Eyes of the Father

Chapter 1. Brother

Late 2014.

The sweat kept dripping into Lacey's eyes and she kept using her gloved hand to brush it off. Finally she had enough and she went into the small house, found a large rag and tied it over her forehead, smoothing her blond hair under the edge. She poured herself a large glass of water and stood over the sink, drinking the water down. Then she went back outside and continued to sand the old paint off of the window trim. She noticed some of the caulking coming off and she added replacing that to her list of things to fix on the old house that her grandfather had left her. The list, which had grown considerably from the day she took possession, had already overwhelmed her meagre savings and unless she sold another article was perilously close to being insurmountable. Still, she had inherited the Williams stubborn streak and remained convinced that she could turn this ramshackle abode into someplace she could live and write in peace. Her concentration was broken by the sound of a cough and she looked up to see her older brother, Tom, watching her.

"I heard that Grandpa left it to you," he said, as he stepped up onto the porch and ran his hand over the railing. She hadn't even heard his car when he drove into the yard. "What memories I have of this place. I liked him too, you know. He didn't leave me anything."

"You hadn't seen him in over five years," replied Lacey. "None of you had really. I was here every chance I could get, and I lived with him for a year while he was dying. Someone had to take care of him because he wouldn't go into a hospice."

"I'm not disputing that you don't deserve this," stated her brother. "I just wish you had reached out to me at least. I didn't know he was dying and I would have made an effort to help."

Lacey nodded. "What have you been up to?" she asked. "By the clothes and your car it would appear you're doing well."

He shrugged. "Being a stockbroker comes with financial rewards but it's a killer career," he admitted. "It's not what I planned to do with my life but I'm good at it so ...."

Lacey stopped and put the sander down. "Why are you really here, Tom?" she queried. "I'm pretty busy trying to fix everything Grandpa couldn't fix while he was sick."

"Let me help," he said. "No strings attached. You must have run out of money already and I know that the taxes are probably due soon. I have the money and if you let me I'll help with the work. It might help me begin to like myself again."

She looked at him. Out of her three siblings he was closest in age to her and they had got along for the most part. He bought her alcohol when she was underage, had been with her the first time she smoked pot, showing her how to roll the joint and properly inhale the smoke. They had drifted apart when he went to college and fell in with a rich crowd of friends. Looking closer at him she saw the lines in his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked, coming closer. "You don't look well."

He took a breath and looked around, trying to decide what to say. "I fucked up," he whispered. "I got involved with a shady deal and I'm terrified that if I'm not arrested someone is going to come looking for me and hurt me or worse. I need a place to hide out while I figure out what to do and you're the only one I trust. Please, help me."

Leaning against the railing his whole body deflated as if he had been keeping this terrible secret for so long it had overwhelmed him. Lacey looked at Tom, and noticed his hand shook as he lit a cigarette.

"We should put your car in the garage then," she said. "It's a dead giveaway ... sorry for the words."

He smiled grimly then hugged her desperately. "Thank you," he whispered. "I didn't know who else to turn to. Mom would have freaked out. Nancy is caught up in her divorce and Terry is ... well he's always been an asshole, hasn't he?"