“Andrew, give me the gun,” I said, shadowing him as he moved around the table, advancing to where Father stood, but it was like I was talking to a rock. He couldn't hear or see me. Couldn't hear or see anything but Father.
“You're such a tyrant. Everything always has to go your way, and now that I'm older, I realize how stupid I've been, letting you dictate my life. I was too much of a wimp to let you know that we loved each other and she was carrying my baby. Mine, you dirty old man.”
“Andrew,” I said, more firmly this time. “Hand me the damn gun. Now. Don't do something you'll regret later.”
Father was unperturbed by the pistol, dragging his eyes from him to Helen for a few minutes. I couldn't practically imagine the wheels in his mind turning into place as he finally understood. But
