Light and shadow chased each other across Ryan's face as he stared out the car window at the coastline. Sandy glanced over several times, debating silently, before he made a decision.
"Videos!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. With a quick check of the rearview mirror, he swerved into the left lane and pulled into the parking lot of the small shopping center.
Ryan's eyes slid sideways, startled. "Videos?" he echoed.
"For tonight," Sandy explained. "A nice family dinner—from Montoni's, thank you very much—really calls for a movie afterwards. We can have dessert in the den, kick off our shoes, relax in front of the TV. . ."
"Decompress?" Ryan concluded wryly.
Sandy opened his mouth to protest before conceding the point with a rueful nod. "That too, I suppose," he admitted. Sliding his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose, he peered at Ryan over the top. "So, what do you think? Comedy? Drama? Action-adventure? What are you in the mood for tonight, kid?"
"Me?"
"You. Today you get to choose."
"Sandy, I'm cool with anything. Really."
Ryan unlatched his seatbelt, but Sandy didn't budge. "Not so fast," he ordered sternly. "'Cool with anything' doesn't cut it today, buddy. Seth has picked out our movies, I have, Seth has, Kirsten has—Lord save us from chick flicks--oh, and did I mention that Seth has?" Sandy's gaze softened, and his voice took on a coaxing tone. "It's your turn, Ryan."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And it's long overdue."
"Okay then." One hand already poised on the car door, Ryan paused to consider. He cocked his head, brows furrowing. "How about . . . a theme night?" he suggested at last.
"Hmm. I don't know." Sandy's tone remained grave, but his eyes glinted, laughing. "The last time we tried that it wasn't too successful. Remember? Seth's infamous 'Movies that gave me nightmares when I was nine?' triple-feature?"
Ryan groaned. "God, how can I forget? Before he put in the first one, he gave that speech . . ."
"Ah yes. 'The measure of a man's maturity is how he faces his childhood fears'," Sandy recounted with fond amusement. "And then he talked for ten minutes about how we were going to witness Seth Cohen conquering the cinematic terror that petrified him when he was young. Which might have been easier to do if he hadn't spent most of his time making popcorn, getting drinks, and going to the bathroom. Honestly, I don't think Seth could have seen more than thirty minutes of those movies."
Ryan leaned back, savoring the memory. "They still freaked him out though."
"I know," Sandy agreed. "It's a wonder he even went to sleep that night."
"Um, Sandy? He didn't exactly," Ryan reported dryly. "After you and Kirsten went to bed, Seth followed me to the pool house."
"Did he really, kid? Don't tell me he made you stay up all night to keep him company."
"Yeah, pretty much. He claimed that when we're in college we'll have to pull a lot of all-nighters, so we should practice doing without sleep. But about four o'clock he crashed on the floor anyway. Then he woke up half an hour later yelling something about an alien Captain Oats. Or maybe it was aliens eating Captain Oats. I'm not sure. I kind of kicked him out."
Sandy chuckled. "So I take it you're not planning to screen 'Movies that gave Ryan nightmares when he was nine'?"
"Movies never gave me nightmares," Ryan replied. Unconsciously, he emphasized the first word. Sandy shot him an appraising stare and he flushed, averting his face for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and turned back around. "Actually . . ." He hesitated, chewing his lip. "I was thinking the theme could be . . . movies about lawyers? Maybe And Justice for All? Or, I don't know, The Verdict?"
"Movies about lawyers." Sandy pretended to mull the idea for two seconds before he broke into a delighted smile. "An outstanding choice, if I do say so myself." He got out of the car and Ryan followed. As they walked the short distance to the store, Sandy mused with growing enthusiasm, "You know we could run a marathon. Let's see . . . To Kill a Mockingbird. Twelve Angry Men. Inherit the Wind. The Paper Chase. Presumed Innocent. Philadelphia--" He broke off when he spied Ryan biting back a grin. "Hmm . . . too much, do you think?"
"Ah, yeah," Ryan confirmed, his voice laced with laughter. "Maybe a little."
Sandy held up his hands in rueful surrender. "All right, fine, I'll settle for a double feature. But you know, kid, that's the thing about lawyers. They make such damn fine heroes on film."
"In real life too," Ryan murmured. He glanced up through his lashes. "At least some of them." Before Sandy could answer, he ducked into the store and disappeared down the classics aisle, calling over his shoulder, "I'll just be a minute, okay?"
"Take your time," Sandy urged.
Loosening his tie, he leaned against a display of new releases. The events of the day flashed through his mind and he sighed wearily. It hardly seemed like only eight hours since he and Ryan had dropped Seth off at Harbor. Sandy felt drained, and faintly troubled by Ryan's last remark.
Despite a rush of pride when he heard the comment, Sandy knew that it was wrong.
He was no hero.
A hero wouldn't have ignored the turmoil in his own family last year so he could revisit his past as a romantic rebel. He wouldn't have missed the warning signs of his wife's increased drinking, certainly wouldn't have contributed to her lonely despair. He wouldn't have skipped major events in Seth's life like the comic book launch party. Wouldn't have discounted Ryan's conflicted feelings about his brother and definitely—Sandy flinched at the memory—wouldn't have disregarded all the warning signals Trey's behavior triggered.
A hero—hell, even a loving husband and father—would have paid attention. Should have paid attention.
The fact that his family had emerged intact was a minor miracle. Sandy breathed a silent prayer of thanks, and another one of resolution. Somehow he would atone for his neglect of both Kirsten and Seth. At least, he consoled himself, their years as a family provided him with solid foundation, a history of devotion and caring. But as for Ryan . . .
Sandy recalled the broken boy who bolted from the table in the prison visiting room, heard again those apparently innocent words "Movies never gave me nightmares," and sensed the harsh truth lurking behind them. Ryan might be almost eighteen and off to college in just a few months. He still needed a father—not some fantasy hero, but a man he could trust, for support, for understanding, for unconditional love.
If he hadn't been the father Ryan needed before, Sandy was determined that he would be that man now. And from now on.
At least this day had let him make a start.
An animated female voice down the next aisle strayed into Sandy's consciousness. He roused slightly, listening more closely when he heard Ryan reply.
"That is such a great choice," the girl was declaring enthusiastically. "You've honestly never seen it?"
"No. But I've read the book."
"Oh, the book is so wonderful, isn't it? Touching and funny and thought-provoking and honest and . . . God, listen to me. I sound like a blurb on the back jacket. Maybe you didn't even like it. But you're renting the movie, so you must have liked it. You did like it, right?"
Without even seeing him, Sandy could picture the faint half-smile framing Ryan's restrained response. "Yeah I did. It was great."
"Exactly! It is great, isn't it? And you'll love the movie, I promise. It's one of the few film adaptations that retain the spirit of the source material. And Gregory Peck is beyond perfect as Atticus. Wait until you see him. He's got the quiet dignity, the moral resolution, the strength of character, the compassion. Oh, and you can just feel his love for his kids. If I ever have a son, that's what I want to name him—Atticus, I mean, not Gregory."
"Atticus?" Ryan's tone hedged the question with doubt. "I mean, yeah, I understand why, but . . . Atticus?"
Sandy heard an embarrassed giggle.
"All right, maybe that can be his middle name. Although, Atticus is better than Dweezil isn't it? Or Pilot Inspektor?"
The voices grew louder as Ryan strolled into view. Walking beside him—very close beside him, Sandy observed dryly—was a vivid brunette who wore at least six earrings and a short, lime-green skirt. They loitered near the register, the girl clutching a stack of CDs and laughing. Sandy retreated a step so that he could watch undetected. With mingled relief and surprise, he noted how relaxed Ryan appeared. His head was lifted, his muscles loose—even his hair looked lightly tousled, as if a breeze had just ruffled it. As his companion continued to chatter, Ryan's small, crooked grin slowly stretched into a smile, open, unguarded, and, Sandy realized with a pang, much too rare. It illuminated his eyes, turning them a pure, cloudless blue.
Something inside Sandy responded, some stubborn anxiety finally seeping away.
Ryan looked happy.
Leaning at ease against the wall, head propped lazily on one outstretched arm, he scarcely resembled the rigid boy who had paced out of the Chino prison, each step echoing with guilt and misery. Sandy had hoped that visiting the PD's office might begin to restore Ryan's spirits, and it had; Otis' warm welcome, Pearl's blunt, blessed praise, had assuaged much of the hurt inflicted by his meeting with Trey. Still, as they inched their way home through near-gridlock conditions, Sandy sensed Ryan slowly withdrawing, a forlorn reserve threatening to engulf him again. Whenever he looked over at the passenger seat, he had blinked, seeing for an instant the lost child he had driven back from Chino two years before.
Even to Sandy, the car began to feel claustrophobic. He had stopped at the video store impulsively, in an attempt to distract them both. Sandy hadn't expected the maneuver to work, but he was desperate to do something--something more, or maybe something else--to erase the last traces of Trey-inspired anguish.
Apparently, this bubbly stranger had managed to do that for him.
"Come on," Ryan was protesting. He shook his head with playful accusation. "You're making that up. Nobody would name his kid Pilot Inspektor."
"Jason Lee did!" the girl insisted. She punctuated the statement with an earnest nod that made her curls bounce. "Lots of people name their children much, much worse things than Atticus. Banjo, and Daisy Poo and Audio Science. Seriously weird names that must wreak havoc on the poor kids' psyches."
Ryan opened his mouth and immediately closed it. Looking wounded, he dropped his gaze to the floor.
"Oh God," the girl stammered. "Wait, am I insulting you? Your name isn't something, I don't know, really bizarre is it?"
"You tell me." Scuffing one foot into the carpet, Ryan shrugged. "It's . . ." He peeked up through his lashes and lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. "It's Ryan."
The girl breathed a sigh of mingled relief and fascination. "Ryan," she repeated. Her lips pursed around the first syllable as she pronounced it again, stretching the syllables into a tiny song. "Ryan. No, that's not strange at all. It's an excellent name. I like it. A lot actually." She shuffled the DVDs under one arm and thrust out her other hand. "I'm Nikki. Nicole. Well, really, just Nikki. Only my mother calls me Nicole. Anyway, it's nice to meet you Ryan."
Ryan tilted his head. "You too Nikki," he murmured. The left side of his mouth lifted as his fingers curled around hers.
Damn, I wish I had a camera, Sandy thought, watching the moment of introduction. That is a candid shot I would love to preserve.
"It's London."
Puzzled, Ryan arched his eyebrows.
"Oh! No, I mean . . . not the city," Nikki amended, flustered. "My last name is London. Just in case you wondered, or wanted to know, or . . ." She glanced down at her hand, still resting in Ryan's, and blushed. "All right, this is embarrassing. I'm babbling, aren't I?"
"Maybe a little," Ryan conceded. "But I don't mind. Actually, I'm pretty used to it."
Nikki withdrew her hand. She shrank back slightly, her expression dimming. "Oh. You are?"
"My best friend. Seth," Ryan explained. "World class babbler. Seriously, Nikki, you? Are not even close to his league."
Seth. The name slapped Sandy back into the moment. Frowning with apprehension, he checked his watchIts display confirmed his suspicions: Seth and Kirsten had expected them home half an hour ago.
Sandy sighed. He hated to interrupt when Ryan was clearly enjoying himself, but he could already picture the scene in the Cohen house: Seth's foot would be jiggling while he stared at the clock, asking fifty different variations of the question "Why aren't they here yet?" In response Kirsten would urge patience, pretending nonchalance even as she twisted her rings nervously.
It was time to go home.
Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Sandy stepped forward.
"Hey kid--" he began, more loudly than he intended.
Nikki whirled around. The DVDs she was cradling spilled to the floor with a rhythmic clatter. One clipped Sandy on the toe and he hopped back awkwardly.
"Oh! God, I'm so sorry!" Nikki exclaimed. "What an idiot!" Aghast, she clapped her hand over her mouth. "No, I don't mean you. I mean me. I'm so clumsy sometimes--"
"Totally my fault," Sandy assured her. "I startled you. Here, let me help--" He stooped to pick up the scattered cases, but Ryan was already gathering them together.
"I've got them, Sandy." He tapped the edges into a tidy stack as he stood up. "They're for us anyway. Nikki was just . . ."
Sandy grinned. "Carrying them for you? How very chivalrous of her."
"No, she wasn't! I mean . . ." Ryan flushed. "Yeah, I guess she was." Expelling his breath in an embarrassed groan, he turned to Nikki. "I'm sorry. How did that happen anyway?"
"I don't know," Nikki admitted. "We started talking, or really, I did, and I asked to see the movies you picked out and then I suggested some other ones and . . . somehow I just kept holding them all while we were walking. And standing here."
"And talking some more," Ryan teased.
Nikki hid her flaming face behind one hand. "That too. I don't know what got into me. Honestly, I'm usually pretty quiet." She peeked at Sandy from between her fingers. "By the way, hi," she added with wry courtesy. "I'm Nikki London. Klutz. And chatterbox."
"Sorry! I should have introduced you. Nikki, this is Sandy Cohen. He's my . . . he's um--" Unable to find the right words, Ryan swallowed, his voice trailing off in confusion.
Instantly, Sandy stepped in, taking Nikki's hand. "Mr. Manners here is my son," he concluded smoothly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Nikki. And I apologize for interrupting, but I'm afraid that Ryan and I are due home. Overdue actually."
Ryan blinked, startled. "We are? We're late?"
"We're late," Sandy confirmed. "And you know what that means."
Biting his lip, Ryan nodded wryly. "Yep. We face the wrath of Seth."
"And Kirsten's too, if we don't get going." Sandy looked dubiously at the stack of DVDs in Ryan's arms. "Did you pick out our movies?"
"Yeah I have. These."
"All of them? I thought we decided on a double-feature."
Ryan shrugged. "Seth screened a marathon. I figured we could do it too. You did say that it was my choice, right?
"Absolutely," Sandy agreed. He counted the number of cases and grinned. "Seven. I think maybe we should spread out this film festival over three nights . . . So you're ready to go?"
"Soon as I pay for these . . ." Ryan turned to Nikki. Darting a look over his shoulder at Sandy he hesitated before saying with faint formality, "Thank you, Nikki. For your suggestions. And everything."
Nikki's response was similarly stilted. "You're welcome, Ryan. I hope you enjoy the movies." There was a brief, awkward pause. She began to back hesitantly toward the door, but after three steps, she stopped. "Um . . . call me, maybe?" she suggested. "After you watch To Kill a Mockingbird, I mean? To let me know how you like it?"
"Yeah, I'll do that. Definitely"
"Okay then. Wait, I'll give you my number." Nikki fumbled inside her purse, finding a pen but no paper. "I'm sure I've got something here . . ." she murmured.
"Use this," Sandy offered, pulling a notebook out of his pocket.
Nikki shook her head, her curls bobbing. "Thanks, but I've got it." Impetuously, she grabbed Ryan's hand. Holding his wrist, her thumb grazing his pulse point, she printed her number across his palm.
Ryan caught his breath, looking sideways at Sandy.
"Now don't wash that!" Nikki ordered. "I mean, not until you copy it somewhere." She slipped her pen back in her purse, waved once and left the store.
Sandy waited until she was gone. Then he coughed into his fist, producing a muffled burst that sounded suspiciously like the name "Beth."
"Come on Sandy!" Ryan groaned.
"What?" Sandy raised his eyebrows. "I'm just saying, kid . . . Seems like I can't take you anywhere without you hooking up with some beautiful girl."
"We didn't . . ." Ryan muttered. "And anyway Sandy, don't say hook up."
Sandy's eyes sparkled impishly. "Okay, wrong word choice," he conceded. "But you've got to admit, first Beth at lunch and now Nikki . . ." With a thoughtful frown, he reached for Ryan's hand. "Hmm . . . She didn't happen to dot her i's with hearts, did she now, sport?"
Glaring, Ryan balled his fist and crammed it into his pocket as he marched to the register. Sandy trailed after him, smothering laughter.
"I figured," he murmured wisely. "She did."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before the Beemer came to a complete stop in front of the Cohen house, the door burst open and Seth bounded outside, jabbing his watch furiously.
"What's wrong?" Ryan asked, his eyes wide and innocent. The corners of his mouth twitched in anticipation of Seth's tirade.
"Late!" Seth announced. He crossed his arms in his best irate schoolteacher pose. "You and Dad are forty-two—no, make that forty-three minutes late. That is 'what's wrong,' thank you very much, dude."
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, well, we called."
"Also late! And with totally lame excuses! Traffic jams! Video stores! You forgot our address!"
"Hey, we never said--"
Seth raised his hand, palm out, ordering silence. "Save the apologies for Mom," he warned. "I have to tell you, man, it hasn't been pretty in there, what with food getting cold and tempers fraying. There's been fuming, pacing, some threats, a few curses--"
Kirsten appeared in the doorway behind Seth, smiling benignly as Sandy got out of the car. "Hello sweetie," she murmured, kissing Ryan on the cheek. "Did you enjoy your day shadowing Sanford Cohen, Esquire, Attorney-at-Law? All those meetings didn't bore you, did they?"
"No." Ryan's eyes darkened and he flushed, stammering, "I mean, yeah, we . . . um, yeah, it was . . ."
"Was . . . what? I think you need an adjective or two about now, bro." Seth's tone was teasing, but his eyes glinted with speculative curiosity. "So maybe 'great'? 'Interesting' in a better-than-French-class kind of way? Or how about 'mind-numbing' but you'll never admit it?"
Ducking his head, Ryan shot a pleading gaze to Sandy, who nodded reassurance.
"Ryan and I had a full and stimulating day," he declared, throwing an arm around Kirsten. "We both learned a lot. And we accomplished a lot. But right now, we're just hungry and glad to be home." He squeezed his wife's shoulders to emphasize his point.
Kirsten's answering smile disappeared as she peered past Sandy to Ryan. Eyes shuttered, he studied the ground evasively, and her forehead creased with concern. "What did--?" she began, but Sandy interrupted by burrowing his face behind her ear. "Sandy, stop it!" she scolded, squirming. "What are you doing? The kids are right here!"
"Yes, Sandy, stop it! The kids are right here!" Seth echoed, cringing. "You know, impressionable youth? Standing next to you? Seeing everything?"
Sandy lifted his face long enough to wag his eyebrows. "Watch and learn son," he advised.
"Sanford Cohen!" Laughing, Kirsten swatted his arm, then pulled him behind her into the house.
Shaking his head, Ryan released a hissing breath. "Man," he intoned dolefully.
"What?" Seth demanded.
"Hey, it's just, I get it now, buddy. I can see how upset the Kirsten is. All that fuming, pacing and cursing—you sure it's safe to go in there?"
Seth glowered. "Trust me, there was fuming and pacing, dude. I date Summer Roberts, remember? So I know fuming and pacing when I--"
"Do it?" Ryan concluded brightly. Slipping through the door, he strolled into the kitchen, calling over Seth's garbled protests, "Kirsten, I'm sorry that the food got cold."
"Oh, Ryan, it's no problem," Kirsten assured him. "We'll just reheat the entrées while we eat our salads."
As he carried containers over to the table, Ryan paused next to Seth. "You were right, man," he confided in a rueful whisper. "She was brutal."
"Hey!" Seth waved a breadstick like a sword. "You mock, but I'll show you brutal, buddy. Just wait until our PlayStation grudge match tonight. Grudge being, you know, the operative word."
Ryan slid into his seat and began to fork salad onto his plate. "Sorry. Can't," he answered blithely. "We're watching movies tonight."
"Movies, huh? So, okay then, grudge match tomorrow. Revenge is a dish best served cold anyway. Unlike, may I point out, our dinner. Only . . . whoa!" Pivoting to face his father, Seth scowled suspiciously. "Who picked out the movies? Because I'm pretty sure it was my turn."
Sandy held Kirsten's chair for her before seating himself. "It was Ryan's turn," he replied, shaking out a napkin. "He chose."
"Yeah," Seth snorted. "Ryan chose. Right. You're a funny man, dad. Seriously, though, what did you get? Because for the record, I'm boycotting if you brought home Grease again--"
"I chose. And it's a theme night. Movies about lawyers," Ryan announced. "I thought we'd start with, um, maybe To Kill a Mockingbird." Immediately he took a long drink of water, using the glass as a shield from Sandy's meaningful grin.
Kirsten set down her fork with a contented sigh. "Finally!" she declared. "A movie night that I'll enjoy. I adore To Kill a Mockingbird. Atticus Finch was the first lawyer I fell in love with."
"Really?" Seth asked ingenuously. "Who was the last?"
Ignoring the question, Kirsten reached over to pat Ryan's hand. The smile she bestowed on him was both proud and tender. "That's a lovely gesture, sweetie, honoring Sandy with a theme night."
Sandy grasped his lapels, posing smugly. "It is pretty great, isn't it?" he agreed.
"Suck-up," Seth muttered. Spearing an olive, he jabbed it playfully in Ryan's direction.
"Seth!" Kirsten admonished. "Don't say suck-up."
"And watch the utensils," Ryan warned, waving Seth's hand away. "Besides, I am not a . . . what you said. That's slander, Seth."
Sandy beamed. "See what he's learned already? Ryan speaks legalese now."
With a dramatic sigh, Seth threw back his head to stare glumly at the ceiling. "Okay," he groaned. "Doom is obviously inevitable, so let's just get it over with. Tell us all about your day, Dad. I'd suggest that Ryan do it except for the fact that, you know, he's Ryan."
"Well, son, since you insist," Sandy teased. He took a slow sip of his drink, prolonging the moment. "Hmm, where to start? Well, this morning I accepted a very worthwhile new case. In a way Ryan did too. You might say he's my partner on this one. He even gave my client one of his cards."
Seth brightened. "Yeah? You used my cards, dude? Awesome! I was pretty proud of the slogan—'I charge by the word.' Of course, people have to know you to appreciate the irony--"
"Wait," Kirsten urged, blinking in confusion. "Ryan, you're Sandy's partner on an actual case?"
Ryan shook his head. "That's just Sandy being clever--"
"Or trying to be clever," Seth injected. Sandy glowered with mock-menace, and he scooted out of reach, adding hastily, "Hey, just playing devil's advocate, Dad."
Kirsten dabbed her mouth with a napkin to mask her smile. "No playing at the table, Seth," she ordered. "Now Ryan, what were you saying?"
"Just, Sandy is representing a little kid. And it seemed like, well, he could use a friend." Hunching one shoulder, Ryan flashed a tiny, self-effacing smile. "I gave him my phone number, that's all."
"So . . ." Seth mused, "Let me see if I've got this: a new case for Dad, a new little friend for Ryan. Yep, sounds like a fascinating day, guys. Thanks for sharing. Now let me tell how what happened in calculus--"
Tapping a knife against his plate, Sandy motioned for silence. "I'm not finished, son."
"Oh." With a long-suffering sigh, Seth slumped down in his chair. "You mean there's more?"
Sandy opened his mouth to reply. Then he paused, glancing at Ryan. "You know what?" he suggested blandly. "I think we can settle for a bullet point summary. Ryan sat in on a few meetings, we had lunch at the country club, and this afternoon we dropped by my old office at the Justice Building. May have been the best part of the day. I picked up a pro bono case, Ryan offered his services as a big brother—oh, and he got to meet Otis and Pearl."
"You did, Ryan?" Kirsten chuckled softly. "That must have been fun. Otis is such a darling, and Pearl . . . Pearl is . . ."
"A character?" Sandy suggested.
"A terrifying force of nature?" Seth proposed. At the sight of Ryan's dubious frown, he explained with a shiver, "Well, what can I say? The woman scares me."
Kirsten's eyes danced. "Pearl definitely is one of a kind. I'm glad you got to meet her and Otis, Ryan. But Sandy, I wish you had mentioned that you planned to stop by the office. I would have had you return that book Pearl loaned me. I've had it for months now."
"He didn't plan it," Ryan explained. The microwave pinged, and he got up, adding over his shoulder. "We just stopped in on our way back from Chino."
The last word slipped out unconsciously. Ryan only realized what he had said when his mouth filled with a rancid taste, and a stunned silence engulfed the room.
Kirsten dropped her fork, her head jerking up, and her stare piercing Sandy with icy disbelief.
Seth's bewildered gaze darted between his parents before settling on Ryan, who had returned to his chair, his jaw tense and his eyes downcast. "Oh-kay," he prompted slowly. "What's going on? Why were you guys in Chino today?"
"We . . . um . . . Sandy had a meeting at the Chino prison," Ryan muttered.
Seth shook his head, started to speak, swallowed, and started again. "And you went with him?" he stammered. "Man. That had to have been . . . intense. Or . . . I don't know, not. But . . . shit, Ryan, was that why you sounded so weird when you called?"
"I thought you rescheduled that appointment, Sandy." Kirsten's tone remained level, but it was edged with furious accusation. "Didn't you do that?"
Ryan caught the barbed glare she shot at Sandy, and rushed to explain. "No, Kirsten, he did. Only . . ."
"It's okay, Ryan," Sandy said gently. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath before he continued. "Look, sweetheart, I got a message during lunch that my client's court date was changed. There was no choice; I had to talk to him today. And Ryan . . . decided to come with me." He paused, glancing at Ryan, who nodded terse permission.
"You might as well tell them," he murmured.
Sandy met Kirsten's eyes and then Seth's. His own held entreaty but not apology. "Ryan wanted to visit Trey."
"Trey?" Kirsten gasped. Her nails dug into the surface of the table. "Ryan, you went to see your brother?"
Swiveling wildly from his father to Ryan, Seth gaped, speechless for once. His elbow bumped the pitcher of water, sending liquid sloshing over the top.
Instinctively, Ryan reached over to steady the container. "It's not a big deal," he claimed feebly. "I mean . . . it's not like I met Trey alone. Sandy came with me. He was . . ." His eyes, lit in gratitude, lifted to Sandy's. "He was amazing."
"Then you're all right?" Kirsten demanded. Extending her hand, she let it hover above Ryan's before her fingers clasped his lightly.
He bit his lip, proffering a brief, candid half-smile. "Yeah. I am."
"But what about Trey?" Seth stuttered. "Did you guys . . . I mean, did he . . . shit, Ryan, I don't even know what to ask."
"Then don't ask anything," Sandy advised. With an air of calm authority, he rose from his seat. "In fact, there's a moratorium on all Trey-related talk until the day after tomorrow. Ryan and I already decided." His determined gaze scanned all the faces at the table. "Deal?"
Seth released the napkin he had been clutching unconsciously. It unfurled into a wrinkled fan next to his plate. "I'm in," he agreed.
"Kirsten? Sweetheart? I promise, we'll deal with all of this later."
Squeezing Ryan's hand, Kirsten forced a reluctant nod.
"Good," Sandy declared. "And now I would like to propose a toast." He raised his glass, smiling at Ryan over its rim. "To Ryan Atwood, shadow extraordinaire. Thank you for today, son. It meant a lot to me."
"To Ryan," Kirsten echoed warmly.
Seth grinned, clinking his glass against Ryan's. "Yeah, man. You know, what Dad said."
"Thanks, guys." Ryan exhaled a pleased, embarrassed breath. Swallowing hard, he allowed himself to meet Sandy's eyes, recognizing the truth they conveyed, their complete, loving conviction. His voice grew stronger and more confident. "Thank you. A lot."
"You're welcome," Seth replied magnanimously. "So we get to eat now, right? Ryan, would you send the butter this way?"
Still focused on Sandy, Ryan absently passed the plate across the table.
A Cheshire smile exploded across Seth's face. "Dude!" he exclaimed. He grabbed Ryan's hand and turned it palm up, so the faint purple printing was visible to everyone. "You guys totally left out the best part of the story!"
FIN
AN: But there may be a coda—Ryan's class report about his day.
