Melissa Good - Thicker Than Water

“It’s true.” Now Angela was upset. “I’ve had to listen to two days of everyone saying what a freaking saint he was, and I’m sick of it.” She took a breath. “No one here’s grieving, mother; we all know that. He never cared about any of us, just himself.”

Cynthia sighed. “He was a very forceful man.”

“And Kerry was the only one of us who had the guts to stand up to him,” Mike said. “Now she’s paying for that big time, when all these freaking people should be patting her on the back and saying ‘good job.’ If they treat her like that again this afternoon, I’m going to kick their asses out of the house.”

“Michael!” Cynthia stared at him.

“I don’t care!” Mike stood up. “I don’t give a shit about any of them. Kerry’s the person I care about. She’s my sister, and I’ll be God damned if those two-faced, lying bastard uncles are going to give her grief. And if I can’t do it by myself, I’ll get Dar to help me. I bet she could kick their asses sound asleep.” He pushed his plate back and stepped away from the table. “I’m outta here.”

“Me, too,” Angie said. “And if any of those weasel aides say a word, I’m going to slap them.” She followed Michael out the door, leaving her mother in pristine silence.

Cynthia released a breath and sat back. The door opened and a tall, slim man, carrying an appointment book and a pen, entered.

He took a seat next to her.

“We’ve got everything scheduled, Mrs. Stuart. Here are the details.” He offered her a sheet. “Now, the press will be by later, as the more important guests arrive. We need to discuss how you want to present the family.” He gave her a little, sympathetic smile. “I know we’ve got some work to do on that.”

Cynthia looked at the paper, then looked at him. She placed a fingertip on the page and moved it back to him. “I’m afraid you’ve got it a bit wrong. My family’s perfectly capable of presenting itself, and you would do well to remain uninvolved.”

He looked a little surprised, but regrouped quickly. “There are certain things—”

“No, there are not,” Cynthia said with calm finality. “If the press wishes to come and make a spectacle of itself, it may do so.

My children are free to speak to them or not, as they please. I will Thicker Than Water 103

not tolerate any interference with any of them.”

“But—”

“Henderson, have I not made myself clear?”

“Mrs. Stuart, you know we’re only working to present a united front and a positive image of your late husband in these trying times—”

“Nonsense,” Cynthia said. “Please let’s stop using euphemisms. You are anxious about the press asking after Kerrison, is that right?”

He hesitated briefly. “The more sensational papers, yes. It really doesn’t conform to the image we’re trying to build, you see, and—”

“Mr. Henderson,” Cynthia sharply tapped him on the arm,

“my husband is dead. He no longer cares about his image. It’s difficult for Kerrison to be here, and I simply will not allow you to make it more trying for her. Is that clear?”

“Mrs. Stuart—”

“If you were even slightly intelligent,” Cynthia finally lost her patience, “you would realize that antagonizing my eldest daughter is an extremely stupid idea.” She paused. “Her father learned that lesson far too late.” She stood up. “If we’re finished, I must go and change. Goodbye.”

Henderson was left alone in the large dining room, its walls still ringing with Cynthia’s last words.

DAR PROWLED THROUGH the uneasily still house, following a logical guess as to where Kerry had run off to. Kerry’s unusual explosion of temper had surprised Dar, but she could tell the tension was ratcheting Kerry up to a point where almost anything could happen.

Ahead of her, she spotted daylight, and she turned into a small corridor and found herself inside a solarium. Its thick, insulated glass panes hazed the scene outside, but it provided natural light and she had a feeling if she poked around inside, she’d find what she was looking for.

A soft creak signaled her, and Dar walked quietly between two rows of precisely trimmed flowers. Near the back of the solarium was a two person, padded swing, only half occupied. Ah.

Kerry’s back was to her, but as Dar approached, the blond head turned in her direction.

They regarded each other for a moment, then Dar slipped into the seat next to Kerry and simply took her hand, and laced their fingers together in silent sympathy. They sat quietly, rocking a little on the bench as they watched the snow come down outside.

104 Melissa Good Finally, Kerry took a deep breath, pulled Dar’s hand up, and tucked it against her heart before she spoke. “If I ask you something, will you promise not to think I’m a coward?”

“Sure,” Dar answered. “When do you want to leave?”

Kerry leaned against Dar’s shoulder. “I don’t want to, but I think I have to, Dar. If I stay through this, it’s only going to get worse.” Dar’s fingers tightened around hers. “I can’t deal with it, and I don’t want you to have to.”

Dar understood, possibly far more than Kerry imagined. “I remember being at Daddy’s funeral service. A service, not a burial, because they told us there wasn’t anything left to bury.”

Kerry remained very quiet.

“And I hated everyone.” Dar had to stop for a minute, as a vivid memory of that cold day sharpened in her mind’s eye. “All these people getting up and talking about him…they had no clue who he was, or how he’d lived his life.” She slowly shook her head. “They wouldn’t let me talk.”

Kerry just closed her eyes.

“So, I ran,” Dar said. “I ran out of there and kept running, all the way home.”

“From Connecticut?” Kerry asked, very softly.

“Yeah,” Dar replied, just as quietly. “I hitched back…walked…took a bus once in a while. Gave me time to get it out of my system.”

“The anger?”

Dar shook her head. “The grief.”

Kerry regarded the frosted glass in front of her. “You know something, Dar?”

“Mm?” Dar slipped her arm around Kerry’s back.

“I wish I’d had a father worth that kind of feeling.” Kerry’s eyes closed as Dar encircled her arms around her and pulled her close.

Dar rested her cheek against Kerry’s hair. “You do.”

That’s true, Kerry acknowledged. After knowing them less than a year, she was closer to Andrew and Ceci than she had ever been to her own parents after most of her lifetime. She loved Dar’s parents deeply, just as she did their daughter, and she was grateful beyond words that she had them in her life.

Is it even worth staying for the service tonight? “Let’s go home,”

she whispered. “I can’t change how they feel about me, Dar. I’m going to leave them to their hatred and stupidity.”

“All right.” Dar hugged her. “Home sounds good to me, too.”

DAR FOLLOWED KERRY out of the solarium and across the Thicker Than Water 105

quiet, spacious parlor. “It’s a nice place.” she glanced around.

“Plenty of room.”

Kerry slowed her steps and turned around. “I guess it is. I never really thought of it that way, though, because so much of the house was pretty much off limits to us as kids.” She paused, then walked to a painting on the wall and looked at it, and touched the canvas with a curious finger. “We used to get pun-ished for grabbing anything.”

Dar had wandered next to Kerry. “Punished?”

“Yelled at,” Kerry clarified. ‘Sent to our rooms, mostly.” She eyed the painting. “I only got hit once that I remember, and all because of this damn stupid thing.”