ПДД с фотоиллюстрациями и комментариями 2016. Отсутствует

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СКАЧАТЬ had climbed. If the music he’d put on earlier was still playing, he couldn’t hear it anymore, and people hadn’t heard Jillian, either.

      “Everyone?” she repeated, speaking louder this time. She sounded nervous, as if she didn’t want to do this but would do it anyhow, on principle. “Can I have your attention for a minute? Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” The room quieted.

      “You’re right, Jillian,” said her brother Eric. “We should talk about why most of us are here.”

      “Jake?” She turned to him. “Do you want to recap? Tell everyone what happened when we met up in Seattle?”

      “I think you should do that,” he told her. “You were the one who approached me, and I know that took some guts, under the circumstances.”

      He heard a tiny sound from Stacey, still standing beside him. She didn’t move, but she looked interested and curious—as well she might. He felt awkward about the fact that everyone—his brothers, his cousins, their partners, spouses, dates and friends—would see the two of them standing like a couple at such a significant moment.

      Jillian nodded. “All right,” she agreed quietly, then raised her voice again. “Many of you know this part. I saw Jake’s name on a conference program in Seattle a few months ago, and realized from his looks and his age and his biography in the conference program that he had to be one of those Logans. You know the ones, Robbie, Eric, Bridget? The ones we never speak about? The ones we never see? The ones who might as well not exist?”

      They nodded. The family knew. Some people didn’t.

      “I listened to Jake give his presentation on infertility and emotional well-being, and at first I thought I’d just sneak out afterward and not say anything—the way we’ve not said anything to or about Lawrence Logan and his family almost our whole lives. But then I thought, ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’ Here I was, a social worker, listening to a doctor talk about family dysfunction and family healing. And the doctor was my own cousin. And I hadn’t met or spoken to him ever, because my father couldn’t forgive his father for things that had happened twenty and thirty years ago.”

      “Thirty years?” murmured his brother Scott’s date, as if dinosaurs had still roamed the earth.

      “So when the session was over, I went up to him,” Jillian continued. “My legs were shaking. I had no idea what kind of a reception I’d get.”

      “But you came up to me anyhow, Jillian.” Jake picked up the story. “For those of you who don’t know this—”

      He threw a brief glance at Stacey, but there would be others, he knew. His brother Ryan’s girlfriend, Brian and Carrie Summers, their friend Lisa. There were several more unfamiliar faces, also. His stepsister Suzie was here and had brought a date, as had Scott. His cousin Eric’s wife, Jenny, had brought her brother Jordan, a high-power corporate attorney.

      “Thirty-one years ago, our cousin Robbie was kidnapped.” He saw Nancy squeeze her husband’s hand and frown at his words. “It was a devastating event for my uncle and aunt, as you can imagine. My parents wanted to help, but Uncle Terrence couldn’t accept that kind of support from them. As brothers, their life choices and priorities had always been at odds, and I know my uncle was racked with a belief that if he’d been a better father, Robbie would never have disappeared.”

      There was a murmur from the listeners.

      “My father was hurt by the repeated rebuffs,” Jake continued, “and when he went on, a decade later, to write his two bestselling books on family values he was careless in the case studies he chose. One of them was strongly based on his brother, Terrence, and if there had been any chance of reconciliation before the books were published, there certainly wasn’t once they achieved their stellar success. Hardest to Forgive stayed at the top of the New York Times Nonfiction Bestseller List for forty-three weeks.”

      Beside him, Stacey made another sound. She’d read it. Millions of people had. It had surpassed even the sales of his dad’s first book, The Most Important Thing.

      “There were some crucial sections in the second book which Dad intended as an attempt to reach out to his brother, but unfortunately the timing was bad.”

      “With both books the timing was bad,” Jillian said. “A false lead had come up regarding Robbie’s whereabouts. I know my parents received several fresh blows over the years. Although we all shared their anguish, we were just kids. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.”

      At the back of the room, Robbie nodded, while his wife, Nancy, squeezed his arm. Jake had only been four years old at the time, but the suffering on both sides of the Logan family had been fierce for years afterward. He still had some distant memories of phone calls and police cars and angry confrontations—of his parents trying to help his aunt and uncle, his mother bringing casseroles, his father wanting to hand out fliers, and all their efforts being rebuffed.

      “In his anguish over Robbie,” he continued, “Uncle Terrence took everything Dad had written in the opposite way to what he’d intended—as a further indictment of my uncle’s choices, his marriage, and the way he was raising his kids. I can understand my father’s message. The thousands of letters he’s received over the years from around the world attest to its value. I’m proud of him and what he achieved, but my uncle and his family did suffer because of that book.”

      “We all did,” Eric Logan said. “Word got around. I’ve seen copies of both books with the fictional names Uncle Lawrence gave us footnoted by hand with our real names. Our friends’ parents passed the book around the way people used to with dirty magazines in high school.”

      Bridget picked up the story, while Jillian stayed significantly silent, Jake noted. He had the impression she’d reached her personal comfort threshold and was ready to leave the emotional revelations to others. “Kids would ask us if he beat us,” Bridget said, “and what was wrong with our mom, and why didn’t they just get a divorce, and was my dad the worst father in the world, if it said so in a book that millions of people had read.”

      Eric put his arm around his sister. “People willfully took the book’s message in the wrong way, when it referred to our family. A lot of people were very happy for us to prove single-handed that money can’t buy happiness. I heard whisperings that Robbie hadn’t been kidnapped at all, that he was buried in our basement and our parents had put him there.”

      Nancy clicked her tongue in distress and she and Robbie held each other more tightly.

      “I was the youngest, which spared me the worst treatment,” Bridget said, “but as I grew older I could understand why Dad was angry.”

      “And yet we’ve all lost out, over the years,” Jillian came in. Her tone edged toward clinical. “I think people always do, when there’s that level of family conflict. I want to heal the rift—in this generation, and hopefully even between our parents. Over coffee at the conference, I convinced Jake to come back to Portland. This potluck supper is our first attempt at reconciliation.”

      “I’m glad it’s happening,” said Scott. “I’m glad to be a part of it. Jillian and Jake, thanks.” He put his hands together and began to applaud, and soon everyone had joined in.

      “Your parents aren’t here,” Stacey said beside Jake, when the applause died. The story had drawn her in. He could see the troubled emotion in her face. Because she’d never felt close to her own parents or her sister? Jake wondered. He knew they’d СКАЧАТЬ