Kane (2 page)

“Nate, wait,” Allison called again.

Nate glanced back and stubbornly picked up his pace, ensuring he’d be first to arrive.  As the youngest at eleven, Nate had always fought to surpass his older siblings, cherishing any victory, however small.  Furiously competitive, quick to both laughter and anger, his moods as transparent as glass, Nate—God help him—was the most like me.

“Aw, let him go,” said Travis.  “We’ll see him at the top.”

“Whatever you say, genius-boy,” said Allison.  “Figure out what you’re gonna tell Dad yet?”

A steady breeze was moving up the canyon, carrying the smell of cut grass and sounds from lower down.  I’ve always had excellent hearing, and I could easily make out their conversation.

“About that,” said Travis.  “Run it by me one more time.  How did I get elected to be our spokesperson?”

“Simple.  Now that Tommy’s gone, you’re Dad’s favorite, and—”

“There are no favorites in the Kane clan,” Travis interrupted.  “Dad berates us all equally.”

“Nevertheless, you’re the favorite now, the new anointed one,” Allison persisted.  “And besides, this was your idea.”

“Yeah, well, about that.  I’ve been thinking—”

“Thinking?  Trav, I thought you’d learned your lesson on that.”

“Sorry,” Travis laughed.  “I’ll try to control myself in the future.  But seriously, Ali.  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“Look, I know you’re nervous,” Allison said firmly.  “I am too.  But we decided to do this, and we’re going to.”

By now Callie had raced ahead and was nearing the top of the rise.  Spotting me, she stopped warily, glancing back to see how Nate and the others felt about the stranger she had discovered.  Not sensing a warning from them, she proceeded cautiously.  Finally catching my scent, she raced the final distance, mouth split in a joyful canine grin.  When she arrived I knelt and scratched her ears.  “Damn, girl, you act like you haven’t seen me in months,” I said softly.  “Well, I’ve missed you, too.”

Out of breath, Nate finally gained the top of the hill.  Allison and Travis were still some distance behind.

“Hey, squirt,” I said with a smile.  “I’m happy to see you, but what are you guys doing here?  Without me around to roust you rookies, I figured you’d be sacking out till eleven, then catching the last Mass.”

“Eleven?” Nate scoffed.  “You and Mom never let us sleep past eight on weekends,
especially
on Sundays.”

“Damn right,” I agreed, giving Callie’s head one final rub before rising to my feet.  “Nothing of consequence happens in bed, at least nothing we’ll be discussing till you’ve heard your Mom’s dissertation on the birds and the bees.  And get your mitt out of your mouth, kid.  If you don’t quit soon, you’ll be nibbling your fingers till you’re ninety.”

Recently Nate had begun biting his nails.  When he ran out of nail, he would proceed to his cuticles.  It was a bad habit, a tough one to break, but I knew he wanted to stop.  He pulled his hand from his mouth in surprise, apparently unaware of what he’d been doing.

“Back to my question,” I said.  “Why are you guys here?”

“Don’t buckle under Dad’s third degree,” counseled Allison as she and Travis finally arrived.  “He has to read you your rights before beating a confession out of you, and you get to have a lawyer present anytime you want, if only to witness the carnage.”

“’Morning, Ali,” I said.

“And I’ll tell you something else, Nate,” Allison continued sagely.  “You don’t need to sit through Mom’s explanation of the birds and the bees.  I can sum it up in three little words:  Bees are scum.”

“Thanks for that tiny bit of wisdom, Ali,” I said, sensing she was anxious and, as usual, trying to disguise her feelings with a blizzard of words.  “Where’d you get it?  TV?”

“Where else?” she answered, forcing a smile.  I noticed that she had carried a small bouquet of daisies with her from the car.  Not meeting my gaze, she started plucking petals from one of the blooms.

“Hi, Dad,” said Travis.

“Morning, Trav.  It’s great to see you three, especially this early on a weekend.  So what’s up?”

“Not much.”

Allison glanced at her older brother, obviously expecting him to continue.  When he didn’t, she sighed impatiently and walked to a rectangular brass plaque set in the hillside several yards away.  The marker still lay in shadow, but the inscription was clearly visible.

Thomas Daniel Kane

Beloved Son

Kneeling, Allison brushed a handful of lawn trimmings from Tommy’s plaque.  Immersed in my own solitary thoughts, I watched as she placed her bouquet on the grave.  Then, deciding to approach the mystery of my children’s presence from another angle, I asked, “Your mom know you’re here?”

“She thinks we’re at church,” Travis replied.

“You lied to her?”

“Well, she … she has her final rehearsal this afternoon before the Philharmonic goes on tour,” Travis stammered. “She’s going to be busy packing after that, and we—”

“What are you getting at?”

Travis shifted uncomfortably.  “We wanted to see you alone.”

“Alone?  How’d you know I’d be here?”

“It didn’t take a whole lot of deduction, Pop,” Allison interjected.  “You come out here
every
weekend.”

“You’ll get your turn, Allison,” I said.  “Right now I’m talking to your brother.”

“Interrogating him, you mean.”

I hesitated, realizing she had a point.  “Okay,” I said more moderately.  “You kids clearly have something on your minds, or you wouldn’t be here.  Who’s gonna tell me what it is?”

“We came out here to talk with you, Dad,” Travis answered. “In private.”

“Why?”

“To tell you to stop being so mean to Mom and come home,” said Nate, anger darkening his face.

Allison and Travis stared in shock at their younger brother.  In their eyes I could see the realization that Nate’s outburst had pushed them to a juncture from which there would be no turning back.  “Is that what this is about?” I asked.  “You don’t approve of the way I’m treating your poor defenseless mother?”

“Approve isn’t exactly the right verb,” Allison said hastily.

“And there’s more to it than that,” added Travis.  He hesitated, then squared his shoulders.  “Dad, we all think Mom deserves this trip.  When she started performing full-time with the Philharmonic, you were against that, but things worked out.  This will, too.  And it’s not as though she has a choice.  She’s the associate principal cellist.  She
has
to go.  Besides, it’s only a few weeks.”

“It’s
six
weeks.”

“Okay, six weeks.  We’ll all pitch in while she’s gone.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“No, sir, I’m not.  The point is that Mom’s going whether you approve or not.  Why make things hard on her?  Don’t you want her to be happy?”

With a surge of regret, I thought back to the argument I’d had with Catheryn the previous evening.  I had stopped by the house in Malibu to pick up some clothes.  Before I’d left, bitter words had been exchanged between us.  Typical of arguments rooted in a soil of deeper disagreement, topics had germinated and developed and grown, one familiar hurt following another.  “It’s as though you’ve become a stranger,” Catheryn had said as our words spiraled past the point of no return, wounding us both like flying shards of glass.  “I don’t even know what you’re thinking anymore.  I don’t even know how you feel about
me
.”  And to my shame, I had been unable to respond.  Now, confronted by my children, I once more found myself at a loss for words.

At last I spoke.  “Let me tell you kids something,” I began uncertainly.  “Things aren’t always as simple as they seem, but I’m going to try to answer your question—after which this subject is closed.  Of course I want your mom to be happy.  I’m proud of what she’s doing, and of course I support her going on tour.  That’s not the problem.  The truth is, I can’t explain what’s going on.  Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older.  Maybe not. 
I
still don’t, but I do know one thing:  Even though two people love each other, sometimes things go wrong between them, things no one can fix.”

“So when are you coming home?” asked Nate.

“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow to take care of you and Ali while your mom’s in Europe.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know, Nate,” I said.  “I don’t know the answer to that.”

“Mom said something about the possibility of your joining her for a few days in Europe,” Travis interjected hopefully.

“Maybe,” I said.  “That was before last night.  I’m going to see your mom again this evening and try to straighten things out.  I want it to be a surprise, so don’t say anything, okay?  As for joining her in Europe, that’s doubtful.  If I do go, though, Grandma said she’d be available to stay with you.  Christy said she would be around, too,” I added, referring to Tommy’s steady girlfriend before the accident.  Christy lived nearby, and after Tom’s death she had remained a close family friend.

“When you see Mom next, try being nice for a change,” said Allison.  “It’ll be easy.  Just make believe you’re somebody else.”

“Thanks for the advice, Ali,” I said, trying not to smile and further encourage her insubordination.  Then, changing gears, “Now, as Travis pointed out, Kate’s leaving soon.  Trav, you may be living at USC during the week, but while she’s away I want you home every weekend to help.  It’s a short drive across town.”

“No problem,” said Travis.

Turning to Allison and Nate, I continued, “During the week, it’ll mostly be just the three of us, so—”

“Don’t forget Callie,” Nate interrupted.

“Okay, the
four
of us.  During that time I want your homework done and all chores completed without fail.  I’ll expect full cooperation, devotion to duties, and no back talk.  Allison, that last part goes double for you.”

Allison brought her hand to her forehead in a sloppy salute.  “Aye, aye, Pop.”

“And don’t be such a wiseass.  You’ll get along a lot better in life.”

“Like you, Dad?”

“Yeah, like me,” I said.  “Now, if there’s nothing else, it’s time for you three to shove off.  You’ll just have time to make the last Mass, after which there are probably plenty of things you could do to help your mom get ready.”

“We’re leaving,” said Allison.  “But I’m glad we had this little talk.  Communication is
so
liberating, don’t you think, Dad?”

“Beat it, Ali.”

“Right, Pop.”

Side by side, Allison and Travis headed down the hill.  Callie, who during the past minutes had been prowling the bushes—undoubtedly in search of something to fetch—bounded out to join them.  Nate lagged behind, hands sunk deep in his pockets.  Struck by something in his manner, I called after him.  “Nate, come back for a sec.  Allison and Trav, keep going.  Your brother will join you shortly.”

Callie noticed Nate turning back.  She hesitated, then started again for the car, apparently deciding the prospect of breakfast outweighed loyalty, at least until after she had eaten.  Dejectedly, Nate returned, eyes averted.

I knelt and absently began pulling blades of crabgrass from the lawn.  “What’s up, kid?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, sure.  You’re a barrel of laughs this morning.  Come on, talk to me.”

Nate’s gaze drifted to Tommy’s plaque.  Seconds passed.  “You miss him a lot?”

“Yeah, I do,” I answered.

“Me, too.”

“I know you do.  We all do.”

“Do you think Tommy’s in heaven?”

“I don’t know, Nate,” I said, running my fingers through my hair.  “I would like to believe all the stuff they teach you in church about souls and heaven and all, I truly would.  Only … well, if there
is
a heaven, I’m sure Tommy’s up there,” I finished lamely.

“Do you think he can see us?  Maybe hear what we’re saying?”

“Maybe.  Why?

“I … I never got to tell him good-bye.”

I nodded.  “There’s a lot I never got to tell him, either.  But I think he knew how we all felt.”

Nate glanced away.  “Dad, sometimes unless I think real hard, I can’t remember his face.  I have to look at a picture of him to remind myself.”

“That’s natural, son.  Life goes on.”

“Will
you
ever forget?”

“I don’t know.  Come on, Nate.  Is this what’s eating you?”

“Sort of.  Last night when you and Mom—”

“Nate, that discussion is over,” I interrupted.  “With the exception of those calls we keep getting about your fighting at school, last night’s disagreement had nothing to do with you.”

At the mention of school, Nate’s face closed like a fist.

Abruptly, I realized what was wrong.  “You think the argument between your mom and me was because of you?”