Gina Wilkins - Make-Believe Mistletoe

“No offense,” Tim said, “but that is the ugliest dog I've ever seen.”

“No offense taken. I'm not blind.”

“What breed is he?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tilting his head a bit, Tim eyed the dog curiously. “I'm figuring there are at least ten breeds involved, maybe a little goat and cow thrown in.”

That made Banner chuckle. “Anything's possible, I guess.”

Tim patted his leg, calling the dog to his side. Reaching out to rub the dog's long, shaggy ears, he asked, “What's his name?”

“Hulk.”

Grinning down at the goofy, good-natured animal, Tim said, “I like him.”

“So do I.”

Their gazes met over the dog's head. Banner looked away first, reaching hastily for the remote control. “We're missing the bowl games. What teams do you like?”

“I'll watch any game that involves a ball and cheerleaders,” Tim replied.

Thumbing on the power button and raising the volume loud enough to preclude any more meaningful dialogue, Banner rose. “We need snacks. I've got cheese puffs, pretzels, popcorn, beer and sodas.”

Tim's attention was already fixed on the screen. “All of the above sounds good.”

Nodding, Banner headed off in search of junk food, relieved that the only conversation required from him for the rest of the afternoon would consist of phrases like “Nice catch” or “Bad call.”

Lucy was hit with an immediate sense of familiarity when she walked into Banner's living room a bit later that afternoon. Having grown up in a household with her uncle and two male cousins, she was well acquainted with the sounds of football on the TV and grunts of satisfaction or disgust from the guys sprawled on the furniture. The smells of beer, popcorn and cheese puffs made her smile with nostalgia.

“Who's winning?” she asked, crossing the room and plopping down on the couch beside Banner.

“It's tied at fourteen.” Banner draped an arm around her, almost absentmindedly, and she snuggled contentedly into his side. “Did you find any champagne?”

“Sparkling grape juice. You might have told me this is a dry county.”

He chuckled. “You were so insistent on going yourself, I figured you knew what you were doing.”

Quite cheerfully she punched him in the side. “Thanks a lot.”

With a faint “oomph,” he shifted his position, gave her a look, then turned his attention back to the TV in time to watch a long spiraling pass fall right into the hands of a defensive player. “Son of a-”

“What was he thinking?” Tim complained loudly. “Didn't he see that sea of opposing color surrounding his receiver?”

“I think he saw those two human tanks coming right at his head,” Lucy answered, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “I'd have gotten rid of that ball, myself.”

Banner and Tim got into a heated discussion on whether an intentional grounding penalty would have been better or worse than a sack in that play. Delighted that the brothers were communicating in such a basic, male-bonding sort of way, Lucy settled in to watch the rest of the game.

One game had ended and they were engrossed in another when Banner's telephone rang. He looked immediately at Tim, who was looking back at him with a rueful expression. It seemed that both of them had the same premonition about who was calling.

“Ten-to-one that's Dad,” Tim muttered.

“Sucker bet,” Banner replied, standing to reach for the phone. Maybe they would both be wrong and it would be for Lucy, he thought hopefully.

No such luck.

“Hello, Richard.” His father spoke with his usual brusque lack of warmth.

“Sir.” Having decided years earlier that Dad was too familiar a term to describe his relationship with his father,

Banner had settled for the more formal appellation. Richard, Sr., had never protested.

“I don't suppose you've heard from your brother today.” “He's been here all day.” Banner didn't think Tim had wanted his whereabouts kept secret or he would have said so.

After a momentary pause, Richard sighed. “I shouldn't be surprised.”

“Do you want to talk to him?” Banner asked a bit hopefully.

“No. I've said all I know to say to him. But maybe you'll have more luck. You are trying to talk him into going back to school, aren't you?”

“No.”

His father's voice chilled several degrees. “Why the hell not?”

Aware that both Tim and Lucy were listening, though they seemed to be watching the game, Banner replied, “Tim's old enough to make his own decisions.”

“I should have expected you to take that attitude.”

“What attitude is that, sir?” Banner inquired coolly.

“You're frittering your own life away, and now you seem to be encouraging your brother to do the same. I don't know what made me think you would show any responsibility or loyalty to this family now, when you never have before.”

“Yeah, well, that's just the kind of guy I am.” Even Banner heard the sharp edge to the drawl he had intended to sound merely laconic.

“Your mother did a hell of a job raising you. My wife always warned me about letting Tim spend too much time with you, but I never thought there was a danger that you would have that much influence over him.”

“Are there any other criticisms you want to make, or are you about finished?”

“That will do for now. I can only hope spending a few days with you will bring your brother to his senses about the kind of life he could end up leading if he doesn't get back to school.”

“I'm sure Tim will be just fine whatever he decides to do. As you've always made a point of telling everyone, he's a smart guy. Smart enough not to let anyone run his life for him-including you.”

“All I can say is that both of my sons have been bitter disappointments to me,” Richard said stiffly.

Banner kept his own tone rigidly polite. “I'm sorry you feel that way, sir. Maybe you should take some time to ask yourself if maybe you expected too much from us. And whether we might be a bit disappointed with you,” he couldn't resist adding before he abruptly disconnected the call.

Tim was on his feet by the time Banner replaced the handset in its cradle. His hands in his pockets, his expression young and vulnerable, he murmured, “You said 'we.”'

Confused, Banner frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It's the first time you've acted like we're on the same side,” Tim clarified, his cheeks a bit red. “Like we're really brothers.”

“Well, we aren't sisters,” Banner returned, then almost winced at the lameness of the awkward retort. Uncomfortable with the emotion in the kid's eyes, he cleared his throat and turned sharply on one heel. “I'm going to start dinner. I'm getting hungry.”

It was a lie, of course. He wasn't sure he could eat anything at the moment. But it gave him an excuse to get away from all this emotion and drama.

Hell, this was the reason he had done everything he could to avoid getting entangled with his half siblings, he told himself as he stalked into the other room.

Urging Tim to stay behind with the dog, Lucy followed Banner into the kitchen, having given him a few minutes to collect himself after his father's call. She found him with his head stuck in the pantry, his posture stiff enough to be termed ramrod. It took nerve to deal with him in this mood, but Lucy had never lacked for courage.

Some might have added that there were times when she lacked good sense to accompany her recklessness. She hoped this wasn't one of those times.

“How are you doing?” she asked, stopping a few feet behind him.

“Great. How does spaghetti sound for dinner? The sauce would be from a jar, but I can spice it up a little with a few extra ingredients.”

He was so determined not to show his emotions, and from what she had heard of his conversation with his father, Lucy could certainly understand why he had developed that habit. But it couldn't be healthy to keep so much bottled inside.

“Spaghetti sounds fine. Do you want to talk about your father's call?”

“Not particularly.” Carrying an assortment of bottles and cans to the counter, he set them down and reached for a pan.

“He didn't really blame you for Tim quitting law school, did he?”

“Pretty much. But I really don't want to talk about it right now.”

She was nothing if not persistent. “That was terribly unfair of him. But Tim appreciates you sticking up for him. You know that he pretty well hero-worships you, don't you? And that he probably has all his life?”

As she had expected, Banner reacted to her comments with a frown and a growl. “That's bull. He just came here because he didn't have anywhere else to go where no one would try to tell him what he should do.”

Lucy had a different opinion about that. She suspected Tim had thought that rebelling against their father's manipulations would finally give him something in common with his reclusive older brother. She didn't think Tim had gone so far as to quit law school for that reason-she believed him when he said he'd been pressured into a career he had never wanted to pursue-but he had known where to come for support in that decision.

“He's so young,” she murmured, looking toward the doorway.

“Not that much younger than you are.”

“Almost six years. And somehow I get the feeling that he's young for his years. Do you think he'll be okay?”

“He'll be fine. It'll do him good to be out on his own for a while.”

“At least he'll have you to guide him a bit.”

Banner frowned at her. “He doesn't want or need me to guide him. He's a grown man, got a college degree. He can fend for himself.”

Wandering to the refrigerator, she pulled out raw vegetables for a salad. “You had your great-uncle to turn to,” she reminded him. “Tim has you.”