Page 38 of Unbroken

My frustration boiled over. “That’s just it, though. I’d rather they not talk about meat all. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” While Fiona always seemed to thrive on the attention she received, I was the male equivalent of a wallflower and that suited me just fine.

The bounce house attendant called for the kids to leave so the next group could go in, and I saw Patrick heading out.

“I need to grab him,” I said, happy for the interruption.

I walked to the doorway and nearly ran into my father, who was standing around the corner of the bounce house, hovering with an exasperated expression on his face. As always, Samuel Carter was perfectly turned out in khakis with a knife-crease up the front and a pale blue golf shirt. His salt-and-pepper hair was so flawlessly held in place that the comb lines were still visible.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, bracing myself for the sermon to come. I had a premonition as to what it would be about, and I could tell by my father’s expression that it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“That’s inappropriate language for a young lady,” he hissed without a preamble.

“What?” My face screwed up in confusion. “You were eavesdropping on us?”

“It was hard not to. That Cafferty girl practically shouted the F-word! There are children here,” he shot back, gesturing toward the kids walking out of the bounce house.

“Her name is Fiona, not ‘that Cafferty girl,’ and come on, the kids were screaming so loud there was no way they could overhear us. I’m shocked that you could.” I knew he’d been eavesdropping. The needto control and judge others was strong in my father, but it was mostly directed at his family, and now, Fiona.

Patrick wandered over and took my hand. He glanced up at his grandfather with wide eyes.

“Hello, young man,” my father said, reaching out his hand to Patrick.

Patrick looked at me with a worried expression.

“It’s okay, shake Grandpa’s hand.”

It was one of my father’s lessons that I’d never understood but had learned not to argue with. According to Samuel Carter, hugs were for home, handshakes were for public. And the hugs part rarely ever happened. Not that I missed them. Even when he was attempting to appear like a loving parent, his body was always painfully stiff as if it physically hurt him to have to embrace me or my mother.

Patrick took his grandfather’s fingertips gingerly, his hand so small that he could barely wrap around them.

“Oh, come on, boy!” Samuel boomed. “Did your daddy not teach you how to shake hands like a man? Do it likethis.”

He adjusted Patrick’s hand so that it was enveloped in his and squeezed hard, making Patrick gasp and me see red.

“Okay, okay, that’s good,” I said, pulling my son away and tucking him slightly behind me. “He’s just come out of the bounce house and he’s tired. Let’s not turn this into a thing.” I wanted to tell him off for treating Patrick that way, but escalating this into an argument would just backfire on me in the end. While my father would never “air his dirty laundry”—as he called it—in public, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t make sure we regretted saying or doing anything he didn’t approve of later.

“Hmm,” my father answered skeptically. “I keep telling him he’s got a lot to learn before he starts school.”

“Dad, come on. It’skindergarten.”

“Building blocks for a better tomorrow!” Samuel boomed back in his pulpit voice, and the gossip girls glanced over at me again.

“Okay, whatever,” I said, moving Patrick even farther behind me as I took a step back. “It’s late and I’m sure Patrick is ready for a nap. I think we’re heading out. Talk to you later.”

I swung Patrick into my arms and rubbed his back while he clung to me. The past few minutes had proved to me that leaving town was the best option for both of us. My eyes landed on Fiona, and she brightened when she saw Patrick. She jogged over to us.

“Hey, monkey! You looked good bouncing around in there. Your monkey skills are on point.”

“Will you come in with me next time I go?” he asked, tentatively starting to smile again.

“Oh, bud, no. We’re gonna head out now,” I said. “We’ve been in the sun for too long, plus you need to eat something other than sweets.”

I hoped that Patrick had lost his sense of time because we’d been at the event for less than an hour.

“Aw, Daddy,” he pouted.

I pulled out my ace in the hole. “Dino chicken tenders for lunch?”

“Yay! Can Glinda come too?”

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