Laughter burst out of Kieran’s mouth before he could stop it. She frowned then smiled then joined him with a short chuckle. “Yes, I can see how that might be funny. You are too much.”
“So, be more specific. I’m sure you’re worried about each of us. Which one of us that’s not me is bothering you the most today?” He smiled at her, his strong-willed, in-charge mother who looked frail and sunken-in today. But her voice was firm like he remembered it and her emerald-green eyes snapped with good health and no small amount of sass. Exactly the way he wanted her. The concept of her loss that they had all faced more than once in the last few years had affected them all differently. Kieran had chosen to ignore it, keeping all faith that the good Lord was in no way prepared for Lindsay Halloran Love in his presence quite yet.
“It’s Dominic. He’s gone quiet on me again. You know how he does?” She fanned her face with a worn sunhat. “He’s so....”
“He’s Dom. He needs his space. He’ll come around. You know when he gets in one of his moods he’s best left alone.” Rubbing his left thumb, he recalled how Dom had stomped on it once when Kieran had tried to get him to come out of the dingy apartment he’d lived in with that angry, hippy pregnant girl a few years ago.
“I know. I know. Lord knows I know.” Lindsay fanned herself. “You want some tea?” He shook his head, wanting a beer. A lot of beers. “Anton!” she called over to her husband who’d flopped into the hammock and had his Kentucky Wildcats ball cap tilted over his face. “Did Dominic ever show yesterday at the brewery?”
“I told you already. No. He went down to Atlanta for the craft brewer’s conference. He’s there, as far as I know.”
She pursed her lips, unhappy with the response. “Yes, but has he called you from there?”
“No, woman. He’s a grown man, not required to check in with me.”
Worry over her wild-child son shone clear on her face as she frowned at her mule-headed husband.
“I’ll call him,” Kieran promised, tugging his phone out of his front shorts pocket. Two text messages awaited him on the cracked screen. Ironic, really, since Dom had caused the crack the last time they’d had a disagreement. He glanced at a message from the phone company, reminding him to please remit his four-days-late payment so that his service wouldn’t get turned off.
Registering the other as one from the very brother they’d been discussing, he tilted the screen away from Lindsay and read: Call me. In trouble. Don’t tell anyone.
Kieran faked a yawn and stretch. “I’m going back in,” he declared, a little loudly, to his mother’s concerned face and his father’s now-snoring form. “I’ll give him a ring though. I’m sure he’s fine.”
He walked inside as slowly as possible then took the stairs three at a time before touching the call button from the text. It rang and rang, and finally went to voice mail. Cursing under his breath, he tried again, getting the same result. A quick look at the time of the text told him it had only been six minutes so he sent one in reply.
I’m trying to call you. Answer.
He waited, tapping his fingers on the worn Formica and then hit redial. No answer. The generic meds were kicking in and the shoulder throbbing had retreated to a corner for the time being. After contemplating the array of Love Brewing beers in the fridge, he slammed the door and drank two glasses of water in quick succession.
The day’s heat had found its stride, shimmering on the front lawn and the road in the distance as he willed Dominic to communicate, his brain spinning in a million directions. When his phone rang, he noted the unknown area code. Deciding to risk it, since he’d been getting credit-card-collection calls, he touched talk and put the thing to his ear.
“Kieran,” his brother said over a cacophony of background noise. “That you? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you. What’s all that racket?”
“I’m in jail, in Atlanta. I need you to come down and get me outta here.”
Kieran opened his mouth but nothing came out.
“Damn it, Francis, can ya hear me?”
“And how do you suggest I do that? I don’t have bail money. I don’t even have a car to drive.” Kieran glanced behind him to make sure neither of his parents had returned.
“Get a car from Antony. I’ve got money at my place. Plenty of cash. Daddy has the key...oh, damn it.”
“Yeah, next idea, genius?”
“I’m trying. Okay, listen, there’s a key to my place in the brewery. You can convince Daddy you want to go there, can’t ya? It’s in my middle desk drawer, with a bunch of other junk, it has a tag on it, says ‘Gina.’ Go get that, go into my place, and look in the freezer, in the bottom of the ice maker....”