His Eyes by Renee Carter Page B

where you work in the summer.”
    I swallowed hard. “I know.”
    Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Dad, she deserves to go to any college she wants. Don’t squash her dreams.”
    “I’m not.” He stood and, checking my mom’s face for approval, said, “Amy, if you want to go to Evanston, you can. It’s your choice.”
    “Really?” I smiled shakily, overwhelmed with relief.
    “Of course,” said Mom. “I just wish you would’ve told us sooner.”
    I ran forward, hugging each of them. Then, stepping back, I fixed on Charlie; there was no excuse for the fact that I hadn’t gotten a letter from him in weeks. “So, what have you been up to?”
    Charlie’s eyes, which had drifted toward the window, snapped back onto mine. “Some stuff.”
    I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, I bet.”
    Dad moved between us. “Come on. Let’s go some place more comfortable.”
    He led us into the living room and I plopped onto a large purple pillow. My mom preferred sitting on the ground—hence the lack of a couch—and we would’ve probably eaten dinner on the floor, too, if it wasn’t for Dad. Dozens of pillows in all sizes, shapes, and colors filled the room. Charlie muttered, “Nothing’s changed,” before taking a seat.
    Mom, who was looking traumatized, settled into the corner and wrapped her arms around her favorite pillow. Her eyes focused on Charlie as she asked, “Why did you leave?”
    My brother began to flail his arms. “I didn’t want to be part of the Grayfield cycle anymore. Those Clarencites grow up in their million dollar houses, learn to drive in Audis, go to Princeton. And we’ll never make more than $30,000 a year, living in fifty-year-old houses, driving used Buicks! It’s disgusting.” He turned on me. “Aim, why would you want to date someone from that?”
    “I’m not dating him!” I growled.
    “Okay, okay!” yelled Dad. “Charlie, you can’t hate someone for being rich and you know it; that’s not how we raised you.”
    “Right, ‘raised me,’” snapped Charlie, “with Miss Flower Child always living outside in that jungle.”
    Dad’s eyes burned. “You will not talk about your mother like that!”
    “This is why I never came back before.” Charlie stood up, but Dad blocked him.
    “We are not done !”
    My dad and brother faced off for a tense moment and then Charlie reluctantly returned to his seat. Dad took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. We can’t change what’s happened in the past, but we can do something about the future. I don’t want to someday find out that I have a ten-year-old grandchild who I didn’t know about.”
    Charlie eyed the floor. “Actually...” The room fell eerily silent. “You will have one in August.” He raised his eyes and held up his left hand. “I got married a couple months ago. Her name’s Sandy. We live on her parents’ farm in California. I work there. It was Sandy’s idea that I come back. She found one of Amy’s letters—”
    I winced when Mom gasped, “ What ?”
    “How long has this been going on?” Dad asked sternly.
    Looking surprised, Charlie said, “Since I left.”
    Mom turned to me, tears running down her cheeks. Sure, they weren’t surprised about him getting marrying some girl without saying anything, but I was evil? She sputtered, “How could you not tell us? How much have you been hiding?”
    “This is it! I swear!” I glared at my brother. “ He didn’t want me to tell!”
    Charlie shrugged. “But you were just a kid. I figured you would.”
    “Well, I didn’t, okay?”
    “All right.” My dad sighed. “Again, what’s done is done. Right, Lucy?” He eyed my mom, who nodded slowly. “Now, I think it’s best if your mother and I talk to Charlie alone. Don’t you have some finals to be studying for?”
    I frowned, hating to be left out of the loop. “They’re Monday, but they’re not a big deal.”
    Dad raised his eyebrows. “Graduating isn’t a big deal?”
    I rolled my eyes.