced fingers draw over my balls and press tantalizingly against my entrance. I want—

need—more. I lie lengthwise on the bed and Jace crawls on top of me. His hand gently probes my ring

as he kisses and suckles my nipple. His mask scratches the top of my shoulder, reminding me to bite

down on crying out his name.

This is Wesley. Tonight, he’s Wesley.

No, he’s not.

Now who’s the fool?

“Please,” I say, after he’s thoroughly worked me with his fingers.

He kisses a path up my stomach to my chin, and the hook bumps along my skin with them.

I grip his cock, angling it at my entrance. He sucks in a pant and kisses me hard.

“Please,” I say again as the head of his cock pushes into me. “All I want is you.”

He slides all the way in and I grab his hips as I arch against him. He stills and presses his forehead

against my ear, his harsh breath tickling my neck. “Cooper.”

I swallow the rise of emotion and focus on how full I feel, how my cock is rubbing against his skin,

how my toes are curling, the way the silky bed sheets feel against the back of my thighs.

I dig my fingers into his hips. He snaps into a thrust that jolts me with deliciousness I need more of.

He thrusts into me like a waltz, three times and the swivel of his hips, over and over until I hear the

music and feel it beating against my skin.

He kisses me again, and closes a hand around my cock.

I clench at the pleasure and we both let out a groan. His thrusts push me closer and closer to the

edge. I want to fall so badly but I don’t want this to be over. Never want this to be over.

As if he can read my mind, he slows his thrusts but he doesn’t let go of me. I fight not to give in to

the pleasure of his strokes and the way his thumb brushes over the head.

He looks down at me, his jaw clenched in passion, but he never closes his eyes. His mask glitters

but his eyes are pinning my soul to his. It’s intimate in a way I’ve never experienced. I’m somewhere

between panicking and experiencing the biggest release of my life.

He bites his lip and rocks more quickly into me. The bed groans with us, and I clutch Jace’s ass

tightly, pressing him in, in, in.

The strokes on my cock are in time to his and when he presses his mouth against mine and calls my

name over my lips, I come with him, crying out as my orgasm bursts out of me and keeps coming,

coming, coming.

malachite

I follow his blog through Germany, France, Spain, Greece, Turkey, and Scotland. I wish I’d thought

to give him a piece of malachite to protect him on his travels.

Malachite, a copper carbonate hydroxide mineral.

Mineral. Not a protective talisman.

He’s Jace, a pianist traveling the world before settling into a career of teaching.

His own person. Not mine.

Tonight, he posted about England.

I’m at Mum’s for our weekly roast but I’m not hungry. Paul offers me the carafe of gravy, but

drowning the dry vegetables isn’t going to make a difference. I pick at the chicken and eat a few peas.

After a bite of potato, I rest my knife and fork on the plate.

Mum eyes me, questioningly arching an eyebrow. “Ever since you started flatting, you’ve neglected

your diet.”

“I’m not hungry right now,” I murmur. I ask Annie where Ernie is tonight.

Mum cuts over her answer. “It’s not just now. You haven’t been hungry in months and you’re

studying yourself thin.” She turns to Annie. “Get your boy to take this one out on a guys’ night. I think

he needs it.”

“What I need,” I say, shoving my chair back from the table, “is to bloody well be in England.”

I walk out. Everything is winding me up the wrong way—even the way the bus driver gave me a

cheery greeting earlier. No, I won’t have a good day, dammit.

My days are restless as though ants are marching through my veins, tickling my insides so I can’t

settle.

I stop in my bedroom doorway. It looks smaller than it used to. Even the toolboxes lining the walls

don’t seem to have the presence they once had. I breathe in the stale air, then turn my back on the

younger me and head outside.

The veranda creeks underfoot, and the winter air bites as I hunker down, resting against the house. I

pull out my phone.

England, Stonehenge

A picture with a short caption underneath:

Something’s missing.

I rub my phone over my forehead, trying to smooth out the heavyset frown that seems to be

staining itself to my skin.

The wooden planks creak, and I glance up. Mum is shrugging on a brown winter coat and stealing

toward me. She sighs and drops down next to me, draping a green mohair scarf around my neck.

“It’s Jace, isn’t it?”

“What?”

She takes my phone and slips it into her pocket. “You miss him.”

I knock my head back against the side of the house and stare at the quarter moon. “It’s

complicated.”

“Ah,” she says in that all-knowing tone that mothers have. “I see.” I drop my head to her shoulder,

and she pats my head in that awkward way she does.

“It’s okay,” she says. For a second, the stars look like the glowworms in our cave. “It’s not like

you’re real brothers.”

apache tear drop

It is said those who have an Apache Tear Drop will never cry again.

Legend speaks of a brutal surprise attack on the Apaches, where fifty of seventy-five men were

shot. The remaining twenty-five retreated to the edge of the cliffs, where they chose to jump rather than

be killed as their brothers were.

The Apache women, lovers, mothers, sisters, and daughters gathered at the base of the cliff and

mourned their loved ones. Their sorrow was so great that their tears turned to black stones.

Holding this stone to the light reveals the shimmer of the Apache Tear Drop and is good luck to

those who have it. They will never cry again because the Apache cried enough for them.

I hold this stone after learning that Lila’s cancer has returned.

I hold it after learning that the cancer has spread to her bone marrow, lungs, and liver.

I hold it after watching Dad cry that it’s the liver that will take her away from us in a few months.

I hold it after overhearing Dad telling Jace to cut his trip short and come home.

I hold it after Annie hugs him, me, then Lila who is sitting on the grass outside in the spot her and

Dad were married.

I hold it but it doesn’t take any pain away.

The Apache women did not cry enough for Lila.

stonehenge bluestone

Annie brings over the kauri rocking chair I gave her. She smiles at me in the doorway to the dining

room as Lila sinks onto the cushions.

The patio doors are open and a warm breeze stirs the trees and ruffles Lila’s skirt. She grips the

chair arms and rocks. “This is lovely, Annie.”

Dad squeezes Annie into a hug and slips into the kitchen to make tea. His back is to me and his

shoulders are higher up than usual, as though he’s stiff with worry.

I push off the doorway to help him when the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get that.”

For all the windows in this house, it is strange that the door is so solid, so dark, so impenetrable. I

grip the cool handle, ready to let him in.

I pull the door open.

Jace stands in the porch with his suitcase and carry-on bag. He’s tanner than the last time I saw him

at Lila and Dad’s wedding, but unlike the suave suit he wore then, he’s wearing jeans stained with flight

food and wine. Even with sunglasses on, the puffiness of his cheeks gives his tears away.

“You’re home,” I choke out.

He doesn’t move forward to hug me or even push past me. It’s as though he’s afraid to cross the

threshold of truth.

I pick up his suitcases and drag them inside. They’re heavy with a hundred memories of fun and

laughter.

“I’ll put these in your room.”

He stops me, finally breaching the threshold. “Wait. I have something in there for her.”

Jace unzips the front pocket of his large bag and pulls out a small box. He hops to his feet, sliding

his sunglasses onto his head. Tears have made his eyes a shocking blue. “Where is she?”

“The dining room, by the patio.”

He clutches his gift and heads toward his mum.

I move his stuff to his room and head downstairs.

Dad is still standing in the kitchen with his back to us, even though the water is well and truly

boiled. Annie is on the patio watering the potted plants, and Jace is placing a pendant over his mum’s

head.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Stonehenge bluestone.” A precious stone used for centuries in alternative healing. “It’ll help you

get better.”

A cup drops and smashes on the floor. I hurry into the kitchen to help dad clean it up. It’s my cup he

dropped—my Rock Whisperer one. Though it’s beyond saving, I stow the pieces in a freezer bag

anyway.

Dad is sitting on the floor leaning against a cupboard. I crouch next to him and rest a hand on his

knee, rubbing the linen.

“Come with me,” I tell him. “The afternoon, just you and I.” Let Lila have time with her son to

break it to him in her way.

“Yeah,” Dad says, running a hand through his greying hair. “That’s probably a good idea.”

We hike the ridges of the hills where pine needles sweeten the air. Birds click and cackle and

wheeze overhead. I wonder if they are conversing about us:

They seem rather somber, don’t they?

Like they built a nest in the shadows and have never see the sun.

Poor things. Someone should teach them how to fly.

A white-tufted bird with dark, iridescent feathers swoops in front of us, bringing us to a sudden halt

in the middle of a patch of sun. “Jesus, that was close.”

I spin in an arc to find the bird again. I spot its black opal feathers in the tree to our left. “It was a

Tui.”

Tui. Tui. Tui. The word is mimicked back to us. Yep, definitely a Tui. “Hear that? It’s incredible.”

Dad nods. “Sounded just like you. Lila would be beside herself. She loves Tuis.”

She loves Tuis. She loves Tuis. She loves Tuis.

And it sounds a bit like She loves you, eh?

Dad laughs, his crow’s feet deepening. “That’s beautiful.”

He slings an arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple.

That’s beautiful. That’s beautiful. That’s beautiful. The bird says.

It is.

smoky quartz

At home, Jace is pulling ingredients out of the fridge and pantry for dinner. Lila sits in her rocking

chair with a notepad and a pen, letting ink flow over the fine blue lines as she writes. Dad kisses her

cheek and she stops writing to ask what we did. She laughs as I draw in a breath and move into the

kitchen.

Jace.

He glances up at me and steps to the side, offering me space next to him. But he doesn’t say

anything. I take a cutting board and a sharp knife, then take over cutting the onions. They sting my eyes

but I’m used to that now. I dice until Jace is ready for them.

They sizzle when they hit the pan. Jace stirs them into the butter with a long wooden spoon and

languid strokes, cutting into the onions like he’s writing something of his own.

“How was Europe?” I ask when the mushrooms are frying and the pasta is boiling. I cock the lid of

the pot so the water doesn’t bubble over.

“Good for me.”

“Better than home?”

He stops stirring and looks me squarely in the eyes. “I know we have to talk.” He swallows and

looks toward his mum and our dad. “But can you wait?”

I can. I have. I always will.

When dinner is ready, Dad calls down Annie and Ernie and we all sit around the table and eat.

Lila smiles at each of us, winking at Ernie, who blushes the color of the roses in the middle of the

table.

Lila eats a few mouthfuls more than she has the past couple of days. “This tastes great, Jace.

Mushroom and capsicum cream sauce?”

“The very one you taught me.”

I poke at the pasta Jace served me, preparing to pull out all the capsicums before I dig any more

into it.

I frown at Jace twirling his pasta on his fork.

You took out the capsicum for me, didn’t you?

Ernie clears his throat. “Hey, Jace.”

“Yeah?”

“Knock-knock.”

Jace raises an eyebrow. “Who’s there?”

“Amish.”

“Amish who?”

“Aww, I missed you too.”

Annie claps him over the back of the head. “Ernie!”

Dad and Lila laugh, and Jace grins too for the first time since coming home. I could kiss that dumb

joke to bits; it’s like smoky quartz—immediately relieving the tension in the room.

“I have another one,” Ernie says as he swivels to face Annie. “Knock knock.”

A short laugh. “Who’s there?”

“Olive.”

“Olive who?”

“Olive you too.” Lila holds her breath and Annie smiles. Ernie pushes his chair back and kneels on

one knee. He pulls a velvet box out of his pocket and opens it. Annie gasps. “Will you marry me?”

Annie bites her lip and throws her arms around his neck, knocking him backward until the chair

behinds him tips and they are on the floor, laughing.

“Is that a yes?”

“Olive to marry you.”

Dad leans over and kisses Lila’s glowing face. I stand up on shaky legs, and everything is blurry as

I round the table. Annie and Ernie are pulling themselves off the floor, and when my sister is on her two

feet, I lift her into a hug and twirl her around. Her laugh puffs against my ear. “I’m so happy,” she says

and squeezes me back.

I set her down and invite Ernie into a man-hug with three quick thumps on the back. “Welcome to

the family. Remember what I said to you at the Halloween-birthday-masquerade wedding?”

He snorts at the mouthful. “Like I could forget.”

Dad pipes up. “Remember what I said too.”

“Said?” Ernie cries out. “You demonstrated what you’d do.”

“Yeah, but if you break your promise, the next time it won’t be with props.”

Dad is scary when he wants to be.

I laugh and hug him too. I breathe in the smell of pine on his clothes. “Jesus,” he says, “you’re all

growing up. Next you and Jace will be engaged as well.”

I know he doesn’t mean engaged together but my heart skips a beat. Jace is hugging his mum but

he’s looking at me.

“Thank you, Ernie,” Lila says when Jace pulls away. “I wish you and Annie a bright, beautiful

future. Maybe you’ll even give this one grandchildren one day,” she says, pinching Dad’s butt.

He jumps and scowls at Ernie. “Not for a long, long time.”

Lila smiles, taking Dad in. “He’ll be a wonderful granddaddy.” She looks at Jace and me. “They’ll

be the best uncles, too.”

Jace ducks out of the dining room and pounds up the stairs.

Lila makes a move to stand but Dad pats her shoulder. “Give the boy some time. He’s jetlagged and

tired. He needs his space.”

I duck out as soon as I can, racing up to the gaming room where he’s playing something soft on the

piano.

When he finishes, he faces me. “Bit rusty,” he says. “Haven’t been practicing as much as I should.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Are you living here?”

I incline my head. “Staying in a flat wasn’t working out for me. Thought I’d camp here again for a

while.”

This isn’t the whole truth. I came home with my bags last weekend. Lila’s going to stay at home for

the end and I want to be here.

“Me too,” Jace says, closing the lid to the piano and standing.

“Guess that makes us neighbors again.”

“Like the old days.”

“But without switching houses.”

He crosses the room and for a moment I think he’s going to stroke my cheek but he rubs his eyes.

“I’m glad of that.” He yawns. “I really need to sleep.”

We step into the hall and make our way to our rooms. Our gazes flicker to the balcony before we

each crack our doors open.

“Good night, Jace.”

“Night, Cooper.”

I drop lengthwise onto my bed, gripping my bedcovers. Breathing in the stillness, I replay the night

of the infamous Halloween-birthday-masquerade wedding.

lazurite

Dad stays at Lila’s side reading to her, playing games, watching movies, and taking naps with his

fingers entwined with hers. As the weeks pass into months, he wells up with tears every time he walks

into their room. He sleeps less and takes daily shots of port in his study.

I take over the rocking chair at her bedside, giving Dad the time he needs to pull himself together. I

understand though. Lila has lost so much weight, and her gaunt face is lined with pain that her meds

can’t entirely take away. She tries to eat for us but she doesn’t want to. She only wants to sleep.

And then a surge of energy overcomes her.

This morning she decided she needed to vacuum the carpets.

A strange beacon of hope coiled itself tightly in my gut. Could the doctors have gotten it all wrong?

I feel Dad’s hysterical laughter and see his hand searching for hers at the dining table as they share

a yogurt.

Then she curls up in bed like she does every normal day.

Dad hasn’t left his study since.

“It’s hard for him to see me like this,” Lila says.

“And it’s not hard for me?”

She pokes her tongue out. “I’m the witch that stole your father. Think of this as payback.”

I sober. “No, Lila. A long time ago I was angry but it’s been a long while now that I”—love you

–“have come to like you a fair bit.”

She laughs but it comes with a wince.

I rock in the chair as we listen to Jace’s hectic music leaking through the walls. Three, four, five

songs pass before Lila speaks again. When she does, it’s hushed.

“What’s the matter, Cooper?”

I meet her concerned blue gaze, which is so much like Jace’s it makes me tremble. “Nothing.”

She shakes her head and stares up at the lampshade, spinning from the vibrations of his music.

“You wear your emotions on your sleeve. You’ve been sad ever since Jace came home.”

I let out a rough laugh. “You think Jace is the one making me sad?”

“Yes. I think it’s my boy that touches your heart the most.”

The music seems to swell, seems to fill the room and turn my skin to shivers. “I don’t know what

you’re talking about.”

“I’m a dying woman. I have no time for lies.”

I shut my eyes and a tear escapes. My throat feels like it’s been scratched with a thousand

toothpicks.

Lila continues, “You used to be so close. Right from the beginning, you and my son sparked.” My

breath shudders. Lila’s voice softens. “He used to look at you like you held the answers to all life’s

mysteries. When you were doing dishes, he’d sit at the table longer just to watch you. When you were at

your mum’s, I’d find him curled in your bed holding one of your stones.”

“He did that?”

“Yes.”

This conversation feels like a confession. I’m afraid of what she might say, yet it’s exactly what I

long to know the most. When she doesn’t say anything for a long time, I clutch the arms of the rocking

chair and ask, “Is Dad Jace’s father too?”

Stunned silence.

Lila gasps out something akin to a laugh. “Of course not!”

But she took too long to answer. I don’t believe her. But she has no time for lies, right?

We look at each other for a long time, but she’s guarding her secrets well.

“Hypothetically,” I say during the silent moment in the music. “If he were Jace’s real dad, would

you tell them?”

Again, she waits too long to answer. “Of course. They’d want to know.”

“Would they?”

She smiles.

The music vibrates through the floor with a violently hopeful beat, then tinkers to something soft

and sorrowful.

“Do me a favor?” Lila asks. “Tell him to play something jolly.”

“We all grieve in our own way. This is his love song to you. It wouldn’t feel right asking him to

stop.”

Tears streak down her temples and over her ears. She struggles to sit up. I plump a pillow behind

her, and she grabs my wrist, rubbing her thumb over my skin. “I love you, Cooper. I know you have a

mum but I have one secret to share with you.”

“What’s that?” I ask, kissing her forehead.

“You are mine as well.” She lets go of me. “Don’t tell him to stop but don’t let him play my song

too long. There are others he should be playing.”

quartzite

Mum asks me to drive her, two casseroles and a coconut cake to Dad’s.

I pull up outside the house. Sunlight reflects off the windows and bounces onto the neglected lawn,

making it eerily bright. The straight lines and glass have dated over the years. What once screamed

We’re better than you now whispers Things change.

And haven’t they?

Mum stares out the passenger window. The light mirrors her freckled face and grim smile.

“You don’t have to go in,” I say, rubbing my thumbs over the steering wheel.

“I want to.” She glances down at the cake on her lap. White and square with a glassy luster like she

dunked it in fine grains of sugar. It looks solid, like it might score a seven on the Mohs scale. A chunk

of quartzite can withstand all pressure.

Mum sighs. “I just need to pray.”

“You don’t believe in God.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“What are you praying for?” Nothing can be done. Please don’t make me hope.

“For forgiveness.”

I drop my hands. Before I can ask, she speaks. “All those years ago when it didn’t work out with

your dad and I?”

“When he left?”

“Yes. No, before that. During our arrangement.” Her breath hitches. “I wished something bad

would happen to her. I didn’t mean it, not really. But now I’m sorry I ever thought that.”

Annie and I did the same thing.

I open our seatbelts and take the casseroles and quartzite coconut cake while she climbs out of the

car. My belly is twisting at the sympathy I see in Mum’s tight smile. “Let’s go see your father.”

We walk up the path bridging the grassy moat, each of us holding a lukewarm casserole in our

trembling grasp.

As I fish for my keys, I cradle the casserole under one arm. I’m unlocking the door but it opens

before I finish. Dad is staring at Mum.

“Hello, David.”

“Marie. It’s been a long time.” He runs a hand through his hair and steps back to let us in.

Mum steps inside. “Too long.”

Dad can’t seem to stop nodding.

“Pass me the food, Mum.”

She blinks. “Cake is for now. You can freeze the casseroles for up to four months.”

I’m moving toward the kitchen when Mum’s heels clack over the floor. She mutters, “I am so sorry.

You are both in my prayers.”

Dad gives a soft laugh, “You don’t believe in God.”

The house groans as I step into the dining room. Things change.

Mum’s voice trails behind me, soft and comforting. “Like father, like son.”

soapstone

“Hop in.”

I lean over the passenger seat and open the door. Clutching a bunch of mail, Jace stares at me

through the open passenger window.

I’d just come home from university and driven up the driveway. When I saw him, I had to get him

in the car. “Come on.”

He pulls the door open and slides in, gently tossing the mail on the dashboard. I rest a hand on the

back of his seat and reverse swiftly out of the driveway.

He focuses on the view of the city as we wind down the hill toward the beach.

“Paua Shell Bay?” he asks, shuffling through the mail—again.

“Just like we used to.”

More shuffling. “Fish and chips?”

“Are you hungry?”

His breath comes out heavier than the last ones. “You have no idea how hungry I am.”

I go a touch heavy on the brakes and we jerk forward, belts tightening. “Sorry.” His expression is

unreadable. Unreadable, but tired. “I’m hungry too.”

His gaze slips to my mouth but he quickly looks out the passenger window.

We park at the bay. We stuff the fish and chips under our parkas, zipped only halfway. We toe off

our shoes and leave them at the car.

Salty breezes whip our hair and seagulls squawk overhead, flying over the low tide for anything to

scavenge. Our feet sink into wet sand as we walk along the edges of the tide. Every few steps, the cool

ocean bites our ankles. Jace is staring toward the horizon and the dark clouds drifting toward us.

The promise of rain is in the air but neither of us hurry. So what if we get wet? We’re not made of

sugar, Lila would say.

My fingers are greasy from the chips but the salt is delicious and I lick it off my thumb and

forefinger.

I’ve finished my scoop but I could eat another. “Jace?”

He turns toward me, weary, as if he’s not ready to talk yet.

I step closer, locking our gazes and feeling the warmth tingle between us. I dunk my hand down his

jacket into his scoop of chips and pinch a handful.

“Hey!” he says with a relieved chuckle. “You had yours.”

“Yeah, but I’m really hungry.”

He sucks in a gulp of air just as a few drops of rain hit my nose and cheek. “Cooper—”

A loud squawk.

A seagull swoops down and boldly perches on Jace’s forearm, ducking his head into the chips. Jace

stands there, shocked, staring at me as if begging me to get rid of it.

I laugh so hard that my vision blurs, and my attempts to shoo the bird are shoddy at best. The

rumbling thunder finally sends the seagull on his way and turns the smattering of raindrops into a

torrent.

Rain drenches our hair and slips down our necks and under our shirts. It soaks through our clothes

but we just stand here and let it.

I can’t stop laughing, pointing at him, the bird, his face. “The seagull’s hungry too!”

Water splashes into my open mouth and it tastes fresh, revitalizing. Just like the smile quirking at

Jace’s lips.

lodestone

My spiral-bound master’s dissertation stares at me from the passenger seat of my car, the plastic

cover winking at me in the autumn afternoon light.

“I’ll read it,” Dad said. “So long as you dedicate it to me.”

I undo my belt and open the door. Breezes ruffle the pages, flicking them open to the title page. I

pull it onto my lap, and fold it back one more page. It’s not dedicated to Dad but I think he’ll be more

pleased this way.

My dissertation is not a rock. It will not last forever, protecting her name and memory, but it is one

of the stepping stones of my life, and I want her to know . . . want her to know . . .

I clutch the work to my chest and jump out of the car.

The distant sounds of laughter startle me, and I follow them over the moat to the back yard.

Dad has a soccer ball aimed at Ernie, who raises his hands to protect his face. “I haven’t done

anything to your daughter!” he screams. “I swear she’s still a virgin. Now stop trying to kill me with the

round, padded object. I don’t deserve to be taken this way.”

Dad laughs. “Open your eyes, doofus. I’m kicking it to you, not at you.”

Ernie reluctantly pulls his hands from his face and stares suspiciously at Dad.

I hover in the shadows at the edge of the house.

It’s been a long time since Dad has laughed. I miss it. Miss the way he jerks his head back slightly

and squishes his nose, lines deepening around his eyes. Like Ernie, he’s wearing training pants and a

long-sleeved shirt. Unlike Ernie’s, Dad’s shirt is rated PG.

Dad finally kicks the ball. Ernie steps out of the way instead of stopping it with his foot and it rolls

to the house.

“I got it,” Ernie says, jogging over to pick it up.

“It’s a lost cause, Dad.” I follow Annie’s voice to the other side of the lawn, where she’s spraying

the garden.

“I heard that,” Ernie says, positioning the ball at his feet and taking a few steps backward. “All

right, David, here’s a taste of your own medicine.”

He puts energy into his kicks and swings his arms like a pro, except his foot catches the ball at the

wrong angle. The ball smacks Annie in the back of the head.

A horrified gasp. Ernie races over to Annie, who has dropped her hose and is glaring. “Okay, kill

me now with the round, padded object,” Ernie says.

Dad drops to the grass. His laugh bellows out of him so hard, he’s holding his ribs. “You okay,

Annie?” he manages between bouts.

Annie is okay, just a little miffed—and confused which of the two idiots to scowl at. Soon,

however, even her narrowed eyes are twinkling and she’s chuckling along with them.

Ernie hugs her tightly, rubbing her back, working his fingers up to the nape of her neck. “Sorry,” he

says and kisses her. “For me, soccer is a spectator sport.”

She grins and looks over at Dad, who’s consumed with hysteria and sprawled out on the grass. She

frowns and bites her lip.

I push away from the side of the house and walk over to him. His laugh is still pulling at his body

but the sounds have broken and are silent. He stares past me at the sunset streaking the sky orange, red,

and pink.

I lie next to him, hugging my dissertation. Annie and Ernie join us until we are one big compass.