Free A Portrait of Emily by J.P. Bowie Page B

your mother. Is he closer to her?”
    “He always was her favorite. But he’s pulled away from her too. They don’t fight or argue. He’s always polite to her, just kind of evasive. She’s always asking where he spends his time and he never gives her a straight answer. I know it really bugs her.”
    Jerry listened attentively. What a strange atmosphere they had all created for each other. All of them living separate lives under one roof. Never sharing, never confiding in one another. Just existing in a cold and unloving environment. No wonder Emily was afraid of her feelings and emotions.
    He pulled up in front of a restaurant they both liked and parked the car. He reached across and took her hand in his, kissing her palm, and holding it against his cheek. Utterly touched by this show of affection, Emily’s eyes glistened with tears.
    “I love you Jerry,” she whispered. “Please, always love me.”
    “That’s the one thing you never have to worry about.” Jerry leant over to kiss her. “Now, let’s go eat.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    When Anthony returned home later that evening, he found his mother waiting up for him.
    He’d known this was going to happen sooner or later, and now he braced himself for the confrontation he knew was unavoidable. He and his mother had always been very close. Despite his feeling of betrayal when she had not resisted his father’s decision to send him to military school, he could not stop loving her. She was weak, and totally under her husband’s control, but he knew she loved him in her own way. She just wasn’t brave enough to face his father’s anger should she ever have dared contradict any of his decisions.
    He stepped down into the living room, smiling at his mother as she rose from her chair by the window and came to greet him.
    “Hi, Mom. Why are you still up?”
    “You know why, darling.” She accepted his perfunctory kiss on her cheek then took his hand and led him over to her chair. He perched himself on the window seat and as his mother sat down. She smiled sadly at her handsome son.
    “Anthony…you seem to be spending a lot of time away from home.” It was obvious to him she was choosing her words carefully. “I know things are very strained between you and your father right now and frankly, I’m worried about you too.”
    “Dad’s not worried about me, Mother. He’s just pissed off that I won’t do what he wants. Mainly, join him in the business. Well, I have no intentions of bowing to that wish of his. I’ll make up my own mind what I’ll do with my life.”
    “And just what is it you are doing with your life, Anthony?” His mother leaned back in her chair, elegantly crossing her ankles, waiting for his reply.
    “Right now? I’m enjoying myself. Making up for lost time, for the years when enjoying myself was next to impossible because of the archaic regimen and discipline that god-awful place I was forced into branded into me.” He glared angrily over his mother’s head, as if directing the conversation at his
    father whom he knew was upstairs in his room. “I’m free now and I’ll be damned if he will ever tell me what to do again.”
    “Anthony…” His mother looked nervously round the room. “Please don’t shout.”
    “I’m sorry Mom, I really am. None of that was your fault, but please don’t ask me to give in to what he wants. You, of all people, should know what happens when you do.”
    Patricia Hastings’ face clouded at his words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh, come on, of course you do. You think I don’t know what went on here for years? Thank God Paula got out and now it looks as if Emily has found someone decent to look after her at last.”
    His mother’s face twisted into an expression of disapproval. “I don’t really want to talk about the girls. It’s you I’m concerned about.”
    “You should be concerned for all of us, Mom—and for yourself. My father has done irreparable harm to this