The Case Against My Brother by Libby Sternberg

Author:Libby Sternberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bancroft Press

Chapter Eleven

Icontinued to worry about Adam. He was my brother, and I’d added to his troubles. Just as he’d warned, the attention from the newspaper article had brought danger, not aid.

I snuck back home that night, creeping in the back door. I took off my shoes and tiptoed up to my room, closing the door behind me slowly enough to keep the hinge from creaking and the latch from clicking. I kept the light off as I undressed and fell onto my bed.

I knew I must have slept, because time passed and I didn’t remember how it did. When I awoke, I heard Pete stirring downstairs. But I could tell from the light under my door that it was past dawn. Hurrying as if I had a deadline to meet, I went to the bathroom and washed up, then dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen.

It was a gray day and the kitchen was bathed in a milky light. From somewhere far away, I heard the full-throated toot of a ship’s horn. Much closer, old Thomas’s horse-bells jingled as he made his way through the Portland streets, his last rounds of the season.

Pete stood at the stove, frying some eggs. “You hungry?” he asked without turning.

“I guess,” I said, slipping into a seat at the table.

For a few more seconds, he cooked in silence. Then he turned toward me, with two fried eggs perched on the end of a spatula. I took that as my cue to help and scooted up to grab plates and forks. When I set them on the table, he delivered the eggs to my plate, then pulled a piece of toast from the oven and placed it beside the eggs.

After I dove into my meal, he cooked his own and sat down across from me. He looked tired, even haggard. Dark circles colored the underside of his eyes, and his skin had a pasty, unhealthy hue to it. His eyes were red and watery, and his hair was as disheveled as it had been when he’d confronted the Klan. Even his moustache twisted this way and that, hairs sticking out like pieces of straw.

I wanted to tell him how proud I was when he stood up to the Klansmen. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let him know I’d seen it.

“You not going in today?” I asked softly.

He looked up. “Going in late,” he said.

“I. . . I thought I had a dream last night,” I said. “I mean, I thought I heard something. . .”

Pete gave me a quick sour smile. “Just some hooligans making trouble. I set ’em straight.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I bet you did, Uncle Pete.” And I smiled.

He smiled back.

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