“Nate, wait,” Allison called again.
Nate glanced back and stubbornly picked up his pace, ensuring he’d be first to arrive. As the youngest at eleven, Nate had always fought to surpass his older siblings, cherishing any victory, however small. Furiously competitive, quick to both laughter and anger, his moods as transparent as glass, Nate-God help him-was the most like me.
“Aw, let him go,” said Travis. “We’ll see him at the top.”
“Whatever you say, genius-boy,” said Allison. “Figure out what you’re gonna tell Dad yet?”
A steady breeze was moving up the canyon, carrying the smell of cut grass and sounds from lower down. I’ve always had excellent hearing, and I could easily make out their conversation.
“About that,” said Travis. “Run it by me one more time. How did I get elected to be our spokesperson?”
“Simple. Now that Tommy’s gone, you’re Dad’s favorite, and-”
“There are no favorites in the Kane clan,” Travis interrupted. “Dad berates us all equally.”
“Nevertheless, you’re the favorite now, the new anointed one,” Allison persisted. “And besides, this was your idea.”
“Yeah, well, about that. I’ve been thinking-”
“Thinking? Trav, I thought you’d learned your lesson on that.”
“Sorry,” Travis laughed. “I’ll try to control myself in the future. But seriously, Ali. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Look, I know you’re nervous,” Allison said firmly. “I am too. But we decided to do this, and we’re going to.”
By now Callie had raced ahead and was nearing the top of the rise. Spotting me, she stopped warily, glancing back to see how Nate and the others felt about the stranger she had discovered. Not sensing a warning from them, she proceeded cautiously. Finally catching my scent, she raced the final distance, mouth split in a joyful canine grin. When she arrived I knelt and scratched her ears. “Damn, girl, you act like you haven’t seen me in months,” I said softly. “Well, I’ve missed you, too.”
Out of breath, Nate finally gained the top of the hill. Allison and Travis were still some distance behind.
“Hey, squirt,” I said with a smile. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you guys doing here? Without me around to roust you rookies, I figured you’d be sacking out till eleven, then catching the last Mass.”
“Eleven?” Nate scoffed. “You and Mom never let us sleep past eight on weekends, especially on Sundays.”
“Damn right,” I agreed, giving Callie’s head one final rub before rising to my feet. “Nothing of consequence happens in bed, at least nothing we’ll be discussing till you’ve heard your Mom’s dissertation on the birds and the bees. And get your mitt out of your mouth, kid. If you don’t quit soon, you’ll be nibbling your fingers till you’re ninety.”
Recently Nate had begun biting his nails. When he ran out of nail, he would proceed to his cuticles. It was a bad habit, a tough one to break, but I knew he wanted to stop. He pulled his hand from his mouth in surprise, apparently unaware of what he’d been doing.
“Back to my question,” I said. “Why are you guys here?”
“Don’t buckle under Dad’s third degree,” counseled Allison as she and Travis finally arrived. “He has to read you your rights before beating a confession out of you, and you get to have a lawyer present anytime you want, if only to witness the carnage.”
“’Morning, Ali,” I said.
“And I’ll tell you something else, Nate,” Allison continued sagely. “You don’t need to sit through Mom’s explanation of the birds and the bees. I can sum it up in three little words: Bees are scum.”
“Thanks for that tiny bit of wisdom, Ali,” I said, sensing she was anxious and, as usual, trying to disguise her feelings with a blizzard of words. “Where’d you get it? TV?”
“Where else?” she answered, forcing a smile. I noticed that she had carried a small bouquet of daisies with her from the car. Not meeting my gaze, she started plucking petals from one of the blooms.
“Hi, Dad,” said Travis.
“Morning, Trav. It’s great to see you three, especially this early on a weekend. So what’s up?”
“Not much.”
Allison glanced at her older brother, obviously expecting him to continue. When he didn’t, she sighed impatiently and walked to a rectangular brass plaque set in the hillside several yards away. The marker still lay in shadow, but the inscription was clearly visible.
Thomas Daniel Kane
Beloved Son
Kneeling, Allison brushed a handful of lawn trimmings from Tommy’s plaque. Immersed in my own solitary thoughts, I watched as she placed her bouquet on the grave. Then, deciding to approach the mystery of my children’s presence from another angle, I asked, “Your mom know you’re here?”
“She thinks we’re at church,” Travis replied.
“You lied to her?”
“Well, she… she has her final rehearsal this afternoon before the Philharmonic goes on tour,” Travis stammered. “She’s going to be busy packing after that, and we-”
“What are you getting at?”
Travis shifted uncomfortably. “We wanted to see you alone.”
“Alone? How’d you know I’d be here?”
“It didn’t take a whole lot of deduction, Pop,” Allison interjected. “You come out here every weekend.”
“You’ll get your turn, Allison,” I said. “Right now I’m talking to your brother.”
“Interrogating him, you mean.”
I hesitated, realizing she had a point. “Okay,” I said more moderately. “You kids clearly have something on your minds, or you wouldn’t be here. Who’s gonna tell me what it is?”
“We came out here to talk with you, Dad,” Travis answered. “In private.”
“Why?”
“To tell you to stop being so mean to Mom and come home,” said Nate, anger darkening his face.
Allison and Travis stared in shock at their younger brother. In their eyes I could see the realization that Nate’s outburst had pushed them to a juncture from which there would be no turning back. “Is that what this is about?” I asked. “You don’t approve of the way I’m treating your poor defenseless mother?”
“Approve isn’t exactly the right verb,” Allison said hastily.
“And there’s more to it than that,” added Travis. He hesitated, then squared his shoulders. “Dad, we all think Mom deserves this trip. When she started performing full-time with the Philharmonic, you were against that, but things worked out. This will, too. And it’s not as though she has a choice. She’s the associate principal cellist. She has to go. Besides, it’s only a few weeks.”
“It’s six weeks.”
“Okay, six weeks. We’ll all pitch in while she’s gone.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“No, sir, I’m not. The point is that Mom’s going whether you approve or not. Why make things hard on her? Don’t you want her to be happy?”
With a surge of regret, I thought back to the argument I’d had with Catheryn the previous evening. I had stopped by the house in Malibu to pick up some clothes. Before I’d left, bitter words had been exchanged between us. Typical of arguments rooted in a soil of deeper disagreement, topics had germinated and developed and grown, one familiar hurt following another. “It’s as though you’ve become a stranger,” Catheryn had said as our words spiraled past the point of no return, wounding us both like flying shards of glass. “I don’t even know what you’re thinking anymore. I don’t even know how you feel about me.” And to my shame, I had been unable to respond. Now, confronted by my children, I once more found myself at a loss for words.