Kindred Read Free

I’m stuffed.”
    Harry takes that as the O.K. to finally get a cookie for himself. Daisy smirks over at him as he stuffs one into his mouth.
    The two of them, Harry and Daisy, are already like an old married couple.
    “Glad you’re home, Uncle Carl.” I lean over, hugging him carefully. I’m still afraid I’ll hurt him. Most of his casts have been removed, but I’m afraid to touch him, even though he’s been healing for a while.
    I don’t care. I feel like I’ll always be afraid he’s too fragile to hug, or let him move around the house without my help. Even now, as he lets me go and regards me with an I’ll-be-alright expression, I can’t help but step back because I’m afraid I’ll bump into him and break him.
    I still blame myself for what happened. I’ll always blame myself because it was my fault.
    “Beverlee finally got you into that scrapbooking stuff, huh?” Uncle Carl wheels over to see my WELCOME HOME sign hanging from the banister, still not straight on the far end. I quietly glance over at Isaac accusingly who just shakes his head at me. I guess I am being a bit overkill about it…well, about everything actually. In the past three hours, I remember dusting the furniture at least three times. The hardwood floors have never been shinier. And now that I think about it, since Nathan came out of the restroom, I’ve been feeling anxious about what kind of mess he may have left behind. Images of water droplets on the counter, the toilet seat left up, or the light left on keeps creeping up into my thoughts.
    “No, she’s still not sold on it,” says Beverlee about scrapbooking. “But obviously she’s learned a few things.” She looks up at my handiwork, smiling. I had used her fancy-edged scissors, colored paper and some cool roller stamp things I never can remember what they’re called. Arts and crafts were never my ‘forte’, but what I can do with it serves its purpose, I guess. Beverlee is being kind though; really it looks second grade to me.
    “How are you feeling, Mr. Dawson?” Daisy is always charming. The English accent helps make her the center of the room usually. She leans over and squeezes him tighter than I ever will.
    Harry and the Mayfairs grew quite close to Aunt Bev and Uncle Carl over the past several months, so they are as glad to have him home as Aunt Bev and me.
    “Much better,” he answers, returning the affection. “And now that I’m back in my own house, I know things will be back to normal in no time.”
    Beverlee quietly glances away.
    I know what she must be thinking, because I’m thinking the same thing. It’ll take a lot more than being home for things to be normal for Uncle Carl again. He’s being strong, but on the inside, I know he must be screaming.
    I move into the den area and everyone follows.
    “I made you some coffee,” I say nervously, walking toward Uncle Carl’s chair. “One teaspoon of sugar, just like you like it. Oh, and I bought the most recent issues—your subscriptions ran out last month I think.” I fluff the arm pillows up some more—as if they really need it—and then scoop the new magazines into my hands. “ Scientific American , Popular Science ...and,” I shuffle them around, absently reading the cover article titles. “... National Geographic . I thought Australia was already dry?” I say, looking down onto the cover.
    The uncomfortable silence makes me look up again.
    Is it that obvious? Suddenly, I feel even worse. How could I let my guilt overshadow Uncle Carl’s homecoming?
    Please, please no one bring it up, not now . Six quiet seconds of standing here feels like forever. Please just —
    “Well, it’s good to have you back,” Isaac says, stepping in to save me. “Nathan and I are going to start repairing the barn now that it’s warming up.”
    “Yeah,” Nathan adds, “and filling in that chasm of a pothole up by the mailbox.”
    Thank God , I say to myself. I never wanted the attention on me. I’m not