Page 111 of The Apple Tree

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “My dad owes you a lot.”

Some might have said my dad owed Kyle his first-born, but Sarah was taken, so Kyle would have to settle for the second-born.

Kyle eyed me with an unreadable expression.

“Well,” I clasped my hands before me, “I can get Josh breakfast every morning and on the school bus. Then I can work at the motel. But I can be home before he gets off the bus. Make dinner. Get him ready for bed. Laundry. Whatever needs to be done.”

“That’s a lot to ask of an eighteen-year-old.” Fred shook his head. “Our parents will come stay whether he likes it or not.”

“Stop. I’m not a child. This is my house. I’m not in a wheelchair. I’m capable of doing things, and if I need help, I’ll ask. Okay?” Kyle sighed, lips resting into a scowl.

Fred and Anne exchanged a look.

“You have a child. Don’t let your stubbornness get in the way of doing what’s best for him,” Fred replied, thickening the tension in the room.

“Listen. Our family has this.” Mom jumped in to save the day. She could organize anything. That’s what preacher’s wives did.

Fundraisers.

Community volunteer days.

Bridal showers.

Funeral luncheons.

Vacation Bible School.

Nothing was too big for her.

“Let’s take Clifford and wait for Josh,” Anne said, squeezing Fred’s hand.

I was planning on doing that, but I didn’t argue. Fred needed some fresh air.

With a nervous smile, Mom stood too. “I’m going to head home for a bit. I’ll get dinner started soon and bring it over around five thirty.”

“Thank you so much,” Anne said.

My feet remained rooted to the floor as all three passed me and exited through the front door.

“Are you mad?” I asked Kyle.

“I hate being treated like a fucking child,” he grumbled.

“On the upside, I bet you’ll need a sponge bath several times a week. I could help with that.”

He eyed me, jaw muscles clenched despite his lips wanting to curl into a grin.

“My dadowesyou. I say we tell him about us and let him deal with it.”

“Eve,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, “yeah, that’s a great idea. Before my brother and Anne leave, let’s drop that bomb on everyone. That’s just what I need—everyone judging my poor decisions when I’m already at my lowest.”

My back stiffened.

Poor decisions?

“You’re right. How stupid of me.”

“Eve—”

---