Page 76 of Never Forever
“Hi Patrick,” I said with a small wave.
“There she is,” he said, smiling at me. “You must know I’ve been forbidden to speak to you these many months. And let me say, I’ve had something to say about that. Looks like this bozo has finally wised up.”
I turned to glare at Matt. What a stupid and terrible puppet master.
“Dad,” Matt groaned. “We talked about this.”
“I made the same promise, Patrick. It broke my heart.”
“Ah, but you’re here now and you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He wrapped me up in those arms. He smelled like Old Spice and good memories.
“The movie still going well? I’ve walked by a few times just to see how all the action works. Would have been by more, but I’m still getting my legs under me.” He held me out by my shoulders and took a good look at me.
“We just wrapped,” I said, trying not to think too hard about what Matt told him about our break-up.
Had Matt just come home that night and told Patrick he’d dumped me? Changed his mind about Boston and school and all of it?
I couldn’t fathom how Patrick would have taken any of that. He adored me. Or he used to. And he’d been so proud of Matt for going away to college.
“Wait,” I said, catching something he’d said. “Getting your legs under you? What from?”
“Dad?” Matt interrupted, turning his attention up to the rafters of the garage. “How did that cat get up there?”
“There’s two of them. Dumb and Ass. They’re brothers,” he said it like it made sense. “The storm has them rattled and they went up there, but they won’t come down.”
“Well, maybe they’re happy up there,” I said.
“Do they sound happy?” Patrick asked. It took me a second to hear them over the pouring rain on the roof. But there it was, kittens crying. And an answering cry from another cat.
“That’s the mama, Jenny,” Patrick reached down and picked up a brown tortie who immediately hissed, scratched him and jumped out of his arms. “She’s coming around.”
“Dad. They’re feral. They don’t want to be house cats.”
“I’m not asking them to be house cats. I’m asking them to be garage cats. Dumb and Ass are on board.”
I swallowed my smile. Patrick and Matt Sullivan always had a good routine. A million years ago I would laugh through every dry Sunday night pot roast he made and ask for more, just to watch them tease each other.
Matt grunted and got the ladder from the corner and put it up under the kittens who were crying in the crook of the rafters. Matt pulled them free by the scruff of their necks and handed them down to Patrick who cooed and hummed at them, curling them up against his big bushy beard.
“They’re going to crawl right back up there the second you turn your back,” Matt told his dad.
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll take these into the house.”
As if she understood her babies were about to be kidnapped, Jenny yowled.
“Okay, okay, don’t get your tail in a knot,” Patrick muttered, and set the kittens down next to their mama. They ran right toJenny who gave them licks, and with another crash of lightning, they scattered into the shadows.
“Now!” Patrick clapped his hands together. “Tea?”
“I’ve got to get Carrie back to The Dumont,” Matt said.
“No, she just got there!” Patrick cried. “One cup. I insist.”
Patrick shambled off like the decision was made and I made the mistake of looking at Matt.
He looked after his father with love and resignation and…worry?
Like a lightning bolt, an awful one, it all came together. How he’d aged, getting his legs under him…