Free No Coming Back by Keith Houghton Page A

said I will. I just need to pick my moment to go out to the hospital. It’s difficult.”
    “But you’ve got to do it.”
    Owen’s right. I know I have to. I know I don’t really have a choice. I know I am only delaying the inevitable, the unavoidable. I know I will put it off for as long as I can. I know once it’s done I’ll have closure. I know it’s not that easy.
    Owen performs a slow and measured nod. “You’re right; it’s a big deal. Hey, I get it; I’m no Neanderthal here. Came as a shock to us all. We thought he’d go on forever, but this brain bleed of his knocked him out cold. In spite of everything, you must be going through hell. God knows, no one would blame you if you turned your back on him. He never treated you right. Not from day one. Sure, he had his reason. But that wasn’t your fault, big fella. He was wrong taking it out on you the way he did.”
    “Water under the bridge.”
    Owen misses the tension in my response. “Yeah, well, we tried telling him over the years, your aunt and me. We tried making him see sense, but he wouldn’t listen. Your dad was stubborn like that. Come to think of it, he was the definition of bullheaded. No wonder he ended up lonely and alone. He never bounced back from your mom walking out.”
    My father isn’t the only one.
    I let out a shaky breath. “It hit us all hard—because he hit my mother hard. It was all his fault. Everything. He brought it on himself . She did what was best for her own survival. She left him and got as far away from him and Harper as she could.”
    He nods. “Hey, don’t think I’m making excuses for him. I don’t condone marital violence in any shape or form, or any violence at all for that matter. But the demon drink can do that to a man. Your dad’s not the first and he won’t be the last. His decline accelerated after your brother left, too, you know that, don’t you?”
    But my leaving had no impact.
    “He lost his health, his mind, his faith. You do know Aaron never came back either?”
    “My father wasn’t easy to live with.”
    “That’s for sure. Like rats in the attic. Still, I never thought it would end this way. Like it or lump it, Jake, you’re all he has. It’s down to you now. You’re the man of the house. I know it’s tough, but you’ve been through worse, right? I know you’ll do the right thing.” He reaches out and pats my arm. “I’m here, if you need me. I still have my seat on the council, which gives me some sway in town, if you need it.”
    “Thanks, Owen. I appreciate it.”
    “No problem.”
    Out of everyone, Owen is one of the few people to champion my corner without question and without reward. Although he was unable to visit me religiously every month in Stillwater, he did visit a couple of times each year, especially in the early years, and that is more than can be said for anyone else. Not once has he questioned my innocence. Not once has he bought into the lie. You can’t buy that kind of loyalty. It’s golden. It’s familial.
    “Oh, and before I forget,” he says. “Your dad has papers here somewhere. Insurance stuff, you know? Maybe even a will. You need to find them, just in case the worst happens and he doesn’t pull through. Last thing you need to worry about is the bank calling in a loan or something.”

Chapter Nine
    B y the time Owen leaves and I venture outside, the snowfall is heavier, thicker. A sheet of muslin is drawn across the sky, mummifying the snow-deadened landscape. Noisily , I crunch my way down the side of the house, shovel in hand, blowing flakes from my nose as I go. The backyard beckons, but it can wait.
    The upshot of my uncle’s visit was an urgency to investigate my father’s affairs. As soon as he was gone, I broke the lock on the writing bureau in the living room and rolled back the lid. My father’s filing system consisted of bills and bank statements, in ripped envelopes piled high, and all of it in no particular order.
    A quick rummage