Page 47 of Shame the Devil

“She’s got softball,” Axel said. “She’s not going anywhere. They don’t stop practicing just because it’s spring break. Nebraska and Minnesota both sent recruiting letters, plus a bunch of other shit schools that I threw out, but that scholarship isn’t going to happen if she bombs out of the playoffs this spring. Who’s going to push her if she’s out there in Party Central? You?”

Harlan had skirted this topic too many times. He’d skirted too many topics. He said, “You know, I’ve been called a lot of things. Not sure I’ve ever been called a non-inspirational guy, though, at least not athletically speaking. Got a gym in my house. Got a pool, too. Got hundreds of miles of trail to run, right down the road, and some people might even call me a good training partner. Spring break’s April, right? Could be raining. Training in the rain’s good. Toughens you up. Come on, Dad. Send her out.”

“You telling me you won’t be having parties?” his dad said. “Inviting your NFL buddies around? Annabelle comes home pregnant by some big black buck, that’s not going to be a great start to her future, now, is it?”

Annabelle said,“Dad.”Owen said, “Jesus.” Jennifer didn’t say anything. Shocked, Harlan thought.

Dyma had no problem, though. She came right out with it. “That’s … that’s such a horrible thing to say. I don’t even havewords.I mean, I thought the things you saidbeforewere horrible, but that’s even worse. Also, my mom got pregnant in high school, so thanks a lot.”

Harlan said, “Unacceptable.” He barely managed the word, because the top of his head was about to blow off. He took a breath. “I’m going to say this one thing, and then we’re out of here. My guess is she’ll get that scholarship. It doesn’t matter anyway, though, because she doesn’t need a scholarship. If she needs help going to college, I’m right here to give it. The offer’s open, and it stays open.”

“I can educate my own kids,” his dad said. “I don’t need any help from you. She needs to help earn it. You want her running off as soon as life gets a little hard, like your mom?”

It was a stab to the heart, as always. His dad had always known where to hit you.

Harlan tried, but he had nothing, so he just said, “I’ve got to go. Walk me to the car, Bug.”

* * *

It wasn’t very farto the car, Jennifer found. That was unfortunate, because Harlan clearly needed some time with his sister. She looked upset, and he looked furious.

When they got there, he gave Annabelle a hug that she returned with fierce intensity, then stepped back, searched her face, and asked, “How’s it going? Really?”

“It’s OK,” she said.

“He hitting you? Doing anything …” He looked around, then lowered his voice. “Anything else?”

“No,” she said. “He’s the same as always. But …” She was twisting the strap of her purse between her fingers.

“But what?” he asked. “Because I can tell. He’s not the same. He’s worse. Listen—come with us.”

“I can’t,” she said. “You know I can’t. I’m not eighteen.”

“Come in the car,” he said. “Ten minutes to the airport, and my buddy Linc here will drive you home afterwards. OK, Linc?”

“Sure,” the driver said. He was still patiently holding the door. “The hours are the hours. It doesn’t matter where I go.”

“I should come back here,” Annabelle said.

“No.” Harlan’s tone brooked no argument. “You need to be safe getting home. Hop in.”

“I’ll sit up front,” Jennifer said. There were only two seats in the middle row, and the two of them definitely needed some time and the bare amount of privacy that sitting together in a row could bring.

When they were driving again, she heard Harlan say behind her, “Did you ask him about doing your senior year in Portland?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I did it in the morning, when he’s better”—not drinking, Jennifer guessed that meant—“but he said no anyway, and he got super mad. I don’t know why he cares that much. I mean, there’s me fixing dinner, but half the time he doesn’t even eat it. It’s almost like he hates you, but why would he hate you? He keeps talking about the sports, though. He cares about that, so maybe that’s why. He still came to all my volleyball games this fall, just like usual, and yelled at me afterwards like always. He definitely cares that I get a scholarship. Anyway, he’s not that bad, not really. Not when you aren’t around.”

Harlan said, “Oh. I almost forgot. Here.”

Silence, and Jennifer wanted to turn around, but didn’t.

“Oh, wow,” Annabelle said. “Seriously?”

“I should’ve thought of it sooner,” Harlan said. “This way you can talk to me anytime, or text me, and to Francie or Heather, too, and your friends. The bill’s coming to me, so nobody’s going to see it. Just turn the sound off at home, OK? And keep it in your backpack. Or maybe your underwear drawer would be better.”

A phone. The reason he’d stopped at the AT&T store. She didn’t have one now?

“Who drove today?” Harlan asked next.