My deepest gratitude to Mused, for all his help with this.
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Elizabeth raced down the hall and ran smack into Brett. He was coming out of the kitchen to see who was trying to beat down his front door.
He grabbed his sister's arm to steady her. "Easy there, Sprite. Where's the fire?" he tried to joke.
"It's him, Brett; it's Dad at the door!" Elizabeth hissed. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I saw him out the window." She let go of his hand and clutched at his forearm.
A dark look crossed Brett's face, then left as quickly as it came.
The pounding on the door continued.
"Jesus Christ, he's persistent if nothing else," Brett muttered. "Let go, Elizabeth, so I can get the door." He pulled away, then thought to add, "Just...stay close."
Brett jerked open the door and their father entered without a word or greeting. It rubbed Brett the wrong way, but he held his tongue. He watched as his dad's eyes fixed on his little sister, who moved to stand at Brett's side. He gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze.
"Your mother said you'd come here." Joe McCarty's icy blue eyes pierced into his daughter's.
Elizabeth's heart began to pound in her chest. She swallowed and nodded. "I had no where else to go. You threw me out." She tried to stand tall and not cower.
"And for good reason," he insisted.
"Getting pregnant is a good reason for tossing your daughter out on the street?" Elizabeth's voice began to rise. So did her father's anger.
"Elizabeth!" Brett tried to issue warning.
Their father raised his hand, his eyes glued on his daughter. By God, I'll show her, he thought viciously, I'll put her in her place once--
Brett shoved his sister behind him. "Not here, not in this house. Never again!"
Joe McCarty swung his gaze to his son. Eyes narrowing, he said, "She got herself pregnant, you idiot! The little bitch spread her legs and got knocked up and you're going to allow her to stay with you?"
"I hardly think she got that way herself." Brett's voice dripped with sarcasm, but his father ignored it.
"Send her away, Brett, or you're no longer my son!"
The decision was an easy one. Brett didn't even have to think about it. He spoke with quiet determination. "Then I'm no longer your son. Get the fuck out of my house. Now."
For a horrifying moment Elizabeth thought their father was actually going to challenge Brett. She saw him clenching his jaw, as if trying to make a decision. But with one last withering glare at his daughter, Joe turned and slammed out the door.
Brother and sister stood together, hand in hand, each trying to absorb what had just happened. It was Elizabeth who broke the silence.
"I thought he was going to hit me again."
"He was."
"Why does he hate me, Brett?" It didn't bother her so much anymore, but still, she asked. Elizabeth looked up at her brother.
Brett shook his head. "It's not just you, Elizabeth. Hell, he hates me, too. I don't think he likes Mom all that much, either."
"He's fucked up."
"I know," he sighed. "I don't know why, maybe it's the booze. I don't have the answers you want." He enfolded Elizabeth in his arms. "Wish I did, though. I wish things could be different. But he won't hurt you again. I promise."
Elizabeth was enjoying the feel of her brother's arms around her when she realized she was enjoying it a little too much. She pulled away. "Well, I hate him." She folded her arms across her chest.
"Don't waste your energy on such a useless emotion, Sprite. Hate will only eat you up inside. Besides," Brett reached out and touched her still-flat belly, "you've got someone else to think about now."
Elizabeth smiled and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Don't I know it."
Brett and Elizabeth hadn't heard from their mother at all, and that really hurt. They spent Thanksgiving with Dave and Alicia at their parents' home. It was the best holiday Elizabeth could remember in a long time. Ever, really. No one fought at their house, everyone just loved.
Alicia and Elizabeth were in the kitchen drying the china and putting it away when Brett and Dave walked in. They stood in the doorway watching as the two girls laughed and giggled and tried not to drop the heirloom dishes.
The two were as different as night was from day. Alicia was blonde, Elizabeth was dark. Alicia was tall, Elizabeth was not. While Alicia's eyes were as warm and brown as pudding, Elizabeth's were as blue as the summer sky. They'd been best friends their entire lives and really, the only things they had in common was their love of football and brothers that adored them. Yet, they were inseparable.
"The game's almost on, if you two are about done in here." Dave spoke up, interrupting the girls, who were in a fit of laughter about God only knew what. He took a look around. "I think there's more water on the floor than in the sink, Brett."
Brett laughed and grabbed the roll of paper towels. "Finish up, Elizabeth; then get out of here. I don't need you slipping on the water." He knew she would, too, if given half a chance. He took the plate she'd been drying, then ushered the two girls out. He and Dave made quick work of the last of the dishes, then cleaned up the floor.
The four of them watched the Lions and Vikings play in Detroit. When it was over, Brett and Elizabeth went looking for Dave and Alicia's parents to thank them and say goodbye. They found the elder Parkers in the study off the master bedroom.
"You know you are both welcome here anytime," Mr. Parker said to the pair as he stood to shake Brett's hand and hug Elizabeth.
"Please come for Christmas Eve," Mrs. Parker insisted. "Really, you must. Grandma Ruth will be here and I know she'd love to see you."
"And Blaire always makes enough to feed an army," Mr. Parker interjected.
