Family Bonds

Chapter 4, Episode 1

Chet drove home humming. Jane was an intriguing mystery he intended to solve. Those big green eyes of hers sparked darts of desire for her whenever she glanced his way. But how she'd acted at the Christmas party, the drug store, and at the restaurant told him she didn't trust him. Maybe she was just being careful, unlike Frannie or the other girls he'd slept with. Girls who were eager to go out with him, girls who wanted him.

Jane seemed curious about him, even if she hadn't jumped at his offer of a ride home. His pulse picked up. Did she know why he wasn't in school? She accepted his explanation, hadn't asked questions when he'd given her the barest facts. As he pulled into the driveway, careful to avoid the side of the three-car garage where his dad parked his car, Chet vowed to ask Jane out. Soon. And if she made him wait, he'd wait—as long as she said yes.

He ran up the porch steps, eager for his cousin to call Jane about Central Washington University—so she'd know he'd had two reasons for asking for her number, one easy to say yes to. He'd play it cool about the other one. Patience. What I need to practice.

"Ash! Got a name and a number for you—about Central. She used to go there. Said you could call her." Chet stopped as the front door, previously ajar, was opened by his father.

"Where's Ashley?"

"Visiting Eddie. She'll be back for dinner. What's with the shouting?"

"I met a girl who went to Central. She'll talk to Ashley."

"Tell her when she gets back." His father scowled at him. "How's the bill-paying coming?"

That question again. Every time I'm home. One more time and I'm skipping out of here. "I'm making payments every week. Do you have to ask me every time I come in the door? When it's paid, I'll tell you. This is getting really tiresome." Times like this, he wondered if his friends' fathers were so demanding.

The expression on his dad's face didn't change when he headed for the kitchen. "While you live in my house, I'll ask."

Chet held his tongue, wanting to avoid an argument.

"These books. Where'd you get them?" His dad held up one of the law books,. Handling it as if it were dirty.

"Since when do you poke through my things?!" Chet's fists clenched.

"This is my house. If I want to go in your room, I will. Where'd you get them?"

"From Oliver—Mr. Smythe. Said I could borrow them."

"When?"

"After I started working, cleaning his offices five nights a week, so I can pay off the Whitman bill." He mentally dared his father, shorter but outweighing him by at least seventy pounds, to push him aside as Chet stood in the hall between the living and dining rooms.

"When did he give you that job?"

"He offered after you and he talked to the Dean. I called him and asked. He said he still needed a night clean-up person."

"Does this mean what I think it means?"

Chet took the book. "What's that, Dad? Can't read your mind, even if I am a psych major." Satisfaction warmed him when the man frowned.

"Don't get smart with me, boy. You plan to go to law school?"

"Have to get my degree first."

"Answer the question. Why else would you read a book on case law?"

"It interests me." Did he dare say more, knowing how much his father disliked lawyers? Wanting to test him, Chet added, "I'm thinking about it."

"You do that and you're on our own. I won't pay for you to take after your uncle."