Barrett gestures over his shoulder. “You have a few things you need to take with you.”
Hiram didn’t notice the boxes and shopping bags filling the back corner. “I didn’t order—”
“For your house.” Barrett looks like he’s swallowed salt water. “You mentioned needing kitchen and bathroom essentials. Charlotte was busy. I had time.”
The significance slowly dawns on Hiram. His father pays for what he wants, money is no object, but he’s never had the patience to shop around.
“Gift receipts are in the bags.” His gesture is not up for discussion. “I asked the housekeeper what you might need to be comfortable. She suggested silverware, dishes, cups, pots and pans, kitchen utensils, and dish towels. She also mentioned bath towels, floor mats, and facecloths. I do not remember your color preferences, so I kept my purchases neutral.”
“Thank you.” It’s the first time Hiram has said it in over a decade.
Barrett turns to him. “It is the only thing I can do. Fatherhood is ... I cannot give advice on something I failed at.”
Sitting with the part of himself that wants to reject the gifts and agree with his father is difficult, but Hiram waits until it’s buried under apathy. As a child, he studied his father’s cues obsessively, always watching from the outside in. The time for heart-to-hearts has long passed. He won’t soothe Barrett’s guilt with false platitudes. If Barrett believes he failed as a father, then he did. Years of evidence leave Hiram incapable of saying otherwise.
“I need to go.”
His father raises his glass. “Brandy before you leave?”
It’s an invitation Hiram has never received. He stiffly accepts. “Make it a double.”
Unsurprisingly, the brandy is smooth.
“Your mother is desperate for you to spend more time here.”
“I know.”
The ensuing pause gives Hiram space to admit he’s torn. Despite years of silence, they still came when he needed them. No questions asked. Sometimes, he feels he owes them more of himself than he is willing to give.
“Another?” His father taps the decanter.
“No.” Hiram stands, dusts off his pants, and prepares to interrupt Antaris’s exploration.
He’s at the sunroom door when Barrett says, “Your son will be fine. Children are resilient.”
From experience, Hiram knows they’re not. Not always. He nods anyway.
On the table by the door, he spots an envelope with his name on it and picks it up. There’s no sender information. Hiram holds it up, frowning. “Where did this come from?”
“It was on the front step. Charlotte brought it in.”
Curious, Hiram opens the envelope and unfolds the letter. The penmanship is neat and straight, despite the lack of lines. He scans the page, confused. There are only two words:
BeeyardS rain.
Dinner is a failure.
Antaris picks at everything on his plate with a pointed frown, leaving most behind in favor of sitting in the center of the empty deck in pajamas and wild, curly hair, flipping through one of Hiram’s old lawbooks. He must have hauled it from the living room bookcase without Hiram noticing. It’s humid after the earlier rain. Dusk, but not dark enough for the deck lights to come on. Crickets chirp. Water laps against the shore of the lake. At first, Antaris doesn’t hear Hiram approach, but soon his cursory glance becomes a stare.
“May I join you?”
A small shrug is the only reply before Antaris resumes flipping the pages.
“Do you want me to read it to you?”
Antaris quickly nods. It’s not much, but he’ll take it. Hiram sits, noting the way Antaris tenses when he gets too close. He shifts slightly, creating space. Only then does his son relax. Both encouraged and disheartened, Hiram pushes aside his feelings and tells the kid-friendly version of the last case he used this book to win.
For a time, Hiram has Antaris’s undivided attention. He recounts the case of a Seer accused of kidnapping their own child, a claim made by their spouse’s bigoted family. The case seemed unwinnable, with the family testifying that their Seer nature made them a danger to their child. But Hiram found an amended law in that book, allowing him to interview the child privately; that testimony ultimately changed the outcome.
