“So they…” He gestures at everyone moving around the house, his voice tinged by something sad. “They all want this? They’re all happy to come to your bed? To each other’s?”
“Doesn’t everyone want to be loved?” I ask in return, smiling at him as he seems to sag under the weight of whatever thoughts are driving him. It makes me want to reach out, to comfort him and so, gently, I add, “Don’t you want to be loved, Richter?”
“I am loved,” he snaps, sitting up straight again as his defensiveness returns. “Skylar loves me, and Cleo will too. We’ll love each other.”
I can hear the taint of doubt in his voice and I wonder if Richter didn’t take after Luke in how he runs his house. Not out of love, but requirement. Obligation. The thought makes me worry for Skylar. Alone, with night coming on swiftly. But I know Richter won’t leave to get her until he’s seen Cleo, and I’ve made him wait long enough.
“I’m glad to know you and Skylar have been able to love each other. A family is not a family without love to hold it together.” I smile and finally give in to the urge to reach over and squeeze his arm. “And I know Cleo will love you as well… in time.”
“She’s my sister, Bryden. She will love me.”
I can’t help but let my smile stretch as I tighten my grip on Richter’s arm, feeling the tension buzzing in his muscles as he stiffens. “It’s been a long time since you were together, Richter, and Cleo is sensitive. She doesn’t like change, and although you remember her very well… she was only five when she joined my family. I’m just asking you to be patient with her, and to not upset her.”
“I know how my sister is and I want to see her. Please,” Richter adds the last word through almost gritted teeth, but I release his arm in recognition of the respect he’s offered.
“Of course. We’re about to have dinner anyway,” I acknowledge, looking toward the doorway where Casey has reappeared, lingering throughout our talk. Raising my voice, I call out, “Cleo! Come to the living room.”
It takes a minute, but then I hear the giggles as Cleo and Sierra leave their makeshift fort. Cleo appears in the doorway in an oversized sweatshirt, a big smile on her face as she walks over to me. “Yes, Daddy?”
“There’s someone here who would like to talk to you,” I answer, accepting her kiss before she slips onto my lap.
“Cleo! I’ve been looking for you for so long.” Richter leans forward, reaching for her with so much urgency in his voice, but Cleo jerks back, hiding her face against my shoulder as I raise a hand to stop him.
“Patience, remember? You can’t force love,” I admonish, brushing my hand up and down Cleo’s back. She makes a soft sound, peeking at Richter with wary eyes as she fists the fabric of my shirt. “Cleo, sweetheart, this is Richter. Your brother.”
“Richter?” she repeats, and I can see there’s a flicker of recognition in her sweet face, but she doesn’t reach for him. Not yet, and I don’t think she would without my permission anyway.
“Yes, Cleo, it’s me. Richter. Your brother. You remember me, right?” he asks, the desperation for acceptance so clear in his wide eyes.
“He’s part of our family,” I explain, keeping to the simple concepts that guide my house as I bring my other hand to her belly. Feeling the firmness of it through the sweatshirt as she lays her hand over mine.
“He’s family,” she repeats, and I look back at Richter to see fire in his gaze as his eyes bounce from my face, to Cleo’s, to her stomach, and back again.
“That’s right,” I confirm, smiling. “And we love everyone in our family equally.”
Twelve
Richter
Bryden tells me to be patient with Cleo, and even though I know what’s best for her, I find it hard to contain the excitement in seeing her again. She’s the perfect image of Mom and Dad but still special in her own way.
She’s the brightest star in the Heavens when there should be none, and it breaks my heart that she doesn’t seem to really remember me when I always looked out for her as best as I could.
Of course, time does that to anyone with a mind that’s right, and hers is left—in a constant struggle of trying to find a normalcy even though she doesn’t realize it herself.
Bryden is watching us with a warm smile on his face, content in the fact that another family bond is forming in his proverbial house of love, but she doesn’t belong here and neither do I.
I’ll sit through his bullshit family dinner. I’ll act like everything makes perfect sense and his way is the only way since I’m under his roof. But he’s not a Greene—he never will be, and I know how families should really be run because Dad showed me.
When we get to the table, I pull out the chair next to me and smile hopefully at Cleo, but she goes to sit next to that Sierra girl without so much as a second glance in my direction. I feel completely defeated when I haven’t even been given the chance to really try yet.
Once his entire family is seated, he takes his place at the head of the table. It reminds me of one of the last days I spent with Mom. She had Cleo next to her, helping her eat her supper with Dad watching, disdain in his eyes. Maybe he never really loved Cleo, or if he did, he had
