Winter

"I can't believe that you've never done your nails before," Sarah said. She held onto Kate's hand as she carefully applied coral nail polish.

"Not never," Kate replied. "I painted them once before and then Hugh called me a whore and made me take the polish off. I never did it again." Her nose itched and she tried to scratch it with the back of her free hand. There had been a great deal that he hadn't liked. God forbid she made any changes to the version of her that had lived in his head. She almost wondered what he would have done as she grew older. An image of Vera flashed into her mind and she realized she already knew the answer. He had replaced her.

Sarah shook her head. "That man was the…" Her voice trailed off.

"Ye can call him names if ye like. He deserves all of them." Sometimes she wondered why he had come back, why he couldn't have just left her alone. She assumed it must've been Evy. He had heard rumors and couldn't bear the thought of her being unfaithful, despite his own infidelity. But there was no use in pondering it. He was dead. Gone. Pat had seen to it and now they were free. The thought of Pat sent a new worry through her. He had never spoken to her about what had happened that night. "Is Pat doin' alright?"

"He's doing fine." Sarah hesitated, the polish brush held aloft. "He still has nightmares."

"That's understandable, considerin' everything he's been through."

"He's so afraid of going back to the asylum."

The asylum was another topic that he never brought up. More than once, Kate wondered if he blamed her for what had happened. She was the one to bring Hugh into their lives, after all. "Has he ever said what it was like?"

"No and I'm not going to ask. I know it must've been terrible."

"At least we know Hugh's burnin' in hell for everything he had done."

"It doesn't make up for it."

The guilt was overwhelming. "I'm sorry I married him. I know everything that happened has been—"

"Kate, stop it," Sarah gently cut her off. "No one blames you. Hugh was a monster. We all know it." She applied the final bit of polish. "There. All done."

Kate looked at her nails and smiled. "How long does this last, assuming no one makes me take it off?"

"Maybe a week. It depends on how much washing you have to do."

"I'll just have Cal do it for a time."

"Would he?"

"He'd certainly make an effort," Kate replied. "Although I couldn't guarantee how well it'd go." Ever since they had returned from Philadelphia, things had been different. Cal had been happier, more attentive. She didn't know how much of that was due to seeing his sons and how much was due to having money once again. "Ye know, now that the factories are makin' money again, he's more likely to just hire someone to do the washin' for the both of us."

"That must be such a change," Sarah said. "Soon you'll be too rich to spend time with the likes of me. Probably buy yourself a nice mansion in the hills."

Kate laughed. "That won't be happenin'. I've been very clear with him that the children are not to be spoiled, no matter how much he might want to. And I have no interest in movin' to someplace fancier. And if we do go somewhere, ye know we'd be takin' ye with us."

"And Pat?"

"He can come if he wants."

Sarah smiled suddenly.

"What?"

"I was just remembering when you first met Cal," Sarah said. "You hated him so much."

"I didn't hate him…I just didn't know him," Kate replied defensively. "And I had Daniel so I wasn't exactly tryin' to get to know him." She blew on her nails. "Doesn't matter. I know him now. I like him now."

"Now? You've liked him for a long while."

"What do ye mean by that?"

"Oh, come on. We've all known that the two of you have been in love with each other for years and years."

"That's not true at all," Kate insisted. "Sure, we kissed once long ago, back when ye and Pat married, but we were both so drunk, it didn't mean anything. And then there was that other kiss not long after I married Hugh but that was…it didn't count either."

"Sure." Sarah still smiled.

"I mean it. We've only been in love for a few years." It was easier to believe that than to accept that they had wasted so many years where they could have been happy together.

"Of course."

"Stop it."

Sarah laughed. "I'm just happy you both figured it out eventually."

Kate smiled. "Me too." They may have wasted years in the past, but none of that mattered anymore.

Arthur hated stuffed quail. He hated the way they were always kept whole, propped up artistically on the plate as though they were seconds away from stepping off it. Distantly, he heard Dinah and Victor talking about something they likely deemed important but certainly not anything of interest to him. He picked up his knife and carefully removed the legs. The quail still sat there, staring at him, but at least there was no risk in it running away.

"Arthur!"

He looked up from his plate to see both of them staring at him. He slowly set his knife down.

"Get your head out of the clouds," Dinah said. "I was speaking to you. And quit playing with your food. You're not a child."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "What did you say?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Fine, let me just repeat myself then. There is a woman I would like you to meet."

"Oh. Why?"

"What do you mean by why? It's time for you to marry."

Arthur looked to the side and caught his brother grinning at him. "Victor's older and he's not married."

"Victor's busy earning money," Dinah explained. "You, however, do nothing all day."

"I don't do nothing."

"No, you draw."

There was something in the way she said 'draw' that made him feel ashamed. He looked down at his dismembered quail and wished he could trade places with it. At least it wasn't accused of being useless. "I don't want to get married."

Dinah picked up her glass of wine. "That's fine," she said, taking a small sip. "But you'll still do as you're told."

Beside him, Victor struggled to hold back laughter.

Arthur wished his father was there to take his side. He found it much more difficult to feel bold when he knew he was badly outnumbered. "What's she like?" He asked at last, in an attempt to make the best of it.

"Does it matter?"

"I have a right to know."

Dinah sighed. "Let's see. She's thirty, I believe, or somewhere around that age. Married once before but no children. But, most importantly, her family has money. You could do worse."

"Thirty?"

"She's still young enough to give you children. Lord knows why you'd want any. Most of them are more trouble than they're worth. Always in the way…always meddling."

A piece seemed to fall into place. "Is this because of what happened when father was here?" Arthur asked. He remembered how angry Victor had been when his father backed out of the deal. Dinah had been even more furious.

"No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"We just felt that perhaps you have a bit too much free time on your hands," Victor joined in. "A hobby would do you some good."

"We?" Arthur turned to him. "You're only two years older than me. You don't get to make decisions about my life."

"Well, you're not making any so I might as well step in."

"You have no right to be—"

"I have every right," Victor snapped. "I'm the man of the household. You're the loafer who won't go away."

Arthur chucked a quail leg at him, hitting him square in the face.

Victor shot up from his seat. "How dare you? I should—"

"That's enough," Dinah interrupted them, her voice firm. "Both of you will behave yourself this instant. And I will have no more discussions on this. Arthur, you will marry this woman. It has already been settled.

"Look at that, luckiest man alive," Victor said dryly. "I guess I'll have to beat some sense into you later."

"Am I supposed to be frightened?" Arthur asked. "I know you're nothing but a damn coward."

"Arthur!" Dinah snapped at him. "For God's sake, you're twenty years old."

He sighed and looked down at his remaining quail leg. He wished he could chuck it at his mother but he knew that doing such a thing could lead to his own death. Death by quail only sounded mildly romantic. He thought again of his father and understood why the man had left. Anywhere had to have been better than there. "I'm twenty-one and you can't force me to marry."

"Arthur, you can argue and complain as much as you like, which I'm sure you will, but when it comes down to it, you will do as you're told. You may as well save us all the effort. It won't change anything."

He pushed his plate away from him. "I could leave."

"Leave?" Dinah's voice was incredulous.

"Yes, leave. I don't have to be here."

"And where exactly would you go?"

"I don't…" He suddenly wished he had never mentioned it. It was one thing to have an idea inside his head, it was another to say it aloud. "Spokane, perhaps," he said quietly.

Dinah laughed. "Oh, Arthur. My sweet, dumb Arthur. Would you truly be so cruel as to ruin your father's life?"

"I wouldn't be—"

"Of course, you would be. For some inexplicable reason, your father believes himself happy. That man no longer wants anything to do with this family and you know that you showing up on his doorstep would only upset things."

"They invited me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Your father invited you?"

"He...he did." Even as he said those words, he realized that his father hadn't, in fact, invited him. Kate was the one who asked him to visit. "His wife invited me."

"She was merely being polite. They don't want you there any more than they want Victor or myself." She shook her head. "No, you're going to stay right here and you're going to do as you're told."

Arthur looked around the table, at his mother who looked angry, at his brother who was busy eating with an amused smirk on his face and sighed. "I hate this family."

"Let me tell you a little secret," Dinah said. "No one actually likes their family."

Taking advantage of an unseasonably warm day, Pat had decided to clear away the branches and sticks that had been brought down over the winter. Unsure what else to do with the debris, he chose to dump it all in the woods where it joined the rest of the forest litter. Moose followed him as he worked.

"You know how I'm the best in my class?" Eileen asked as she came up to him.

"I do know."

"Well, yesterday, I caught Albert Davis cheating off my paper. Right there, out in the open. Can you believe it? What are you doing?"

"Just cleanin' up the yard a bit," Pat explained. "Ye can help. And I can believe it. I've always known ye were a clever one. Clearly Albert Davis knows it as well."

Eileen gathered up an armful of sticks. "Next time I catch him peeping, I'm going to write the wrong answers first then when he's not looking, change them."

"I'm not sure ye should be doin' that."

"I certainly can't let him cheat."

"Of course, not. But ye should be tellin' yer teacher."

"Maybe." She sighed. "Mom won't let me paint my nails."

"She won't?"

"She says I'm not old enough."

Pat shrugged. "Yer mother would know better than me about all that." He didn't see how a small bit of nail polish could do any harm but he knew better than to go against Sarah.

Eileen looked at her unpainted nails and sighed once again. "Maybe. Moose, what do you think?" The turkey pecked at her feet. "I think there's something wrong with Moose."

"What do ye mean? He seems fine to me."

"He's just being strange."

"How so?"

"Aunt Kate came over yesterday and he didn't chase her. He just sort of looked at her."

"Maybe he likes her now."

"Maybe." Eileen reached down and touched Moose's head. "Do turkeys get fevers?"

"I don't think they do."

"Well, if they do get fevers, he doesn't have one."

"That's good." Pat looked at the bird who had settled himself on the ground the moment they stopped walking. He had noticed that the turkey was much calmer than he used to be but he had hoped it was nothing more than no longer being young. "He's likely just gettin' old and it's slowin' him down a bit."

"He's not old."

"We've had him nearly ten years now."

"That's still younger than me."

"Maybe, but ten years is old in turkey years."

"Oh." She crouched down and stroked Moose's head. "I don't want him to get old."

"Me neither but everyone gets old someday. Ye can't escape it."

"That's stupid and unfair and I hate it."

"I agree." Pat always tried not to think about how quickly years passed by. It had seemed like only yesterday that he was giving a newborn Eileen a proper tour of the property. But then the asylum happened and the silver mine and Eileen had practically grown up without him. He swallowed back his emotion and gave her a smile. "Why don't we call it a day and see if yer mother will make us some hot cocoa?"

"I suppose I've earned some."

"Sure ye have."

It was a warm day, with spring just around the corner. Tommy sat with Cal next to the river, fishing poles held out. Long gone were the days of fishing line tied to sticks. They were using real rods, with surprisingly worse results.

"The tree's gone," Cal pointed out.

Tommy looked down the river and it took him a moment to know what he was referring to. "Oh, that. It fell in last summer," he replied. "It does seem strange without it. You know, I used to climb across it all the time. Mom would kill me if she ever knew."

"You may wish to take that secret to the grave."

"That's the idea." Tommy stared at the float and willed it to dip beneath the surface. He never understood why fish always seemed to prefer the old stick and line more than a real pole. He sighed. "Mom won't stop pushing me to get a job."

"For good reason," Cal replied. "She doesn't like you staying home all day."

"That's funny. Because she also doesn't like it when I'm not home."

"Well, that would be because we know who your friends are."

"What's wrong with my friends?"

Cal hesitated. "We believe they're the sort who will likely find themselves in prison one day."

Tommy thought of his friends and wondered if Cal was right. They did seem to enjoy breaking the rules in as many creative ways as possible. But they were also fun and freeing and he felt important when he was with them. He felt seen.

"Why don't you want a job?" Cal interrupted his thoughts.

"It's not that I don't want one. I don't need one."

"You don't believe you need a job?"

Tommy shrugged. "We're not exactly struggling, are we?" He could feel Cal watching him. He could feel the man's disappointment. "I don't mean it like that," he quickly added. "You've seen the lines of men outside the Salvation Army?"

"I've seen them."

"I wouldn't feel right taking a job from one of them. Not when I don't need to."

There was a pause while Cal baited his hook. A fish had eaten the worm right off it. "I'll speak to your mother about the job issue, but you still need to be making a plan for your future. You're not going to be just lying about."

Tommy had tried to plan his future several times but his plans always seemed to fall apart as quickly as he made them. Why hadn't he just gotten into college? That would've at least given him four more years to think of his future. "How much did you have planned when you were my age?"

Cal cast his line. "My father made all of my plans for me. Every single one." He spoke bitterly.

"What was he like?" Tommy had never heard Cal speak about any family aside from his children. It was almost as though there simply was no other family.

Cal considered for a moment before answering. "He was a very good businessman."

"I see."

"I never liked him much."

Tommy looked back over the water, watching the sun reflect off the surface. A frog cheeped somewhere along the riverbank and an iridescent dragonfly darted in front of his face. He knew his mother hated the river but he never understood how anyone could. "Did he ever take you fishing?"

Cal laughed suddenly. "God, no. I doubt he'd be happy with me fishing right now."

"Did you ever take your sons fishing?"

"No. I took them to Coney Island once."

"What's that?"

"It'san amusement park."

Tommy sighed. "Hugh never took us to any amusement parks," he said. "He never took us anywhere. But I suppose that's probably a good thing." The thought of going anywhere with Hugh was unpleasant but, growing up, he often wished his real father had lived. He wished that he had someone to take him to parks and movies, ice skating, and to see fireworks. All the sort of places that fathers were supposed to take their sons.

"I am sorry for the way he treated you," Cal said softly. "It wasn't fair."

"Mom never should've married him."

"I agree."

Tommy looked at him. "You've known her for a long time, right? Why did she marry him?"

Cal sighed. "Your mother was lonely and he said the right things."

"You could've said the right things."

"I was married at the time," Cal replied. "Or I would have. I think you have something."

Tommy reeled in his line. The hook was empty, free from both fish and worm. "Damn it. Not again." He reached for another worm. "Why are they so much smarter than us?"

Cal laughed. "One of life's mysteries, I suppose."

Spring

They all sat in the park, Helen keeping close to him as always. John had given up trying to get rid of her. It never worked and she was right, after all. Dottie was taken and he didn't want to be alone. So, he let her cling to his arm, sit close enough to him that their legs touched, a smile erupting on her face whenever he met her gaze. Every night, he prayed that he would soon grow to love her but that prayer was never answered.

"So, I'm all distracted," Jimmy was saying. "Dottie had on the prettiest yellow dress, you see. And I ask the waitress for a strawberry shake. She asks me what size and, as I said, I was distracted. I responded with 'strawberry.' What size? Strawberry. I asked what size? Strawberry. This went on for an embarrassing amount of time. It wasn't until we were yelling at each other that Dottie finally kicked me beneath the table and I realized what she was actually asking." The last word was lost beneath his own laughter.

John joined in with his own half hearted laughter despite not finding the story funny nor interesting. If anything, he thought it made Jimmy seem dumb and if it washisstory, he would never have told it to other people. He watched Dottie and tried to read her expression. He thought she might've been uncomfortable and possibly unhappy but he knew that he might've only been reading his own hopes and wishes in her face.

"What type did you have?" Helen asked Dottie.

Dottie momentarily looked caught off guard. "Um...chocolate, I believe."

"John here hates chocolate." Helen nudged him. "I made him a chocolate shake the other day and he just about spit it out."

"The milk was spoiled," John said. "It had nothing to do with it being chocolate."

"You know, when it happened, I first thought it was about meeting my mother. Because I had just brought up him meeting her right when he took a sip. I was so upset. I mean." Dottie looked around at the group. "He should at least wait to actually meet her before he starts spitting food out in disgust, am I right?"

John laughed at what he really hoped was a joke.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Dottie forcefully grabbed his arm and led him away from the group."What are you doing?" She asked the moment the others were out of earshot.

"I was laughing."

"I meant with Helen. I thought you were trying to get rid of her."

John looked over and saw Helen watching them. "I was and then I changed my mind. I'm allowed to change my mind."

"You changed your mind?" There was more than a hint of skepticism in Dottie's voice.

"You're the one who said she was sweet."

"I did, but—"

"But what? What do you want from me?" The words came out sharper than he had intended but there was no taking them back.

A dark cloud came over her face. "Nothing," she snapped. "I want nothing. You two make a very nice couple. Invite me to your wedding, won't you?"

"Sure, it'll be immediately following yours," John shot back.

"Wedding?" Helen asked hopefully.

"No, no, no," he said quickly before she could fixate too strongly on the idea. "I didn't say anything...it's not about us."

Dottie sighed. "We were discussing my wedding." She immediately went up to Jimmy and kissed him.

Jimmy, looking surprised by the sudden display of affection, took a moment to recover. "Speaking of which, we still need to choose a date."

"I'm thinking about it," Dottie replied. "I'll let you know when I decide. But I don't believe we should wait too long." She shot John a look as she said it.

"I like weddings," Helen said, taking a hold of his arm once more. "Don't you?"

"Sure." John untangled himself from her. "I think I'm going to head home. I'm not feeling well." He quickly left the group before Helen had a chance to respond. He assumed she was likely following him but didn't look back. He was tired of women. He was tired of making the wrong decisions. He was tired of not knowing what was going on. All he wanted was to hide in his home until they all lost interest and went away.

Sarah had read about the Lilac Festival in the paper and thought it was a wonderful idea. The thought of spending a day surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of fragrant purple blooms seemed nothing short of heaven. She had wanted to go with the entire family but John was busy and Eileen had zero interest in staring at a 'bunch of stupid flowers,' so, in the end, it was only her and Pat.

They arrived downtown too late for the parade—which had only consisted of a few marching bands and a single float—but Sarah didn't mind. She was only interested in the flowers. As the epicenter of the festival, the Davenport Hotel Lobby had been transformed. The fountain overflowed with purple and white blooms. Flower-filled jardinières lined the walls and nestled between seats. There were pink lilacs and yellow lilacs. Blue lilacs. She hadn't realized that there were so many different varieties.

"They come in yellow," she said. "Did you know that?"

"I know less than yerself so no," Pat replied. He looked around the room. "Is this all there is?"

"Oh, not you too. Maybe I should've left you with Eileen." Sarah ran her fingers over a pink bloom. "We don't have any lilacs at home."

"Cause a distraction and I'll steal ye some. What color do ye want?"

She smiled. "You will not."

"No?" Pat slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"No. You'll get caught."

He kissed her deeply.

There was a cough near them. "Excuse me."

They broke apart to see a woman looking at them sternly. "I shouldn't have to remind you that you're in public. And at your ages…" The woman shook her head.

"I'm sorry." Sarah could feel her cheeks grow warm. "It won't happen again."

Pat sniggered as the woman walked away.

"Stop it," she said, lightly smacking him. "That was embarrassing. I haven't been scolded like that since I was a little girl in school."

"Ye must've been very well-behaved if ye think that was a scoldin'."

"I suppose I was. At least, I was until I met you. You weren't ever well-behaved, were you?"

Pat laughed. "Not a bit. I was always in trouble when I was young. And, ye know, Katie was a troublemaker as well."

"I don't believe it. I thought Kate was always a stickler for the rules."

"She may be now, but she wasn't always. Are ye tellin' me that she's never told ye the story with the nuns?"

"No, what's the story with the nuns?" Sarah turned to look at him. "Please tell me she didn't kill one?"

"She didn't kill any, but ye'll have to ask her. It's her favorite story." He wrapped an arm around her and tried to kiss her once again.

"Stop it." She gently pushed him away. "You're going to get us kicked out if you keep doing that"

"Doin' what?" Pat kissed her. "This?"

Sarah laughed. "Exactly that. I love you."

"Ye know how much I love ye," he said, holding her close and looking in her eyes.

"Excuse me, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask the two of you to leave." The woman from earlier had returned.

"Fine. We're going," Sarah quickly said. "I don't think that woman has ever been in love," she whispered to Pat.

"Likely not."

They stepped outside and he immediately pulled a small plant out of his coat.

She looked at it in surprise. "Please tell me you didn't steal that?"

"Of course, I did."

"Pat—"

"Sarah," he gently cut her off. "There was a woman handing them out. As soon as we get home, I'll plant it and then ye can have yer own lilac bush."

Sarah gently touched one of the leaves and wondered what color the blooms were going to be. "When did you get this? I don't think you left my side once."

"It was when ye were sniffin' around the fountain." He put his arm around her and they began to walk down the street.

"You know, I take back what I said earlier. You'd make an excellent thief." Sarah sighed. "I suppose we should go home."

"Or we could get lunch first."

"Could we?" She knew that even with her part time job, their finances were still shaky. Cal had offered them money on multiple occasions but as no one was actively starving, they always turned it down.

"I think so long as we avoid any places that serve multiple courses," he replied. "I was thinkin' a diner, if that's alright?"

"I'd love it."

"And then we run away to Mexico together, just the two of us."

Sarah laughed. "I think we might miss our children."

"We'll send them a postcard. It'll be fine."

"Sounds like an idea." There was something romantic in the idea of throwing an entire life away and beginning again, no matter how unfeasible it actually was. But, rather than running away, she wished more than anything that they could have the last ten years back, to live them differently, better. There were so many years lost that they'd never have again.

They walked in silence for a time, Sarah's leaning into him.

"Are ye happy?" Pat asked suddenly.

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

Sarah sighed. "I'm happier than I have been in a very long time."

"Me too."

The smell of Kate's cooking drifted out of the kitchen. Cal always liked to try to guess what she was making by that smell alone. This time he suspected a chicken casserole and possibly biscuits. Desserts were often harder to guess as Kate tended to make those in advance. This time Henry and Bridget had made the dessert and while he didn't know what they were making, Bridget had asked him multiple times if he liked apples, so he suspected they played a role. Or possibly no role at all and she was trying to throw him off.

As they were in the kitchen working, everyone else sat in the living room, listening to the radio. Except for Evy who was on the floor next to the coffee table, a box of crayons and a coloring book in front of her.

"You know, Washington State isn't the only university," Cal pointed out. "You could always apply somewhere out of state."

Tommy laughed. "I'm sure mom would love me moving far away." It was nearly time for him to begin preparing to take his entrance exams once more and he was growing ambivalent over the whole idea.

"I'm sure she'd throw a fit but it wouldn't be forever. Four years and you can move back into your old bedroom to live out the rest of your days."

Evy looked between the two and sighed. She picked up a coloring book and held it out to Tommy. "You color too."

"Do I have to?"

"Yeah."

"Then I guess I'm coloring." Tommy moved to the floor by the table. He opened the book and picked up a crayon.

"Why are you making the horse red?" Cal questioned.

"Why wouldn't I color it red?"

Evy leaned over the table. "No, that has to be green."

"Gee, Tommy, however do you expect to be accepted into college if you don't know that horses are supposed to be green?"

Tommy picked up another coloring book and tossed it to him. "I think you should be coloring as well."

Cal started to flip through the pages but was interrupted by a knock on the front door. "Would you look at that? Saved by the knock." He tossed the book back to him.

He opened the door to find Arthur standing on the porch. "Arthur?"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry for showing up like this and I certainly wouldn't wish to impose—"

"You're not imposing. Not one bit. Come in." Cal stepped back to let him inside. He couldn't believe that his son was actually there. That he had come to see him. It seemed so unlikely. "We're all coloring right now and we're going to be eating soon. You should join us."

"There won't be enough," Tommy said bluntly.

"Your mother always makes plenty," Cal replied. "There'll be more than enough. It's chicken casserole tonight…I think."

"But there's only six chairs," Tommy pointed out.

Cal shot him a look. "We can pull in a chair from another room."

"Arter!" Evy held out a coloring book. "You have to color."

Arthur took the book from her. "Arter?"

"We're still working on the th sound," Cal said.

"Sorry, Evy," Tommy said. "Arter's just leaving so I think coloring time is done."

"Tommy—"

"Arthur!" Kate stepped into the room and immediately hugged him, clearly catching him off guard and diffusing the tension at the same time. "What a wonderful surprise. Ye came at the perfect time as we're just about to eat."

Arthur looked around uncertainly. "I probably should—"

"Nonsense," Kate cut him off. "We're not takin' no for an answer. Come along."

With an extra chair pulled in, it was a tight fit around the table. Cal always thought that Kate's cooking was so good that it was impossible to do anything for the first few bites but enjoy them.

But after the first few minutes passed, she was the one to break the silence. "So, where are ye stayin'?" Kate asked. "Yer welcome to stay here with us."

"There's no room," Tommy jumped in. "Unless you're talking about the sofa."

She sighed. "I'm sorry me son is bein' so rude to ye. I thought I had raised him better."

"How is me pointing out the facts being rude?"

"I'm staying at the Davenport," Arthur said. "I don't mind staying there."

"That's a nice hotel," Cal said. He had stayed there many times over the years before his relationship with Kate began. "It's an expensive hotel."

"I have enough money."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Evy reached over and took the biscuit from Tommy's plate.

"Do they still have that bar in the basement?" Kate asked.

"I wouldn't know," Arthur replied. "I haven't had a chance to look around."

"No, you just dumped your bags and came straight over here to eat our food," Tommy said.

"Thomas Brandt," Kate turned to him. "Another word out of ye and ye can go to yer room."

"Maybe I should go." Arthur rose from his seat. "I'm really sorry. I didn't want to cause any problems. Thank you for the meal." He turned to leave.

"Arthur, you don't have to—" Kate looked at Cal for help.

"I'll get him," Cal replied.

He caught him by the front door. "Arthur, you don't have to go."

"No, I do. I should've sent word first. Mother said you wanted nothing more to do with us."

Cal sighed. Of course, Dinah had gotten into his head. She had a remarkable talent for doing that sort of thing. "First, don't listen to your mother. Second, I want you here. We all do. And third…well, I don't have a third but you don't need to leave like this."

Arthur still looked unsure.

"Besides," Cal continued. "Evy thinks the world of you and it'd be rude of you to disappoint her like this."

"I'm still going to go," Arthur said with a smile. "But maybe I could come by tomorrow. Assuming that's alright with Tommy."

"Of course, you can. How long are you hoping to stay?"

Arthur sighed. "However long it takes mother to forget that I exist."

"What's going on?"

"She wants me to marry."

Cal thought back to his father's many, many attempts at marrying him off and felt a surge of anger. Dinah had no right to push the young man into anything, particularly as he knew her intentions couldn't possibly have been good. "What about Victor? Is she making him marry as well?"

"Oh, no, he doesn't need to marry. He's making money. I'm the one who's only in the way." Arthur took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I have no right to be troubling you with any of this. Mother said I'd only be upsetting your life."

"Arthur, I cannot possibly be any clearer on this. Your mother is wrong. I'm glad you're here. Stay as long as you like."

Summer

Cal

Stop writing about Spokane. We are not moving there. I know there are no jobs there no matter what you may say, but here, I have a good job. I'm making good money. It's good here. In fact, I think you should move here. Then maybe you and Kate can make Lelia happy.

Cal, I am lost. I watch my marriage slowly fall to pieces and I feel powerless to stop it. I love Lelia more than anything but Lelia, she threatens to take the children and leave. She thinks there's war coming but I know she's overreacting. She spend too much time reading newspapers and the worry gets inside her head. She needs to leave the house and make friends. I don't know what to do. I don't want to leave my home.

What do I do?

Fabri

It wasn't unusual for Moose to go missing for a few days at a time. Pat had always explained to Eileen that he had his own busy life to live. But, this time was different, his absence felt different. Pat had known that the turkey was growing old and slowing down. He knew that the end would inevitably come sooner rather than later. But, as he walked through the woods in search of the bird, spotting what looked like a bundle of unmoving feathers, his heart sank. Some small part of him had always hoped that they owned the one and only immortal turkey.

He put the turkey in a small box and waited for Eileen to return home from school. He wasn't sure if she would want to hold a funeral or, at least, pick out the place to bury him but he wanted to make sure she had the choice.

Eileen came through the front door a short time later, happily chatting about the cupcakes her teacher had brought in. "There were two types—chocolate and vanilla—and I couldn't decide which one I wanted and, would you believe it, she let me have both. This is the best day ever."

Pat sighed. Why had they ever gotten the stupid turkey in the first place? "Eileen, I need ye to sit down for a moment."

"Okay." Still smiling, she sat beside him.

As he looked at her, every single thing he had planned on saying slipped from his head. He looked to Sarah for help.

"Don't look at me," Sarah replied softly, taking a seat on Eileen's other side. "You lost the coin flip."

"Coin flip?" Eileen looked between them.

"Eileen," Pat began slowly. "I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news." He hesitated. Maybe a letter would've been better. "Moose died." Whatever reaction he had been expecting, he hadn't expected to see her laugh.

"That's a funny joke," she said, laughing. "He chased me up a tree only yesterday."

"I'm not jokin'."

Slowly, the happy expression fell from her face as realization set in. "What?" Tears welled up in her eyes and she began to cry.

Pat held her close to him. "He was very old and he lived a very good life."

"It's not fair," she managed between the sobs.

"I know it's not." He knew that this was the first death she had ever experienced. "But no one gets to live forever. Not even turkeys. It's just a part of life."

"Well, it's stupid."

"I agree," Sarah said. "It's very stupid." She ran a hand through Eileen's hair. "I thought we could bury him beneath that tree he always liked to roost in."

Eileen sniffled. "He'd like that."

"How about I make you some cookies?"

"No thanks. I'm still too full of cupcakes." Eileen wiped her eyes. "Could you make them tomorrow?"

"Of course I can."

Eileen sighed. "I have homework." She hopped off the couch and left the room, dragging her school bag behind her.

"Is she goin' to be okay?" Pat asked. It broke his heart to see her so upset.

"She'll be fine," Sarah assured him. "It's better the turkey being her first death than one of us. Are you alright? I know that no matter what you might say, you liked Moose a great deal."

Pat put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. "I'm fine. It's far from me first death." Entirely unbidden, an image of Hugh sprawled on the ground, life leaving the man's eyes, flashed through his head. He quickly pushed it from his mind. "I better go see if I can find the shovel." He thought once again of how lucky Eileen was, to have lived for so long without having to face death. He only wished it would have lasted longer.

Fabri,

Listen. To. Your. WIFE.

Cal

Ps. For God's sake, it's not that complicated!

Arthur was only at the Davenport Hotel for a week before they had done enough rearranging to make room for him. Tommy may not have been happy with having to have Henry as a roommate, but Henry was overjoyed to be with his older brother and carried on nonstop about all of the great late night talks they were going to have.

Cal was glad to have Arthur back in his life. He spent every moment he had with the young man, trying to make up for all of the missing years, learning as much as he could. He was surprised to learn that rather than being the chatty, assertive young man he remembered meeting in Philadelphia, his son was actually rather quiet and unsure of himself. He was also intelligent, creative, and, most importantly, kind.

"So, college," Cal casually brought the topic up as they sat together on the front porch. He knew he had no right to scold the young man for not attending—and he had no wish to—but he couldn't hide his curiosity.

Arthur looked sheepish. "I went for a time." He kept his eyes on the drawing in front of him as he spoke. He carried his sketchbook with him everywhere he went—with Evy usually following a few feet behind him, demanding drawings of various animals.

"How long was a time?"

"A year?"

"Did you fail or did you drop out?"

Arthur busied himself with his pencils and didn't respond.

"Arthur?"

"I forgot to turn in a paper…and also attend class."

"That was enough for you to lose your spot?"

"It may have happened a few times." Arthur looked up from his work. "I know, it's terrible. Mother's been very vocal about my wasted opportunity. That I took a spot from someone who deserved it more. That I only ever wish to disappoint her. That Victor has never done something so terrible. And then she usually finishes with a comment about how I'm destroying the family name." He took a breath.

"I wouldn't worry about the family name. According to her, I destroyed it long ago," Cal said. "And I never understood why she was always so 'snot a Hockley."

"You're not angry?"

"Of course not." Cal smiled. "The only thing I learned at Harvard was how to drink and while that skill has proved useful at times, there's better ones to learn." He thought of how difficult it had been to stop drinking, how that need still hasn't gone away even after years of trying to move past it. "And drinking is a hard skill to unlearn," he added. "I don't recommend it."

"I've never been much of a drinker."

"Make sure you keep it that way."

"Cal!" Tommy called out as he joined them. "Robbie got a new fishing rod. It's made out of steel and he's letting me borrow it for the day. I thought we could go down to the river and try it out."

"Maybe later."

"Later? I have to give it back tomorrow and the weather's perfect for fishing. Come on. I'll let you use it first."

Cal looked at Arthur who had buried himself in his sketch. "I'm busy at the moment."

Tommy's face fell. "Fine," he said quietly. "I guess I'll take Henry then. Since you're so busy and all."

"That's a wonderful idea."

Tommy lingered a moment longer, looking as though there was something more he wished to say. But then he shook his head and walked away.

Cal watched him go, feeling a small pang of guilt. But he pushed it away. He had all the time in the world to go fishing with Tommy, but Arthur was only there for a limited amount of time.

"You should've gone," Arthur said.

"We'll go fishing later," Cal replied. "Right now I'm talking to you."

"I don't think Tommy likes me much."

"You just have to give him time. He'll come around."

"Maybe." Arthur sounded unsure. "I suppose I should be grateful that at least he's not Victor."

"Are you not getting along with your brother?"

"I've literally never gotten along with Victor. He's always been a pompous ass and a bully."

Cal sighed. "He gets that from your mother." The front door opened and Evy slipped out. "And here comes your critic."

"What you drawing?" She climbed onto the seat between them.

"A cat."

She stared at the drawing. "No, draw a horse."

"I'll do that one next."

"How many horses have you drawn since you've arrived?" Cal asked.

Arthur laughed. "Hundreds, possibly more. I'm starting to get really good at them. Might even be able to turn it into a career. I can see it now: Arthur Hockley, world famous horse artist."

"I approve. And if we're lucky, it'll be the thing to finally give your mother a heart attack."

"And with her gone, I can finally go home again."

"Right," Cal replied. "But I hope you won't go home again too soon." The thought of losing his son again so soon after getting him back in his life was unthinkable.

John didn't know what was wrong with Dottie. Ever since their argument months earlier, it was as though she had been trapped in a perpetual bad mood, snapping at everyone. He hadn't failed to notice that most of her irritation seemed to be directed at him, a realization that only confused him more. He wasn't used to his best friend being angry at him.

Knowing that he wouldn't get any answers to the mystery so long as they were surrounded by Jimmy and Helen, he waited until late at night. He walked to her house, climbed the tree outside her bedroom, and politely knocked on the window.

Dottie slid the window open. "Isn't twenty-five a little too old to be climbing trees? What in the world are you doing?"

"There's no such thing as too old for tree climbing and I need to speak with you. Can you come out?"

"It's the middle of the night."

"I promise it's important."

Dottie studied him for a moment before letting out an irritated sigh. "Fine. Give me a few minutes to dress. I'm not talking to you in my nightgown. Probably catch a cold and die."

John returned to the ground and waited impatiently as he mentally went over what he was going to say. She already seemed to be in a bad mood which threw him off. After what felt like an interminable amount of time, Dottie slipped out the door. She wore a robe over her nightgown.

"You're still in your nightgown," John pointed out.

"I changed my mind and I'll thank you not to look at my nightgown," she huffed back, her arms crossed. "Now, what do you want?"

He had intended to approach her bad mood delicately but now that he was alone with her—no Helen or Jimmy anywhere to be seen—the words slipped out. "I want to know what's the matter with you."

"Matter with me? What about you and Helen?"

John took a couple hasty steps backward. He hadn't expected her to turn it around on him. "What about me and Helen?"

"Why are you still stringing her along? It's cruel at this point."

He folded his own arms. "Who says I'm stringing her along?"

"I do. I know you don't love her and you have absolutely no intention of marrying her."

He knew that she was right but he wasn't about to admit it. "This isn't about me and Helen." His voice rose. "You don't love Jimmy."

"Keep it down or you'll wake my parents," Dottie hissed. "And who says I don't love Jimmy?"

"You did. You told me that you don't love him but you're still stringing him along. Or maybe you really are going to marry him. Either way, you're nothing more than a hypocrite."

She fought back tears, challenging him with the question that hung in the air. "Why do you even care if I marry Jimmy? It doesn't affect you any."

"Dottie, I…" John lost his voice as he looked at her standing there in the moonlight, shivering slightly beneath her robe, the tears clinging to her eyelashes. He wanted to explain all of the complicated feelings running through his mind, even the ones he didn't understand but at the sight of her all semblance of thought was driven from his head.

Dottie stepped toward him. "John," she murmured his name, lightly tracing her fingertips across his cheek. Then, unexpectedly, she pressed her lips against his, lightly in a way reminiscent of that first kiss nine years earlier.

John wrapped his arms around her, his fingers clutching at the fabric of her robe, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. In that fleeting moment, there was no doubt—he loved her.

Then, abruptly, she pushed him away. "John, stop. This isn't…we can't do this."

His heart still beat madly in his chest. "I suppose we should marry first."

"What? No, John, I'm marrying Jimmy."

"Jimmy?" He couldn't wrap his head around what he was hearing. "You're still going to marry him?"

"I gave him my word."

"Break your word." John could hear the desperation in his own voice and he hated it.

"John." The tears were back in Dottie's eyes. "I'm sorry."

He brought a hand over his face. "I just don't understand. Do you love me?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out.

"Dottie?"

A pained expression crossed her face and she shook her head. "I have to go."

"Dorothy Anne Harris, you need to answer me."

"I'm just…I'm running late," she said, backing away from him.

"It's the middle of the night."

"I'll talk to you later, I promise." Dottie gave him one last look disappearing back into her house, leaving him standing there, more confused than ever.

Fall

Sarah couldn't tell if John was more upset over the turkey dying or his falling out with Dottie. She assumed it must've been a combination of the two but whenever she asked, he accused her of prying and left the room. She suddenly found herself understanding Kate's frustration over Tommy a little too well. Several times she pushed Pat to speak with him but Pat always refused, saying that John needed a bit of time.

Eileen, at least, was doing better, although she still fell into tears whenever Moose was brought up. But she was easily distracted and the tears never lasted long.

"Can we get another turkey?" Eileen asked as Sarah painted her nails a bright red.

"Another turkey? I'm not sure we could replace Moose."

"I don't mean to replace him. I just like having someone to talk to."

Sarah finished one hand and moved on to the other. "You can talk to me or your father. Or even John if you're desperate enough."

"Not the same, mom." Eileen studied her newly painted nails. "All of you talk back."

Sarah thought back to that disastrous Thanksgiving when Moose first entered their lives. She had been so close to tears over accidentally purchasing a live bird instead of one ready for the oven. Back then she never would've imagined the turkey becoming a part of their family. "You really want another turkey?"

"It doesn't have to be a turkey. I'm also willing to settle for a cat or a dog…or a horse."

"We'll see."

Eileen sighed. "And that means no."

"No, that means we can discuss it later. But definitely no to the horse. There's no place to keep one and they're expensive." She finished the last nail and went to close up the bottle of polish. "But you should remember that no matter what pet we may get, you're going to have to go through the pain of losing them at some point. Are you willing to do that again?"

"Oh." Eileen held both hands up in front of her face and smiled at the sight. "What lives the longest?"

"I don't know. Maybe a tortoise?"

"Can we get a tortoise?"

Sarah smiled. "I'll tell you what. You find a tortoise, you can keep it."

"Deal. Could you curl my hair next?"

"Go run to your Aunt Kate's and ask if we can borrow her curling iron."

Eileen hopped up from her seat. "Be right back," she called as she bolted out of the room.

Sarah sighed as she put the nail polish away. If only John was as easy to cheer up. She hated seeing him so unhappy.

Tommy liked being out in the middle of the night when the city was sound asleep and the usually busy streets were nearly empty. He liked walking beneath the glow of the streetlights. He liked even more when his friends weren't with him, talking loudly about nothing important and passing a bottle of gin back and forth. He took out his irritation by taking two drinks whenever the bottle made its way to him before handing it off to the next person. He wished he could enjoy himself the same way they were but he couldn't stop thinking about Arthur. He was still too angry that the young man had shown up unexpectedly on their doorstep. He was even more angry that he had decided to stay. Hugh had always been exceptionally clear that he wasn't his son and now that Cal's actual son was there, of course it would be the same. He would've been foolish to expect otherwise.

He was tired of being pushed aside. Tommy picked up a rock as they walked, feeling the weight in his hand. Why did Arthur have to show up? Why couldn't he have stayed in his own world? Perfect Arthur who could do no wrong. Even Evy preferred him, following after him wherever he went, calling him 'Arter' in that adorable little way that everyone made such a big deal out of. Tommy hurled the rock at a building, shattering a window.

A heavy silence followed as they all turned to look at him.

"Well, shit," Warren said. "That's an idea."

And then they were all throwing rocks except for Tommy who only felt guilty and suddenly wished he wasn't there.

There were two short blasts of a whistle and they all took off running.

Someone collided hard with Tommy, catching him off guard and sending him to the ground.

"Sorry," Warren called back to him as he disappeared into the darkness.

"Damn it," Tommy muttered as he scrambled back to his feet. He only managed a few steps before there were hands on him.

He was in a solid state of silent panic as he was brought to the police station. He could only imagine what his mother was going to say. Would she leave him to rot there? That might be preferable to the alternative. As he stared at the officer sitting at the desk in front of him—the name tag read 'BARBER'—he wondered if he could request execution.

"What's your name?" The officer asked him.

"Tommy…Thomas, I mean." The voice that came out of his mouth didn't sound like his.

"Your mother is Kate Werner, correct?"

"It's not Werner anymore."

"Oh, that's right. Your father had an incident a few years ago."

"Stepfather." Tommy watched the man, trying to detect if there was some sort of hidden meaning behind his words. Did he know? He thought of that day, the feel of the gun in his hands, and suddenly felt sick. "I had nothing to do with it."

"With what?" The officer rose from his desk. "Now, let's get you fingerprinted and settled in."

After the fingerprinting, Tommy was taken into a cell, the barred door clanging shut. He took a seat and looked around the tiny room. He clenched his hands together to keep them from shaking. He knew he had never messed up so badly. His thoughts drifted to Warren and the shove. The man had apologized but he knew it was intentional. He knew that he was the 'sacrifice' so the rest of the group could get away.

After an hour of nonstop worry, the officer returned and unlocked the door. "Come on, you're free to go."

"I am?" Tommy stood up slowly. "Do I have to go home?"

"I'd prefer that you do."

He was led into the lobby where Cal stood waiting, his arms crossed and disappointment etched on his face.

Cal gave the officer a look. "Thank you for this."

"Anytime," the officer replied. "You know I always enjoy our little interactions."

"I'm sure you do."

Tommy kept his gaze to the ground as they left the police station. He couldn't bring himself to look Cal in the eyes. He didn't want to see the disappointment.

The drive home was made in silence. Tommy wished they could go slower, anything to delay what he knew was to come. But all too quickly, they pulled up to the house. Tommy reached for the door but Cal stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait a moment," Cal said. "Before we go in, I would like to hear your side."

"I didn't do anything." The response was automatic.

"You clearly did something, so I'd prefer if you didn't lie to me."

Tommy shrugged.

Cal pinched the bridge of his nose. "We can stay out here all night. In fact, that might actually be safer for you. Your mother is a little bit angry."

"Fine. I threw a rock," Tommy admitted. "Just one rock. They overreacted."

"You and your friends broke several windows that we now have to pay for."

"Good thing you have plenty of money then. And they're not my friends." Tommy wished he could shove Warren…preferably into traffic.

"I should make you pay for them yourself."

"How'd you even know where I was?"

"Detective Barber called us," Cal replied. "Unfortunately for you, your mother was the one to answer and she nearly had a heart attack when he asked if you were her son. She thought you were dead."

"Is she very angry?"

"Frighteningly so. But she has promised not to say a word to you until morning. I'm hoping it'll give her a bit of time to cool down."

Tommy swallowed hard. He hadn't wanted to frighten anyone. He hadn't wanted to break anything. He wasn't even sure why he threw the rock in the first place. He was angry and then it happened almost outside of his control. "I didn't mean to break anything."

"Why did you have to throw anything at all?"

"Why do you even care? I'm not your son."

"Tommy."

"I'm not and now that Arthur's here, you don't need to pretend any longer."

"You think I'm pretending?"

Tommy shrugged.

"Did you know that I held you when you were a baby?"

"No."

"Well, I did," Cal said. "I've known you your whole life. And I am so sorry that I didn't do anything when Hugh was hurting you and your mother. I should've stepped in. I should've…I don't know. I should've shot him myself. That shouldn't have fallen on your shoulders. Or Pat's. There is nothing I can do to make up for any of that."

"So you feel guilty...that doesn't mean anything."

Cal sighed. "I feel guilty because Kate and you and your siblings are my family. You've been my family since the first moment I met your mother."

"But Arthur—"

"Tommy," Cal cut him off. "You're my son. Arthur coming here doesn't change that."

"Oh." Tommy knew that wasn't the appropriate response but his mind had stopped functioning the moment Cal called him his son. Other than his mother, no one had ever claimed him as a son before. Hugh had even gone out of his way to remind him that not only was he not his son, no man would ever want him as a son. "Do I have to start calling you dad now?"

"You can call me whatever you like," Cal replied. "I really don't mind."

"Mr. Hockley, it is."

"Except that." Cal turned off the car. "Don't call me that. We better go in now before your mother comes out to us."

Tommy took a deep breath before he opened the car door and walked up to the house. He stepped back to let Cal enter first, just in case his mother felt the need to throw something, before following behind.

Sure enough, Kate waited for them in the living room, her arms crossed over her chest, practically radiating anger.

At the sight of her face, the guilt immediately came back. "I'm sorry?" He tentatively offered.

"Yer sorry?" She took a breath. "How you could possibly—"

"Kate," Cal cut her off before she could get going. "In the morning." He tried to uncross her arms. "Right now, it's late. We're all tired and no one's thinking clearly."

"I'm thinkin' plenty clearly but fine." Kate shook him off and stormed out of the room.

Cal sighed. "You better get to bed. I have a feeling she'll be just as angry tomorrow so you might as well be well-rested."

Tommy nodded. He walked slowly to his room where Henry lightly snored on the second bed that had been shoved in there. Without bothering to change his clothes, he threw himself onto his own bed and pulled the covers over his head. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was on whether Cal would bribe the police after his mother murdered him in the morning.

Pat had put it off as long as he could, hoping that John would be able to work out whatever it was that was bothering him. But the young man's bad mood only seemed to grow worse by the day. He kept to himself inside the house, hardly leaving except for work and snapping at anyone who dared speak to him.

"John." Pat cornered him one day. "Yer mother's asked me to get to the bottom of whatever it is that's botherin' ye so ye can stop bein' mean to everyone."

"Nothing's bothering me."

"Now I know that's a lie. What's goin' on with ye? Is it the turkey?"

"It's not the turkey," John snapped. "It's…I kissed Dottie."

"What?"

"Or she kissed me. We were arguing and then it happened and then we argued some more. It was all very sudden."

"And?"

"And nothing. She's still marrying Jimmy and when I asked if she loved me, she didn't say no but she also didn't say anything except that she was running late even though it was the middle of the night and I know there was nowhere she needed to be." The words came out in a rush. "And now she won't speak to me." His shoulders slumped and he looked miserable as he continued on. "I go to her house and she's 'not home' but I know she's lying and just doesn't want to see me and now we're not even friends anymore. I shouldn't have said anything because now everything's ruined." He sighed. "What do I do?"

Pat ran a hand through his hair as he thought. He wasn't a great one when it came to relationship advice. He had made nearly every mistake in his own relationship and he believed it was only by a miracle that Sarah still loved him despite everything. "I don't know. Maybe give her a bit of space."

"She's going to marry Jimmy."

"That would be her choice."

"It's the wrong choice."

"John, ye can't control what other people do. Ye told her ye loved her and now she has to make her own decision on what to do about it."

"I didn't tell her that."

"John."

"We kissed. It's the same thing."

"It's not the same thing."

"You kiss mom."

"I also tell her that I love her. I'm not sure what point yer tryin' to make but they're not the same," Pat replied. "Next time ye see her, ye need to tell her everything. Don't argue. Don't bring up Jimmy. Don't kiss her again. Just be honest."

"Sure, next time I see her," John stated. "Which will be never because she wants nothing to do with me anymore."

"Stop bein' so defeatist. I'm sure ye'll be seein' her again before too long."

"Well, I doubt she'll be inviting me to her wedding."

"Stop it. Now go tell yer mother yer done mopin' around the house."

John stared at him. "Good talk, dad," he said sarcastically. "I feel much better now."

"John, yer goin' to be fine. I have complete faith that yer goin' to work it out with Dottie," Pat replied softly. "But ye need to give it a bit of time. Not everything can be resolved overnight." He hoped that he was right, that Dottie would see reason and profess her love to John. And if that never happened, then he hoped John wouldn't be too badly hurt in the process.

Tommy pleaded guilty during the arraignment and was given a $50 fine plus the cost to replace the windows, even the ones he claimed were broken by his friends. Kate knew that he was lucky that it hadn't been worse. She still suspected that Cal might have offered a bribe or two even if he did deny it whenever she asked.

Thinking it was better late than never, Kate went into her bedroom and pulled out a small box that had been hidden in the back of the closet. It was the first time she had touched it since before Hugh and she was briefly caught off guard with the memories that came out along with it. But, taking a steadying breath, she pushed her emotions aside and went in search of Tommy.

Cal had told her about his conversation with him that night in the car and Kate hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since. She knew that her son had struggled throughout his life, that he had always found it difficult to accept other people into his world—it had taken years for him to bond with Cal—but she hadn't realized that Arthur's arrival had affected him so deeply.

"Tommy," she said after finding him in his room, reading a book. "Here." She handed him the box.

Tommy set the book down and opened it. "What's this?" He asked, pulling out a small wooden ship.

"Your father made it," Kate explained as she settled beside him. "He liked to make things out of wood."

"And by my father, you mean…"

"Daniel. Your father. I want you to have it."

"Oh." He turned the ship around in his hands. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

Kate felt slightly hurt. "If ye don't want it, I'll take it back."

"No, I want it."

"I wish ye could've known him. He loved ye so, so much. It's not fair that ye were never given a chance to know each other."

Tommy looked back into the box and pulled out a photograph.

"That was at our weddin','' Kate explained. "There I am and that's Daniel. I always forget how handsome he was." She moved closer to point out people. "There's Sarah and that blurry spot is John. He was only three at the time and it was impossible to make him stand still. And that young man over there was Daniel's brother. He died in the Great War."

"How come I've never seen this before?" He looked at her accusingly.

"For the longest time, I couldn't bring meself to look at it. Seein' him brings back all sorts of painful memories. It had all happened so fast, ye see. One moment we were paintin' yer nursery and the next...he was only sick for a less than a week." She sighed. "And then I didn't dare bring this out when Hugh was around." She knew that if Hugh had found anything related to her first husband, he would've thrown it away.

"Why did you marry him?"

It was a question that Kate had asked herself many times. The answer was always a difficult one to admit. "I was lonely and he was kind," she said at last.

"That's not a good reason."

"No, I suppose not."

Tommy looked at the photo once again. "I don't look like him."

"Ye have his smile, but I'm afraid the rest of ye takes after me. Although, when ye were little, ye did like building things out of sticks. I think ye picked that up from him as well."

"And then I stopped building things because Hugh would always break them," he said bitterly. "Why didn't you name me after him? Like John and his father?"

"We had already picked out Thomas before he fell sick."

Tommy made a face.

"Thomas is a good name. It's an important one."

"Sure."

"Did I ever tell ye about the man we named ye after?"

"No. You never tell me anything."

"Well, I'll tell ye now." Kate took a deep breath. "Yer familiar with the Titanic?"

"Yes, mom, like everyone in the world, I have heard of the Titanic."

"Don't need that tone."

"Sorry."

"So, I was on the Titanic along with yer uncle. Sarah and Cal were there too but I didn't know either of them until later." It was absurd to think that they were so close to her at the time but no one knew each other existed. "That first night, Pat and I ran into an old friend who we hadn't seen in years. His name was Thomas...Tommy." She briefly closed her eyes and she could still hear him tinkering with the piano keys. "He didn't want to leave Ireland but his father was makin' him. He was supposed to send money back to his family." She remembered how unhappy he was to be leaving his home. "The night that it happened, there was a bit of a party. Then we all went up on deck to look up at the stars. There were so many of them. I've never seen anything like it since." She smiled. "He walked me to me room afterward." Just thinking of that last happy moment, so full of hope, was overwhelming but she pushed herself to go on. "I couldn't find Pat, when it happened. Tommy and I waited for what felt like hours." Her throat suddenly felt tight.

"Mom?"

"It's fine," Kate took another breath. "I wanted to keep waitin' for Pat but Tommy gave me his lifebelt—I had left mine in me room—and made me go up on deck. It turns out we waited too long. There was only one boat left and Tommy made me get in it." Kate managed a weak smile. "I never saw him again."

Tommy stared down at the wooden ship in his hand.

"He saved me life and that's why we named ye after him," Kate finished.

"Did you love him?"

"I didn't know him long enough for love, but I liked him a great deal," she replied. "It could've grown into love but we weren't given the chance." She picked up the photo and looked at Daniel, standing there beside her, a smile on his face. "I'm sorry yer life wasn't any better. I should've done better for ye."

"My life is fine."

Kate kissed his cheek and for once he didn't pull away. "Be kind to Arthur. He's a nice young man."

"We don't need Arthur. There's already enough in this family."

"Tommy."

"Sorry, I'll be nice," Tommy replied. "But if you're planning on adding more to the family, you should add more rooms first. I'm not taking a third roommate.

Kate laughed. "I think this is it for the time being."