The Book of Daniel (21 page)

“How should I know? I don’t know the way his mind works. And if you’ve read my letters to him, you’ve seen that more than once I brought it up.”

Jake was silent for a long time. “What did he say?”

Had Pop ever explained himself? For anything? I put my glass down and clasped my hands between my knees. “Have you forgotten what he was like?”

“No.”

“He ignored what didn’t suit him. He evaded and blamed and twisted the truth until you didn’t know what was real and what was made up. He broke Mom’s heart over and over.”

“I know that,” Jake said miserably.

We sat in gloomy silence for a while, one of hundreds—thousands—of silences spent contemplating just exactly what we’d done or what we hadn’t done to make our father act the way he had toward us.

“Do you ever…?”

When he trailed off, I lifted my gaze to his. “What?”

He put his drink down and placed his head in the palms of his hands. I had rarely seen him this defeated as an adult, and it scared me.

“Do you ever wish I’d never come along?”

“
What
?” I stood so fast my chair slid back against the tile floor and battered the kitchen cabinet.

“Do you ever wish it had just been you and Mom and Pop? Maybe if I’d never been born—”

“You wait just a damn minute.” The intervening years melted away, and I got angry with our pop all over again, as if I’d caught him hovering over Jakey with his fucking belt out again, because that’s what it felt like. That’s what Jakey’s face told me—that our pop could reach out through time and space and fuck him up all over again.

“You stop that this second. Pop was insane. It had nothing to do with you. He drank, and when he came home he took his disappointment and his anger out on
us
. It was his
job
to protect us, and instead he terrorized us.”

“He didn’t want me, Dan. You know he didn’t.”

I shook my head. “I know nothing of the sort.”

“Everyone said he snapped after I was born. Zeyde and Mom talked about it when they didn’t think I could hear. Like…like I was the last straw, and Pop couldn’t take it anymore.”

“That’s preposterous. How can anyone blame a baby for—”

“I don’t know. I only know that he did. He blamed me for everything that was wrong, and if you think about it, you know it.”

Thinking back, I realized what he said rang horribly true. Perhaps I’d never realized it, perhaps I’d never wanted to understand, but certain things, neighbors talking, veiled comments, insinuations disguised as idle speculation suddenly fell into place like tumblers in a lock.

Holy fuck
. “Maybe…”

I remembered Jakey’s birth vividly because he’d come weeks early. He’d been jaundiced—the color of pumpkins—and like me, had our mother’s thick, curly hair. Pop, who’d been in the habit of drinking heavily already, left us alone a lot at night after that. Maybe I hadn’t noticed because a steady stream of well-meaning neighbors and friends had come and gone with food and sundries, helping my mom by cleaning and shopping for her. More than one person I’d never seen before showed up, seemingly interested and kind but more curious to see the baby than the new mother. At the time I thought it was the novelty of a new baby that brought them over, but now…in this context, I wondered if they’d come to see…

Oh,
fuck
. “No way. You and Joyce both have Pop’s eyes.”

He turned to me then, and in those very eyes I saw what he’d believed all along.

Damn
. “Did you honestly think Mom had another man’s child?”

“No.” He hid his face again. “
Yes
. I didn’t know what to think.”

“Why didn’t you ask her? She’d have told you. She’d have set your mind at ease or given up her secret if she’d known it was eating away at you like this.”

“And how was I supposed to ask our mother if she’d cheated on Pop?”

“You’ve been carrying this around for how long?”

Jake shrugged. “He hated me. He always hated me. I just never knew exactly why. While I was in Israel I started thinking about whether—”

“Well,
shit
.”

He refilled my drink, and it took a while before I could talk again.

“Surely Zeyde said something about all this at some point? Did you ask him outright?”

Jake shook his head. “We had a huge fight about it once. I had to fill out some paperwork, and I said it was a shame I had to claim my father. He muttered something about my father never claiming me, so it would serve him right.”

“He did?”

Jake smiled ruefully. “I pressed him about it, but it just upset him. He asked me if I loved our mother. Of course I loved her. I wouldn’t judge her. He said it was none of my business unless she made it my business.”

“Maybe even Zeyde wondered.”

“Maybe we’ll never find out the truth.”

“I don’t know. Looking at you with Joyce today, there’s little doubt in my mind that you’re Pop’s kid.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ve seen pictures of Joyce and her brother Lonnie as children, Jake. There’s a lot to be said for genetics.”

“Did you ever wonder? Did he ever tell you I wasn’t?”

“Oh, hell no. Do you think I would keep something like that from you? Jeez, if I’d had the slightest suspicion I’d have had us DNA tested and rid you of him once and for all. The very thought of a
blood
connection to him, of sharing traits and maybe temperament, the idea that someday I could become like him freezes the blood in my veins and keeps me awake at night. Are you kidding?”

“
Dan
.”

“If I’d believed you weren’t his natural child, I’d have taken you out to the best steakhouse in New York to celebrate.”

Jakey’s eyes swam, and for a second he looked about five again. It was funny how that could just empty my sails. All my anger—all my righteous indignation—was gone,
whoosh
, in the face of some kind of crazy, protective love. His voice was hoarse so he whispered, “You will never be like him. Never.”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“It’s time the Livingston brothers declared their Independence Day.” He held up his glass, and I knocked it gently with mine. He looked right into my eyes as we drank and then heaved a last shuddering sigh. He put his glass down but didn’t refill it.

Maybe things were going to be okay after all.

We still had a decision to make. “What I don’t understand is why Joyce approached you.”

Jake huffed a rueful laugh. “She didn’t. Or she didn’t mean to. Someone in your office told her you could be reached through Bêtise.”

I told Jake about the note Joyce had left for me in Santa Cruz. “Bree forwarded it, but I wanted to sit on it while I decided how to respond. I guess I waited too long.”
I’d been doing that a lot lately.

“What are you going to do?”

That was a really good question. I wanted to lob Pop’s letters into the trash and forget about them. I’d planned to ignore his pleas for a face-to-face indefinitely, and I guess I imagined that one day the letters would simply stop coming. Sooner or later the old bastard had to die. But Jake looked like he needed some kind of closure.

“What do you want to do?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea how to respond. I never expected this. Joyce came for you, not me. I told her if she gave me the address, I’d go down to LA to see him but the more I think about it, the more I wonder, why should I bother?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m not sure I would.”

“He wants you not me.”

“Pop’s a piece of
shit
, Jakey, and Joyce doesn’t even know us.” I clenched my hands into fists. Even my worthless right hand gave the impression it was in it to win it, the knuckles nearly white as pain shot up my arm. “You are the only family I have.”

His brown eyes shimmered again. “Maybe you should meet them. It’s got nothing to do with me. Maybe you should go just for you.”

“There’s nothing there I want, Jakey. You’re all the family I will ever need.”

Chapter Twenty-one

For the second day in a row, I walked the short distance to Bêtise hungover. It was early enough that I didn’t think it would be crowded and I was right. There was only a scattering of people seated at the many tables, some nursing coffee, some hidden behind newspapers.

Mary Catherine worked the counter and several Miss Independence Pie employees manned the kitchen and waited tables. My brother and his core staff typically took Mondays off, and Mary Catherine’s pie ladies came in to handle things while he was out.

“Hey, Dan. What can I get for you?”

“Morning, MC.” I flashed her a grin from behind dark glasses, trying to look less dissolute than I actually was. At least I’d opted for clothes. At one point I’d almost headed out in my sleep pants. “Can I have your biggest coffee and one of Jake’s bran muffins please?”

“Sure, why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll bring it over.”

“Will you join me?”

Mary Catherine motioned one of her newest workers—I think her name was Andrea—over. She was a quiet, nervous woman in her midthirties with a nice smile.

MC brought over coffee and muffins and settled into the chair opposite me. “Slow today.”

“Yeah? I guess.” I acknowledged I hadn’t seen the place much emptier. “But work is mostly going well?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Better than I thought.”

“I knew Bêtise would be great. You just had to have a little faith.”

The little French café had been MC’s dream long before Jake and I came along, but it had taken Jake’s expertise as a pastry chef and all Ken Ashton’s powers of persuasion to make her believe it could be a reality.

“What about you?” she asked. “What are you planning, now that you have a new life to look forward to?”

I took a swig of my too-hot coffee. “I don’t know.”

“You have time to figure something out. Plus we have a wedding to look forward to.”

In my experience, all women of a certain age sparkled when they talked about weddings. MC was no exception. Her eyes took on a dreamy look. “It’s going to be beautiful. I’ve never been to a Jewish wedding, but I saw one in a movie once. There’s that canopy thing.”

“The chuppah. Yeah.” I nodded. “Great tradition. The ceremony is supposed to take place outdoors under the sky. The chuppah represents the new couple’s home.”

“They’re going to have the ceremony on the beach, and we’re going to decorate the chuppah with all kinds of flowers and branches.”

“That will be lovely.”

“Jake has designed a cake, but he won’t tell us anything about it, other than it will be a gift for JT and it has special meaning.”

“Ah. Must be in the shape of a giant closet.”

“Whoa there, Dan. Pot, kettle.” Despite her words she smiled at me.

“But with me it’s like that Monty Python skit.
I’m getting better
.”

“We all grow. Even you. I see the way you look at Cam.” Mary Catherine’s maternal laser-beam eyes missed nothing, apparently.

“The abominable fireman. Yes.”

“Am I mistaken, or have you been wearing your heart out in the open lately?”

“I have.” I took off my shades and winced. “But it’s not going to work out.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He loves this town, but my life and work are elsewhere. For me it was a pit stop, you know? For Cam, this is his home. Jake’s getting married, and as soon as he and JT move into a place of their own, I’ll be moving on.”

From behind me, I heard a man say, “Don’t be so sure of that, son.”

JT’s dad, Carl, walked past me and put his arm around Mary Catherine’s shoulder. “Hello, my dear.”

Mary Catherine blushed prettily and lifted her cheek for his kiss. “Hello, Carl.”

“Well, well,
well
.” I wasn’t above giving Mary Catherine a hard time for having a boyfriend of her own. “Looks like I’m not the only one to slip on the banana peel of romance here in St. Nacho’s.”

Carl cleared his throat. “Mary Catherine has kindly accompanied me to several plays at the Community College. We’re working our way up to dinner and dancing.”

“That’s nice.” I wouldn’t have minded seeing a play or two with him myself. Carl was a great guy, and he’d saved Jake’s life when Jake first wound up in St. Nacho’s. “The pretty girls get all the good ones.”

Mary Catherine rolled her eyes and got up. “I’m just going to go back to work now.”

“You don’t have to go on my account,” I picked up my coffee. “If you two want to sit in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
, don’t let me stop you.”

Mary Catherine gave my shoulder a swat and left.

“So you and Mary Catherine, huh? How long has this been going on?”

“JT and Yasha have been throwing us together for a while now. Those two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“I guess not.” When I looked around, business had picked up some, and the noise level increased.

Carl nodded to MC when she came back with a coffee for him. “Thanks, hon.”

She scooted back behind the counter to help other customers with an extra spring in her step.

“That there is a gorgeous woman,” I admitted.

“She is that.”

“It’s about time she found her prince, from what I hear.”

“JT told me a little about her past. She’s filled in the rest. I don’t know if I’m any kind of prince, but I’m certainly not a toad like her ex.”

It was no secret that Mary Catherine’s personal and business life revolved around helping women overcome abusive relationships, as she had finally done when she came to St. Nacho’s to start over with her son Jordan.

“No, man. You are a mensch. I’m happy for you. Life is good sometimes.”

“It looks like we’re going to be related too.”

“Yeah. We are. How about that? I can’t think of two nicer guys to have as family either. Don’t tell Jake, but I heartily approve.”

“You’ve changed your mind? I thought you weren’t all that enamored with the idea of them getting married.”

I waved that off. “I tried to explain. I’m a bitter old guy in the middle of a divorce. I want Jake to be happy, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been with JT. They’re lucky to have each other. Maybe my reaction was sour grapes.”