“It’s okay, Mark,” Matthew said. “I understand what they’re saying. You-all did have to band together. Laurel and I weren’t exactly up to making a family work. We were together, but we weren’t a real family. Tolliver’s right.”

Overkill, I thought.

“Dad,” Mark mumbled, like he was seventeen again. “You tried to keep us together.”

“I did,” Matthew said. “But my addictions got in the way.”

I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. Drama 101. Tolliver was watching Matthew confess—yet again—and his face was unreadable. There were still times when I couldn’t tell what Tolliver was thinking, and right now was definitely one of those times. He might be softening toward his father, or he might be planning how to kill him. At the moment, I would vote for the killing.

“Please, Tolliver, give me a chance to get to know you again,” Matthew pleaded.

There was a long silence. Mark said, “Tol, you remember when Gracie got so sick? You remember, Dad took her to the hospital? And the doctors gave her antibiotics and she came home so much better?”

I’d forgotten about that. It had been a long time ago. Gracie had been very little, maybe only four months old. How old had I been? Fifteen? It had been hugely embarrassing to have a baby sister, I remembered, because that was plain evidence that my mother and her husband were actually having sex.

It’s amazing what can embarrass you at fifteen.

I knew something about babies by then, because we’d already had the care of Mariella. My mother had been a little better when our first half sister was born, though, and she’d done at least some of the everyday care. We’d been able to leave Mariella with her during the school day, for example. That was out of the question when Gracie was born, underweight and sickly. Why they didn’t take Gracie away from Mom in the hospital, I don’t know. We had almost prayed that someone would take the baby or that Mom would come to her senses and give Gracie up for adoption.

Neither of those things had come to pass. So Cameron and I had taken turns babysitting for other families, and the boys had earned money, and Matthew had chipped in, too. We’d been able to take the girls to day care while we were out of the house.

Then Gracie, who’d always had trouble with her breathing, had gotten really bad. I couldn’t remember much about it, except being scared. We’d been so impressed that Matthew had taken her to the hospital.

“Are you saying I should make friends with Dad because one time, one time, he acted like a real father?” Tolliver said, and I let myself exhale. He wasn’t fooled.