“Why don’t we finish it here?” Kennedy asked.
Grace’s door opened before Joe could respond, and she came hurrying out in a bathrobe. “What’s happening?” she cried. “What’s going on?”
Joe gave her a murderous look. “You are,” he said. Then he slung the blood dripping from his chin at her with his fingers and stomped off.
Kennedy cursed silently as he watched Joe leave. He’d just thrown a match on fresh kindling, and he knew it.
Shaking the pain from his hands, he climbed into his truck.
Grace grabbed the door before he could shut it, but he couldn’t look at her just then.
“Are you okay?” she asked, sounding worried.
“Stay inside and keep the house locked,” he said. Then he pulled his door out of her grasp, backed up and burned rubber as he drove away.
18
The next morning, Kennedy peeked into Teddy’s room to discover that he was already awake and counting the money he’d been keeping in a large plastic ice cream tub.
“How much do you have now?” he asked, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb.
Teddy glanced up. “Almost a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“That’s a lot of money. What are you going to do with it?”
Kennedy knew his youngest child had been saving up, but Teddy wouldn’t say what for.
“There’s something I want to buy.”
“How much does it cost?”
“A lot.”
“Is it a toy?”
Teddy shook his head.
“How much more money do you need?”
“I’m not sure.” Teddy pursed his lips. “Maybe two hundred dollars?”
“Wow, that is a lot.” What could an eight-year-old desire for three hundred and fifty dollars? “If you won’t tell me what you want, how are you going to go and buy it?” he asked.
Teddy contemplated the neat stacks of quarters and piles of dollar bills. “Maybe I’ll ask Grandma to take me.”
“I guess you could do that.” He sauntered into the room. “You’ve certainly been saving for a long time.”
“Ever since Mom died,” he said.
Kennedy sat on the bed. He was self-conscious about his hand, which he’d injured fighting with Joe last night. But Teddy would see it when they had breakfast if he didn’t see it now.
“What happened?” his son asked, spotting his swollen knuckles almost immediately.
Kennedy tried to make a fist, but the pain was too great. He’d iced his hand all night, hoping to alleviate the swelling, but it wasn’t gone down yet. He doubted he’d broken anything. He could move all his fingers. But it hurt like hell and would probably take a few days to heal.
“Dad?” Teddy prompted.
Heath stuck his head in the room, his hair mussed from sleep. “You guys are up already? Wow, look at that,” he said, also zeroing in on Kennedy’s hand. “How’d you get hurt?”
Kennedy wanted to tell them he’d had an accident of some sort, but the way word spread in Stillwater, he knew they’d learn the truth at some point and he didn’t want to be caught in a lie. “I hit Joe.”
“You got in a fight?” they cried.
Kennedy could hear the echo of every lecture he’d given them on solving problems without violence and wondered how far he’d set himself back on that issue. Do as I say, not as I do…. That wasn’t the kind of parent he wanted to be. And it wasn’t the kind he’d been in the past. He still wasn’t sure why he’d attacked Joe last night. It was as if he’d been trying to force a change physically, since he couldn’t affect circumstances in any other way. When he’d made love to Grace, he’d been fighting to erase the past and create a more hopeful future. When he’d hit Joe, he’d been fighting to force him to back off and leave Grace alone.
Unfortunately, he’d only made the situation worse—for everyone.
“Joe was drunk,” he explained. “He said some stupid things, and I lost my temper.” He stretched out his hand so they could get a better look at the results. “I wouldn’t recommend ever doing this. I’m sure I hurt him. And I certainly didn’t do myself any favors, as you can see.”
“Did he hit you first?” Teddy asked.
Kennedy cringed inside. “No.”
Teddy’s eyebrows went up. “Did he hit you back?”
“He tried.”
“But you beat him up, right, Dad?” Heath said proudly, and began to hop around, shadowboxing.
“Fighting doesn’t solve anything,” Kennedy replied. “I’m sure there’ll be more problems resulting from this than would’ve occurred otherwise, and I’ve got only myself to blame.”
Heath stopped his Rocky imitation. “What kind of problems?”
The phone rang, saving Kennedy from venturing a guess.
“I’ll get it,” Heath said and ran down the hall.
Kennedy figured the problems he’d just mentioned were already starting when Heath brought him the cordless phone. “It’s Grandma.”
Wonderful. If Camille was calling him this early, she’d probably heard the news.
Using his good hand, Kennedy held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Is it true?” Camille said without preamble. “Did you really break Joe Vincelli’s nose?”
“I hit him a few times. I don’t know if I broke his nose.”
Silence.
“Mom, you there?” he said.
“According to his mother, you broke his nose and you gave him a black eye.”
“Oh, well—” he studied his swollen hand “—that’s good, I suppose. I wouldn’t want it to have been for nothing.”
“You think this is funny?”
“Does it matter? I can’t change it now.” He would’ve added that the expression on Joe’s face had been kind of funny, but he didn’t want the boys to hear him acknowledge it.
“So, why did it happen?” she asked.
Kennedy let go of a long breath and walked over to the window. “We got in a fight. That’s all.”
“That sounds like an explanation I might get from Teddy.”
“Why elaborate? I’m not particularly proud of myself. How’d you hear about it so fast?”
“Elaine called me less than five minutes ago. She’s nearly hysterical, saying they’re going to sue you, file charges for assault and work tirelessly to see that you never hold public office in this town. She even said they’re going to start a petition demanding your resignation at the bank.”