Chương 7
Derek nodded once.
For a moment, the room softened.
Then Ryan remembered Emily on the floor.
“Last night.”
Derek’s face closed again.
Ryan did not let him escape.
“Why?”
Derek stared at the horse.
“Because she said he made it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
Derek’s voice sharpened.
“She said it the way everyone says everything about him. Dad made this. Dad said that. Dad wanted this. Dad would’ve known. Dad would’ve done better.”
“She’s seven.”
“I know how old she is.”
“Do you?”
Derek looked at him.
Ryan stepped closer.
“Because she isn’t Noah.”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t owe you anything for being his daughter.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
Linda looked at Ryan.
The phrase had come back to him.
He heard it.
So did she.
Derek sat on Noah’s old stool.
For the first time since he arrived, he looked tired rather than angry.
“I hated him.”
Linda made a small sound.
Derek stared at the floor.
“Not all the time.”
Nobody moved.
“I loved him,” Derek said. “And I hated him. Sometimes in the same five minutes.”
Linda’s eyes filled.
“Why?”
Derek laughed softly.
“Seriously?”
“I’m asking.”
“You always asked me to be more like him.”
“I did not.”
“You did it without words.”
Linda opened her mouth.
Derek lifted one hand.
“No. Don’t fix it.”
That stopped her.
Derek looked at Ryan.
“Noah got sick and suddenly every bad thing between us became something I wasn’t allowed to be angry about anymore.”
Ryan said nothing.
“He borrowed money and didn’t pay it back. He embarrassed me in front of people. He told Mom I had a drinking problem before I had one. He was right, eventually, which somehow made it worse.”
Grace crossed her arms.
Derek continued.
“He could be arrogant. He could be mean. He knew exactly where to put a sentence when he wanted it to hurt.”
Ryan knew that too.
He had loved Noah enough to know it.
Derek looked at the horse.
“And then he got cancer, and everybody cleaned him up in their memory while he was still alive.”
Linda whispered, “That’s cruel.”
“It’s true.”
Ryan said, “You’re allowed to be angry at him.”
Derek looked at him.
“You don’t act like it.”
“You’re not allowed to take it out on Emily.”
Derek looked away.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No. I’m not.”
It was the first clean admission he had made.
Ryan felt some of his anger lose shape.
Not disappear.
Change.
Derek rubbed his hands together.
“The day he made me promise, he told me you’d be Emily’s guardian.”
Ryan waited.
“I thought he was asking me first.”
“He wasn’t.”
“No.”
“That hurt.”
Derek gave him a tired look.
“Thank you for translating.”
Ryan accepted that.
Derek continued.
“I asked why you. He said you were boring.”
Grace laughed.
Ryan looked offended.
Derek actually smiled.
“He said that like it was a compliment.”
“It is a compliment.”
“He said you paid bills before they were due, changed your oil on schedule, and owned extra batteries.”
“I do.”
“That’s deeply upsetting.”
Linda laughed through tears.
The sound did something strange to the room.
Ryan leaned against the bench.
“What else did he say?”
Derek looked at him.
“That you stayed.”
The humor vanished.
“He said, ‘Ryan stays.’”
Ryan’s throat tightened.
“He told me I loved people when I felt good and disappeared when I didn’t.”
Derek looked down.
“He wasn’t wrong.”
Grace said quietly, “No.”
Derek nodded.
“He asked me not to disappear on Emily.”
Ryan looked at the carving.
“So you promised.”
“Yeah.”
“Then he carved it.”
“I didn’t know he was going to.”
“But you saw it.”
Derek nodded.
“When?”
“A week before he died.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him it was manipulative.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Derek shrugged.
“It was.”
Ryan almost defended Noah.
Then he stopped.
Because it was manipulative.
A dying man had carved his brother’s promise into a child’s toy.
Love did not make that less true.
“He laughed,” Derek said. “Told me he didn’t trust my memory.”
Ryan looked at the uneven letters.
That sounded painfully like Noah.
Derek breathed out.
“Last night, Emily was showing everybody the horse. She said Dad fixed this part. Dad painted that. Dad carved underneath. And everybody was smiling.”
His voice changed.
Smaller.
“I saw the bracket.”
“The one you bought,” Ryan said.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And I remembered him telling me I couldn’t replace everything.”
Derek swallowed.
“I wanted the stupid thing gone for one second.”
Linda covered her mouth.
Derek looked at her.
“One second.”
He turned back to Ryan.
“Then I did it.”
No one rescued him from the sentence.
He did not rescue himself either.
Ryan asked, “And the thing you said to Emily?”
Derek shut his eyes.
“I know.”
“No.”
Ryan’s voice stayed calm.
“You don’t get to use that phrase.”
Derek opened his eyes.
“Right.”
“What did you think would happen?”
“I didn’t.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I know.”
Ryan stared.
Derek winced.
“Sorry.”
The apology was not to Emily.
Ryan said, “You need to leave.”
Linda looked at him.
Derek nodded before she could speak.
“Okay.”
Ryan was surprised.
Derek stood.
He put on his coat.
At the garage opening, he stopped.
“Does she hate me?”
Ryan hated the question.
Not because it was manipulative.
Because it was frightened.
“She’s seven.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Derek waited.
Ryan said, “She asked if you hate her.”
Derek’s face changed.
Ryan had thought the carving had destroyed him.
He had been wrong.
Derek turned away.
He stood there with his back to them, one hand gripping the edge of the garage door frame.
Then he said, “Tell her I don’t.”
“No.”
Derek looked over his shoulder.
“You tell her.”
Derek nodded.
“When?”
“When she decides she wants to hear you.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Ryan picked up the horse.
“Then that’s part of what you broke.”
May you like
Derek left.
For the next nine days, Emily did not ask about him.
