Page 50 of Wishes on Wildflowers
Who was arguing? Should he go upstairs? But it wasn’t any of his business. Basil’s car hadn’t been in the driveway when Nathan walked home from Jasmine’s. Maybe he was back now, drunk and argumentative. Alcohol could do that to a guy. Nathan’s temper when drunk had driven Kendra away. The breakup had been coming anyway but, no matter how Nathan tried to sugarcoat it in his mind, he’d driven the final wedge.
Had he loved Kendra? Not like he loved Jasmine. He’d been far from God then, avoiding everything he knew to betrue and pure. He hadn’t treated Kendra right. Nor Pauline and her son, for all that he’d changed a few diapers. Nor Rae, for that matter.
The only way he was any different from Basil was that Nathan was on the other side of it. He’d had his wakeup call in California when the chaplain had pointed him back to Jesus. Nathan had left his old ways and joyfully accepted his restoration to faith.
Basil was still stuck.
Nathan swung his legs over the side of the bed. Maybe he was interfering. Maybe he should mind his own business. But, maybe he could make a difference. It was worth a try.
He padded up the interior stairs and knocked on the door leading into the kitchen at the top then poked his head around.
Peter and Alex stared at each other across the kitchen table, cups of black coffee in front of each. Peter raised his head at the sound of Nathan’s entrance. “Hey. Sorry if we woke you up.”
“It’s okay. I was having trouble sleeping anyway.” Nathan glanced around. “Where’s Basil?” Surely his friend was back from the bar by now, unless he’d gone to Dixie’s place. No, Dan would be there with the kids. A motel? A knot tightened in Nathan’s gut.
Alex spat one word. “Jail.”
The room swam around Nathan. “Pardon me?”
“Arrested for drunk driving,” Peter expanded. “Thankfully he didn’t kill anyone.”
Headlights. A crash. Twisting metal. A scream. Pain. Sirens.
Nathan gripped the edge of the counter.
“He’s so stupid.” Alex’s voice held an edge of bitterness. “What was he thinking?”
“He wasn’t.” Nathan made it across the room and sank into the third chair. Basil’s. “People don’t think when they’re muddled with alcohol. What happened to… to the other guy?”
Peter frowned at him. “Other guy?”
“The driver of the car he hit.”
“There wasn’t an accident. Just a roadside checkpoint he tried to run.”
The sirens in Nathan’s head slowly subsided. His own memory, not Basil’s. “That’s good.”
Alex jerked to his feet. “Yeah, I’d have to disown him if he’d caused a death. He’s such a disgrace to the Santoro name. I might disown him, as it is. Kick him out of my house.”
Peter leaned back in his chair, eyeing his cousin. “That’s not going to solve anything. We need to love him like God loves us. There’s nothing we can do, positive or negative, to make God love us more or less. Family is family, no matter what.”
Not in Nathan’s experience.
“But I can’t turn a blind eye to his stupidity. I don’t see how you can, either.” Alex pivoted, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “He’s the only full-timer with Bridgeview Backyards. You’re trusting him with your livelihood. Your future.”
Peter ran a hand over his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that.”
Jasmine’s dreams, too. Did she know about Basil’s indiscretion? Nathan didn’t want to be the one to tell her. Not after he’d delivered the news about Basil and Dixie earlier in the day. No, that had been yesterday. Still, with little sleep to separate the events, everything ran together.
A motorbike roared up the street and cut out in front of the house. Jasmine. He’d know the sound of her Harley anywhere.
The guys exchanged a look and turned toward the door. They were expecting her. They could have told him she was coming.
Jasmine strode in, swinging her helmet from one hand, unzipping her leather jacket with the other. Her glance took Nathan in then shifted between the other guys.
Alex crossed the room to his sister. “What’s up? Where is he?”
She shook her head. “They’re keeping him in until he’s sober. He’ll be going to court. Probably lose his license for a while. Fines. Jail time. Who knows what all at this point.”
