Wayward Son (Jensen Family #3) (3 page)

“What’s going on?” She asked.

Tearing his eyes from the ceiling as the noise continued, Paul uncrossed
his arms and held them out to her, only speaking when he was holding her. “My
best guess is that Gavin is tras
hing his room.”

“Why? What happened?”

“
Counselling and a subsequent
very drawn out argument between us.”

Pushing away from her husband, she eyed him carefully, trying to gauge
his mood. “Paul, you didn’t do your usual brutal honesty delivered in your
,
I wi
ll not
listen to anything else you have to say tone did you?”

“No.” He huffed. “But I could have handled it better.”

“Oh dear.”

By this time the noise above them had stopped. “He’s of the opinion that
his mother was perfect and I was the direct cause of an
y unhappiness she suffered. He won’t accept that we both made mistakes
and he certainly doesn’t like it when I own up to my part, I mean God forbid I
try to take the blame for the things he’s accusing me of. That really riles him
up.”

“You have to remember
he’s just lost her.
Everything is new to him. I certainly wouldn’t want to be in his position.”

Paul just shrugged as he pushed away from the counter. He didn’t answer
her or look back as he left the room. His footsteps climbing the stairs didn’t
give her
any hope at all for a peaceful resolution.
She knew Paul liked to push people’s buttons and was like a bull in a china
shop when confronted. Gavin was a magnified version of his father although both
we
re
far too pig
headed and stubborn to admit that.

Push
ing open the door to his sons’ room, Paul
took a moment to survey the mess before him. What struck him most was the mess
was all of Gavin’s things that he brought with him from Gloucester. None of the
things Paul had purchased and had put in the room were
damaged. It gave him a little hope. Even in his rage, Gavin had shown a
modicum of restraint.

Gavin was standing amidst the carnage, breathing heavily from the
exertion. Lost in thought. He jumped when Paul spoke. Keeping his tone light,
hiding his annoyan
ce
.
“Are you done?” He asked.

Gavin nodded curtly, no way was he apologising. He stood up straighter,
placing his hands on his hips waiting for his father to continue.

“Do you want to talk?”

What the fuck? Was his initial thought. He’d hoped to get a react
ion from his father but hadn’t counted on the one he’d just
got. “No.”

“Ok. Clear this mess up then come down for dinner.” He left no room for
argument as he turned to leave.

Over the next few months, Paul found that keeping his son occupied, even
with
relatively menial tasks had the effect of
evening out his temper although he did still have flare ups and his room would
take a battering as a result. In the public eye, Gavin was unfailingly polite
and amiable.

Paul was determined to get through to the bo
y
and absolutely refused to allow the moody teenager to affect his relationship
with his wife. He was stunned in to silence when Michael stepped into his role
as a Grandfather and struck up a good relationship with Gavin. Despite his
misgivings and his own
animosity, he allowed it to
happen. Michael would give Gavin some insight good or bad as to what life with
him is like.

Well aware that he had a formidable temper of his own, Paul kept a tight
rein on it and was successful most of the time. When Gavin’s c
ounsellor advised him that all his son really wanted to do
was return to school and find a job, Paul felt a surge of relief. This
dissipated quickly when the boys’ anger management counsellor said that she
felt Gavin was telling her what he thought she nee
ded
to hear and unless he opened up and confronted his issues, she would be unable
to help him further.

He made the mistake of calling his son instead of waiting until he got
home to address the issues the anger management counsellor had raised. Gavin’s
gr
unted responses didn’t give him much hope for a
peaceful evening. This was proven
right
when he returned home to find Suzanne sitting with her leg propped up, a
blood soaked dressing on her calf.

Dropping to his knees and taking her leg in his hands, he pe
eled away the dressing while asking what happened. His mood
did not improve when he learned that she had been the victim of a projectile
being thrown from Gavin’s room.

Scooping her into his arms, heading for the front door, he paused when
his son came dow
n the stairs. “I’m taking Suzanne to
hospital, her leg looks like it’s going to need stitches.” He barely managed to
keep a civil tone.

“I’m sorry..” Gavin started towards them but stopped when Paul growled.

“Stay where you are.”

Stroking her husband’s che
ek, Suzanne tried to
calm him
.
“It’s not his
fault Paul, it was an accident.”

He said nothing further, just strode from the house and carefully placed
her in his latest acquisition, a beautiful black Jaguar.

Standing on the staircase, both hands in his hai
r,
Gavin was filled with despair. He had lost it big time after his conversation
with Paul earlier. This time his furniture took a hit. He’d thrown the heavy
coffee table that had taken two people to carry upon its install
ation
. It had shattered against hi
s open door frame, pieces flying everywhere, himself being
the victim of a few shards. He’d heard Suzanne’s gasp from the hall but she’d
told him everything was ok and then asked him to clear up the mess before Paul
came home. For the second time now, he w
as having to
face the consequences of his actions.

He was immobile for quite some time before forcing his leaden like limbs
into action. Running to the garage, he dragged out his push bike and made his
way down the hill to the hospital. Getting back up it
was
going to be a bitch. He needed to apologise and if that also meant facing his
father’s wrath then so be it.

Paul was filling out paperwork while Suzanne sat on a gurney talking to a
nurse. Bypassing Paul, Gavin went straight to Suzanne when the nurse w
alked away.

“I’m so sorry.” He blurted. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Taking his hand, Suzanne smiled up at him. “It’s ok Gavin, I know you
didn’t do it deliberately.”

Paul turned when he heard his sons’ voice. Right now he’d happily
strangle the little
shit, he was seething but trying
to keep a lid on it. As always, his beautiful, forgiving wife was smoothing
over the situation.

“I think you should wait outside.” Was all he managed to say as he
approached.

Dropping Suzanne’s hand and feeling her grasp it
again, he faced his father. “Dad. It was an accident, I swear. I didn’t know
she was in the hall. I hate any sort of violence towards women. I would never
deliberately hurt a woman.”

Moving around his son, Paul placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “The
y want to x-ray your leg to make sure there’s nothing in
the wound then they’ll stitch you up. Sit tight. I’ll be back in a minu
te.” Turning back to his son, “c
ome on.”  He
walked away, expecting his son to follow. When he stopped at the door and
turned ba
ck to see the boy hesitating, his temper
ratcheted up a notch or two. “Gavin.”

Once outside, around the corner from where the smokers were getting their
fix, he confronted his son. “Tell me exactly what the hell happened.”

“I just lost it. I threw the tabl
e at the wall,
missed. It hit the door frame and just shattered. Pieces of it flew
everywhere.” He held out his arms to prove his words were correct as they
displayed the small gashes caused by flying bits of wood. “Of course, if she
hadn’t been hovering i
n the hallway, she wouldn’t
have got hit.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud and wasn’t
entirely surprised when Paul’s hand wrapped in the front of his shirt and he
found himself being pushed backwards. His breath whooshed from his lungs as he
was forced up against a wall.

Paul opened his mouth to speak then stopped as he realised what he’d just
done. Shit. “You aren’t going to do this to me. I won’t let you turn me in to
him.” He spoke quietly, eyes full of regret as he looked his son in the ey
e. “Go home Gavin. We’ll talk when we get back.” He
released his son’s shirt and stepped back.

“I’m sorry dad. I never meant to hurt her.”

“I know. Go home.”

Although tired and quite sore, Suzanne decided it would be best if she
refereed the conversation b
etween Paul and Gavin
later that evening. She had to hand it to the younger Jensen, he was sincerely
contrite and promised to try harder at keeping a lid on his temper. He also
agree
d
to extensive
anger management counselling which would require him stayin
g in a group home for a few weekends.

Agreeing that he thought some space would be good, Gavin hid his dismay.
He wasn’t sure separation from Paul would be a good thing. They were beginning
to communicate and although he hadn’t admitted it, he loved the ma
n. Paul had shocked him when he’d pushed him back against
the wall but he hadn’t been afraid. Even if Paul had struck him which Gavin
believed was something he would never do, he knew with pain came anger and he
would have reacted. Maybe he should focus on
working
on that.

Regardless of having to spend weekends away, things were looking up. He
had been accepted, albeit under strict guidelines, into the college of Paul’s
choice and he had a part time job at the local leisure centre. He was surprised
that he’
d gotten the job given his propensity for
violence but the manager had said she’d give him a go. He was currently having
training and loving every second of it.

He found his calmer demeanour did him lots of favours. Life at home was
becoming more settled
and he enjoyed the easy banter
Paul shared with Suzanne. He was beginning to see that the relationship between
his parents had never been as good as the one Paul shared with Suzanne and
silently vowed to keep more of an open mind the next time the subject
was raised.

The damage to his room had been repaired on one weekend when he was in
the group home and although he’d withdrawn some money from his bank account and
handed it to his father to pay for the furniture he’d smashed, he soon realised
on checking t
he balance that the money had been
returned to his account.

He’d talked about his mother extensively in his group sessions. Strange
how easy it was to open up to a group of complete strangers. It had helped but
it also served to deepen the pit inside him a
s
talking about her only made him miss her more.

Slowly, thanks to his new job, he was beginning to make friends. He found
Paul was incredibly flexible when it came to things like having friends over
and the latest time to be home. He was far more lenient
than Carmen had been. Gavin appreciated his, you have a phone, keep in
touch with me ethic and discovered if he checked in with Paul regularly, he
could more or less stay out as late as he liked.

As the start of the new school term drew nearer, there was
talk of getting Gavin a car. The college wasn’t an easy
walk from the house and the busses were notoriously unreliable. Paul had
started to look for something suitable for his son. They had finally hit common
ground and spent hours discussing cars.

“Have y
ou found anything?” Paul leant over
Gavin’s shoulder as the boy trawled through car sites on the internet.

“Not yet. I know what I want but haven’t found the right variant yet.”

Pulling up another desk chair, Paul sat beside him, watching his son
flick bet
ween websites. Clearing his throat, he slid
a cheque onto the keyboard. “Gavin, this is the money from the sale of the
house. Your mother wanted you to have it. You can spend it o
r
if
you want or I can put it in a high interest account for a rainy day.”