Page 13 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

Who? Who’s going to show up?

Alex chuckled, but the sound seemed forced. “He looks like hell, too. Really bought into all that counterculture, north woods look. You know, faded jeans, old shirt, baggy parka, shaggy hair, the whole nine yards. He hadn’t seen a razor for more than a week, unless I miss my guess. He’d been out fishing or crabbing or something in a boat that looked about as seaworthy as a sieve.”

“But he is coming,” Eugenia said, returning to the point.

So her mother-in-law was in the room, too.

“He said he was, but who knows? He’s not exactly dependable.”

“You were at his place?”

“I stopped by, but he wasn’t at the cabin. I tracked him down at what I would loosely call a marina.” Again the mirthless chuckle.

“Why do you want him here?” Cissy asked, and Marla realized for the first time that her daughter was also in the room. “Y’know, if you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him, honey. I just don’t . . . approve.”

“Jeez, Dad, why do you care what he does as long as he’s not bothering you?”

Good question, Marla thought, and felt herself drifting away again, the deep, comforting sleep that was so seductive pulling her under again, but no one responded and she felt a tension in the silence.

“Why won’t anyone talk about him?” Cissy finally demanded. “Y’ know sometimes it’s like his name is a four letter word or something.”

“It is,” Alex said.

“So is yours,” the girl said just loud enough to be heard.

“There’s no reason to argue about it.” Eugenia sucked in a soft breath. “Brothers don’t always get along.”

“Like with Grandpa and his brother?”

“Fenton, yes,” Eugenia said stiffly. “And his children. Cherise and Montgomery, oh, I think he goes by Monty or something like that these days.”

“Why aren’t they part of the family anymore?”

“They don’t want to be.”

There was a snort of disbelief and Cissy said, “Uncle Monty called the other day. For Dad.”

“I talked to him,” Alex said with a trace of irritation that Marla didn’t understand. But then there was so much that was beyond her comprehension, beyond her memory . . . she tried to move, to let them know that she could hear, but felt herself drifting away again.

“Okay, so what about Nick?”

Nick was the one they were discussing . . . the brother who hadn’t finished college or high school or something . . . there was something she should recall about him, but her head was so thick . . . oh Lord, what was it?

“Doesn’t Uncle Nick want to be in the family?” Cissy pressed, refusing to be put off, her voice beginning to sound far away.

Eugenia said, “Oh, honey, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

A pause. Marla imagined Eugenia and Alex trading looks, wondering how much of the family’s sordid past they could spill. “All right, Cissy,” the older woman said quietly, “since you asked. In times of family crises, like this one with your mother, it just seems right for everyone to stick together and kind of circle the wagons, show signs of family unity.”

“Circle the wagons against who?”

“Whom,” her grandmother corrected. “Don’t they teach you basic English at that school?”

“Okay, whom,” the girl repeated. “So who are they—the bad guys? This doesn’t make any sense. I just want Mom to wake up and be the same, okay? And . . . and I want her to look the same.” Her voice rose an octave. “Look at her, I mean, she doesn’t even look like herself.” Cissy sniffed loudly, then cleared her throat and Marla’s heart skipped a beat. If only she could say something to comfort her daughter, but she was so tired . . . “Nana, it’s like . . . it’s like you and Dad, you’re both afraid of something or someone. I just don’t get it.”

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