Patrick arrived home, shedding raincoat, galoshes and a quart-plus of rainwater in the mud room as he ducked out the pouring rain. His backpack, which had remained tucked under the plastic-lined jacket, was dry; the same could not have been said for anything below the knee. Fall in Oklahoma generally involves downpours that are a good approximation of the response to a three-alarm fire. The goal in such storms is to arrive at all; dry is not an option.
He said something about the vagaries of weather that was too soft to catch and stomped into the kitchen/dining area in wet stockings. His sister Jessica looked up from the stove; her face flushed from the heat. Dark hair curled away from a heart-shaped face and equally dark eyelashes framed brilliant blue eyes. She watched as he plodded down the hall to his room and shook her head sadly. She knew here brother's moods; there was nothing she could think of to say that would help.
Patrick plopped down on the bed, heedless of the protesting squeak of the springs. Stripping off the socks he threw them angrily into the hamper in the corner of the room, and followed them with his pants, sodden to the knee. A pair of sweats had already been laid out by Jess and he pulled the soft cotton on gratefully. Jessica was the one bright spot in his life, he often thought. How many girls with her kind of handicap would think of laying out dry sweat pants for their elder brother? It wasn't fair.
Jessica had been lamed ten years before; a fall from a tree had led to a broken leg, and when the leg refused to mend, further tests showed an unusual infection that had rotted the bone into sponge. Although it had at last healed, the result had been a nearly fused knee and a half-paralyzed leg. Patrick had stood by her throughout the ordeal, had fought the bully that pushed her down on the playground, had carried her books (and occasionally Jess herself) when the pain had been too much to bear. He had been the protector she needed.
Thus, when the news came to the school for fifteen-year-old Jess and seventeen-year-old Patrick that both of their parents had been involved in a car accident, it seemed only natural for him to fight for custody, to become her guardian. He had totted up his assets, which included a strong back and endless endurance, had said farewell to a career in medicine and had promptly found a job in construction. To Jessica had fallen the task of keeping house; her left leg proving only a moderate nuisance as she cooked and cleaned, did laundry and dishes, worked and studied. Her impending graduation was not far off and she was determined to find a way to send Patrick back to school.
Dinner was quiet. Jessica's homemade soup and biscuits, both culled from her grandmother's box of recipes, were a family favorite. Over dessert (strawberry shortcake), Jess finally worked up the courage to ask what had happened at the workplace that had led to Patrick's raging entrance.
