Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [32]
I took a deep breath and intervened. “Look, why don’t you two deal with all that old baggage later? Right now why don’t we just agree that Sam is going to stay a week and see how it goes? Frankly, he’s my new stepson, and I’d like to get to know him. How about we try that? Just a week?”
I suspected that Sam didn’t have anywhere else to go and was probably short on money and I also suspected that Gabe didn’t really want him to leave. What they needed was just a little time to get used to each other again. At least that’s what I was hoping. When I was growing up on the ranch and the men in our family got to growling and snapping at each other, Dove would just send them packing off to different parts of the ranch to work until they could stand being around each other again. Of course, that was easier done on a two-thousand-acre cattle ranch than in a small two-bedroom house in a medium-size college town.
“Well, guys, how about it?” I looked at the vein in my husband’s left temple and the set of his jaw, gauges I’d learned to monitor for clues to his emotional temperature. His jaw seemed just a little less rigid than it had minutes ago. “Gabe?”
“A week,” he said, and strode out of the room.
Sam shook his head and picked up his almost empty glass of orange juice, concentrating on swirling the liquid around and around. “I should just leave,” he said, his voice sad now that Gabe had left.
“No,” I said, picking up the cereal box and closing the flap. “I meant what I said. I would like to get to know you. Give your dad some time. He’ll come around.” I made my voice light and positive.
He picked up the carton of milk and carried it over to the refrigerator. “I think I know him better than you, Benni. He’d probably be happy if he never saw me again.”
“I know that’s not true.” I stopped wiping the table and looked up at him. “Look, just let him get used to you being here and see what happens.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. To be honest, unless I go down to my mom’s in L.A., I don’t have anywhere else to go and about ten bucks to get there.” He said the last part with his head down, not meeting my eyes.
Just as I thought. I opened the cupboard and pulled out a red Folger’s coffee can where I kept some household money. I counted eighty-nine dollars and some change. I held the bills out to him.
“I can’t take your money,” he said, his face coloring. “That’s not why I said that.”
“I know. But it comes with two strings attached.”
He eyed the money longingly. “What?”
“One, call your mother and let her know you’re here and all right.”
He nodded. “And the second?”
“Be patient with your dad and try not to bite when he makes sarcastic remarks. Heaven knows, I understand how hard that is. But he’s going through a rough time with what happened in Kansas and with Aaron. I think he really needs you right now and just doesn’t want to admit it.”
Sam shook his head dubiously. “I think you’re wrong but I need the money.” He took the bills and slipped them into the pockets of his shorts. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Maybe I am,” I agreed. “But let’s give it a try anyway. And consider the money a late graduation present.”
“So,” he said, his face relaxing. “What’s there to do in this town? What are you going to do today?”
“As you probably saw last night, downtown’s a nice place to hang out. Lots of boutiques and coffeehouses. Pick up the Freedom Press. It has an entertainment section that tells what’s going on in town. As for me, I’m going to go visit a friend of mine this morning and then go to the folk-art museum and finish getting the grounds set up for the storytelling festival this weekend.” I smiled at him encouragingly. “We can always use more volunteers. Why don’t you come by the museum this afternoon? I’ll give you the two-bit tour.”
“Maybe I will,” he said. “But the problem is, I’m pretty much hoofing it. How’s your rapid-transit system around here?”
“Lousy,