Uninvited

Chapter Two

"Stay here," Tom whispered sternly as he looked around the room for something to use as a weapon.  His heart pounded in his ears as blood surged hot through his body.

"There."  Leah pointed to a heavy silver candlestick on the dresser.  He grabbed it, dropping the candle on the floor and slowly opened the door just enough to slip out, mouthing "call the police" before the darkness of the windowless hallway enveloped him completely.  

Tom crept down the corridor, his back to the wall, trying as hard as he could to be completely silent.  From the living room came another thud and a muttered curse.  It took every ounce of bravery in Tom's body to keep him moving forward.  He was by no means a muscular man and as such preferred the use of words and reason to force but he knew there were some things he couldn't talk his way out of.  

Around the corner, the familiar squeak of Tom's old armchair gave away the intruder's location.  He was sitting in the corner of the room, facing the fireplace.  Why would a criminal break into someone's home and sit down?  Tom's analytical mind could barely stand the curiosity as he inched close enough to peer around the corner into the living room.  

The dim early evening sun barely shone enough light through the window to illuminate the corner where his chair was positioned, but when Tom looked he saw the figure of a man sitting in it.  His father had given him that chair after he graduated high school, when Tom told the old man that he intended to pursue a career in writing, following in his footsteps.  "One thing every writer needs is a good chair," his father had said, his pride evident for the first time Tom could recall.

He watched as the man rested his head on the back of the chair and exhaled sharply.  He seemed almost comfortable and Tom foolishly wondered how often this person had broken into his home.

"Relax," the intruder said suddenly turning towards Tom, but he made no attempt to hide for the voice, though gruffer than he remembered,  was one he knew all too well.  

"Adam."

Tom entered the room and flipped on the lights.  Adam rose and they faced each other for the first time in over ten years.

"You still have your chair," Adam said.

"What are you doing here?" 

"Now, is that any way to greet your brother?"

"It is when he breaks into my house."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't know what else to do.  I didn't see any lights on and the window was unlocked.  Very irresponsible, Tom.  What would mother say?"

Inwardly, Tom flinched, but tried not to show Adam any emotion other than anger.

"You could have knocked."

"And risk you slamming the door in my face?  I'm smarter than that.  I figured if i was already in it would be easier to let me stay."

Adam smiled his luminous smile, the one he relied on to get him out of the trouble he had been inclined to get into in his youth.  The smile that somehow made sense of nonsense,  Charm, wit and good looks were the gifts he was given at birth and he used them to get what he wanted, and he always got what he wanted.  Tom, though, was immune to his charisma because he knew him too well.  

"Tom?"

Both men looked to see Leah, wrapped tightly in her bathrobe, a firm grip on the candlestick holder that matched the one in Tom's hand.  Seeing it made him realize he was still clutching his, ready to swing.  Just because this man was his brother didn't mean he wouldn't need a weapon.  However, he wanted to ease Leah's mind, so he dropped it onto the sofa on his way to her side.