Dave pushed his bowl away. He glanced at Brett, then looked away. “One of dad’s friends called me last night. He said dad is in trouble. If I don’t give him some money, he’ll get beaten up in prison.”
The knot in Brett’s stomach pulled tight. “What has your dad been doing?”
“Gambling. He owes someone a lot of money.”
“They don’t allow gambling in prison.”
Dave clamped his mouth shut.
“Tell him the whole story,” Thomas muttered.
“Be quiet! My life is a mess and all you can do is blab about what’s going on. No one can stop my father. Don’t you think I’ve tried?” He ran his hands through his hair and glared at Brett. “When I told his friend to get lost, dad called Scott.”
Brett sat down. Scott was twelve years old. So far, through good luck more than anything, Dave’s brother had stayed out of trouble. But if his dad was putting pressure on his other sons, it could be disastrous.
“How much money did your dad want?”
Dave crossed his arms. “Three hundred dollars. Dad told Scott that his friend would hurt mom if he didn’t get the money. We don’t have any money. Mom lives week-to-week. I give her most of my wages, but it’s still difficult to…” He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.
Brett’s heart pounded. “What did Scott do?”
Tears filled Dave’s eyes. “He took mom’s grocery money, but it wasn’t enough. So he stole some money from one of the teachers at his school.”
Brett’s jaw clenched. Dave’s father deserved to rot in prison. “Did Scott give your dad the money?”
“No. He had no way of getting to the prison.”
Whether Dave knew it or not, his brother had been thrown a thin lifeline. “Where’s the money?”
“He put mom’s money back in the grocery jar. He was worried she’d see it was missing. But he’s still got his teacher’s money.”
Brett stood and picked up his jacket. “Is Scott at school today?”
Dave nodded. “Where are you going?”
“We’reheading into town to see your brother. He can tell us what he’s going to do with the stolen money. Then we’ll visit the police. There has to be a way of stopping your father.”
Dave’s eyes widened. “What if his teacher knows the money is missing? Scott can’t get into trouble. He wants to go to college and do an engineering degree. He won’t get any scholarships with a criminal record.”
Thomas scowled. “He should have thought of that before he stole the money.”
Dave lunged for Thomas.
Brett grabbed hold of Dave’s arm, barely managing to hold him back. “That’s enough! Violence doesn’t solve anything. Get your jacket and meet me in the truck. Thomas, find Mrs. Bennett. She’ll have some chores waiting for you. Tell her we’ll be back before dinner time.”
“Sure, boss.” Thomas took his bowl across to the dishwasher. He stayed in the kitchen until he heard Dave slam the front door. “I didn’t mean to make him angry.”
“You did the right thing,” Brett said. “Scott needs more help than Dave can handle on his own.”
Thomas dried his hand on a dishtowel. “I’ll go and see Mrs. Bennett. I hope Scott doesn’t get into too much trouble.”
“So do I,” Brett said as he left the kitchen. It would be a giant step backward for everyone if that happened. Dave had been trying to hold his family together, to make up for his father’s violent temper and self-inflicted addictions. But no matter which way he looked at it, Scott needed more help than his brother could give him.
***
Hannah wiped her paintbrush and leaned back, stretching her back until each bone clicked into place. If she’d looked at the time, she would have stopped painting a couple of hours ago. But tonight, common sense had taken a back seat to the need to create, to finish what she’d started so many months before.
Her brush had glided across the canvas, layering color upon color. Brown, earthy tones became more subtle; blues as pure as the ocean had lifted into aquamarine and teal. She’d brought life to the mountains and lake, letting them spin a tale of their own making across the canvas. The painting would be her wedding gift to Holly and Daniel.
