“Sophie, sweetheart,” I called. I made my voice sound light. “We have to go home now. Daddy has an emergency.”
She looked up at me. Big brown eyes.
“But the party’s not over. Uncle Matthew’s telling me about a flying dragon.”
Matthew grinned up at me from the grass.
“What’s up, big brother? Something urgent? Everybody’s having fun. Stay a little longer.”
I made myself smile at him.
“Can’t. The hospital called. Emergency surgery.”
It was a lie. It came out of my mouth smoother than I expected.
Matthew shrugged and ruffled Sophie’s hair.
“All right. Be careful. See you next time, Sophie-bear.”
Something in my stomach turned over when he touched her. I didn’t know why yet. I just knew it did.
I took Sophie’s hand and pulled her to her feet. She toddled after me across the lawn, still confused, looking back over her shoulder at her uncle.
At the patio I stopped. My father was standing in a circle of hospital board members, glass of wine in his hand, his face glowing under the lanterns.
“Dad, I have to leave early. The hospital called.”
He raised an eyebrow. Then he nodded.
“Work calls. Be safe, son.”
My mother bent down and hugged Sophie.
“Get home safe, sweetie.”
I got Sophie into the back seat and buckled her in. When I got behind the wheel, my hands were shaking so badly I missed the ignition twice.
“Dad, why are we leaving so early?” Sophie asked from the back. “Uncle Matthew didn’t finish the story.”
I looked at her in the rearview mirror. She was nine years old, small for her age, shy, afraid of the dark. She still needed me to read to her every night before she could fall asleep.
And most nights, I’ll be honest, I read three pages fast and turned off the light because I had to be at the hospital at five in the morning.
“Daddy has something urgent, sweetheart,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll tell you a story. A long one. I promise.”
She looked out the window at the streetlights going by and didn’t say anything else.
I drove home through the quiet streets of Charlotte with my heart pounding. Half of me believed Laura. Half of me thought she’d made some kind of terrible mistake.
Matthew was my brother.
How could anything serious involve Matthew?
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
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