only mothers and daughters should discuss, things Tully felt totally inept at, not to mention downright uncomfortable with. Caroline wasn’t the most responsible person in the world, but she did love Emma. Maybe Tully was simply feeling sorry for himself, because this would be the first Thanksgiving he would spend alone in more than twenty years.
A car door slammed. Tully sat up, grabbed the remote and turned down the TV’s volume. Another car door slammed, and this time he was certain it came from his driveway. Okay, he needed to put on his stern expression, his I’m-so-disappointed-in-you face. But what punishment had he decided on? Oh, crap! He hadn’t come up with anything. He slumped into the recliner again, pretending to be caught up in the news as he heard the front door unlock.
There were more than one set of footsteps in his entrance. He twisted around in the recliner and saw Alesha’s mother coming in behind Emma. Oh, jeez! What the hell happened this time?
He stood, brushing more crumbs from his T-shirt and jeans, running his fingers through his hair and quickly swiping his mouth. He probably looked like hell. Mrs. Edmund looked impeccable as usual.
“Mr. Tully, sorry to interrupt.”
“No, I appreciate you doing the chauffeuring tonight.” He watched Emma but couldn’t decide if her discomfort was embarrassment or worry. These days anything he said or did in front of her friends or her friends’ parents appeared to embarrass her.
“I just wanted to come in and let you know that it’s my fault Emma’s late
Tully continued to watch Emma out of the corner of his eyes. The girl was an expert manipulator, just like her mother. Had she put Mrs. Edmund up to this? Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave his full attention to the petite blonde, an older mirror image of her own daughter. If she had hoped to cover for Emma without providing an explanation, she was mistaken.
He waited. Mrs. Edmund fidgeted with her purse strap and pushed back an unruly strand of hair. Usually people didn’t act nervous unless they were guilty of something. Tully didn’t bother to fill the discomforting silence, despite seeing Emma squirm. He smiled at Mrs. Edmund and waited.
“They wanted to go to a rally at one of the monuments instead of going to a movie. I thought it would be okay. But afterward, traffic was just nuts. I hate driving in the District. I got lost a couple of times. It was just a mess.” She stopped and looked up at him as if checking to see if that was sufficient. She continued, “Then I couldn’t find them. We crossed wires as to the exact place I’d pick them up. Thank God, it didn’t rain. And all that traffic-”
Tully held up a hand to stop her. “I’m just grateful you’re all safe and sound. Thanks again, Mrs. Edmund.”
“Oh, please, you must start calling me Cynthia.”
He could see Emma roll her eyes.
“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks so much, Cynthia.” He escorted her out the front door, waiting on the steps until she made it safely into her car. Alesha waved at him and her mother joined in, the distraction almost causing the woman to back into his mailbox.
When he stepped back inside, Emma was in his spot, a leg over the recliner arm and channel surfing. He snagged the remote, shut the TV off and stood in front of her.
“You made Mrs. Edmund drive all the way into the District? What happened to going to a movie?”
“We met some kids during our field trip. They invited us to this rally. It sounded fun. Besides, we didn’t make Mrs. Edmund drive us. She said it was okay.”
“That’s almost an hour’s drive. And what kind of a rally was this? Were drugs and alcohol being passed around?”
“Dad, chill out. It was some religious revival thing. Lots of singing and clapping.”
“Why in the world would you and Alesha even want to go to something like that?”
She sat up and started taking off her shoes, as if suddenly dead tired and in need of getting to bed.
“Like I said, we met some cool kids on our field trip, and they told us we should come. It was sort of a yawner, though. We ended up walking around the monuments and talking to some kids we met.”
“Kids? Or boys?”
“Well, there were boys and girls.”
“Emma, walking around the monuments at that time of night could be dangerous.”
“There were like tons of other people, Dad. Busloads. They have tour groups. Real sight-seeing fanatics, rubbing their little pieces of paper on the wall and taking umpteen pictures with their cheap disposables.”
Tully did remember that there were several night tours of the monuments. She was probably right. They were probably just as safe as in the daylight. Besides, didn’t the monuments have twenty-four-hour security?
“You were really funny with Mrs. Edmund.” She smiled up at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought for a minute there you were gonna ground her.” She giggled and Tully couldn’t help but smile.
The two of them ended up laughing, eating the rest of the corn chips and staying up to watch the last half of Hitchcock’s
CHAPTER 18
Justin pretended to sleep. The converted Greyhound bus was finally quiet, the rumble of the engine and tires a welcome lullaby. Thank God! No more fucking “Kumbaya” songs. Getting through that wacky “praise the Lord” and “Yahweh rules” at the too-long prayer rally had been bad enough. But Justin knew his head would surely explode if he had to listen to that crap for the three-hour bus ride home.
He had reclined his bus seat just far enough back that he could keep a half-closed eye on Brandon and Alice. They were sitting together one row behind him and across the aisle. The interior of the Greyhound bus was dark except for the track lighting on the floor, like little-bitty runway lights. He could barely see Alice’s silhouette, her head turned to look out the window. She had kept that same pose since they left D.C. Even when the rest of the bus had been wailing at the top of their lungs, he could see Alice’s lips move only when she occasionally looked back. Otherwise she kept staring out the window. Maybe she couldn’t stand the sight of Brandon, either. Hey, he could hope, couldn’t he?
With the seat reclined, he could watch Brandon a little easier. Justin kept his eyes on Brandon’s hands. The guy better keep those fucking hands off Alice. Once in a while, in the light of oncoming cars, he caught a glimpse of his face. Contentment. Fucking contentment, like he didn’t have a worry in the world. It still pissed Justin off that Brandon had rammed his way into the bus, practically shoving him aside and plopping down in the seat next to Alice as if it were marked his. The bastard took anything and everything he wanted without ever thinking of asking.
Justin heard the whispered murmurs before he twisted around and noticed Father coming from his private compartment in the back of the bus. Rumors were that it included a bathroom and bed for Father to catch up on his rest. Now, as he walked slowly up the aisle, holding on to the backs of seats to keep his balance, Justin couldn’t help thinking the man looked pretty ordinary in the shadows of the dark bus. What? The guy walked on water, but he had to hang on for a short trek down a bus aisle?
Justin kept his head pressed to the back of his seat, shifting slightly, so no one would think he was fully awake. He even snorted a little under his breath, a sound he had heard himself make other times in a half-conscious state.
Through the slits of his eyes, he could see Father stop, standing right at Justin’s head. His dark features made it impossible for Justin to tell through half-shut eyes whether or not the man was looking down at him.
Then he heard him whisper, “Brandon, go sit with Darren up in front for a few minutes. I need to talk with Alice.”
Brandon got up and obeyed without a word. Justin wanted to smile. Good, the bastard won’t be bothering Alice for a while. Maybe Father had noticed Brandon’s obsession with Alice. After all, he preached about celibacy
