Free Waiting for Wednesday by Mari Carr Page A

No man loved or doted on his kids more than Mr. Collins. After a week in his company, she thought she should be used to hearing him sing their praises, but it never failed to touch her.
    “Yes, he is. We’re very good friends.” She was unsure how else to respond.
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    Mr. Collins nodded. “He’s a h-hard worker. He’ll make some lucky girl a g-good husband.”
    Lane laughed, leaning over to kiss Mr. Collins on the cheek. “You aren’t trying to set me up by any chance, are you?”
    Mr. Collins chuckled. “You c-could do worse, my girl.”
    “I have.” The words slipped out before she could think better of them and she watched the older man frown.
    “Your ex-husband h-hurt you.”
    She shrugged. “Yes,” she whispered. “He hurt me.”
    “Tristan nearly k-killed him that day he came to the b-bar looking for you.” Lane gasped. “James came to the bar? When?”
    “Year ago. Took Ewan and Sean to p-pull Tristan off the man. I’m thinking now we should have l-let Tristan finish.”
    She grinned. “Oh my. You Irish are a bloodthirsty lot, aren’t you?” He laughed and nodded. “I th-think we are at that.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind. Now we’re going to—” A noise at the bottom of the stairs distracted her.
    “Ewan and Tristan,” Mr. Collins said when they heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. “Always sound like a h-herd of cattle, those two.” Lane was surprised to discover the man was correct as Tris and Ewan entered the room.
    “’Bout time,” Mr. Collins said. “Woman’s about to d-do me in with her infernal exercises.”
    Lane put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows. “Throwing me under the bus, old man?”
    They all laughed and she watched as Tristan studied his father’s face.
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    “You up for some ESPN, Pop?” Ewan asked. Tristan’s brother had gotten into the routine of spending an hour with his pop each afternoon, watching sports highlights on TV.
    “H-hell yeah. I missed the end of the Orioles g-game last night.” Mr. Collins raised his hand before anyone could speak. “D-don’t tell me how it ended.” Ewan laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He followed his pop down the hallway to Mr. Collins’ bedroom. Pop still walked slowly and with the assistance of a walker, but he was decidedly steadier on his feet. He and Ewan watched the television in the older man’s room as he almost always fell asleep after his exercises. Lane was touched by Ewan staying with his pop even after he fell asleep.
    Tris looked at her and she noticed he seemed uneasy. “Pop seems chipper today,” he said, pausing awkwardly.
    “I told you he was getting better.”
    Tris nodded and dropped onto the couch, rubbing his eyes wearily. “So you did.
    Fuck, I’m tired.”
    She sat beside him, deciding it was time to confront him about his absence from the apartment, especially when he took his hands away from his face and she saw the pain in his eyes.
    “So, what’s up with you, stranger?”
    He swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much this week. It’s been really busy down at the pub.”
    “Ah, has it?” She let her question hover, certain he could tell from her tone she didn’t believe him. “From my perspective, it seems like you’re avoiding this apartment like the plague.”
    Originally she’d assumed he was working longer hours to cover for his pop, but as she observed the time each of his brothers and sisters devoted to their father, she began 64
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    to suspect his absence was based on something else. She could see by the guilt in his features, she’d been right. “Why, Tris? Is it me?”
    “God no. I’ve missed you like crazy this week.”
    “Then what?”
    “Did I ever tell you how my mom died?”
    Lane shook her head.
    “It was cancer. Her death was slow and painful.”
    “Oh Tris.” She placed her hand on his cheek as she recalled him mentioning that he’d only been fifteen