He lets out a frustrated groan and stands. “Give me your hands, Kaley. Up. Up. Up.”
I make a face. “Up. Up. Up.”
But I stand anyway and before I know what he’s doing I’m folded against his chest with his powerful arms surrounding me.
I try to step back. “What are you doing? Jeez, Graham, everyone is staring at us. I don’t need the press writing more wrong stories or people inventing new gossip about me.”
“Forget them. I’m answering you the only way I can, sweetie. Close your eyes, empty your mind, let go of everything and really hear your dad when he sings.”
He starts moving me gently as if we’re dancing. This is so humiliating. His cheek presses against my head and, oh crap, he’s singing along.
His lips move in my hair. “You know the words. Don’t just hear them. Sing them like I am. Feel them the way he feels them. He’s telling you so much, sweetheart, things he will never say directly, and you can’t hear him.”
We move and we’re singing, and then he eases back, holding my face in his palms, his eyes intense as they fix on mine. “I will be there. I will be there.”
He takes me back against him and I hide my face against his chest, hearing him sing now and again as he moves me slowly in the tight cocoon of his body.
I hadn’t really listened to my dad.
Graham’s right.
It’s like being drawn into a whirlpool and feeling all things Alan Manzone. You just have to want to hear it to hear him. A splattering of tears trickles down my cheeks because I know why Graham did this, but beyond what this tells me about how Alan feels about Mom, what I hear most is how much my father hurts and I know—though not completely—I caused a lot of it.
“Everything is going to be all right, Kaley,” Graham whispers, his lips moving in my hair close to my ear. “I’m still loving you. Does that sound like a man thinking about walking out on his marriage? And does that sound like a father unable to forgive his daughter? He’s not going to let go of either of you, not ever. He loves you both.”
The tears give way like a tidal wave.
I let them drain from me.
He slowly caresses my back.
“It’s all right, Kaley. Let it out. Their marriage is not your weight to carry. Put it down and walk away. That’s the best thing you can do for your family.”
* * *
Sydney, Australia, three days later
I sit in the hotel room with my head on the table, using my arm as a pillow, surrounded by my brothers and sisters, and pretending to do homework.
This is so freaking stupid. It’s like study hall. I don’t need group educational hour à la Mrs. Barton, with her sitting in the chair making sure we don’t talk or goof off. I’m freaking eighteen years old.
Krystal copies my posture, facing me, in that time-for-a-covert-sister-conversation way. “How did you get access to the Internet?” she asks suspiciously.
I give her the wide-eyed innocent stare.
Her eyes grow intense. “I hacked into your cloud. You’ve been uploading things. Pictures. Videos. All kinds of stuff.”
Oh fuck.
“Krystal, how could you hack into my private junk? That is such a violation of the sister rules.”
“Really? You’re asking me that? And how was pretty easy. I cracked your password in like a half second.”
Inwardly, I groan.
“You’re not going to tell Alan on me are you?” I whisper.
She shakes her head.
I smile.
“What computer have you been using?” she asks.
“Sometimes yours, but Graham lent me one about a week ago. It’s hidden in my suitcase.”
Krystal’s eyes widen. “You used mine? How? It’s password protected.”
I lift my brows. “I cracked your password in like a half second.”
Krystal’s eyes flash, and then she laughs. “I’m glad we’re talking again.”
“Me, too, baby girl.”
“Everything is finally getting good. Dad seems really happy the last few days. I think he’s calling and texting Mom. I think they’re talking again. He’s on his phone all the time.”
I frown. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“That’s because you are always cutting out on the family stuff”—she makes her silly lovey-dovey expression—“so you can hang out alone with Graham.”
I glare. “That’s not true.”
“It is so true and Graham is totally not interested in you. You’re just too vain to see it.” Krystal grows serious. “Are you and Bobby talking yet?”
I shake my head.
“I thought maybe you were. You’ve seemed kind of happier, too, lately.” Krystal makes a compassionate face. “It’ll be OK, Kaley. If Mom and Dad can start talking again anything is possible.”
“I hope you’re right. I miss Bobby so much.” I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead. “You’re a pretty good sister.”
“You’re a pretty good sister, too.” She makes a comical face that so resembles Chrissie. “Someone around here has to be the calm, logical one. You, Mom and Dad are definitely the extreme, unpredictable personalities.”
I start to laugh and then choke it back when I see Mrs. Barton glaring at us.
“Do you really think everything is OK with Mom and Alan?” I ask.
She nods enthusiastically. “Yep, and I’m so relieved. I really miss Mom.”
“Me, too.”
“I hope she gets here soon.” She crinkles her nose. “Maybe Jen will go away. I can’t stand her. Can you?”
I shake my head. The way Krystal says that causes a knot to form in my stomach. “Why don’t you like her?”
She does a shudder. “Jeez, are you blind? She’s always hanging on Dad, flirting with him, even when we’re there.” She leans closer. “She sent him the grossest text message ever when we were in Melbourne. Even worse than the ones you used to send Bobby.”
I blow past this latest Krystal spying confession, more desperate to know what she knows about Jen and Alan. “How do you know?”
“Oh, I hacked your phone a long time ago when we first moved to the ’Sades.”
I groan, frustrated. “No. The other part. About Jen.”
She does a soundless gag. “Dad left his phone unlocked and I read it—don’t get mad, I heard a notification and I wanted to see if it was from Mom because he was happy—but no it was her. And just gross.”
I pale. “What did it say?”
Her cheeks grow brightly pink. “I can’t say it. It’s too embarrassing. The same kind of stuff you text Bobby the nights after you pretend to stay at Zoe’s.”
Oh fuck.
“I don’t know why she does that,” Krystal whispers.
Duh, Krystal, Alan isn’t happy about Mom; he’s seeing Jen and that’s who he’s playing salacious phone text with, not Mom.
“I wish she’d stop. It’s so obvious that Dad loves Mom,” she adds, annoyed.
I stare at my sister, feeling like the air’s been punched out of my lungs.
“What’s wrong?” Krystal asks, worried.
I shake my head—everything and it’s all my fault, no matter what Graham says. My fault.
That momentary respite I had from my guilt abruptly ends.
I lower my gaze. “I just miss Mom. I wish she were here, too.”
Krystal smiles sweetly. “She’ll be with us soon. I know it.”
A door opens and I turn to see Alan exiting his bedroom, sharply dressed and looking like he’s going somewhere.
He doesn’t look at us as he crosses the room. Not making eye contact with us; not comforting.
He checks his watch and then stops at the table. “We all good here?”
Krystal frowns. “Where are you going?”
I shift my gaze to her. Oh crap, she’s suspicious, too, and I don’t need one more thing to add to the list of things I’ve done wrong—like tipping off my baby sister that I think Dad’s messing around.
He drops a kiss on each of the boys’ heads and then on Krystal’s. “I have something I’ve got to do. A last-minute schedule change. Don’t wait up. I’m going to be late.”