Dad swallowed. “We all got along very well.”
“So, what happened? Did they move away?”
“That’s what Lana told you the other day,” Dad said. “Weren’t you listening? They sold their house, moved away, and years later, I ran into Lana in town here, and we kind of renewed old acquaintances. Her husband’s long since dead, you know.” Getting a bit defensive. “And your mother’s been gone a long time, too, Zachary.”
“Did I say something?” I said. I looked at Lawrence. “Did you hear me say something?”
“Hey, man, I don’t know where you’re going with this.”
“I’m entitled to a life,” Dad said. “Who I see is none of your goddamn business.”
“Did I say it was? Of course, who you see now is none of my business. I couldn’t agree more. But what about when I was a kid? Still living at home. Under your roof. Would it be any of my business then?”
Dad’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was getting ready to say something, but then stopped himself.
“Tell me about Orville,” I said. “I’m a bit curious about him. You go out of your way to defend him sometimes. Have you noticed that? You tell me I’m being too hard on him. Why do you do that? What do you care? What’s he to you?”
“He’s Lana’s nephew,” Dad said quietly. “I just want you to show a bit of respect, that’s all.”
“Is that really what he is? Lana’s nephew? She’s his aunt?”
Now it was Dad’s turn to be sarcastic. “That’s sort of how it works, Zachary. If you’re my nephew, I’m your uncle, or aunt.”
“It’s not possible that he’s something other than Lana’s nephew?”
Dad stared at me, hard. “Zachary,” he said slowly, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, or what you’re getting at, but you need to leave this alone. It’s none of your business. It’s not any of your concern. I’m telling you, don’t go stirring up all kinds of shit. It’s not going to help anyone.”
I looked Dad in the eye. My mouth felt dry.
“Here’s my other question,” I said. “About Orville.” I took a breath. “What exactly are you to Orville?”
“Zachary, for Christ’s sake, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I guess what I’m wondering is, if Lana’s not exactly his aunt-”
“I never said that.”
“-if Lana’s not exactly his aunt, and I’m just supposing here, isn’t it possible that you’re more than just some citizen of Braynor that Orville’s sworn an oath to protect?”
Again Dad started to say something, then stopped himself.
“I sent Sarah a picture of Orville,” I said.
“You what?”
“On the computer. I told her that ever since I’ve arrived, there’s been something about him that seemed familiar to me. Couldn’t put my finger on it.”
Shouting. “You had no business using my computer!”
“Dad, I’ve been using it since I got here. And I didn’t snoop around in it. I downloaded the picture into it. That’s what I sent Sarah. And you know what she said? I felt like an idiot when I read her note, it suddenly seemed so obvious.”
Dad waited, thinking he knew what I was going to say, but not sure. Lawrence was looking pretty interested, too.
“She said he looked just like me. That we could be brothers.”
Dad glared at me, and then, in a flash, he swept his arm across the top of the table, sending his and Lawrence’s cups and plates and cutlery and the salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder crashing onto the floor.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” he bellowed. “Mind your own fucking business!”
Lawrence had jumped back in his chair when everything hit the floor, and now he was on his feet, looking at Dad, then at me, then back at Dad again. He stooped to start picking things up off the floor.
“Leave it!” Dad said, and Lawrence straightened. No one moved, no one said a word for several moments.
Dad eyes were welling up, and he put his hands over them so we couldn’t see.
“Dad,” I said.
He took one hand away and waved me off, then put it back over his face. Lawrence took a step toward me, caught my eye, and said quietly, “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
I felt this was the wrong time to walk out, that we were on the verge of something here.
“Dad, I just want to know-”
“Get out,” he said to me. The tone suggested he was not in a mood to debate it.
I slipped out the door with Lawrence. We started walking, with no particular destination in mind.
“Well,” said Lawrence. “I don’t know whether I’ve had a chance yet to thank you for inviting me up here. I’ve only been here for, what, three hours, and we’ve already had a guy killed by a bear and you’re having a family meltdown. What’s happening after dinner?”
I picked up a stone from the gravel lane that led up to the highway, threw it into the trees. “I think I have a right to know about these things,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure that right is enshrined somewhere,” Lawrence Jones said.
“Don’t you think, if Orville Thorne is my half brother, that I have a right to know that?”
Lawrence raised his face to the sun. “I don’t honestly know whether I’d want to find out Orville Thorne was related to me. Although, from what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me, he’s inept, easily intimidated, and totally unsure of himself. So I guess it’s possible.”
We were coming to the bend, where the lane branched off to the Wickens place.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t ask you up here to get in the middle of a dispute between me and my father. I didn’t expect that e-mail from Sarah, what she’d say, but when I read it, pieces started fitting together.”
“What sort of pieces?” Lawrence asked.
“There’s the whole thing with my mother, how she was so angry with Dad that she left home when I was twelve. Then, Lana and her husband moving out of the neighborhood, after they’d been so close to my parents. And now, years later, with her husband dead and my mother passed on, it’s like they’re picking up where they left off years ago. And look at Orville, he’s about twelve, thirteen years younger than I am. It’s been bugging me from the first moment I saw him, thinking that he looked like somebody I knew. He looks like me, Lawrence. The son of a bitch looks like me.”
Lawrence thought about that. “Yeah, there’s a passing resemblance, I admit. It’s not really obvious, but if you know there’s a connection, you can see it.”
“No wonder I’ve been wanting to give him a wedgie since the moment I first met him,” I said. “I just want to put him a headlock and run my knuckles over his head.”
We were twenty feet away from the Wickens gate. Lawrence took in all the threatening signs. No Trespassing. Beware of Dogs. “So these are your friends,” he said. He looked into the yard, at the abandoned appliances, the piles of wood, the old white van with blacked-out windows, a couple of beat-up trucks, an old four-door Pontiac economy car.
“Looks like they’re going to open a used-car dealership,” he quipped.
“Dad’s got so much work ahead of him, if he ever gets them out of there.”
We’d been spotted. Gristle and Bone appeared from around the far side of the house and were running toward the gate, their paws pounding the dirt, propelling them forward, their hackles raised. Their chorus of angry growls sounded like broken gears trying to mesh together. They locked their jaws on a gate board, went berserk chewing on it, splinters of wood dropping to the ground. They seemed to think they could eat their way through to get to us, and given enough time, probably could.
“Cute,” Lawrence said. “What do you think you’d have to do to dogs to make them this mean?”
“Let’s walk back,” I said.
The dogs remained in their frenzied state until we’d disappeared behind the trees. “Think they could eat someone?” I asked.