and said. “Thanks. For talking to me, I mean.”
Jamie shrugged as if it was no big deal, but as Dillon turned and left the house, he found himself hoping against hope that it had meant something to Jamie, if only just a little bit.
* * *
Dillon winced when he saw his dad’s Buick in the driveway. He pulled his Lumina in beside his father’s car. This was bound to get ugly.
He entered the house through the back door into the kitchen, and nearly knocked over his mother as he did so.
Angela Carver put her hand over her heart. “Good heavens, Dillon. You scared me to death.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then went back over to the table and resumed unpacking the groceries she’d brought in with her. “Did you have a good time while we were gone? I understood you to say you were taking that Nash girl to that dance at the school.”
Dillon gritted his teeth. He hated the way his folks referred to Megan as “that Nash girl.” He supposed it was their revenge on Megan for having the nerve to be the sister of gay brothers. Forcing himself to calm down, he said, “Yeah. Uh, about that. I have something I need to tell you and Dad.”
His mother raised her frosted blond head, her hazel eyes boring into him. “I take it this is something we aren’t going to like.”
“Probably not.”
Angela sighed. “I’ll go get your father. I think he’s out in the garage unloading the car. Wait for us in the dining room.”
The dining room. Nothing good ever came out of those dining room meetings. The formal dinning room of the Carver house was strictly for company, as evidenced by the pristine carpets and the scratch-less wood of the furniture. Family always ate in the kitchen. In addition to company dinners, though, the dining room had one other use: so-called family meetings. A family meeting consisted of either or both of the Carver boys sitting on one side of the table, and their parents on the other, staring them down. Strangely, Dillon wasn’t so worried about this one. What were they gonna do, throw him out? That was gonna happen soon enough anyway. The thought was liberating.
Dillon sat down at the mahogany table and waited. His father came in a few minutes later, stooping his shoulders to keep from hitting the door frame. His graying hair was mussed, something that always happened when he was irritated because he ran his fingers through it, tugging until Dillon was sure he was gonna pull it out. The green eyes behind the round glasses, so like Dillon and Heath’s, found his son in an instant.
“Your mother tells me you have something you want to talk to us about.”
“Yes, sir.” He waited until his mother came into the room and both his parents were seated before beginning. “Friday night at the dance, there was a fight, and I got hauled into the sheriff’s station.”
The horror in Angela’s voice was plain. “You were arrested?”
“No, ma’am. I was brought in for questioning, but no charges were filed. The sheriff was already there because of a possible danger to some of the gay students.”
Angela twitched her finger in the air. “I blame Dan Morgan for that. What did he think would happen when he trotted out all those homosexuals and rubbed them in the face of God-fearing children?” She put down her hand and turned to her son. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, ma’am. The gay bashing turned out to be a false alarm. I don’t think the guys they suspected even showed up for the dance. The sheriff and his men ended up being called out for nothing.”
Douglas peered at his son over the top of his wire frames. “So since the sheriff ended up with nothing to do that night, you thought you’d give him something to occupy his time by getting into a brawl?”
“No, sir. I know it was wrong, but Ben Lewis insulted Megan, and I ended up punching him. Sheriff Nash and his husband broke up the fight and took us down to his office.”
The expression on Doug Carver’s face was
Jamie shrugged as if it was no big deal, but as Dillon turned and left the house, he found himself hoping against hope that it had meant something to Jamie, if only just a little bit.
* * *
Dillon winced when he saw his dad’s Buick in the driveway. He pulled his Lumina in beside his father’s car. This was bound to get ugly.
He entered the house through the back door into the kitchen, and nearly knocked over his mother as he did so.
Angela Carver put her hand over her heart. “Good heavens, Dillon. You scared me to death.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then went back over to the table and resumed unpacking the groceries she’d brought in with her. “Did you have a good time while we were gone? I understood you to say you were taking that Nash girl to that dance at the school.”
Dillon gritted his teeth. He hated the way his folks referred to Megan as “that Nash girl.” He supposed it was their revenge on Megan for having the nerve to be the sister of gay brothers. Forcing himself to calm down, he said, “Yeah. Uh, about that. I have something I need to tell you and Dad.”
His mother raised her frosted blond head, her hazel eyes boring into him. “I take it this is something we aren’t going to like.”
“Probably not.”
Angela sighed. “I’ll go get your father. I think he’s out in the garage unloading the car. Wait for us in the dining room.”
The dining room. Nothing good ever came out of those dining room meetings. The formal dinning room of the Carver house was strictly for company, as evidenced by the pristine carpets and the scratch-less wood of the furniture. Family always ate in the kitchen. In addition to company dinners, though, the dining room had one other use: so-called family meetings. A family meeting consisted of either or both of the Carver boys sitting on one side of the table, and their parents on the other, staring them down. Strangely, Dillon wasn’t so worried about this one. What were they gonna do, throw him out? That was gonna happen soon enough anyway. The thought was liberating.
Dillon sat down at the mahogany table and waited. His father came in a few minutes later, stooping his shoulders to keep from hitting the door frame. His graying hair was mussed, something that always happened when he was irritated because he ran his fingers through it, tugging until Dillon was sure he was gonna pull it out. The green eyes behind the round glasses, so like Dillon and Heath’s, found his son in an instant.
“Your mother tells me you have something you want to talk to us about.”
“Yes, sir.” He waited until his mother came into the room and both his parents were seated before beginning. “Friday night at the dance, there was a fight, and I got hauled into the sheriff’s station.”
The horror in Angela’s voice was plain. “You were arrested?”
“No, ma’am. I was brought in for questioning, but no charges were filed. The sheriff was already there because of a possible danger to some of the gay students.”
Angela twitched her finger in the air. “I blame Dan Morgan for that. What did he think would happen when he trotted out all those homosexuals and rubbed them in the face of God-fearing children?” She put down her hand and turned to her son. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, ma’am. The gay bashing turned out to be a false alarm. I don’t think the guys they suspected even showed up for the dance. The sheriff and his men ended up being called out for nothing.”
Douglas peered at his son over the top of his wire frames. “So since the sheriff ended up with nothing to do that night, you thought you’d give him something to occupy his time by getting into a brawl?”
“No, sir. I know it was wrong, but Ben Lewis insulted Megan, and I ended up punching him. Sheriff Nash and his husband broke up the fight and took us down to his office.”
The expression on Doug Carver’s face was
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