Ray nodded and sat back in his chair. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. I was worried I had overstepped my boundaries. When an idea entered my head, I had a hard time letting it go, but I meant what I said to Ray. If he didn’t want Sean involved, then we would think of something else.
“You aren’t seriously considering this?” Zach asked. I glanced over at him and saw that he was staring at his father. Zach’s face looked murderous as he watched his father for a reaction.
“I think she’s right,” Ray said simply. “I believe this will work. For the company.”
“For the company, Dad?” Zach asked. “Or for you?”
“I’ll go see him,” Ray announced. “I don’t know what good it will do, but I can try. I’ll just lay out the offer, and we’ll see what he says.”
“Okay,” I said with a nod. I smiled and let myself out of the office before the tidal wave of Zach’s anger was released.
Sure enough, as I pulled the door closed, I could hear the rise and fall of Zach’s voice floating into the hall. I tried to hurry away before it got too bad, but I could still hear Zach’s yelling when I reached my office and pulled the door closed behind me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sean
Two days after Paisley came to live with me I bought a car. It was used and horribly run down, but it was safer than my bike. Paisley didn’t say a word when we bought it, but then again, she never said very much. By the time Claire’s funeral came around, Paisley had been with me for over a week. I drove her to the funeral in the car and sat with her during the service. Part of me expected her to cry, but a bigger part of me knew she wouldn’t. Paisley was enough like me that crying in a room full of people wasn’t even a consideration for her.
The service was small. Only a handful of people showed up. Some were Claire’s work friends and others knew her back in high school. There were a few neighbors and a few of Paisley’s school teachers. None of them said a word to me, but they all offered Paisley their sympathies. A couple of Paisley’s friends came with their parents. They were all so young. Most of them cried without knowing why, but Paisley sat stone-faced through it all.
As we drove to the cemetery, Paisley sat silently in the passenger seat. Since I picked her up from the police station, I’d been trying to make her talk. I didn’t know what to say or how to say it, but I kept trying. I brought up her mom a few times. It never worked. I tried to talk about her art. She wasn’t interested. I asked if she wanted to go back to camp. She didn’t answer. When I offered to take her swimming, she just looked at me like she smelled something bad.
I didn’t know much about being a father, and I was sure I was failing miserably. Nothing I said or did made her open up to me. She was constantly silent, constantly on edge. She never looked comfortable or happy. She barely ate. She didn’t watch T.V. I kept telling myself it would take time, but I was afraid she would never let me in. I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to help enough, that she would never get over her mother’s death.
Paisley threw a handful of dirt over Claire’s casket at the gravesite. She stared down at the hole. I watched her, waiting for the tears to fall. When they didn’t, my concern only grew. There was no one at the cemetery except she and I. If she was ever going to succumb to tears, that would have been the time. But she didn’t. She just threw the dirt and walked back to the car without a word. I glanced down at the hole, silently apologizing to Claire for everything that happened between us all those years ago. Suddenly, our problems seemed petty and pointless. I’d spent so long hating her, but now that she was gone, I could barely remember why. I promised her I would figure out how to help Paisley, no matter how long it took.
Paisley and I climbed in the car and drove back home. She stared out the window and I glanced over at her too often. Finally, I knew I had to say something. I knew I had to try.
“Paisley,” I said. “Look, I know how much this sucks. There’s nothing I can say to make things okay again. I wish there was, but there just isn’t. But I’m here for you, okay? You can talk to me. About your mom. About how you’re feeling. About anything.”
I waited. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but her face never left the window. I looked over, wondering if she had finally started to cry. Her eyes were as dry as ever. I sighed and turned back to face the road. I didn’t try to make her talk again for the rest of the day.
When we pulled up to the house, I saw a black Jaguar sitting in the driveway. I frowned and parked on the street. Glancing around, I saw a familiar face emerging from the shadows of my porch. He walked down the porch steps, fixing his suit coat as he moved. Seeing him was like a punch to the gut. Paisley and I got out of the car and walked up to him. His eyes moved slowly from me to Paisley and then back again.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. The look on my face must have said it all because he took a step back and cleared his throat nervously.
“Hi, it’s good to see you,” he said. He glanced at Paisley pointedly.
“Paisley,” I said. “This is Ray. Ray, Paisley.”
“Hello,” he said sweetly. He smiled at her kindly. I had to fight the urge to step between them. “It’s nice to meet you, Paisley.”
“Why don’t you go inside and get changed,” I told my daughter. “I need to talk to Ray, but I’ll be inside soon.”
Paisley looked curiously at Ray as she passed, but she didn’t speak. I watched her until she was safely inside the house before I turned on Ray. After such an emotional day, I didn’t have the patience or strength to hide my anger. I glared at him, my face flushed.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Why are you so dressed up?” Ray asked, eyeing my apparel. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before.”
“Claire’s funeral was today,” I said simply.
“Claire?” Ray asked. His face fell, and I scoffed. He never liked Claire. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said without feeling.
“I am,” Ray insisted. “Whatever you may think of me, it’s always a tragedy when a child loses a parent. How is she doing?”
“She’s fine,” I said quickly. Ray looked at my face and knew I was lying. It was written in every line of his face as he scrutinized me, the way only a father can.
“I guess that’s why you aren’t on your bike, huh?” he asked. “That’s probably for the best. Paisley’s too young to ride.”
“I still have the bike,” I said simply. I fell silent and waited for him to speak. I was ready for him to get to the point so he could leave. I cleared my throat and raised my eyebrows, silently asking him again why he was there.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m here to talk to you about something important.”
“What’s that?” I asked. I crossed my arms over my chest protectively. Whatever my father had to say, I knew it couldn’t be good.