Page 82 of Dalliances & Devotion (The Truitts 2)

“I will,” she promised. And she would.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Home sweet home. David stood in the threshold of his apartment off South Street. He dropped his small satchel and kicked it across the empty floor.

“Keep it down.” A woman’s voice from behind the curtain dividing the space called. A baby fussed. At least only two of the Weisses were home. If any of the other children were about, they’d be jumping on him, begging for rides his back couldn’t take.

“Sorry,” David mumbled. He bent and grabbed his belongings, ready to retreat behind his own divider.

After scuffling and a few sneezes, Mrs. Weiss’s head poked out into the common area. “You got your half of the rent?” She blew a lock of mussed brown hair off her brow as the infant yanked her ear.

“It isn’t due until next week.” David traced a circle on the floor with his toe. He wasn’t behind. Yet.

“So no promotion? Or did you get sacked?” She pushed aside the divider and stepped out, transferring her child to her hip. “Back to lugging papers?”

“I quit. Cleaned out my desk and all. What does it matter to you anyway? I’ll be leaving soon enough.” Because he was done. The moment he arrived back to Philadelphia he made his decision.

It was time for a change. With Will and Meg probably leaving and the higher-ups talking about union busting, his path no longer made sense. Besides, who was he really trying to impress anyway? No matter what he did he’d never actually be good enough.

So it was time for a new plan. Again. A new location too. Chicago, or Milwaukee, or Cleveland. Physical labor again. Mind clearing, physical labor. David stared at the floor. “Besides, lugging papers is honest work.”

“Well, then tell your friend here to leave. He insisted on staying. We don’t want any trouble.”

Friend? David’s head shot up as Mrs. Weiss stuck a thumb out behind him. “What friend?” He spun around just as the door closed behind him and a broad man, with thick dark curls streaked with white, stepped into the light. “Papa?” David quaked.

It’d been almost a decade since he’d left Berlin, but who didn’t know his own father?

“Hello, David, fancy meeting you here.” His father made no movement towards him, and instead lounged against the wall like the philandering rogue and part-time radical he was.

“It isn’t that unlikely, as this is my apartment.” David folded his arms as the older man strolled around the common area, lifting burnt pots heavy with grease—not the flavorful kind—bending over to peer under the moth-eaten collection of rags simulating a tablecloth, toeing the grimy floorboards that turned the Weiss children’s knees green.

“I suppose,” his father murmured. The man brushed back the divider to David’s area and plopped on the bed, bouncing hard enough that it squeaked. He shrugged.

“What do you want?” David yanked at his hair.

“I think we should discuss more what you want. Because I don’t think you know.” He brushed off a dusty chair and sat down, intent on David.

“I don’t, specifically, but I do know that it isn’t here.” David pulled out his own chair and sank down into it, his legs spread wide.

“Yes, you’re good at leaving. Quite skilled at running away.” His father cracked his knuckles.

“You’re one to talk. And I didn’t run away, I searched and journeyed, making the world a better place. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do? Isn’t that how I could make you proud?” David twisted the tip of his finger. “Or care about me.”

His father’s shoulders slumped. “I do care about you.”

“Really? Then why did you abandon us?” David’s voice cracked. “Why did you leave my mother defenseless, let her family trade me to the Russian army after she died? Why did you let me...” He couldn’t finish, couldn’t say the words out loud.

“Pay for my crimes?” His father laced his fingers together and tapped his hands against his chin. “Because I’m a rather selfish man, I’m afraid.” A sliver of a smile graced his lips. “I’m rather good at agitating for the masses but individuals...well, my attention wanders, unfortunately.”

A pounding started in his head. He should respect the man. He was still his father after all. But he wasn’t in the mood for this discussion. Especially after he’d had his heart ripped from his chest.

Again.

David released a slow breath. “Why are you here?”

“To convey an offer.” His crossed his legs.

“I don’t want it.” David matched his posture. “Whatever it is. And I think you should leave. I’m in no mood for an apology from you that involves me being not enough to hold your ‘attention.’ Not that I hold anyone else’s.”

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