Jubilee Year: A Novel (Erelong Trilogy Book I) - An Extended Sample

Chapter 4: ORPHAN KIDS

"What do you expect me to do?" Pete asked Storm with a look of bewilderment.

"Just come around!" Storm replied. "Say hello to Mom. You don't even have to come inside."

"I think it's going to take me a little longer, son. I'm not sure I want to pay her a visit right now."

"Don't you bloody care about how Summer feels?" Storm blurted out the words, his voice near breaking.

Pete felt regret hit him like a fist. He dropped his head to avoid the accusing eyes of his son. "You kids always came first."

"Do you really mean that? Summer has spent—like two frigging years without a dad. I'm supposed to fill in for you, I guess." He stopped before he said worse.

Pete coughed and thumped his chest with the edge of a fist to ease the irritation in his damaged lungs. "You do a good job, son. I've seen how she looks up to you. You make me proud."

"Why do you drink all the time?" Storm asked, and he gazed down at the stubby in his own hand and set it down on the porch boards.

Maybe I'm going to end up like him one day, Storm thought.

"What d'ya mean?" Pete asked pointlessly because the boy was right.

He didn't have to go and say it straight out like he did, Pete thought.

"You're an alcoholic, Dad. You know it." He turned away so his old man would not see his eyes tear up.

Storm didn't mean it to come out the way he said it. He thought about walking away before his dad lost his temper.

Pete gave a deep, long and ragged sigh that came out more of a sob. So much so he startled himself and he cleared his throat.

"You got guts, you know? When I was your age, I'd never dare talk to my old man like that."

"Maybe you didn't love him enough," Storm replied.

Pete blinked at the words. He thought about it for a moment and gave a slow nod of agreement.

"Well—it's true he was a guarded man—I suppose. And we never saw much of each other. He was either at work or out with his mates having a drink at the pub. He was hardly ever at home. I guess we never got to know each other. He did teach me how to whistle real good though!"

"Yeah, he did too," Storm said, placing his hand on his father's chair.

"It's all right, Dad. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"You and Summer mean everything to ya mom and me," Pete told her. "We always wanted kids. It felt like a kick in the guts, the day they told us we were never going to have any. It was the loneliest damned feeling in the world. When we got home from the hospital, Stella didn't say a thing, and she wouldn't for days after."

"When did you both decide..."

"It was Stella's idea. As soon as I saw the two of you, a one-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy, I knew it was right. We wondered why anyone would want to call you Storm, but we soon found out. You blew up like a goddamned hurricane when you thought we were being mean to her. The orphanage told us about some bad things that happened—before you and your sister arrived there."

"I don't know about that," Storm said glancing away. "I don't remember much about the time before the orphanage."

Pete knew his son never forgot anything. Most likely Storm pushed those memories deep down inside; somewhere he thought they'd never surface to bother him. He wanted to put his arm around his son, but he didn't.

"Look, I don't want to ask—" Pete began.

"You're my dad, and Stella's my mom. That's all that matters now."

The man and the boy fell quiet for a while until Storm could stand the weight of the silence no longer.

"Why did you leave Mom when you were laid off at the mine?"

"I wasn't doing much good for you three, was I? Just me and the god awful black dog depression that chewed at my gut." Pete sighed. "I started to push Stella around and I've got no excuse for any of it. At the time, it seemed to me the best idea was to move out of the house and sort my life out. I thought you'd do better at being the man around the house."

Storm looked down at Champ. "I'm glad you got yourself a different kind of dog to keep you company."

"Isn't he great?" Pete asked with a smile.

He fondled the soft ears of the pooch and began to feel the tightness in his gut ease.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I was to drop by over the weekend," Pete said quietly, and he glanced at Storm. "What d'ya think?"

"No—I mean yes!" Storm said. He was surprised and pleased at Pete's sudden change of heart. "That would be cool."

"You can tell Stella I'm coming over. I don't want to phone her. I'm better when I can talk face to face. Yeah, it's about time I saw how the old girl's doing."

"I'll tell her you're coming over, but make sure you turn up, Dad."

"I will," Pete said with a resolute nod. He had made up his mind.

"They'll both be rapt to see you."

Pete staggered back when Storm embraced him in a bear hug. The sudden show of intimacy from his son came as a surprise. It had not happened in years, but suddenly nothing seemed more natural or necessary.