Nick expected his session with Norah to be less demanding than Tish and Irene’s had been, though there was quite a bit of ground to cover. In May, Trudy had “strongly suggested” that Nick move his appointments with Norah from every other week to once a month. He had acceded to his boss’s wishes, reluctantly acknowledging that most of his misgivings probably sprang from his sheer personal fondness for Norah.
It was Nick who had picked up the battered and shaken girl from the Uni-Mart all those months ago, Nick who had supported her throughout her progress to independence, and now Nick who faced “cutting the cord.” But not yet. He knew with the conviction of an experienced abuse counselor that she was not ready yet.
Twenty minutes into the session he was more convinced than ever. Norah persisted in asking when it would be “okay” for her to start dating again. Nick always fervently advised his clients to delay entering a new relationship until they had a chance to be alone for a while and develop a healthy attitude towards men—and themselves.
“Why? Got your eye on someone?” he joked cautiously.
“No, not that. It’s just that I miss….”
“Sex?” he supplied.
Norah laughed uproariously. “Oh, hell no. Gotta say, never saw what all the fuss was about there.”
“Too bad, but when you meet the right guy, you will.”
“Right.” She nodded vigorously, and Nick saw her trying to convince herself more than anything else.
Feeling the desk was too great a barrier between them for the rest of this conversation, Nick moved to the other guest chair, positioning himself directly across from Norah. “You were saying? You miss….”
“I miss the way…. I miss feeling… important, I guess.” She hastily added, “I know the way Alex treated me was wrong and he had no right to do those terrible things, but there was also the way he was so… so passionate about me. I know it got all twisted and fucked up, but… but the love….” By now Norah was staring at the hands tightly clasped in her lap. She went on in a near whisper. “It was there in the beginning….” She turned tearful eyes on Nick, finishing, “Know what I mean?”
Nick took a minute to leach all exasperation from his attitude before he answered, “Norah, don’t confuse possessiveness with a show of overpowering love.”
“I know you told me that a million times, but—”
“No!” Instantly regretting his outburst, Nick took a deep breath, making time to deliberately dial back his approach. “There are no ‘buts’ with that distinction. The two things couldn’t be further apart. The way Alex treated you—even in the beginning—was all about him. When you love someone you want them to be happy. When you need to control them, own them and order them around, it’s all about you.” He dipped his head so he could catch her eye and shoot her an encouraging smile.
“I know all that. But I can’t help wanting…. I been working so hard for so long. When does it start to pay off?”
“It already has. Give yourself some credit. You have a job. Okay, not the greatest job in the world, but they love you there and it’s just a stepping stone. You have an apartment—”
“That I gotta share with two other girls.”
“Yes, but a third of that place is all yours. You have rights and you’re not afraid to exercise them. You have a car that you’re learning how to keep running. It’s all coming together. Give yourself a little more time—time to heal and time to get to know Norah Seebold and what she really wants out of life.”
“And then what?”
“And then when the right man comes along, you’ll be ready to give and take, to build something together. When genuine love happens, you’ll know it.”
“Is that how it worked for you?”
Nick wished he hadn’t long ago decided to be completely honest with his clients and patients. A resounding “yes” would have been the capper to that little speech, but he couldn’t possibly lie to Norah’s earnest face. Instead, he evaded wryly, “Umm sure… any day now.”
LOGAN WAS mentally girding himself for his second automotive class as he parked near the garage steps; he hiked up them hoping there was to be no repeat of “storytelling time.” Hearing about Tish and Norah’s past was hard enough, but the worst part had been figuring that he was now unfairly lumped in with creeps like that Alex and Joe. He felt a brief rush of anger at Trudy… or maybe it was Linda’s doing for holding a grudge… or Marie for putting her up to it….
He was still casting about for a scapegoat when he was stopped short by the sight of the wide-open garage door. It wasn’t even two-forty-five, and there was no sign of Norah’s car, so Logan guessed it must be the owner come to check on his shop. However, when he entered the garage, he found none other than Nick Zales. He was wearing dress pants, Logan noticed, topped by a coarse weave, off-white shirt; his sleeves were rolled up, displaying muscular arms.
Nick had one hand on his hip while the other was carding through his thick brown hair as he stood staring at the red convertible. He started ever so slightly at Logan’s approach and straightened up, saying, “Oh, hey, Logan. You’re early.”
“Yeah. Where’re the girls and the car?”
“Norah’s picking Tish and Cheryl up; I had a court appearance today.” Logan cocked his head, wondering what the man had done to necessitate that. The unspoken question must have been evident, since Nick immediately clarified, “A client of mine needed to get a restraining order.”
Logan wanted that subject taken off the table immediately, so he gestured at the Thunderbird, saying, “Still thinking about that car, huh?”
“Thinking I maybe just made a huge mistake, yes.”
“A mistake. You mean… you went ahead and bought it?”
“Yep. After Dave dropped the price a bit, I took the plunge.” Nick added with a laugh, “Because apparently insanity really does run in my family.” Abruptly the smile left his face, and he cleared his throat while plainly attempting to reassemble his genial face into something sterner.
Logan wondered why the sensation of a cloud covering the sun swept over him even though they were standing inside. He shook it off, asking, “That Dave guy gonna restore it for you?”
“No, he’s still not up to coming back to work. Besides I don’t have the money for that on top of what I just spent. He threw in use of the shop as part of the deal, so I’m gonna try an’ do most of it myself.”
“You ever done anything like that?”
“Nope, but I do a lot of work on my Jeep, and I downloaded a bunch of stuff off the Internet. I figure if I take it slow, I can’t mess it up too badly. What have I got to lose? Besides six thousand dollars, that is.”
Without thinking, Logan blurted out, “I could help.”
Nick’s head jerked towards him as he answered warily, “Thanks, but… I really couldn’t afford to pay you….”
Wishing he could either take his words back or disappear right through the concrete floor, Logan mumbled, “I didn’t mean….” He let the annoyance he felt at himself creep into his voice as he said, “Look, I just like workin’ on cars, okay? I wasn’t lookin’ to make a bunch of money—”
Nick cut off Logan’s mounting anger with a raised palm. “Hey, I couldn’t let you do it for free.” Logan had no intention of repeating his offer, but Nick added uncertainly, “But I really could use your help….”
He made a quick calculation, and before he lost his nerve, Logan offered, “Let me get the parts. I can get ’em a whole lot cheaper than you could. Then, when we’re all done, you could just give me a quarter of what ya spent on parts. That way you won’t spend no more’an you were gonna, and I’ll get somethin’ for my work. How’s that sound?”
The smile came back with no attempt to hide it. “Sounds good.”
Logan tried to disguise his answering smile behind a gruff, “So when did ya wanta start?”
“I really hadn’t given it much thought. Do you have time on Saturday mornings… or afternoons?”
�
�Nope. I work most Saturdays.” Logan didn’t feel it necessary to add that he also saw his girls every other Saturday afternoon, instead suggesting, “How ’bout Sunday—that’s my other day off.”
“Yeah, sure, that’ll work fine. Can’t do it this Sunday, but… wanta get started next weekend?”
Logan gladly agreed. He had nothing better to do with his Sundays and felt an almost giddy eagerness to work on that car. No more was said about their plan since Norah’s car was heard pulling up the driveway.
With growing confidence, Logan capably executed his plan for the second class—showing the women how to examine the brake pads and the air filter and how to check the fluid levels. All three pupils were earnest in their efforts, but Tish was picking things up much quicker than the other two, so much so that Logan asked if she’d had any experience with auto repair.
“Not unless you count my brother Butch teaching me how to hotwire a car.” She immediately launched into a detailed and accurate description of the process.
Logan cut her off with the reproach, “That ain’t gonna do you much good for keepin’ your car runnin’.”
“Yeah, that’s what Nick said when he talked me into this. He went on about how I’d never really be independent ’til I could take care of my own car.”
Norah wiped the grease off her hands, saying, “He said I’d save a bunch of money and no mechanic could take advantage of me.” She turned to Logan saying, “Umm… no offense.”
Shrugging, Logan said, “None taken; there’s that kind out there for sure.” He was more surprised to learn that he wasn’t the only reluctant participant in this class. He glanced over at Nick intently typing away in the corner and wondered at the effort he’d expended just to put together this one module.
“How ’bout you?” Norah’s question was directed at Cheryl, who was gingerly replacing the dipstick. Her sweet smile appeared briefly as she answered, “Same as both of you. I was kinda scared it’d be too hard.” Warming to the subject, she added with a blush, “But Nick said he knew I could do it.”
“Oh,” Norah laughed. “He pulled the charm card on you.”
When Cheryl’s blush only deepened, Tish joined the fray. “Another one crushin’ on Nick. Get in line, honey. If that man weren’t gay, he’d get more pussy than—”
Logan missed the rest of Tish’s salty observation under the roar of blood rushing past his ears. Involuntarily, his head snapped over in Nick’s direction, and he stared in consternation at the oblivious man. What the fuck? He’s… that way? And letting everyone know—letting these girls blab it all over creation? What the hell is wrong with him?
Called back to reality by Norah asking if she should be the one to top off the car’s oil, Logan wrenched his attention back to his students. With monumental effort, he taught the rest of the class with a reasonable show of composure.
Norah had volunteered to take the other women back to ACC, leaving Logan and Nick alone to clean up. Logan barely heard Nick talking about what they should do to get started on the car, as he was wondering if he should broach the subject of Tish’s bombshell. Finally, as they were leaving, he cleared his throat and ventured, “That girl, Tish, she was saying….” The words died in his throat, so he cleared them out and tried again. “She said right out in the open that you’re….” His eyes darted back and forth between the open door and Nick’s face.
Nick’s frown seemed to indicate he had an inkling of the subject matter; his belligerent tone was confirmation. “That I’m what? Gay? So?”
Logan squinted at him and forced out, “You should be more careful ’bout that.”
“Careful?” A quick step by Nick bridged half the distance between them. “Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening? No! Fuck, I’m just saying…. A fella can get…. Some folks out there would hurt a guy bad. Even just thinkin’ he was… like you.” Logan closed his eyes briefly to find, burning there, an image of a bloodied body lying on a floor very much like the one he stood on. He hurriedly opened them, noting that Nick’s frown was now more puzzled than pissed. Needing to fill the yawning chasm he’d cleaved between the two of them, Logan added, “It happened… a while back in Elco.”
Nick took a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, it happens. But Pittsburgh ain’t Elco, and I can take care of myself. Been doing it a long, long time.”
Unconvinced but out of ammunition, Logan surrendered the battle. “Didn’t mean no harm.”
“Okay.” Nick’s throat muscles moved, obviously swallowing anything more on the matter. He hooked a thumb into his pocket, asking, “You still wanta help with the car?”
“Sure. I ain’t one to….” Logan lost that train of thought in a memory before firmly stating, “I don’t care.”
“Good. That’s all we really want, you know.”
Logan didn’t know, but it seemed he was going to find out.
FRIDAY NIGHT, Logan parked in front of his landlady’s house, dog-tired and glad of it. He had pulled four hours of overtime at work, which he had spent moving all of the sapling trees from the nursery section to the front of the garden center, where they would be displayed as clearance merchandise for the next two weeks. From the passenger seat, he grabbed the paper sack containing a small box of fried chicken and a six-pack of beer—both obtained at the corner store—and slowly headed for the steps leading down to his basement apartment. His plans for the evening were: shower, dinner, TV, and not thinking at all about the events of the previous night. Especially not anything related to Nick Zales.
Logan’s plan didn’t even make it to the front door, since his path was blocked by a tiny grey and navy figure perched on his top step. The person closed a small leatherbound book and jumped up at his approach, revealing to Logan that it was none other than Sister Ciera. She was one of the Sisters of St. Francis Millvale, a convent with a thriving prison ministry, who had offered her help while he was still navigating the labyrinth of the legal system.
Despite her cheerful assistance, Logan had never really felt comfortable around the woman, maybe because of her propensity for rapid-fire speech colored with her slight Philippine accent, maybe because she didn’t dress like that flying nun or the ones in the movies, or maybe because she didn’t preach at him and talk about God all the time. Not that he wanted that—not by a long shot—but it would have at least fit his idea of what a nun should be. When she greeted him with an exuberant shout while dusting off her ordinary cotton trousers, he wondered if she fit anybody’s idea of what a nun should be.
“Logan, I hope you don’t mind me dropping in on you.” Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “You’ve been on my mind so much and you’ve never called or checked in with me—you still have my card, don’t you?—so I thought I’d check in with you.”
“Umm, yeah, I still have that card somewhere….” Not sure that was really true, Logan decided to change the subject by asking her in.
Ciera eagerly agreed, following him into the one-room apartment. “I can see, and smell—smells good by the way—that you have your dinner there, so I won’t stay long at all. But tell me, how are you making out? How is the counseling going?”
Logan placed the paper bag on the kitchen counter before turning and answering, “Uh… it’s goin’… fine.” He wondered why she was bothering him about this instead of just going directly to his counselor. “Don’t you see Dr. Gerard at that center sometimes?”
“Of course, but I wanted to hear if it’s working for you. Is it? I hope so, I think the world of Trudy; she’s a very compassionate woman and not at all judgmental towards men in your situation.”
If Logan were inclined to be completely honest, he would have told Sr. Ciera that no, the counseling wasn’t doing him a damn bit of good, and that judgmental was exactly the word he would have used to describe Trudy. But Logan was a “better the devil you know” kind of guy and shuddered to think what alternative to Dr. Gerard the active little nun might propose. “Like I said, it’s goin’ pretty go
od.” To throw her off the trail, he added, “I’m even volunteering—teachin’ car repair to some of them… to some girls.”
“Yes, Nick Zales told me.”
Wiping a rivulet of unease from the back of his neck, Logan asked, “Told you what?”
“Told me about the class. And how is that going? Do you like volunteering? I understand Tish is one of your students. She’s a handful, isn’t she? But no harm in her at all, really. I helped her get her GED, and she was so proud and grateful, the way she hugged me. And you have Norah, too. She’s such a dear. Did you know….”
Logan had learned soon after meeting Sister Ciera that if you simply kept quiet, she would eventually answer most of her own questions, so he just let her ramble on, supplying mainly nods and agreeable-sounding grunts. She finally veered onto a topic that required his actual participation. “And how is your family? Are you seeing your wife and daughters now?”
“Seein’ my daughters some, every other Saturday. But not my wife. Not yet.”
“Oh that’s too bad.” She patted his arm in an unsuccessful gesture of comfort. “She’ll come around. I’m sure when she comes to consider all of the hard work you’re doing, she’ll find the Lord’s forgiveness in her heart.” Logan didn’t point out that he was hoping more for Linda forgetting than forgiving, but Ciera had moved on again anyway. “But it must be a comfort for you to see your little girls.”
“Sure is, they’re good girls—”
“Oh,” Ciera interrupted, “I just had a brilliant idea! We should have your girls come along on this year’s Kennywood trip.”
Logan and Linda had talked just last year about taking the girls to the huge amusement park not far from North Braddock, but of course, like everything else since March, those plans had been put on hold. “What trip is that?”
“ACC sponsors a trip every summer for some of the children at the center; Nick is actually the one who does all the planning, but I’m always one of the chaperones. I could—”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 105
