Blood and Sympathy Read online

  "Perhaps you could learn a few things from your sister, no?" His spoon clanked noisily against the glass saucer.

  "Oh, I've learned more than a few things from Olivia." Like how not to have fun. I painted on my most saccharine smile for their benefit. I inhaled deeply and moved to steer the subject in another direction. "Dinner sure smells delicious tonight, Liv."

  Flattery to Olivia was like crack to a junkie. She ate that shit right up. "Thanks. I tried a new recipe."

  If there was one morally acceptable thing I was better at than my sister, it was cooking. Everything she made tended to taste the same. We'd never starve to death with her around, but eating would never be more than a simple intake of food as long as she did the cooking. Me? I could sauté and season up an old shoe and people would think they were eating the finest steak.

  "Olivia tells me Jeb stopped by today with a letter from his nephew," Dad asked while spearing a piece of pot roast off the serving platter. "I'm happy to see you're finally doing something productive with your time for a change."

  Of all the things my dad could be proud of me for, he'd decided that my writing to a convict in juvie was something he was happy I'd decided to do. Most likely because I was helping out dear, sweet Olivia.

  "We're just pen pals, Dad."

  "Yes, of course. I commend you for doing such a selfless deed. However, writing to a boy in prison--especially one who committed such a horrible crime--is one thing. I certainly wouldn't condone anything more than that between the two of you."

  I leaned back against my chair and looked at him with wide eyes. "Oh, I see. Didn't you stand up in front of the church a few weeks ago touting forgiveness and giving people the benefit of the doubt? You know--good versus evil and all that?"

  I felt my heartbeat drumming in my ears. He was pissing me off with his double standards. I hated the way he talked out the side of his mouth.

  "Oh, Claire, don't be so melodramatic. You're twisting everything around. Always assuming the worst. I'm sure Daddy didn't mean that at all." Olivia's eyes darted across the table, wanting him to side with her. "Did you, Daddy?"

  Instead, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat. "Jebediah Sayer is my closest friend. He's a good man through and through. Brogan and Braden committed the unthinkable when they murdered their stepfather in cold blood. Do I think people should be forgiven for their crimes? Yes, I do. Do I agree that all sins are redeemable? To be honest, I'm not sure. Whether those boys have been rehabilitated, that remains to be seen. I just don't want either of my daughters finding out if they're better men once they've done their time."

  The pot roast I'd been chewing suddenly dried to a big glob of tasteless nothing inside my mouth. Olivia wouldn't look at me, and my father wouldn't stop watching me. He cleared his throat again. "Olivia, I believe this is the best roast I've ever eaten. You've really outdone yourself this time."

  "Thank you, Daddy," she said quietly.

  Olivia thought that the sun rose and set on our dad, but I could tell from the expression on her face that even she was having a hard time swallowing his words.

  "I think it's a little dry," I managed to say, pushing away from the table. I cleared my dirty dishes. There was so much tension in the room, and I knew if I didn't get out of there, I would choke.

  Finding a photo to send Braden wasn't easy. Nobody printed actual pictures these days. While Olivia was downstairs, I crept into her bedroom with my scissors and found her high school yearbook. She never looked at the damn thing anyway. I knew she'd never notice a hole in one page. Sure, I could have taken the image from my yearbook, but what fun would that be?

  Hensteeth High School was tiny. My graduating class consisted of around seventy seniors. I snipped the small black and white photo from the page and quickly put the yearbook back where I found it. It was last year's, but I hadn't changed much. I'd have to remind myself to look through some of my selfies and find a good one to send him.

  Pleased with myself, I stuck the picture into an envelope so I could mail it to Braden the next day.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Braden Sayer

  Her letters were like salve to my broken self. What started out as something I was positive I'd have absolutely no interest in pursuing had turned into something I actually looked forward to very much. Mail from Claire always brought a smile to my face, no matter how shitty my day.

  I wouldn't assume she was interested in me for anything more than pen pals, maybe friendship. From the very first letter, she said she wasn't looking for a love connection. A guy could always dream, I suppose. It wasn't easy for me to understand my feelings. I'd never felt this way before and didn't want to confuse her kindness as something more than it was.

  Thoughts of her would be my undoing if I wasn't careful. Waking up with morning wood was nothing new, but having a face and name to go along with the dreams I was having made it nearly impossible to think straight. Alleviating the pressure wasn't an easy option. Like I said before, no privacy.

  I groaned and tried to find a position that wasn't painfully embarrassing. My options were to lie there with my boner making a tent out of the blanket, or to rub one off with the help of the thin mattress. I waited until the last possible minute, thinking of everything I could to make my hard-on wilt so I could dress for breakfast.

  My counselor Elsa had asked me to stop by her office so we could talk about my potential early release. Anxiety knotted my stomach, squelching any appetite I might have had. As much as I wanted to be free, the thought of facing life on the outside scared me half to death. Many kids couldn't deal with the transition and wound up right back in the system.

  Her office door stood wide open and I poked my head around the corner to see if she was ready for our appointment. Elsa was a short, plump woman in her mid-forties. Her dark hair and olive skin spoke of a foreign heritage, perhaps Italian or Spanish. She might have been a very attractive woman in her youth, but as was the case with most of the people here, time had worn grooves in her face, and she had an edge about her. Friendly, but cautious and alert, and always ready for trouble.

  She looked up from her desk and gave me a tight smile, motioning me inside. "Good morning, Braden."

  "Morning, Mrs. Delmonico," I said, taking a seat across from her. I folded my hands in my lap, resisting the need to wipe the dampness on my pants.

  She riffled through some of the papers on her desk. "Your grades are very good, your behavior has been exemplary, and you show wonderful decision making skills--avoiding undesirable situations and people quite well."

  My eyebrows knitted together. "Ma'am?"

  She pulled a piece of paper from a folder and read through it, relaying what was written. "I understand there was an altercation during P.E. a few days ago?" Her eyes were cold and hard as she searched my face. "Care to tell me what happened?"

  There were certain unwritten rules in this place. If you saw something going down, you walked away and never admitted to anything if questioned later. If you became known as a snitch, others would definitely target you in retaliation. You were better off just saying you didn't see what went on or that your head was turned.

  "I didn't really see anything. I was on my way out when it happened," I lied. I hated lying to her, but it beat the alternative. Keeping my mouth shut in this instance was definitely the only thing for me to do. Of course, if she scanned the surveillance tapes, she'd see me and know I was lying. Worse yet, maybe she already viewed them, in which case I was totally fucked.

  Her stony expression gave away nothing. I imagined her to be a kickass poker player. She tucked the papers away and picked up a pen, rolling it between her fingers. She intimidated me, and I'm pretty sure that was her intent. I shifted in my seat and rubbed the back of my neck restlessly.

  "You realize that if you're not completely honest with me, I do have ways of finding out the truth," she said.

  "Yes, ma'am." She nodded and pushed the paperwork off to the side. I took a deep, calmi
ng breath, and my heart began to beat again. "So, Braden, what are your plans for when you get out of here?"

  "My Uncle Jeb has a job waiting for me at his marina." I wiped my sweaty palms against my pants. She made me more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and I'm sure she knew it.

  "What will you be doing at the marina?"

  "Odd jobs, mostly. Some small engine repair."

  "And you'll have a place to stay?" she asked.

  "Yes, ma'am. I'll be staying at his place. He's got a small trailer on the property he's fixed up for me to use."

  She nodded and made some more notes in my file. "When you arrived at WTJDC, Braden, you were a scared twelve-year-old boy. You were a follower. You wanted so badly to please people, and you were afraid of doing something wrong. I've watched you grow into a fine young man during your stay here."

  "Thank you, ma'am," I said quietly. My mouth was suddenly too dry and I tugged at the neck of my shirt for more breathing room.

  "I suspect your improvement has been mainly due to the fact that you've been separated from your brother." She paused, tapping her pen on the desk. "I believe it would be in your best interest if you continued living apart from Brogan. He will be here until he turns eighteen. What happens to him, what he does after that, is anybody's guess. My advice to you is to live your own life, don't let him take you back down the wrong road again. If you think WTJDC is hell, you have no idea. It's a walk in the park compared to prison."

  "My Uncle Jeb has already made it clear that he doesn't want Brogan on the property. There's not much he can do to keep him from going back to Hensteeth, but he'll be fending for himself, ma'am."

  She nodded. "I see. I know he's blood and all, but blood is no reason for sympathy."

  I nodded and tried to swallow my nerves. Things were going pretty good, and I had no reason to be so fidgety.

  "You'll have your GED soon?"

  "Yes, hopefully I'll be ready to take the exam by the end of May."

  "Okay then." She sat back in her chair and smiled for the first time since I arrived. "I'll make my recommendations to the powers that be. We'll need to verify the information you've given me with your uncle, and then we'll see what we can do about getting you out of here by the first of June. How's that sound?"

  It felt like a ton of weight I'd been carrying around on my back for the past five years had just lightened by a few hundred pounds. "It sounds real good, Mrs. Delmonico. Thank you."

  She stood and shook my hand. "I'm proud of the man you've become."

  I left her office and headed for the cafeteria to grab some water. I had a few minutes to kill before I had to be at my next class, so I checked to see if the mail had been delivered yet. I was rewarded by another sweet smelling letter from Claire.

  She'd sent a picture of herself. It was just a small black and white, but it was easy to see she'd turned into quite a beauty. I wondered if it would be too forward for me to ask if she had a boyfriend.

  I wrote her back the first chance I got to tell her the good news. I didn't expect her to want to see me or anything. I just felt like I needed to share this with someone before I split apart at the seams from holding it all inside.

  Dear Claire,

  Your letter brought a smile to my face, as usual. Thank you for sending your picture. You're even prettier than I remembered. You must have men lined up outside your door for miles.

  If you were to go to college, what would you study? Where would you go?

  Before I forget, what the heck is "LOL"? Lots of luck?

  Lady luck may finally be smiling down on me after all this time. I met with my counselor today and she's going to recommend I get released by June first. That's earlier than expected. I don't have to tell you, I can't wait to see this place in the rearview mirror.

  I'm sure your dad only wants what's best for you. I think we all tend to take things for granted, and then when they're gone, we wish we would have done things differently. I know there's a whole mess of things I'd like to do over.

  Maybe I'll have to see if I can remember how to ice skate and teach you. I won't let you go out on the ice if there's a chance of falling through.

  Next time Uncle Jeb comes for a visit, I'll make sure he brings home a music box just for you. They're nothing special. I don't know why everyone makes such a big deal out of them. I'm proud of my work, and they're nice and all, but they're not that great.

  I don't really want anything to do with my brother. My counselor recommended that I don't have contact with him, and I'm okay with that. Uncle Jeb's already made it clear that Brogan isn't welcome at the marina. If he comes back to Hensteeth, running into him will be unavoidable, but as long as he's not living with us, it won't be so bad.

  It looks like I'll be taking you up on that cake. I remember my Aunt Carol used to make the best carrot cake in the world. You don't really have to bake one for me. I'd be just as happy with a store bought one.

  The tattoo I want is just a simple quote that reads, "By the strength within, I shall succeed." If your daddy didn't kill me, we could go get one together. But you can't tell him it was my idea.

  Yours truly,

  Braden

  I sealed the envelope and went down to the woodshop to work on the music box for Mrs. Collins. As soon as I finished that one, I'd be able to get started on the one I promised Claire.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Claire Copeland

  It was my turn in the kitchen and I started dinner as soon as I got home from school. Perfection couldn't be rushed. Olivia walked in about half an hour after I started cooking. She pulled off her boots and smiled. "Mmm smells good. Homemade beef stroganoff?"

  "Yeah, Dad mentioned something the other day about wanting me to make it." The timer on the oven went off and I reached for the pot holders to check on the cupcakes. They looked perfect, so I pulled them out. "Would you mind mixing the cream cheese frosting for me?"

  "Not at all, let me wash up first." She disappeared up the stairs, and I checked the potatoes for doneness. When she walked back into the kitchen, she pulled an envelope from her handbag that was addressed to me. "Here, looks like another letter from the felon."

  I tipped my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at her. "Felon? Really, Olivia? Don't you think that's kind of nasty, even for you?"

  She giggled and kissed me on the check. "Chill. I'm only teasing."

  I swiped her kiss from my cheek with the back of my hand. "Not funny."

  "Why so defensive?" She squinted her eyes and nodded slowly. "Oh, I see. You've got a crush on the mysterious bad boy, haven't you?"

  I snatched the letter out of her hands. "Don't be ridiculous."

  "That's good." She shrugged and pulled a large mixing bowl from the cupboard. "Daddy would never approve."

  I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to tell her that Daddy not approving was reason enough for me to become more interested. "Heaven for-fucking-bid," I mumbled.

  Dad arrived home around six, and we ate shortly thereafter. Olivia helped me clean the kitchen and I loaded the dishwasher for the night. I was about to go up to my room when Dad asked, "Claire, could I have a word with you?"

  "Yes," I said. My pulse quickened as all of the things he could possibly want to talk to me about flashed like lightning through my brain.

  Olivia wiped and re-wiped the kitchen counter, stalling until he cleared his throat and said, "That'll be all, Olivia. You don't want to wash the color off the countertop, do you?"

  I stifled a snort as her cheeks turned pink. Busted, I wanted to say. "Oh, sure, Daddy." She draped the dishrag over the faucet and dried her hands before leaving the room.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "Have a seat, Claire." The kitchen chair scraped against the tile floor noisily as I took a seat. "Relax. You look like the cat that ate the canary."

  A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "I'm fine." I was actually sweating bullets, but he didn't need
to know that. There wasn't a mean bone in my dad's body, but he still had a way of reducing me to a quivering mess with just a look.

  "You'll be graduating soon," he drawled, sipping from his mug. "I've been wondering what your plans are?"

  "Plans? You mean for the summer? Or…?"

  "College, Claire. Have you made any decisions on what you're going to do about furthering your education?"

  "I was thinking maybe I'd take a year off. Get a job and save up some money," I said.

  "I see," he said. "I want you to know that I'm completely opposed to that idea. I know you, and I know that if you can put something off, you will. You're a procrastinator, Claire. Procrastinating about a decision as important as college is something you can ill afford to do. I suggest you rethink your plans."

  I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I could sense the disappointment dripping from his voice. Disappointment laced with disdain.

  "I was thinking about taking some classes at the community college. I'd like to do something with my cooking skills."

  "Really, Claire. Cooking is a hobby at the most. Do you think you can earn a living working in the bakery at Walmart?"

  My eyes filled with tears, and dammit, I didn't want them to do that. I blinked and stood up from the table. "I'm sorry, Dad, but when God was passing out kids, you got one good girl, and then you got me. Maybe I'll never live up to your expectations, but you know what? I don't have to."

  I turned and fled up the stairs to my room and slammed my door hard enough to shake the pictures on the wall. I was so fucking pissed that I wanted to fucking scream my lungs out. I flopped onto my bed as hot, angry tears tracked down my cheeks.

  I took a hot shower and spritzed on my favorite cherry vanilla body mist before settling in to read Braden's letter. His notes always made me smile and in spite of my mood, I decided to answer him right away.

  Hey Braden,

  I smiled when I saw the envelope from you. Some days really suck, and this was one of those days, so hearing from you brightened an otherwise shitty day.