The Last Day

FORTY-NINE

From the den, a fuming Natasha watched Ward and his uncle seated beside the pool in lounge chairs, talking as though nothing had happened. Despite what he'd told his uncle about selling to Flash Dibble, she knew Ward was deeply hurt and torn, and that he wouldn't say that to his uncle. Instead, he would suffer without venting, as usual. She watched for several minutes before she could stand it no longer and stormed outside.

When she approached, Mark looked up at her and made the mistake of smiling one of his patented isn't-the-world-an-oyster smiles.

“Unk,” she said. “I just wanted to say a couple of things.”

“Sure, Natasha,” he replied. “You can say anything to me. We're family.”

“Family. I'm glad you feel that way.” She saw Ward turn his eyes out toward the woods.

“Gambling is a sickness and I'm going to get help so I never do it again,” Mark added.

“Okay… Unk, I refuse to dismiss this by agreeing that you have a disease you should treat, and just letting it go. What you did is unforgivable, because Ward loves and trusts you like a boy trusts his father and you repaid that by betraying him in the worst way. Not because you stole money from him but because you took advantage of him at the lowest point in his life. If he hadn't been grieving for our son, I doubt you would have dreamed of stealing from him, or known he wouldn't be paying attention to the books.”

Ward turned back to the conversation, suddenly interested.

“I loved Barney,” Mark said. “His passing affected all of us deeply.”

“Don't you dare use our child's death as an excuse for your behavior. If only for the sake of his memory, and our grief, you should have never taken the first nickel. If Wardo was alive and you had pulled this crap, he would have prosecuted, and he would never have forgiven you as Ward seems able to do. That's because Ward is a better and far kinder person than his father was.”

“You aren't saying anything that I haven't told myself a thousand times,” Mark said. “I do love both of you.”

“You've put Ward in the position of sacrificing to help you, even though you have been working against his interest by plotting with the Dibbles. Don't you dare deny it. While selling the company will bring you both a lot of money, I do not believe he is going to sell because he wants the financial freedom but to pull your ass out of a fire you made.”

“Flash knows about the game, doesn't he?” Ward asked.

Mark shrugged and stood. “I don't know for sure, but I think he might. I guess I should go.”

“Yes, I think that's a good idea,” Ward said, standing. “I'll tell Gene to tell Flash as soon as the time is right. If he still wants it, without the video game.”

“Maybe Flash Dibble will let you work off the loan by selling cars for him,” Natasha said.

“I deserve that,” Mark said. “If there's anything I can do.”

“I can't imagine another thing you could possibly do for us,” Natasha said firmly. Her hands had been planted on her hips since she'd confronted Mark Wilson. At that moment she was furious with him, but she could never hate him, or anyone else. Neither she nor Ward had ever learned how to do that. And she knew that wasn't a bad thing; it just made them vulnerable.

As soon as his uncle was out of hearing range, Ward stood and said, “The truth is, I'd love to just sketch and paint and lead the reflective life of the artist.”

She laughed. “You should do exactly that, if that would make you happy.” Ward reached out and took her hand, and kissed her gently.

“You make me happy. Thank you,” he said. “I've never seen you so pissed off. Truth is, I should have said what you said to Unk. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.”

“That's okay, darling. Confrontation is what wives are for,” Natasha said.