Free Riverbend by Tess Thompson

After he left us, he never reached out to my sister or me. But I had a wonderful mother.”
    “Just like me.”
    “That's right,” said Drake, with a smile. “Just like you.”
    Annie brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, turning away so neither man nor child would see.
    “Come on, Alder, let me show you and your mom where you'll be staying,” said Drake. “You'll like it. We had it built for my sister but she won't be visiting anytime soon, so it's all yours.”
    We? Again.
    They walked down the hallway towards the other end of the house. There were five closed doors. He pointed to the door at the end of the hallway. “There's the master suite, where I sleep,” he said to Alder as they stopped at the first door. He pointed to the room opposite of the guest suite door. “This is a guest room, where you can sleep if you want, or there's a fold-out couch in the guest suite ifyou would rather sleep closer to your mom.”
    Alder glanced at the door and then back at Drake. “Can I think about it?”
    “Sure. Good plan.”
    “What are the other two doors?” asked Alder.
    Drake's face darkened. He looked at the floor. “Please don't ever go in those rooms. They're private.”
    Alder nodded, his round face earnest. “Oh, I won't if you say so.”
    “I appreciate that.” Drake glanced over at Annie.
    She shied away from his gaze, fixing her eyes upon the door instead. There was something about him that was both painful and sad. She'd been wrong about him, she thought. He was a man in pain, not an angry, rude man as she'd first thought.
    Drake opened the door to the guest quarters. There was a sitting area with a couch and chair, a full-screen television mounted on the wall, and a gas fireplace made of what looked like river rock.
    “Sweet television,” said Alder.
    “Don't get too excited,” said Annie. “Same rules as home. One hour max.”
    “Mom, really?”
    “Really.”
    Behind another door was the bedroom, with a four-poster, king-size bed and matching dresser made in walnut. Long white curtains hung over large windows. There were two sitting chairs in a light tan fabric, facing one another, with an ottoman between them. On one wall was another fireplace, this one made with jagged and uneven gray rocks. The bed was made up with white linens, a tan throw blanket, and one blue and white accent pillow.
    “This is a beautiful room,” said Annie.
    Drake went to the window, pulling back one of the curtains an inch so that it matched its mate hanging on the other side of the window. “This space was designed for my sister. She lives in Los Angeles. But she might not ever come to visit.”
    “Why?” asked Alder.
    “She's a make-up artist for movie stars. Loves her work. And she has a boyfriend,” he added, with a wry twist of his mouth. He didn'tlike the boyfriend. That was obvious. But why?
    “Oh,” Alder said, nodding his head like he knew all about women and their boyfriends. “That explains it.”
    Drake shrugged, a look of disdain on his face. “I can't imagine how anyone could live down there with all those phonies, but she likes it. For now.”
    Annie glanced at her watch. It was just after three o'clock. “Should we get going? It might take us an hour to get packed up.”
    “Sure thing,” said Drake.

    In Drake's car on the way to her home, the air conditioner blew on her face so that her curls tickled her forehead and cheeks. Alder, in the back seat, was quiet. She resisted the urge to ask him if he was all right. He hated it when she hovered over him lately. Motherhood was a constant exercise in letting go, she thought. Every day they grew more independent from their mother. As it should be, of course. She knew that. But it still hurt.
    She told Drake where to turn off the main highway. “Just stay on this road for five or so miles. I'll tell you when to turn onto our road.”
    They drove for a mile or two in silence. “Haven't been this way before,” he said.
    “A lot of the older