They were sitting at the breakfast table, Gray sipping hot coffee from an old chipped mug. It was strange how many things needed repairing around here. Not just the roof and the plumbing and the peeling paintwork outside, but the kitchen and the bathrooms were still the same as from when he was growing up. It was as if nothing had been touched for years.
“How much is it?” Gray asked. “I’ll get the money wired over. You should have told me before. You know I would have taken care of this. I’ll arrange for somewhere for us all to stay while the pipes are being replaced.”
It made him mad that they hadn’t asked him for help.
“I couldn’t,” Aunt Gina said, pressing her lips together.
“Dad wouldn’t let her,” Becca told him as she poured herself a mug of coffee. They’d had to fill the coffee maker from the outside tap, along with the pans on the stove that were boiling, ready to clean up after breakfast.
Gray shook his head at it all. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with,” he protested. “Let me help.”
“Dad’s proud. You know that.” Becca sighed. “He keeps saying he’ll repair everything when he’s better. But he’s never really better, you know?”
Yeah, Gray knew. Or at least he did now. Much like the state of this house, his father’s health had also come as a shock. “I’ll talk to him,” Gray said, his voice determined.
“And rile him up while he’s sick?” Aunt Gina asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you shouldn’t be living like this,” Gray told her. “This is the twenty-first century. We’re in the greatest country on Earth. And I can fucking afford it.”
“Language.” Becca raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “But this makes me so fu… damn mad. Dad’s pride is stopping you from living like civilized people.” He put his coffee down. “Just let me talk to him, okay? I won’t shout or rile him up. I promise.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
Gray half-smiled. “Well this time I mean it.”
“Let him go,” Tanner said, leaning back on his chair. “Maybe he can persuade the old man. God knows I’ve tried.”
“It’s all right for you,” Aunt Gina said, her brows knitting together. “You don’t have to live with him full time. You’ll be leaving soon and Becca and I will be the ones left sweeping up the pieces if you drive him crazy.”
“You two don’t have to stay either,” Gray pointed out. “You know I’d buy you a house anywhere. Just say the word.”
“I’d never leave him.” Aunt Gina crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You know that.”
Gray’s heart softened at her loyalty. He knew it wasn’t for show, either. Growing up, Aunt Gina had been like their guardian angel, taking care of them when they needed her the most.
She’d arrived at their home the day after their mother – her sister – died, and never left. From that moment on, she’d taken care of them. Wiping their eyes with her handkerchief at their mother’s funeral, holding them tight when bad dreams had woken them in the middle of the night. Chided them when they hadn’t handed in their assignments on time, or when the principal called to tell her one of the four Hartson brothers was missing from class.
She’d eased their heartbreak and cheered their victories, and every one of them loved her for it.
“Why do you stay?” Gray asked her. “Most of us left long ago. Even Becca will move on soon. You’ve fulfilled your promise to mom.”
From the corner of his eye he could see Becca’s face crumple. She’d been so small when their mom died she couldn’t even remember her. Aunt Gina was the only mother figure she’d ever known.
“I promised my sister I’d take care of all of you,” Aunt Gina said, her voice low. “That includes your father. And he needs me.” She stood and carried her plate over to the sink. “I’ll be here for as long as he does.”
“In that case, I’m paying for new plumbing. And a roof,” Gray told her. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll go talk to him now.”
She shook her head as he stood and walked into the hallway, heading for his father’s study. As he lifted his hand to rap on the door, he could hear her response.
“They’re both as stubborn as each other. This will all end in tears.”
* * *
When Gray was twenty-years-old, he’d told his father he was leaving college to move to L.A. and record an album, having been offered a two-album recording contract by one of the country’s biggest record labels.
His father had said nothing for a full five minutes. Just stared at Gray through those watery blue eyes, his lips pressed together, the right side of his jaw twitching.