Page 25 of Little Last Words

As I stood at the front gate, pondering what to say when my mother arrived and raised questions about what was going on at the neighbor’s house, a familiar vehicle wound its way up the street. It wasn’t hers.

A cream-colored ’77 Ford Bronco with no top and no doors cruised to a stop in front of me. I rushed over to the driver’s side, smiling as my brother Nathan hopped out to greet me.

“Surprise!” he said.

It was, and then some.

He threw his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.

“I thought Mom was supposed to be picking me up,” I said.

“You’ll see her soon enough,” he said. “I thought it would be a bigger surprise if I grabbed you myself.”

“When did you fly in?”

“A few days ago.”

I gave him a playful smack in the shoulder. “A few days? And I’m just seeing you now?”

“I know, I know. Mom made me promise not to spoil the surprise.”

Nathan was the sibling I’d always been the closest to, even though he spent most of his days away, traveling the world as a marine wildlife photographer. He wasn’t home often, and I hadn’t expected to see him again for several months. Having him here today was the perfect gift.

“I thought you couldn’t make it home until the holidays?” I asked.

“I wasn’t planning on coming back until then, but I’m sure you know how persuasive Giovanni can be when he sets his mind on something.”

“I do.” We hopped inside the Bronco, and I turned toward him. “I see you decided to keep the beard.”

He ran a hand over it. “Yep, what do you think?”

“It suits you. I bet Mom’s glad to have her favorite home.”

He laughed. “I’mnother favorite.”

“Yes, you are. And hey, it’s okay. You can admit it. We all know it’s true. You’ve always managed to get away with things I never could, even now.”

“It’s not because I’m her favorite. It’s because I’m the baby of the family. The three of you kept her on her toes. By the time I was born, she was a lot more, well, let’s just sayrelaxed.”

Relaxedwas a word I’d never use to describe our mother, even though I knew what he meant.

“When I think back on my childhood, I guess I’ve always thought she was harder on me than she was on the three of you,” I said.

“You know why, don’t you? You’re the most like Dad. You have the same stubbornness he had. You also don’t shy away from putting your life in jeopardy to help someone else, just like he used to do.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I look at our childhood in a different way than you do. Know what I think? I think Mom was hard on you because you’re a lot different than everyone else. You always have been.”

“In what way?”

He tapped a thumb on the steering wheel, thinking. “Hard to say. Your way of thinking has always been a bit out of the box. You see things everyone else doesn’t. I guess what I’m saying is, I’ve aways thought you had a lot more potential than the rest of us.”

“That’s not true.”

“Itistrue.” He glanced at the time. “Dang it, we’re going to be late.”

I’d been so engrossed in our conversation I’d forgotten all about the lunch date with my family.