Page 103 of It Happened on the Lake

Uh-oh. Not good.

Levi rolled out of bed quietly to crack open his bedroom door and peer across the short hallway to the empty living room bathed in warm light from amber-colored lamps.

The conversation was now muted, seeping up the open stairs from the basement. Levi, careful not to make a sound, eased down the carpeted steps.

“Getting angry isn’t going to help,” Mom was saying, her voice louder as he rounded the corner near the bottom of the staircase.

Levi dared to peek into the room. They were all squared off; Dad and Chase facing each other, Dad’s face red and sweating. Chase, too, was flushed, his body coiled, ready to spring.

And Mom stood behind the couch, her hand on its velvet back.

“Are you out of your mind?” Dad obviously didn’t believe what his eldest son was peddling. “Didn’t you read the letter from the university?” he demanded, glancing at his wife. “See his grade report? He’s flunked out of college, Cindy!Flunked out!Our all-state academic athlete! He’s thrown it all away! Flushed his future down the toilet. No scholarship. No fucking deferment. For the love of Christ, what a mess!”

“It’s my life,” Chase argued, blinking hard, his jaw set. “Not yours!”

“Oh yeah? Who do you think paid for all your tutors?” Dad demanded. “Your private coaches?”

“That wasyourchoice, Dad. You loved every minute of it! Bragged about it. Howyourson was so great.” His eyes shone. Jesus, Chase was near tears.

But what Chase said was true. Hadn’t Dad always shone in the reflection of “his boy’s” achievements, especially on the football field and basketball court?

“So now you’re gonna waste it all? All that effort? All that time? All that money?” Dad wasn’t letting it go.

“I never asked for any of it!”

Still in the shadow of the staircase, Levi stepped closer to the archway of the rec room where his brother and father were facing each other, fists clenched, jaws tight, gazes locked. The low-ceilinged room ran the length of the house, with a pool table on one end, the jukebox at the other, a few old chairs and lamps in between.

And father and son right in the middle, looking to tear each other apart.

Dad’s face was so red as to be almost purple, his teeth bared, a vein throbbing at his temple. His usually neatly combed hair was a mess, exposing the bald spot growing beneath the graying strands.

Wild-eyed, Chase looked like he was hopped up on something.

Dad wasn’t wrong about that.

Mom had moved to the sliding door, her face a mask of worry, her chin wobbling as she shredded a tissue between her hands. “Stop this now,” she said, her voice trembling. “We can talk about this in the morning. When you’re, I mean when we are all calmer.”

“Nothing to talk about.” Dad’s eyes were focused solely on Chase, his feet planted on the checkerboard tile floor, the zebra-skin rug between them. “So, what now, boy?” he taunted. “I guess you’ll be hauling your ass down to the recruiter’s office cuz sure as shootin’ Uncle Sam is on his way.”

“I’m not signing up,” Chase said. They were circling each other.

“You won’t have to.”

“I’m not going.”

“The hell you’re not. Any son of mine is damn well serving his country. And proudly.”

“Bullshit! You can’t tell me what to do!” Chase yelled. Now the tears were flowing. He dashed them away with the back of his hand.

“My house. My rules,” Dad said.

“If I have to, I’ll be a conscientious objector.”

“No, that’s not an option.”

“Then I’ll get Harper pregnant.”

“What?” Mom gasped, the tissue in her fingers forgotten. “No, no, no. Don’t even think that way. Who knows what would happen with that rich little . . .” Apoplectic, she was shaking her head violently. “I mean, she could trick you! You wouldn’t even know if the baby was yours. Donotgo there, Chase Thomas!”

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