by Nicole James
“You one of Betsy’s boys?”
Max cocked his head to the side, frowning. “You knew my mother?”
“Yup. Knew both your parents. Used to come in our store all the time.”
“Your store?”
“My husband ran Larsen’s Hardware. I’m Ingrid Larsen.”
Max leaned forward and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Larsen.”
She looked over to Ben’s house. “I keep an eye on the boy. Saw the pizza delivery. Take it you fed him.”
“Yes ma’am. There’s hardly any food in the place. He said his ma was gone and his dad was at the bar. What’s the story on the kid?”
“His mother died a couple years ago. The father’s been a drunk ever since. Lives off some bogus disability claim and whatever he gets from social security for Ben.”
“So he drinks away most of it?”
“That’d be my guess.”
“Jesus Christ,” Max murmured half under his breath.
“I try to make sure he eats. Share what I can. I had some soup on the stove. I was going to ask him to come over and have some. You want a bowl?”
Max wasn’t hungry, but he thought the woman might be a source of more information on Ben, so he accepted. “If you don’t mind sharing, sure.”
She was slow getting up out of the chair that rocked as she stood. She wore a faded floral housedress with a full smock apron over it, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun.
He followed her inside, the aroma of something delicious cooking on the stove wafted through the house to him. The front door opened into a small living room. The furniture was old and had seen better days, but the place was clean and tidy. She led him through to the kitchen in the back.
“Sit down, Maxwell.” She indicated a mint green, chrome and Formica dinette set straight out of the 1950’s. He took a seat while she moved to the stove and began ladling up two bowls of soup.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“No, dear. I’ve got it.” She carried over a steaming bowl and set it before him, placing a spoon down next to it. Then she set a plate with some rolls in the center of the table and returned for another trip with her own bowl. She sat across from him.
“It smells delicious, ma’am. Thank you.”
“It’s homemade turkey noodle.”
He spooned a helping and tasted it. It was wonderful. “Mmm. This is great.”
“Thank you. The boy likes it.”
“Do you feed him often?”
“Most nights.”
Now that they were in the light, he got a look at her face. She must have been a beautiful woman in her youth. Her eyes were a pretty blue, and her silver hair still held a few wisps of blonde around her face.
“So you owned the old hardware store, the one on Main Street?”
She nodded. “Forty-seven years.”
“I remember it, vaguely. You had some die cast metal cars on a shelf in the front, right?”
She smiled at his recollection. “By the cash register. Some of the young boys in town collected them.”
He nodded. “I was too old, but I remember Liam and Rory being into those.”
“Your father used to bring them in with him when he needed something.”
Max stared into his bowl. “That was a long time ago.”
Her wrinkled hand moved across the table and covered his. “I’m sorry about the accident.”
He looked up and saw only sincerity in her eyes. No pity. He used to hate when the town folk would look at them with pity. “Thank you.”
Her hand slid away, and they both went back to silently eating. She tore a roll in half and dunked it in her bowl.
Max wondered if this was what her dinners usually consisted of—some soup and bread. He paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “How long has the store been closed now?”
“Going on eleven years. Just after my Gunderson passed away.”
“So you’re a widow?”
She nodded.
“No children?”
She shook her head, a trace of sadness in her eyes. “We weren’t blessed with children.”
“And now you have Ben to look after.”
Her face brightened a little. “Yes. Now I have little Ben, and he has me.”
“I’m glad he has you. He needs someone.”
“What he needs is a good man to look up to. One to set an example.” She set her spoon down and looked him dead in the eye. “Are you that man, Maxwell O’Rourke?”
Max dropped his eyes to his bowl, moving his spoon in a slow circle in the soup, considering her question. “I don’t know if I’m anyone’s good example, but I want to help the boy. He needs looking after.”
“That he does.”
“You remember me from back then, all the trouble I got into?”
“I remember. I also remember who turned you around.”
Max glanced up into her knowing eyes. “Pops.”
She nodded. “Pops. Maybe you can be for that boy what Pops was for you.”
He looked away, his eyes stopping on the slow drip coming from the old faucet as he remembered how his life had changed the day Pops had taken him under his wing. Could he be that for this boy?
He’d been yearning for something more fulfilling for a while now. Although he loved tattooing, and knew it could be healing for so many clients to have their grief expressed in a visible way, he felt there was room in his life for more. Brothers Ink would always be his work. It was the family business, but he enjoyed the time he spent at the gym teaching the young kids. Perhaps helping Ben wouldn’t be such a hardship.
He looked back at Mrs. Larsen. “I’ll help him any way I can. I’m at the gym on Monday nights to teach a class, and sometimes I’m up there to close up the place. I told Ben he’s welcome anytime. I kind of made him my assistant for the class. Hoped it would get him off the street. He’s been hanging around outside with his nose pressed to the glass. Every time I tried to talk to him, he’d run off. Tonight was the first time I was able to coax him inside. Had him helping out a little. Told him he could be my assistant from now on.”
“Good. The boy needs a place to go.”
“I gave him my card and phone number. Told him he could call me if he needed anything.” Max reached into his wallet for another one. He slid it across the table to her. “I want you to have it, too. You or the boy need anything, just call.”
She nodded.
“I guess I should be going.” He stood and carried his bowl to the sink. “Thank you for the soup.”
“You’re welcome. It was nice to have the company.”
He hesitated. “Mrs. Larsen, I don’t know how to say this without sounding…”
When his voice trailed off, she prodded, “Just say whatever’s on your mind.”
“You’re on a fixed income. Things must be tight, yet you share what you have with the boy.” He nodded to the table. “And with me just now. Would you let me help you out with a little grocery money, so you can continue making sure the boy eats?”
She gathered her bowl and carried it to the sink. Setting it in the basin her hands clenched on the rim as she considered his offer.
Max studied her stooped back and boney hands, hoping he hadn’t offended her.
“I should refuse. But I can’t let my pride stand in the way of that poor boy getting enough food to eat.” She turned to face him. “So, I’ll take you up on your offer and thank you for it.”
Max nodded, a smile bursting on his face with his relief. He reached for his wallet and pulled out three twenties, holding them out to her. “I’ll stop by with more every week.”
She reached up and took them, tucking the bills in her apron pocket.
He turned and headed toward the front door, and she followed behind him. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned. “Thanks again for sharing your meal with me. I’m glad we got a chance to talk. Take care.”
“You, too.”
“You’ve got my number n
ow. Think you could give me a call tomorrow night, just to let me know Ben’s okay?”
She nodded. “I will. I promise.”
“Well, goodnight, then.”
He moved out the door, pausing on the porch, his eyes moving to Ben’s house. The place was quiet, so he stepped off and headed up the street.
At the corner he glanced back, wondering if Ben’s dad had shown up when suddenly he sensed movements in the darkness toward Main Street. It was a man approaching. Max pulled out his phone and pretended to take a call as he stood and watched. The guy walked right past him, barely glancing up, but it was enough for Max to get a good look at him and smell the alcohol on his breath. The man moved down the street and up to Ben’s house. He swayed slightly on his feet as he unlocked the door.
When he disappeared inside, Max moved closer, trying to listen for any yelling. When he heard none, he flipped his hood up and headed home, the man’s face embedded in his memory, filed away in case Max ever had to drag the bum out of Otto’s some night.
Max walked the four blocks back to Pops where he’d left his truck parked. As he approached, he glanced up the street toward Main. In his concern for Ben, and getting him home safe, he’d forgotten to check for a note from Malee.
He got in his truck and drove the few short blocks. Pulling to the curb of the side street, near the back alley that led to Thai Garden, he put the vehicle in park. Leaving the engine idling, he got out and jogged up the alley. All was quiet as he moved to the pipe to look for a note. He spotted a piece of notebook paper that had been folded up into a little square. He pulled it out and jogged back to his truck, climbed in, and sat in the warmth, his cold fingers unfolding the paper. He flipped on the overhead light and read it.
Dear Max,
I missed you today. But something wonderful happened. My favorite aunt came to visit and has rented an apartment across the street from your shop. It’s above the empty storefront next to the coffee shop.
Tomorrow I am going over there to help her unpack. Perhaps I’ll catch a glimpse of you out the window.
I miss you.
Malee
Max grinned. She missed him. That thought had a feeling like warm honey spreading through him. He leaned and dug through the glove box, coming up with a pen and pad of paper that he’d stashed in there for just this occasion. He quickly jotted down a response, tore the sheet off, folded it, and jumped out of the truck. Jogging back up the alley, he hid the note before driving home, happy for the chance to maybe see her tomorrow.
Chapter Thirteen
Malee slipped out of bed at the crack of dawn to check to see if her note was still there. She tiptoed across the kitchen, and opened the door to the stairs slowly, cringing at every creak it made. Then she dashed barefoot down the wooden stairs. The restaurant and kitchen were dark, with only the glowing exit sign over the back door to light her way. She unlocked the bolt, opened the door that led to the alley, and peered outside, her eyes landing on the pipe. Her note was gone, and in its place was a folded piece of tan paper. She leaned out the door, her arm stretching until her fingers nabbed the note. She quietly closed the door and flipped the light switch for the bulb in the stairwell. She sat with her butt perched on the wooden step, her bare feet on the linoleum, and unfolded the paper. Smoothing it out lovingly, her eyes took in his scrawling handwriting, a script she was coming to love.
Any glimpse of you, I’ll take, so I’ll be watching for you.
I miss you, too, baby.
So much.
I’m happy your favorite aunt has come to visit, but I’m not sure how this is a good thing for us. Will she be just another set of eyes watching your every move like a hawk?
Something happened to me tonight, too. I found a young boy hanging around the gym. I’ve seen him before, but he never comes inside. He always runs off. Tonight his curiosity finally drew him inside. I think I made a connection. This kid really needs help, and it makes me feel good to think that maybe I can help him.
I’ll try to catch a glimpse of you when you’re at your aunt’s new place. Wave if you see me standing at the window. I won’t wave back, because I don’t want your aunt to see, but know in my heart, I’m waving back. Maybe we can have a signal. I’ll pull on my ear to let you know how much I miss you.
And lady, knowing you might be right across the street will mess with my concentration tomorrow! I know I’ll keep going to the window and checking to see if you’re there.
I’ll wait for you at the gym tomorrow night…if you can make it.
Max
Malee read the note twice. He’d called her baby. She smiled, her heart soaring. He missed her, too! And he was just as excited to tell her about his day as she had been to tell him about hers. She couldn’t wait until it was time to go to Aunt Tan’s apartment. She’d get to see him today. She was as excited as if it were Christmas morning.
***
At noon, Malee was waiting with Aunt Tan as the movers carried up the last of her Aunt’s things. The apartment was furnished, but she’d shipped a dozen boxes and several smaller pieces like artwork, a hand-carved teak hope chest, an oriental rug, and a carved four-panel dressing screen.
The apartment itself was quite lovely, with gleaming polished floors, fresh paint, and an updated kitchen and bathroom. But perhaps Malee’s favorite feature was the big bay window that protruded out the front of the living room, giving a wonderful view of the street and the mountains in the distance.
While her aunt was settling up with the movers and signing their paperwork, Malee moved to the window to look across the street to Max’s shop. There were three motorcycles parked in the spaces in front. The blue neon sign read, Brothers Ink. Max wasn’t at the window, but she could see him sitting on a stool, bent over the arm of a man sitting in one of the tattoo chairs. He looked intent on his craft. She admired what he did, being able to create something so beautiful, using skin for his canvas. It fascinated her. As if he felt her eyes, he glanced toward the window. A moment later, he said something to his customer, set his tattoo machine down, and stood. He approached the plate glass, and suddenly he was looking right at her.
She lifted her hand in a small wave.
A big grin spread across his face, and he tugged on his ear.
She couldn’t help the answering smile as her face glowed with happiness, and she returned the gesture.
The apartment door closed, and her aunt called her name. She turned her head, then looked back at Max and gave another tiny wave before retreating from the window.
***
Max stood in the shop window, the soaring happiness at just seeing her, at knowing she was just across the street, moved through his system like a shot of adrenaline. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if her aunt would be a help or a hindrance to their budding relationship.
He moved back to his client and took up his tattoo machine. It buzzed as he clicked it on.
***
Two hours later, Malee and her aunt had her clothes hung in the closet and her dishes unpacked and stored in the kitchen cabinets. They’d just unpacked a tea set.
Aunt Tan signed, How about some tea, dear?
Malee nodded, and her aunt pointed to a small wooden box.
There’s tea in there. Could you make us some?
“Of course,” Malee said. “Go sit down and rest, I’ll bring it out.”
Aunt Tan moved slowly toward the couch, and Malee could see her age was starting to catch up with her. No matter how vibrant her aunt was, there was no stopping the aging process. Malee noticed, for the first time, that her aunt was much frailer than she’d realized. She turned back and began preparing them both some tea.
A few minutes later, she carried it in on a tray to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table.
Her aunt patted the couch cushion next to her, and Malee sat while Aunt Tan poured the tea like a queen holding court. After they each drank a cup, Aunt Tan set her cup down and signed, So, what have yo
u been up to Malee? Tell me everything.
Malee set her cup down and shrugged. “I work in the restaurant. I read. I’ve been doing a little drawing.”
How wonderful. You have to show me some of your drawings.
“I’ll bring them next time I visit.”
Her aunt nodded. What else is going on in your young life? Is there a boy?
Malee bit her lip, and her aunt pressed her.
There is! You must tell me everything, dear. Is he handsome?
Malee couldn’t stop the smile that burst across her face as she nodded.
Well, come now; tell me about him.
“He’s very kind to me. He’s even trying to learn sign, just for me.”
He must really like you, dear.
“I think so.”
Where did you meet him?
“I delivered food to his business. I’m not supposed to, but I snuck it out.”
Why on earth can’t you make a delivery?
“Father doesn’t want me to. He doesn’t want me to leave the restaurant.”
Why not? Are you afraid?
She shook her head. “No! I’m not afraid. I want more freedom. I long for it. But Papa is so protective of me.”
I see. Perhaps we can do something about that. Perhaps I could help.
“Will you talk to him about it?”
I have an even better idea. I’ll ask him if you can stay here with me a few nights a week.
Malee’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”
If you would like that, I could tell him I need someone to help me. Someone so I won’t be alone so much. Would you like to stay here with me? I have an extra bedroom. I would love to have you.
“I would love that, Aunt Tan!”
Good. It’s settled then.
“But what about Papa?”
I’ll handle him. Don’t worry, dear. Now, tell me more about this boy. Has he met your father yet? Malee flushed and looked down, plucking at the hem of her shirt. Her aunt reached over and tilted her chin up to see the sadness in her eyes. What is it, dear? Why are you sad? Doesn’t the boy want to meet your family?
