The Secret Year by Jennifer Hubbard

Author:Jennifer Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2011-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

I had a shift at Barney’s that afternoon, but while I was getting ready, my father barged into my room. Apparently he had remembered that I lived there.

“Come outside and look at the cars,” he said.

“I can’t. I’m busy.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

“Dad, come on,” I groaned. “I have to go to work.”

“Just for a minute.”

I finally agreed to tour the front yard when it was clear he wouldn’t leave me alone otherwise. He always believed that if he stood me in front of the cars long enough, talking up their potential, I would fall in love. Never mind that this had failed every other time he’d tried it.

While he poured out his usual sales pitch, I snuck looks at my watch. I broke into his speech to point at one of the wrecks. “Dad, you had mice nesting in that thing, and there’s a tree growing out of the back. You think you’ll ever get it running?”

He slammed his mouth shut, whirled around, and stalked back into the house. I hadn’t expected him to get that upset. Tom and I used to tease him about the cars all the time. I almost went into the house after him, but I was late for my shift.

Dad didn’t say a word to me that night, but that wasn’t unusual. Most times, if he had his beer and his TV, he didn’t want to talk to anybody. What did surprise me was that on Saturday he had all the wrecks hauled away.

I came home from work to an empty yard. At first, I thought he must’ve moved the cars to the backyard—maybe because of the annual nagging from the neighbors—until I discovered that the two in back were also gone. I went into the house and found my father sitting in front of the TV with a beer. “What happened to all the cars?”

“What do you care?” he growled at the screen.

“I was just wondering.”

“I got sick of looking at them.”

I didn’t believe that, but he obviously wasn’t going to tell me, so I went into the kitchen. My mother was soaking her feet and having a beer while she watched something boil on the stove. “How was your shift?” she asked.

“Okay. Where are the cars?”

She grunted. “He’s still pissed about Tommy. He’s been rambling on about how you’re the only son he’s got left, how he wants to work on the cars with you. I told him if he’s going to try this male bonding shit, he should take you fishing or hunting. Bring home something we could eat.” She picked up her beer and went on, “When you didn’t give a crap about the cars, he gave up on the whole thing. At least this summer we’ll be able to mow the front lawn again.”

“I get it,” I said, and sat down across from her. “We’re not the sons he wanted.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Your brother gives us enough of that.” She sipped her beer and sucked foam off her top lip.

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