"You're right… and you've made your point!"
"Then… y-you'll do it…?"
"Hell, yes!" he gritted. "It's the least I can do for you… now!"
On the way home, Don stopped at a small hardware store in a shopping center. There, he bought a door-locking device that would enable Charity to lock her bedroom door from the inside.
"Hide it somewhere in your room," her brother told her.
"Okay."
"… And, yell like hell… if anything happens!"
"I–I will!"
"Good…! But, don't lock me out, Char…"
"I–I'll have to… Don! It can n-never, never happen… again!"
"Never's a long time!" he said.
"I know!"
They rode along in silence, each absorbed in thoughts of their own. It was Charity who spoke first. "Don…?" she asked. "How are we going to get into the house… w-without h-him knowing it…?"
"We'll go in through the back!"
Don turned off the avenue onto their street. Just before reaching the ramshackle house they had called home for so long, he silenced the engine and coasted into the driveway. Quickly, they dismounted, as Don parked the motor bike, and hurried around to the rear of the old house. Going in ahead of his sister, Don gingerly opened the kitchen door that gave onto the back porch. From there, he could see nor hear nothing. He signaled Charity to stay on the back porch.
Walking through the kitchen and dining room into the living room, he stopped short when he saw his father stretched out on the lumpy sofa. He seemed to be asleep, but as Don came a little closer, he realized the man was dead drunk.
"It's all right, Char!" he called out. "He's laid out drunk… and sleeping it off!"
Charity came to stand beside her brother. She looked down at him where he lay like a lump of dough, slack-faced and unconscious. Her compassion for him came to the fore, even in the face of her strong revulsion.
"Oh, Donnie… he should be put to bed…"
"Hell… let him sleep it off here… where he passed out!"
"No… that sofa's uncomfortable… and he should be covered up… so…"
"That's something else, Sis! One minute you're afraid of him… scared to death he's going to try something with you… and the next, you're the all-American mother!" he grunted in disgust.
"He's still your father!"
Don glanced at her, puzzled by her strange statement. He's still YOUR father! Damn it! What does she mean?
It was but a heart's beat… and Charity realized what she had said. Quickly, she added, "… And mine, too…"
"Yeah… well, like maybe you're right… I'll help you put him to bed, then…"
Together, they half carried, half walked Gabe Scott into his bedroom. Don stripped off the drunken man's trousers and shirt; then, clad only in his underwear, they tucked him, snugly, into the double bed.
That task finished, Don picked up his father's garments to drape them across the back of the vanity chair. An envelope fluttered out of the shirt pocket, and as it lay on the floor, he recognized their mother's handwriting.
Charity recognized it, too! Swiftly, she swooped down to pick up the envelope. Oh! It's Mom's letter t-to me… a-and he found it! He knows… a-about m-me… now!
… But, Don was quicker. He scooped the letter from the floor, saw that it was addressed to his sister, but didn't surrender it to her.
"That's mine… D-Donnie!" Her face flushed, brightly. "Give it t-to me!"
"I know… but it's Mom's writing!" he countered. "… And she did leave a note… didn't she!?"
"It's just for m-me! I–I don't know how he found it…"
"You hid it?" he queried. "Why…?"
"… B-Because… i-it's personal…" she choked, twin tears appearing in her eyes.
Gabe Scott's intention to remain sober had gone down the drain, as so many things had with him, but now, lying in the bed, in his own bedroom, he swam back to partial consciousness through the fog of alcohol in his brain. Don and Charity were there, in the room, their voices somewhat strident as they argued about the note. Charity! She's back!
Raising himself on a none too steady elbow, he said, "So… you li'l bastard bitch… you came back?"
Charity whirled to face him, horror-stricken; then without a word, she ran from the bedroom, through the living room, the dining room and into her own bedroom. Crossing to the connecting door to the bathroom, she shot the bolt, locking it, then digging the new door-locking device out of her purse, she fitted it to her bedroom door. Not until she was completely locked in did she remember that her brother still had the all-revealing letter in his possession.
Dear God! I–I hope Donnie d-doesn't read i-it… too.
Donnie had watched her as she fled, and when he heard her slide the bolt to the bathroom door, he turned back to face his father on the bed where he struggled with the blankets trying to sit up. He mumbled, "Where'd she go?"
"She's gone to her room… Dad…"
"Just le' me get my hands on her…"
"You just cool it… Dad! Stay in bed and sleep it off!" Don's voice had a steely quality Gabe had never heard before.
"What th' hell's this… my own son telling me what t' do?!"
"Yeah… that's right…! And, like keep your hands off of Charity!"
"You makin' threats…?" Gabe blustered.
"No… just laying it on you… like the way it is!"
Gabe made another effort to get up off the bed, but Don pushed him prone, again, and told him, "You better sleep it off, Dad!"
Dimly, through his befogged brain, Gabe Scott knew that he was in no condition to argue or fight. Yeah… sleep it off… tomorrow… I'll take care of both of 'em… tomorrow. He turned away, curled himself into a ball and growled, "Get th' hell out of here!"
Don left the bedroom, Charity's letter still in his hand. I wonder what in hell's so important… and so personal in this?
Closing the bedroom door, he flopped into the overstuffed chair, considered the envelope for a moment and came to his decision. He would read it. Charity probably wouldn't like it… but his curiosity had been aroused. Personal, or not… he had to know the contents.
Removing the sheets from the envelope, he began to read. He read the letter twice, to absorb all that was in it. He whistled between his teeth. "Well…!"
His reaction was not extreme. He took it in stride. Damn! I see why it's so important to Char! She really had it laid on her… but good! Poor little gal…! But, Christ! It sure changes things… that makes me and Char only half-brother and sister!
He thought about it for a moment:… And, Dad knows it, too! He found the letter where Char had hidden it! Hell! No wonder she's scared!
Carrying the letter with him, he went to his own room, still thinking as he stretched out on his bed. There's one thing, for sure! Charity can't stay here…! But, I don't have enough of a stake to get us out! I'll have to do something about that, right away… like tonight!
Glancing out the window, Don saw that the sun was almost down. I'll see if Ray'll help me… he's got that big.45 automatic…
Then, he slept for an hour. He awoke refreshed and went into the kitchen to find some food. There wasn't much to eat, but he threw together a hasty snack and began wolfing it down.
Charity heard him rummaging in the kitchen and came out to join him. She sat down near him, her eyes downcast.
"Y-You read Mom's letter…"
"Yeah… I had to… to find out why it was so damned important to you…"
"Then… y-you know… a-all about Mom… a-and m-me?"
"Yeah…" he mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I'm going to get you out of here!"
"You are…? Oh, Donnie… I–I was hoping y-you'd say that!" She was ecstatic with joy. "I–I just couldn't stay h-here!"
"It'd be hard…" he agreed.
"It'd be impossible!"
"Don't worry, Char…" he grinned. "I'll take care of you… somehow!"
Don didn't tell Charity what he planned to do. Christ! She's got enough to worry about! Right after he finished his plate of food, he arose from the table and told his sister, "He'll probably sleep all night… but stay in your room, anyway… with the doors locked! I'm going out, tonight… for a while."