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The German Wife(75)

Author:Kelly Rimmer

“Don’t you dare speak like that. You’re the only family I’ve got now, and you’d never be a burden to me.” He blinked hard; he couldn’t quite clear the tears before I saw them. “We’re a team, right? We always have been.”

“It’s not a team when one player is doing all of the work, sis,” he whispered. Then he offered a weak smile. “Hey, listen—I’m tired, and you must be too. I need to get back to sleep.”

He was right—I was exhausted. Even so, I was too scared to fall asleep, in case he wasn’t there when I woke up.

“You have that worry line between your eyes again, Miss Lizzie,” Calvin said, a few weeks later. We’d fallen into a habit of chatting the nights he was at the hotel, and I generally looked forward to his company, but I felt uncharacteristically fragile that night—like if he prodded me, I’d dissolve into a puddle of tears.

I’d worked three Sundays in a row so we could meet the electric bill, but I had to keep the cash in my locker at work. Henry was disappearing for days.

I set Calvin’s steak and fries on the table, then forced a smile.

“It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

Calvin lingered over his meal that night. I’d long cleared his plate and finished my cleaning, but he was still sitting there, making notes in the margins of a document. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after eleven.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller,” I said, approaching his table. “The restaurant is closed now.”

“I know,” he said. He closed a folder over his document, then lifted his briefcase up onto the table and slipped it inside. “There’s a diner just down the road where we can go for a milkshake, or we can have a chat while I walk you home. Up to you.”

“Thank you, Calvin,” I said quietly. “I appreciate it, but I’m okay. Really.”

Only as soon as I said those words, a tear leaked onto my cheek. Mortified, I swiped at it with the back of my hand, but Calvin’s expression only softened.

“Lizzie…”

“I’m okay,” I insisted weakly. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

I was worn-out from worrying and utterly exhausted. Every single night, as I made that walk home, I wondered what I’d find when I opened the apartment door.

“Come on,” Calvin said gently, rising to his full height. “Let me put this up in my room and I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes.”

I was seated opposite Calvin in the diner down the block, a milkshake untouched in front of me. He’d devoured his, and now he was listening intently as I rambled about my brother.

“My father had these black periods his whole life—good days and bad days—but especially once the drought got bad. I mean, things were bad—don’t get me wrong. But sometimes it seemed like things were worse for Dad than for anyone else.” I struggled for words as I rubbed my forehead. “There’s a darkness that runs in the men in my family. Henry isn’t lazy or overreacting. I know that things really do feel hopeless to him, but he’s not even trying to find work now. Not really. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.”

“Henry’s pride is hurt because I’m supporting him, and now that’s part of the problem. But what am I supposed to do? Quit my jobs, let us live in a homeless camp again?”

“Good grief, Lizzie. Of course you shouldn’t do that.”

“I think it was the same for our father and I bet Henry knows that. Dad was so reliant on Mother, and then when she died—he didn’t even try, not for a single day. He—” I broke off, reluctant to even say the words aloud. Calvin winced, then leaned forward.

“Did your father take his life?”

I nodded, feeling myself becoming emotional. I had survived so much, but I had no idea how I’d go on if I lost Henry.

“Sometimes a mind can play tricks on a person,” Calvin said, his eyes kind. “There is no shame in that for you or for Henry. For your brother, the best thing is probably the structure of a job. A reason to get out of bed each day and a paycheck, so he can feel proud again.”

“I know,” I said heavily. “I don’t mean to say he hasn’t tried. In the beginning, he really did try everything.”

“Maybe I could make some inquiries for you.”

“Would you?” I said in surprise. “You barely know me. You’ve never even met Henry.”

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