Broken Things (Faded Photograph Series)

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “The guy talks nonstop,” Steve added. “But he’s all right.”

  “Hmm…” Jack allowed his gaze to roam the backyard. Near a volley ball net, he spotted Logan and his girlfriend sitting on the grass, eating their lunch. Steve and Nora’s three kids surrounded them. Allie sat a ways away in a lawn chair with her new-found friend practically fastened to her side.

  Good. Jack forked some potato salad into his mouth. At least she’s keeping her distance from me.

  Except he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. After he’d parked his SUV in front of Steve’s house, he’d noticed Allie’s car so he knew she’d come to the picnic today…just as he presumed. But she’d managed to stay out of his way, helping Nora in the kitchen and keeping that blubbering neighbor occupied.

  “Steve, call those two over here to socialize with us,” Nora said. “I feel sorry for Allie. Paul isn’t her responsibility.”

  “Allie’s a big girl,” Jack replied. “She can hold her own.”

  Nora shook her head. “She’s trying to be polite.”

  “Hey, Paul and Allie,” Steve bellowed, causing Jack to scowl, “why don’t you to join us? And Logan and Marilee,” he added, swinging around on the bench, “hey, kids! We’re requesting your presence over here.”

  As the group assembled, Jack was forced to move over and make room for his seventeen-year-old niece, Veronica, and his nephew, Ricky, who insisted he be called “Rick” now that he was thirteen. Jack’s youngest niece, Rachel, plastered herself against his back and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Rachel, your uncle is trying to eat,” Nora reprimanded.

  “She’s okay,” Jack muttered.

  “Yeah, Uncle Jack doesn’t mind if I try to choke him while he’s eating.” The girl giggled into his neck.

  Jack grinned, before glancing over his shoulder where, just inches away Rachel’s pointy, little chin was digging into his shoulder. For whatever reason, Rachel adored him. Even as an infant, she would always want “uppy” from her Uncle Jack and then she’d snuggle into his arms when he granted her request. As she grew, she developed a plucky little personality that Jack found amusing, and he had to admit, he adored Rachel right back.

  “When are you coming to my school to talk about being a policeman?”

  “I already came to your school.” Jack finished his bratwurst.

  “But my class forgot what you said.”

  “They did?” Turing his head, Jack eyed his young niece. “I’m wounded.”

  Rachel rolled her blue-green eyes. “Not me, Uncle Jack. My class.”

  “Oh, well, that’s different.” He looked over at Steve and grinned before reaching over his shoulder and lovingly tweaking Rachel’s nose. “Okay, tell you what…have your teacher call the station and ask for me. I’ll see what I can work out.”

  “Yes!” Rachel’s anaconda hold around Jack’s neck tightened.

  “Well, don’t come to my school,” Veronica grumbled. “I wish my friends didn’t know that my uncle is a cop.”

  “Oh? Got something to hide?”

  “No.” Ronnie flicked several strands of her long brown hair over her slender shoulder. “It’s just that everywhere I go it seems like the Oakland Park cops are watching me. I can’t even have fun at a football game without one of the officers coming up to me and saying, ‘Hey, aren’t you Sergeant Callahan’s niece?’ And then there’s the fact that my cousin is my youth pastor. I can’t even go to church in peace.” The young lady exhaled an indignant sigh. “I’m sick of it.”

  “Well, what’s your idea of fun and peace?” Jack enjoyed goading her.

  Veronica clicked her tongue. “Nothing illegal or immoral, if that’s what you’re implying. I’m a Christian and so are my friends.”

  “So? Just because you’re a Christian doesn’t mean anything.”

  Veronica rewarded Jack with a look of disgust.

  “You know, I always felt kind of important when I was in high school.” Logan made himself comfy in a nearby lawn chair. His girlfriend sat in the chair beside him. “All the cops knew who I was and it had its perks.” He grinned. “I used to get rides home in a squad car after football games and the other kids had to walk.”

  “Big deal.” Veronica rolled her eyes. “I think it’s…well, an invasion of our privacy to have the cops watching my friends and me just because I’m your niece.” She sent Jack a pointed stare.

  He gave her a wink. “I feel real sorry for you.”

  Veronica snorted. “Sure you do.”

  “Hey, I’ll have you know I pay a lot of taxes to have the cops keep an eye on you,” Steve told his daughter.

  With another exasperated sigh, Veronica got up and left the picnic table. Entering the house, she slammed the back door behind her.

  “She’s gone crazy,” Steve apologized as he looked at Jack.

  “Don’t worry. Logan was just as crazy when he was seventeen.” Jack glanced at his son. “We used to argue all the time.”

  Logan groaned and shook his head. “We sure did. Guess I wasn’t the model teenager.”

  Suddenly those years flashed before his eyes. “Aw, you were a pretty good kid, considering the fact I wasn’t around much and…well, there was a lot going on.”

  “True enough,” Logan replied.

  Jack picked at the pears in his red Jell-O, aware that Allie was now sitting close by and listening to him interact with his family members. Talk about an “invasion of privacy”!

  “My wife and I never had kids,” Paul offered. “She couldn’t conceive for whatever reason. We talked about adopting children, but nothing ever came of it. After a while, Jeannie was content with just taking care of me.” He chuckled. “Guess I’m big kid.”

  His back to the large man, Jack sent a gaze upward just as Rachel reached over and helped herself to several of his potato chips. She crunched on them in his ear and earned a look of reproof from her mother. Jack grinned.

  “Say, Allie,” Paul said, “do you think you’d go out with me? I haven’t had a date in thirty years, but I think I still remember what to do.”

  “Oh, well, um…” A wave of shock washed over her lovely features.

  Jack grimaced, and in that moment he didn’t know which of the two he pitied the most. But after a moment’s deliberation, questions came to mind. How could she go out with him? Wasn’t Allie married?

  “I’ll have to check my schedule,” she replied.

  Apparently not. Jack’s curiosity piqued, but he didn’t entertain it. Allie wasn’t any concern of his.

  “Paul, Allie’s here on business,” Steve interjected, obviously trying to dissuade the guy, “so she’s really, really busy.”

  “I understand,” the neighbor replied, although Steve’s remark didn’t put him off in the least. “What about tomorrow night, Allie? Do you like bowling? Square dancing? We could go square dancing on Friday night.”

  Jack let go of a hearty laugh at the thought of the whale of a man square dancing. And if he remembered correctly, Allie had little to no coordination in that area. The idea of the two together on a dance floor was hilarious!

  Pealing Rachel’s arms from around his neck, he turned on the bench and set the girl down beside him. “Hey, Allie, when’s the last time you went square dancing?”

  She seemed to search her memory for the answer. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “Gym class my senior year in high school?” She chuckled under her breath. “I think I flunked.”

  Jack laughed once more. “I think you did too.”

  Allie’s blue eyes expressed her surprise that he’d remembered, and Jack lowered his gaze. Chagrin rose inside of him. Those words had flown right out of his mouth. The worst part was, he knew Logan sat nearby taking in the entire scene. No doubt it would fuel his son’s curiosity.

  Jack cursed inwardly, rubbing his jaw. He wished Allie would go back to California and stay there.

  “Oh, I love to square dance,” Paul said, oblivious to the sudden undercu
rrent. “Course, I haven’t done it in years. But Jeannie and I used to go every other Friday night and we were members of the American Square Dancing Association. I headed up the local chapter here in Illinois for a while.”

  “Well, isn’t that something.” Jack did his best to recover and sound interested. Then he flicked another gaze at Allie again in spite of himself.

  * * *

  Trying to imagine Paul square dancing, Allie had to smile. The man reminded her of the late comedian, John Candy, and there was something very loveable about him. Perhaps it was the fact that he seemed like such a helpless creature since his wife died. Even so, Allie knew she couldn’t go out with him. She’d made a promise to herself―and God―shortly after Erich died that she would never date for dating’s sake. She would only accept a man’s invitation to dinner, the theater, and so forth, if she felt the Lord’s prompting. He had prompted in the past, although no meaningful relationships had become of it. But other blessings had. Allie always figured a woman couldn’t ever have too many friends.

  Ironically enough, that had once been Jack’s philosophy too. He hadn’t believed in casually dating. To this day, she could recall him sitting at the counter in that rundown café in downtown Chicago, telling her all about the Lord…

  Allie lifted her gaze and discovered the very object of her thoughts watching her. What he was thinking? Did he even suspect that his remark about her gym class had thrown her? It had, but it also gave her a semblance of hope that Jack Callahan wasn’t as coldhearted as he’d like her to believe.

  Doubt suddenly filled Allie and she forced herself to look at anything but Jack. Her plastic lunch plate sufficed. Not coldhearted―she once thought the same of Erich too, before they were married.

  Jack turned his attention to the recent widower. “So, Paul…tell me about this American Square Dancing Society.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I never knew such an organization existed.”

  “The ASDS? Oh, sure. It’s been around forever. Well, not really forever. Since 1936…”

  As Paul began to recite the story of the club’s inception, Allie smoothed her denim skirt over her knees. A heartbeat later, Nora caught her attention, pointed toward the house, and motioned for Allie to follow her.

  Standing, Allie tried to be discreet in her exit. When she deemed her move a success, she quickened her pace.

  Nora held the patio door open for her. “You poor thing.”

  Allie frowned. “Who, me?”

  “Yes, you―putting up with both Jack and Paul. I wouldn’t be surprised if you never speak to me again.”

  “Don’t be silly. Everything’s fine.” Emotion knotted in her chest. What a fib!

  Chapter Eight

  Cynthia screamed as the male attendant lifted her by the hair into a sitting position. She swore at him, and he swore right back, calling her every name imaginable. Then he whacked her across the face with the urine-saturated pad that he had been summoned to change.

  With shaking fingers, she wiped the sickening moisture from her cheek. “I’m filing a complaint!” she yelled into the dark-skinned face, looming above her. “I’m not afraid of you or anybody else.” She inhaled, an act that took great effort. “Someone is going to hear about this!”

  “You wanna complain?” A threat loomed in his tone. “Sure, go ahead, and you can just stay the way you are until tomorrow morning when Administration gets in. How’s that?”

  With a jolt of her hair, he pushed her back into the bed, sending knife-piercing pain through Cynthia’s neck and down her spine. “You can’t leave me like this, you moron!”

  The words, however, were lost on the attendant who stalked out of the room. But he left the door wide open, and Cynthia could hear strains of a familiar television show. She heard laughter, no doubt from the nurses, who idled their shift away. They hated to be bothered. She’d learned that much.

  More laughter from beyond her dank room, and Cynthia overheard her assailant telling his coworkers how he was going to “tame that crazy old lady in Room 8.”

  She fought back a tear. Wasn’t there a single, compassionate soul in this entire unit?

  Lying in the open air, cold and exposed, Cynthia questioned why she wasn’t dead yet. The doctors had said she “didn’t have long” and her health had deteriorated to a point where her daughters couldn’t―no, make that wouldn’t―care for her anymore.

  “Curse them, those wretched girls.” Cynthia gritted her teeth and stared at the water-stained ceiling. “Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!”

  * * *

  Allie finished cutting up a fat, juicy watermelon and set its pieces onto a large, red plastic platter.

  “Oh, that’s great, Allie,” Nora said. “I’ll take the melon outside along with this pan of brownies.”

  “Save some for me. I’ll be out as soon as I wash my hands.”

  With a broad smile, Nora lifted the platter. “You got it.”

  Walking the short distance to the sink, Allie turned on the water, pumped a squirt of soap into her palms, and make quick work of the task. She reached for the apple-printed dishtowel, dried off her hands, and hung it back up. As she stepped around the corner, she met Jack on his way in.

  “Beware, Paul’s still out there,” He opened the fridge, blocking her path.

  “Oh, Paul doesn’t bother me. He’s harmless.”

  “Not if he takes you out on the dance floor.” Chuckling, Jack shut the refrigerator door, a cola in his hand.

  He popped the tab on the can, while Allie stood but an arm’s length away. A myriad of emotions coursed through her.

  “How’d you get that scar on your cheek?” He took a swig.

  “Oh, um…” Surprised that he noticed, she resisted the urge to bring her hand up and hide the mar. Truth to tell, she’d expected someone to ask about it. It was inevitable. When people began to get acquainted, they became curious. Even so, she'd assumed it would be Nora to inquire, not Jack.

  Lifting her chin, she chose to be as direct as he. “My husband purposely flayed my cheek.”

  Now it was his turn at surprise. His brown eyes widened and he held the cola in his mouth before swallowing it down with a gulp. “Nice guy Did you divorce him?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Interest and….and something else entered Jack’s dark gaze. “Did you have him arrested then?”

  Allie shook her head. Knowing that God was answering one of her most heartfelt prayers humbled her. This is what she had come here for! Oh, Lord, please keep everyone out of the kitchen so I can tell Jack what You’ve done for me…

  She wetted her lips. “I didn’t do anything. Erich threatened to take my son away from me if I told authorities or divorced him.” At last, she fingered her scar. “But God used this incident to protect me over the years that followed. I think it frightened Erich to know he was capable of such a violent act, and he never touched me again.” She smiled. She’d given this testimony many times in the past years. Nothing new. “Meanwhile, the Lord got a hold of my heart and I began to attend church, read my Bible, and grow as a Christian.”

  Jack narrowed his gaze, as if deciphering the information.

  “When I left here, I wasn’t a solid believer and I was an emotional wreck. But I finished college and got a good job. I met and married Erich because he was charming and his family had a lot of money. Money meant security to me. I never even thought to ask about Erich’s religious background. By then, I had put God in a box like—” She searched her mind for the right analogy. “—like you might pack away textbooks you never thought you’d use again. It was only when the physical abuse started that I―”

  “Hey, Allie, you coming out?”

  Hearing Nora’s voice, she glanced toward the patio doors. “I’ll be right there.” She looked back at Jack. “I’m so glad I had the chance to share this with you.” She reached out and gave his wrist an affectionate squeeze.

  He stiffened beneath her touch.

  Pullin
g her hand away, Allie stepped around him and walked out of the kitchen. Jack’s reaction was his business. For herself, she felt suddenly unfettered and free, and she knew at once that she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do.

  Now her prayer was that God would use her words to reach Jack’s heart.

  * * *

  Jack stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding his can of cola and feeling like he’d just been in a fistfight―and lost.

  So Allie didn’t have it so good either. He would have never guessed. She seemed so perfect, her life so together. Up until this very moment, he’d hated her for it.

  He forced himself to inhale and exhale in regular intervals, realizing he’d been holding his breath. Allie at the hand of an abusive spouse? Jack shook the chilling image out of his head. He’d seen enough domestic violence cases in his career to know the particulars. They weren’t pretty.

  He took a long drink of cola. His brief conversation with Allie made him want to know more. Where was this dude she’d married? Didn’t sound like she loved him. Why was that comforting?

  Maybe because he’d never loved his ex-wife either. But he had tried.

  Jack squeezed his eyes shut against the ocean of memories flooding his being. God knows I tried.

  * * *

  Hours later, with his hands on the steering wheel of his Mercury Sable, Logan turned onto Waukegan Road and headed for Schaumburg. The drive took about thirty-five minutes from Oakland Park to the townhouse that Marilee and two other teachers shared.

  Darkness shrouded his vehicle except for the intermittent glow of the streetlight. A cool autumn breeze blew in from off the lake. But as he picked up speed, both he and Marilee closed their windows.

  “I had a nice time today.” Marilee’s sweet voice wafted to his ears above the music coming from radio.

  Reaching for the dash, Logan turned down the volume so he could hear her better. “Yeah, I had a good time too.” He smiled, but didn’t take his eyes off the road.

  “I had the chance to speak with your dad this evening. I…” She hesitated. “I like him. I don’t feel so intimidated by him anymore.”