Page 8 of Doctor’s Surprise Twins

Derek

When the redsports car pulled into my driveway, my day soured instantly. Peter had a way of trying to manipulate me into coughing up cash after Mom’s inheritance ran out, and I was fed up with it. The last three times he came asking for money, I’d sent him away penniless. It looked like I’d have to do the same thing here.

I stood in the pasture, working the mare a bit to keep her active. As her due date grew closer, she was becoming more sedentary, which wasn’t good for her or her foal. The vet recommended that I walk her a bit every day to keep her active and her blood pumping. She was on the older side for foaling, but I wanted another thoroughbred from her if I could get one. The horses sold at auction for a hefty chunk to racing fanatics out of Kentucky.

Peter parked his car by the house and walked toward it as if he hadn’t seen me. It gave me a few extra minutes to work with the mare before he came begging. I knew what he wanted. It was what he always wanted—a handout. Mom had died and left us equal parts of an inheritance she had acquired from her parents when they died. As a pastor’s wife, Mom believed money was the root of all evil and refused to touch a penny of it, not even to support the church or invest in her own health.

My younger brother had spent his in a matter of months, while mine still sat in a savings account, haunting me. Why Peter had no sense of responsibility with that many zeros in his bank account baffled me. True, I went to college, and my career afforded me everything I had without dipping into that inheritance. Still, Peter had also gone to college—a liberal arts degree. He just hadn’t learned how to manage money.

It had only been a few years since Mom died, and he never let me forget that my profession was that of a doctor who cared for women and she had died of a very treatable disease. What he failed to acknowledge was the fact that no matter how many times I’d lectured Dad on how easily a medication could treat her hypothyroidism, he’d refused to buy it for her. And worse, she believed his pack of lies about God being the “healer of the brokenhearted” when the doctor said her thyroid condition was causing a heart condition.

Just remembering those conversations stirred my grief-fueled rage. Peter brought back those bad memories just by showing up, and we hadn’t even spoken yet. When I heard him call my name from the back deck, I didn’t look up. The mare needed my attention or she’d get too tired. So I led her to the barn where she could drink and lie down if she wanted to, and for a moment, I earned a reprieve from the anger.

When Peter found me, his scowl and gruff tone revealed his irritation with me. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Oh, Pete. No, I didn’t hear you.” I shut the stall door, letting the mare have some rest, and carried her bridle and reins toward the tack room. “What brings you by?” I didn’t have to ask, but I did.

“Listen, can’t a brother just stop by for a visit?” He followed on my heels like a lost puppy. Except, his yips for attention may just earn him a kick, where if he were a puppy, I’d be smitten.

“Sure, if a brother wasn’t constantly begging for my money.” The tack room was a cluttered mess, and I scowled at the way it had been left. I’d have to speak to my stable hand, Hammer, about all this. Though it was entirely possible that Evan left it like this too, in which case we’d just have to leave it at that. He had enough to deal with after returning from the service in such bad shape emotionally.

The retreat into the tack room to hang the harness allowed me a bit of breathing room, but I knew it wouldn’t last. As soon as I reentered the barn, Peter stared me down. He had his hands crammed into his jeans pockets, his red and white flannel shirt tucked in too tightly. The boots he wore looked more like a pair of fashion footwear he’d selected to impress me with his ability to blend in. They weren’t worn, ragged leather, faded from the sun, and broken in like a good saddle.

“If you just listen to my idea, I think you’re going to love it. I want to open a restaurant here in Yellow Springs that caters specifically to diabetics. We’ll call it—”

“Just stop there, Peter.” I held my hand up and walked away from him, heading out of the barn. He scurried after me, his hastening steps sounding like rats running from the light.

“You didn’t even listen.”

I spun around to meet his gaze just as I left the barn. It was cold, and I had no interest in arguing with him about something he knew I would never support.

“I don’t need to listen.” My scowl deepened. “Yellow Springs is too small. Yes, we have diabetic people, but not enough to frequent a restaurant geared toward only them. You’d shut down in less than a month. If you’re going to do something like that, you need to be in a huge city like NYC.”

Continuing my trek toward the house, I ignored a few desperate pleas for me to “at least listen” and turned the collar of my jacket up against the breeze. Early May, but it still felt like winter. I was nearly to the house before the words he slung at me sliced through my back like a harpoon, hooking me and forcing me to turn on him.

“You are just jealous that Mom loved my ideas more than yours. It’s why you deserted us and ran off to California. Probably why you almost killed that lady too, isn’t it?” His chest heaved as he shouted at me from a few strides away. “Isn’t it? You just ran off and started drinking and stewing because she loved me more than you. Is that why you never tried to help her too? You didn’t even want her to live?”

I closed the gap between us in exactly three steps, and my fist connected with the right side of his face. Peter stumbled back, bent over and holding his cheek. I clenched my fists, glaring at him.

“Get off my property.” If he stayed even one more second, I was going to do serious physical harm to him. He straightened and rubbed his jaw, an apologetic look flashing across his features.

“Okay, I deserved that.” He held his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry.”

I said nothing. He wasn’t actually sorry. This was part of his MO. He’d push my buttons and then force me to feel bad for treating “Mommy’s little angel” like dirt. I’d feel so guilty I’d help him. That was how this worked. I was so ashamed to admit we’d done this dance over and over. All I could do was stare him down.

“Listen, I’m just hard out of luck lately. I need help. Like a couple thousand. It’s all I need.” He glanced back at his car and then at me. “I’ll do whatever. I just need some help. Mom would want you to help me.”

How dare he use her against me? Rage boiled in my gut, but he was right. Mom would want me to help him. She would give me her famous lecture.“Boys, you have tons of friends that come and go, but you only get one brother. So treat each other right because one day, you’re going to need each other.”

I seriously doubted I’d ever need Peter, but he clearly needed me. Rolling my eyes, I sighed. My hand stung, and my ego took a major hit, but I had to help him.

“The only thing I can do is let you work around here.” I gestured at the barn. “If you are willing to do that, I’ll pay you.”

“Yeah, yeah. No problem. I’ll do anything. I can come by next week, Monday, 7 p.m. Is that good?”

At this point, I’d say anything to get him the fuck off my property. I nodded, and he was in his car and driving away faster than he’d even convinced me to help him. I watched the plume of dirt in the air until the wind carried it away. Too bad it couldn’t carry away my anger or the knot of emotion in my chest just thinking about Mom.

I slunk into the house, peeled off my jacket, and slumped down at the table with a cold beer. I remembered times when Maggie had just lost her mother and she and I sat with a container of ice cream nursing her emotional wounds. I had been there for her countless times because I knew she needed me.

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