Cole looked from mother to son, wanting to break the stalemate. “What happened. Gabe didn’t go to jail?”
“No.” John Lucca had appeared in the doorway opposite, coming in from the living room side of the kitchen. “Let me tell him, Cathy.” He looked at Scott. “The D.A. was one of those hotshots, trying to make a name for himself by being hard on crime. He wanted to try the boys as adults. But your mother had clout because of her position on the court bench. Gabe’s lawyer worked a deal for Gabe by promising the judge that if she gave him probation, we’d send him to a military academy for his four years of high school.”
Cathy Lucca nodded. “It broke my heart to send Gabe away. But we were afraid for him. So we made the sacrifice to send him away.”
John came over to put his arm around his wife’s shoulders but he spoke to Scott. “Your mother and I were trying to preserve Gabe’s future, give him something to aim for.”
Scott’s face was stiff with emotions held in check as he looked at his father. “You should have told me. Gabe should have told me.”
“I think he was ashamed. He didn’t want to spoil your view of him as big brother.”
Scott snorted. “So, instead, you rode me so hard. Made me believe I was less than because I wasn’t like Gabe.”
“I hoped to hell you wouldn’t be like Gabe.” His father’s voice carried in the kitchen. “Son, I watched you day after day growing up, trying to be like your brother. Coming home bloodied after some school-yard fight where you’d tried some moves Gabe had taught you, so sad you couldn’t even cry. It scared your mother and me to see you trying to imitate him. Gabe seemed to have been born with nine lives. Not like the rest of us. You were—”
“Weak?” Scott’s expression was one of challenge.
His father sighed. “No, normal. Maybe we were too harsh. We didn’t mean it like that. We just wanted different things for you.”
“I’m different.”
A corner of his father’s mouth lifted. “And I’m grateful.” He hugged his wife closer. “Gabe was great at a lot of things. He found his destiny in a love of country and duty. That became his reason for living. It served him better than we could ever have hoped.
“But we were always afraid he would go too far. I could see it in his eyes. He’d risk too much. Do more than anyone could reasonably expect. Eventually something got the best of him.”
For several moments the only sound in the kitchen was the ticking of the clock on the wall as the sadness of the loss of a much-loved son and brother moved like a living thing among them.
Finally Cole moved to stand beside Scott but she didn’t touch him. “I know I’m not part of this family. But, Mr. Lucca, you talk only about Gabe. What did you want for Scott?”
Her question seemed to surprise him. “Scott knows.”
Scott gave his head a quick tight shake as grief and anger seemed to war within him. “I don’t know. You never bothered to tell me.”
The two men looked at each other across the width of a kitchen and a lifetime of misunderstanding. Cole held her breath, realizing she might just have asked the question that would tear them apart forever.
John seemed to tremble and then he spoke. “I wanted you to be the son I could do normal things with. Fish, talk sports and politics.” He paused to draw in a long breath, as if every word was costing him. “We wanted you to marry, be a family man. One who’d give us grandchildren.” His gaze flicked toward Cole but didn’t stay. “I wanted you to be the kind of man who shoulders responsibility and doesn’t walk away when the demands get rough.”
Scott stared at his father a long time. “You could have just told me.”
“We did.” His mother came up to him and put her hand on Scott’s cheek. “Over and over, we told you, you’re not your brother. You needed to live your own life. Find your own way.”
Scott glanced over her head at his father. “I thought that was your way of telling me I wasn’t good enough. That I could never match up to Gabe so I should stop embarrassing myself, and you, with my failures.”
John’s mouth twisted, as if in pain. “Maybe I did a crappy job. Your mother says I preach instead of teach.” He lifted his head and squared his shoulders, as if daring anyone to contradict him. “I could have done better. I see how you avoid us these days. You’ve moved on in your life, without us. But I did what I thought was right at the time.”
Something flickered in Scott’s face. “And now?”
His father scowled at him. “Fine. Have your pound of flesh. I was wrong.”
“An apology?” A corner of Scott’s mouth sketched up as he reached to check his pulse. “No, still ticking. Thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
His father’s scowl deepened but his eyes brightened. “Don’t get cocky with me, son.”
And then he and Scott were moving toward each other.