Covet (The Clann #2)

Covet (The Clann #2) Page 30

The rest of the week was relatively peaceful, at least at school. Either Dad or Savannah must have put the fear into Dylan and the twins, because they left her alone.

On the home front, though, things were decidedly less than calm. Not only were Mom's herbal drinks not working, but Emily and Mom were now arguing on a daily basis about sending Emily to the hospital or at least to Dr. Faulkner for a checkup. Apparently she wasn't able to keep much down. Knowing how much Emily hated needles, I wasn't surprised that she was refusing to go for a checkup. She would probably cave eventually; nobody stood up to Mom for long except maybe Dad. Then again, knowing Emily's pride, she was more than likely already wanting to see a doctor and just refusing to go in order to show Mom she was in charge of her own life now.

This wasn't the first time Emily and Mom had butted heads, and it wouldn't be the last. The safest course of action for Dad and me and any other innocent bystanders was to stay out of the war zone as much as possible until either a winner or a truce was declared.

But on Friday afternoon when I came home and heard her sobbing in her room, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I knocked on her door. She sniffled and said, "What, Tristan?"

I opened the door an inch. "How did you know it was me?"

"Because Mom just barges in, and Dad's too scared to cross the battle line."

I opened the door a little wider. "How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? The latest Cosmo issue, one of those eye mask thingies, some nasal spray?" She looked beyond bad, her face swollen so much I could barely see her eyes. Her nose was painfully red, as if she'd blown it so many times she'd rubbed off the top layer of skin.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I know, I look like crap."

"Not to side with Mom here, but maybe you should go see a doctor." Mom's herbal drinks, nasty as they were, had never once failed to cure us of any illness within a day or two.

"I know. I should have gone yesterday." She stared out the window on the wall opposite her bed. "I just...really don't want to see that smug look of Mom's if I give in."

I tried not to smile. "So in the meantime you're miserable. Very mature of you."

She tossed a pillow at me. It went wide, harmlessly bouncing off the wall.

Her cell phone beeped on the nightstand. She grabbed it and froze while reading the screen.

"Your college buddies worrying about you?" I asked, nodding at her phone when she looked up with her eyebrows drawn in confusion.

"Oh. Yeah. I posted how sick I was on Facebook just so no one would think I was dead yet. Getting texts about it now."

"Well, cheer up, kid. The flu usually only lasts a few days. You should be getting better soon."

Tears filled her eyes. "Right. I know that." She groped for a tissue, missing the box by six inches. I held the box closer to her. Her "thanks" came out muffled through a wad of Kleenex.

I was going to sit on the edge of her bed to talk and picked up her phone to move it out of the way.

She snatched it back and stuffed it under the covers.

"Paranoid much?" I asked. "I wasn't going to read it."

"No, I know that." She wouldn't look at me. "I just...have friends Mom probably wouldn't like, and the less you know about them, the less she can pick the info out of your brain."

"What kind of friends are we talking about here?" I'd heard of college students getting into drugs and stuff while away from home, but Emily had never seemed the type to do any of that. She valued her intelligence too much to risk the brain damage.

"Oh you know. Rockers. Computer geeks. Hardcore video gamers. Anyone who's not 'cool' enough in her book."

Mom was a little obsessed with our family image. Sometimes I got the feeling that she must have been a social misfit while growing up and was trying to live through her kids.

"Still running a fever?" I felt her forehead like Mom used to do for me on the rare occasion that I caught a virus. "Yeah, you feel warm. I'll grab you some meds."

I got up but she waved off the offer. "Don't bother. They make me too queasy. It'll all come right back up."

"How often are you barfing?"

She rested her head against her pillows and closed her eyes. "I've lost count. Pretty much all day and night with some naps in between. I've thrown up so much my abs are killing me. I could have sworn I was working out enough before now!"

Starting to feel useless, I refilled her water glass with fresh water from the bathroom. "Hey, how about some of that drinkable flu medicine stuff? I think Dad got some the last time he got sick and didn't want Mom to know." Even Dad hated the herbal drinks.

She made a face. "We can try it. But I'll probably barf it up, too."

I ran downstairs to the kitchen and found the medicine hidden behind Dad's stash of junk food in the cabinet over the fridge that Mom was too short to reach. After nuking a mug of water and stirring in the meds as directed, I brought the drink back upstairs to Emily.

"Mom left a note on the fridge. Apparently she's going to try some new herbs on you. She said she was going into town for supplies."

"Great." Emily was texting again, her face set in the darkest scowl I'd ever seen.

"Man, you are addicted to that thing," I joked.

She grunted in response, barely even glancing my way as I set the steaming mug on the nightstand.

"Anything else I can fetch for the flu princess?" I asked.

"No. Thanks, Tristan." She smiled at me, which would have looked normal on her any other week but this one. Today it looked forced. "Maybe later I'll go outside and get some fresh air."

"If you do, bundle up and don't go too far," I warned. "It's like fifty degrees out there."

Not that Mom would let her out the door anyways once she got home.

"You going to be around later?" she mumbled, her thumbs flying over her phone's keypad.

"I don't know. Why?"

She lifted a shoulder an inch in a weak half shrug. "It's Friday. I'm just worried about your nonexistent social life since you got dumped. Twice."

Ouch. "You know, that case of flu you've got really brings out the mean in your eyes."

She sighed. "Sorry. I just meant you should go out and do something. Football and Sav aren't the end-all and be-all of life."

It was my turn to grunt in response. "Quit worrying about me and get some rest."

Later Mom came home and went to check on Emily. I could hear their conversation from across the hall.

"Oh, Emily," Mom sighed. "I just came home from the store. Why didn't you tell me you needed more Sprite and crackers then?"

"Because I didn't know I needed them then," Emily said. "I just read where someone suggested it on Facebook. They said it was the cure-all for any kind of queasiness. Well, except for food poisoning, I guess. They promised it might settle my stomach till the virus has run its course."

Mom stood in the open doorway to Emily's room. "I just don't understand why the healing drinks aren't working this time."

"I don't think I'm really sick anymore. I actually feel much better overall. It's just my stomach that's irritated now."

Apparently the drinkable flu medicine was working. Dad would love hearing that his choice of meds was better than Mom's herbs and magic.

"Hmm. Maybe you got your father's nervous stomach after all," Mom muttered. "I swear that man eats antacids like candy lately." She sighed, rubbing a thin hand across her forehead. "Okay, I'll go back to the store and get you some Sprite and crackers."

"Saltines, they said," Emily added.

"Right. Saltine crackers. Got it. I guess I'll call your father on the way and see if he needs anything else, too."

"Thanks, Mom."

My door opened and Mom poked her head in. "I'm going to the grocery store. Do you want to come?"

"Sure." It wasn't like I had a hot date planned. Or much of anything else now that football season was over. A guy could only work out or listen to so much music.

I yanked on my boots and tied them, called out a quick goodbye to Emily, then jogged downstairs and out the kitchen door to the garage.

But as I opened the passenger door of Mom's car, I realized there was no way I could go with my mother to the grocery store on a Friday night. It was one thing to take a break from dating and another to purposefully commit social suicide without a cause.

"Uh, on second thought," I told Mom through the open door. "I think I'll stay. You know, in case Emily needs something. She probably shouldn't be alone and sick."

Mom frowned, then her lips twitched. "Oh. Right. Friday night. No, we wouldn't want anyone to see you buying groceries with your mom tonight."

Smiling a sheepish apology, I shut the passenger door so she could leave. Then I tried to figure out something to do with my evening.

My truck. It could use some serious TLC. Usually I cleaned it every couple of weeks, but lately I'd been too busy. Might as well tackle it now.

I was bent over wiping down the dusty dashboard when movement outside the garage door windows caught my eye. It was Emily. Apparently she felt well enough to get some fresh air like she'd mentioned wanting to do earlier.

She was wearing socks, house shoes, her long wool coat and a scarf. Satisfied she was dressed warm enough, I started to look away.

Then some guy came around the side of the house toward her on foot. He looked like he might be around Emily's age, dressed nice in slacks, loafers and a long wool coat and plaid scarf. He seemed vaguely familiar, but wasn't anyone we'd gone to school with. One of Emily's friends from the local colleges? Jacksonville had two junior colleges plus a seminary school. He could be a student at any of them, or a classmate with her in Tyler.

Whoever he was, Emily seemed to know him. She gave him a hug then stood talking with him, her hands resting in her coat pockets, the occasional smile showing on her face. She wouldn't have looked quite so relaxed around a stranger.

Dad pulled up in his car and parked to the side of the garage, probably so Mom could have the only open bay left to unload the groceries from. I figured he'd go inside the house, but he stayed to talk to Emily and the stranger. After a couple of minutes, all three of them began to stroll around the backyard.

Huh. Okay, maybe the guy was some business associate of Dad's.

Thankfully no one seemed to notice me inside my truck in the garage, so I wasn't obligated to go out and make small talk. I could still go back inside and up to my room without being missed.

My plan worked. I was in my room for two hours zoning out with the TV before I finally heard Emily come upstairs and go to her room. Within two minutes, the peace of the second floor was shattered by her snoring.

The fresh air must have really worn her out. Someday I ought to record her snoring. The blackmail possibilities would be endless.

Grinning, I turned my TV up a little louder to block out the log sawing across the hall.

Half an hour later, Mom came home. Bored, I decided to go down and see if she'd bought anything other than meds and stuff for Emily. Sometimes I got lucky and Dad would request junk food. He was the only one in the house who could get her to actually buy the stuff, but at least he took pity on his kids and shared his stash with us.

"Oh good," Mom said, her hands filled with the straps of multiple plastic bags. "You can help me unload."

"I thought you were just going for Sprite and crackers."

"In this household? Impossible!"

I went to the car and grabbed the remaining six bags from the trunk, using my elbow to slam the lid shut before I hauled the load to the kitchen.

"Your father," Mom muttered as she put away the new food. "He gave me the longest list of junk he wanted. Look at this! Cupcakes, oatmeal cookies, creme pies. I swear, if he keeps eating like this, he's going to die of a heart attack before he's sixty!"

"Nah. Dad'll never die. He's going to be the first descendant who lives forever." Grinning, I handed her more boxes to put away. "But if you're worried, you could always try putting him on another diet."

"Ha! Like that ever works. You know how pigheaded he is. He'll just sneak in more stuff and hide it in his desk in the study where he thinks I won't know about it." She glanced at her watch and frowned. "It's getting late. I'd better start on dinner. Go ask your father what he wants to have with pork chops."

"Okay." I went down the hall to Dad's study and knocked on the closed door. No answer. Just to be sure, I opened the door and checked. No lights on, and no Dad after I turned them on.

I went down the hall and looked in the living room. Everything was quiet, the TV off, the lights off. I turned on a lamp just to make sure Dad hadn't fallen asleep on the couch like he did sometimes on the weekends.

No Dad in sight.

Maybe he'd gone upstairs to change. I ran up, knocked on my parents' door, checked inside. Again, Dad was nowhere to be found.

I went back downstairs to the kitchen. "I can't find him. Was he still outside when you got home?"

"No. It's forty-five degrees outside. Why would he be out there?"

I shrugged. "Earlier I saw him talking with Emily and some guy. I thought maybe he was a business buddy of Dad's or something. Emily seemed to know him, too."

"Well, there was no one out there a few minutes ago. Just your father's car."

I opened the kitchen door and looked out through the garage door windows. Dad's car was still visible in the lights from the garage. "His car's still here. Maybe he went somewhere with that guy?"

"And not call me and let me know he'd be late for dinner? He knows better than that." Sighing, Mom grabbed the cordless kitchen phone from the wall and dialed. After a moment, her frown deepened. "Samuel Coleman, that phone of yours better be dead. And if you don't either call me back or get home right now, you're gonna be! Where are you?" She hung up, paused then snapped her fingers. The sound was like twigs breaking. "Grab a flashlight and your coat and go check the clearing. I'll bet he's out there."

I glanced at my watch. "Kind of late for spell work, isn't it?" I pulled on my coat and a pair of Dad's boots he'd left in the garage.

"Oh, you know your father. He likes to go out there and practice his boardroom speeches. Says the pine scent helps him think clearer. Maybe he lost track of time."

And the clearing was notorious for killing all incoming cell phone signals. "Right. Be back in a minute."

"Hurry up. And don't forget the flashlight. Wait! You need a vamp ward."

Sighing, she took hers off.

"Mom, I'll be fine." The only part of our property not protected by vamp wards was the backyard, which took all of ten seconds to cross at a walk.

"Put it on. Your father is safe enough out there, especially with all the wards around that clearing, but you won't be until you reach the clearing. And I know you think you're just as tough as your father, but you're still learning. So wear it and quit arguing and go find your father please." She huffed out that last part all in one breath, not even trying to hide the snap in her voice.

I took the stupid cuff and snapped it around my wrist, then went out back, stopping to open one of the garage doors before jogging across the backyard. Once I hit the edge of the woods, I slowed down and turned on the flashlight. Usually enough moonlight trickled down through the pine branches to light the path. But tonight there was no moon at all to see by.

Which was why I nearly stepped on his hand.