The Letter(52)
“I’m not.” Jeremy eyed Owen.
“Jeremy Hardy, you will help clean up. You and I will have a talk later tonight. Mind your manners. I mean it.” Bella nailed her son with what she hoped was her best you-will-listen-to-me stare.
She headed out the door and across the yard to the shop. She hoped her home was still standing when she got back to it.
~ * ~
Owen and the boys finished up their dessert. Even Timmy, his ally, was quiet. He could hear the clock on the wall tick away the minutes until Bella returned. This was silly. He was a grown man used to running companies and negotiating deals. He should be able to handle this small assignment from Bella. Watch the boys for thirty minutes. How hard could it be?
Owen stood up from the table, determined to get the kitchen cleaned up and have Bella come back to peace and harmony in her home.
“I’m not going to help you.” Jeremy evidently had other plans.
Owen was at a loss. He had no clue on how to deal with a defiant boy, but he wasn’t going to let the boy just walk all over him… or disobey his mom.
“Take your plates over to the sink, boys.”
Timmy got up and carefully took his plate and Bella’s plate off the table. Good, that was one step in the right direction.
He turned his back for just a second, just a second, and whirled around to see Jeremy stick his foot out and Timmy go crashing to the floor surrounded with broken pieces of his plate.
“Jeremy. What are you doing?”
Owen hurried over to Timmy and helped the boy up. He could see the boy was fighting back tears. “Are you okay?”
“I broke mom’s plates.”
“That’s okay. Are you hurt?” Owen searched the boy from head to toe to see if there was any blood.
“I’m okay.” Timmy looked down at the food splattered on his clothes and mess on the floor. He bit his lip.
“Well, that’s what’s important.”
Owen turned to Jeremy. “Go get some paper towels to clean up the mess.”
“I didn’t drop it.”
“You tripped him.”
“Did not.”
“Jeremy, I saw you. You tripped him. He could have been hurt. I know you’re mad at me, for whatever your reasons, but you shouldn’t take it out on your brother.”
Jeremy almost looked guilty, but quickly pulled a defiant look back on his face.
Owen turned to Timmy. “You think you can go to your room and get cleaned up? Find a clean t-shirt and jeans to put on?”
Timmy nodded. He turned to his brother. “That was mean.” With that Timmy trudged out of the kitchen.
“Let’s go Jeremy. I’ll help you clean up the mess.”
Jeremy stood up and put both his hands on his hips. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not the boss of me.”
“Well, your mother left me in charge. She asked you to help clean up the kitchen. That is exactly what we’re going to do.” Owen pulled in a deep breath through clenched teeth.
“You can’t make me.”
Jeremy took a step back and crashed into his chair. The boy lost his footing and Owen watched almost in slow motion as Jeremy went crashing to the floor on top of the broken plates. It took him an eternity to cross the distance in two great strides. Jeremy raised his hand and Owen watched in horror as blood poured from it. Owen’s heart pounded in his chest and he bent over the boy, pure panic racing through him.
“Jeremy. Oh, my gosh. What happened?” Bella rushed past Owen and knelt on the floor beside her son. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s all his fault.” Jeremy pointed to Owen, blood dripping from his hand. “He pushed me.”
“I what?” Owen stepped back in surprise.
Bella jumped up and grabbed a clean towel from the drawer and wrapped it around Jeremy’s hand, applying pressure.
“What happened here?” Bella looked at Owen. “Never mind. I’ve got to get Jeremy to the hospital and get his hand checked out. Where is Timmy?”
“Right here, momma.” Timmy stood in the doorway to the kitchen in his little boy boxers.
“Where are your clothes?” Bella looked from one boy, to the next, to Owen.
“Here they are.” Timmy held up a clean pair of jeans and started to pull them on, hopping on one leg to get his foot into them.
“Get dressed. We’re going to the hospital.”
Timmy’s eyes were saucer-wide. “Is Jeremy okay?”
“He’ll be fine.” Bella’s voiced was strained but controlled.
Owen walked over and helped the boy into his jeans, and slid the clean t-shirt over his uplifted arms, the whole time chastising himself for making such a mess of the evening. He couldn’t even keep two boys safe for a half an hour. What kind of man was he?