Logan ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. “Okay.”
Sitting back on his heels, Nick said, “That was a joke, you know? The ‘Queer Scout’ thing. It’s okay to laugh.”
In an effort to don a casual front, Logan jibed back, “Maybe it just wasn’t funny, Zales.” He carried the box over to the workbench, saying, “What did you wanta ask?”
“That guy you told me about, the one that got beat up in Elco. Was that you?”
Almost dropping the box in shock, Logan shoved it onto the bench and whipped around. “What? Hell no!”
Nick slowly rose to his feet to face Logan. Raising a hand in a placating manner, he said, “Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to…. I just wondered, is all.”
Logan glared at Nick for a long second, his mind a whirl of fury, confusion, and memories. Finally, he grunted, “It was this guy, Jerry Sievers. Was a senior when I was a freshman in high school.”
“So what happened?” Nick prodded, walking over to join Logan at the workbench.
“He hired me to restore this MG Midget he’d gotten his hands on. His plan was to drive it ’cross the country after graduation.”
“And he was gay?”
Shaking his head as he stared at the grease-stained concrete, Logan murmured, “I don’t know.” He cleared his throat and continued in a stronger voice, “Some folks thought he was ’cause he was… different.”
“Effeminate?” Nick guessed caustically.
Logan looked at Nick, taking in the grim set of his face. “No, not at all. But he wore weird stuff like… leather pants, and striped socks, weird shirts that pulled over instead of buttonin’ up. And he quoted poetry. All the girls was wild about him, but he never really seemed to have a girlfriend. Stuff like that.”
Nick snorted, “He could’ve been gay… or he just could’ve liked thinkin’ for himself. I guess they’re equally bad in Elco. What happened to him?”
“One day after school, I went to work on the car and found the garage door wide open and Jerry bleedin’ on the floor. Some guys had worked him over good.” Logan paused to swallow down eighteen-year-old sorrow before he continued. “They used one of my wrenches, even. He was laid up for months. Had to miss graduation and everything. His family moved away that summer after his dad sold the MG to some junkyard. We never even got to finish it.”
“Did they get the guys who done it?”
That was hitting too close to home. “Nope,” Logan answered tersely, turning to retrieve the tools they’d left on the floor. “We done here?” He peered over at Nick and was discomfited to be met with a puzzled frown.
Fortunately Nick broke his inspection after a second, saying, “Yeah, I better get home.”
As they loaded the T-bird parts into the Ford’s spacious truck bed, Logan felt the work slowed by Nick’s efforts to avoid so much as their sleeves brushing. Their awkward interaction had Logan weighing the pros and cons of the morning. “That was good, right?” he asked Nick. “Good morning’s work, I mean.”
Nick tilted his head and jiggled his keys before answering, “Yeah… sure. And we even managed to—um, yeah, to get things ready for the machine shop.” Briskly, he asked, “How long do ya think it’ll take to get things rebuilt and re-bored?”
“It’ll take ’em a few weeks at least to get ever’thing done.”
“So, does that mean there’s nothin’ to do next Sunday?”
“No,” Logan rushed to assure him, certain he had detected some disappointment in his companion. “We’ll start getting some back before then. I’ll ask ’em to stage it.”
“Okay, see ya next week.” Nick gave him that forced smile again and then turned towards the Jeep. The smile seemed more genuine when he looked back to wave, adding, “And Thursday. See you then.”
It hadn’t escaped Logan’s notice that the wave had replaced their usual handshake. He was left to wonder if the lack of contact was due to residual resentment or because Nick didn’t trust that they could share a simple handshake without losing control. Either way, it seemed Nick was determined to keep up his end of the bargain. Logan was glad… and he kept reminding himself of that fact all the way home.
Chapter 9:
Start It Like a Car
They say love conquers all, You can’t start it like a car
You can’t stop it with a gun.
—Warren Zevon (“Searching For A Heart”)
WEDNESDAY EVENING, Logan walked into the small waiting room adjoining Trudy’s downtown office, feeling calmer than he had last Friday, though not as relieved as he would have expected. Still bothered by restless nights, awakened several times each night by dreams he couldn’t quite remember, Logan had almost been tempted to skip the session. However, the hope that Trudy would have news about his enhanced visitation rights kept him from canceling.
His effort was rewarded when Trudy started the hour by saying, “I did get the affidavit to the mediator’s office on Monday; you should be hearing from him soon. I would guess you can start overnight visits with your daughters as early as next weekend.”
Some of the knots in his neck and shoulders loosened as Logan answered, “Good. That’s real good news.”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk about the discussion you had with them. How did you feel about it?”
“I felt… I guess it was good.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“Yeah, I think I went in expectin’ too much.”
“How so?”
“I was thinkin’ that I would do that and it would….” Logan shrugged and wished for his cigarettes before finally finishing, “…would be the end of it.” He rubbed his fingers across his bottom lip. “But it was more like the start, it seems.”
Trudy raised her eyebrows and smiled encouragingly, asking, “The start of what?”
“Of them really… dealin’ with it.”
“Is that true for you, too?”
“Me?” Logan glared at her across the desk. “I’ve been dealin’ with it all along.”
“Have you?”
Cursing his counselor’s evasive, infuriating ways, Logan rubbed the back of his neck, retorting, “Yes. But I guess you’re tellin’ me you don’t think so.”
“No, I’m not telling you anything. I’m looking for a more thoughtful answer from you. Now, what was it that clued you in about Krista and Meghan?”
“It wasn’t anythin’ in particular…” Logan broke contact with Trudy’s intent gaze and shifted his line of sight to the window. “I could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. This has been weighin’ heavy on them. And it ain’t gonna be fixed by me sayin’ I’m sorry or even by me gettin’ back with their mom.”
He looked back to Trudy to find her nodding in agreement. “You’re right; I’m really glad you realize that. What do you think will fix it?”
“Aren’t you s’posed to tell me that?”
“No, I’m not. But maybe I can help you—and Linda—find the answer for your family.”
At the mention of his wife’s name, Logan offered, “Talked to her on Saturday.”
“Linda?” Trudy asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s the first direct contact since your court appearance, wasn’t it?” When Logan nodded, she asked, “What did you talk about?”
“She said she wanted me to know….” Logan tilted his head up slightly, trying to recall the particulars. “Oh, a bunch of stuff. That she doesn’t wanna move back to Elco, that she wants somethin’
different—”
“A different kind of relationship?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”
“And what’s your response to that?”
“I told her okay ’cause—”
“No, Logan. I’m not asking what you told her, but, right now, what’s your feeling about that?”
Logan expelled a puff of exasperation, feeling like Trudy was backing him into a corner. “Guess it’ll have to be different, won’t it?”
> “Why?”
“’Cause of all that’s passed between us, right?” He let his irritation seep out from under that last word.
“But do you want things to be different? Or would you prefer going back to the life you had before you moved to North Braddock?”
Involuntarily, Logan blurted, “No.”
“Yet, you told me once that you and Linda were ‘happy enough’ back in Elco.” When Logan had no response, Trudy exhorted, “Come on! Talk to me. Tell me what you want from your marriage. What you’re going to need in this new relationship.” Trudy made air quotes with her fingers as she said those last two words. “It seems like Linda has learned to state her needs. That’s good, that’s healthy. I want the same for you. It’s a simple enough question: what do you want?”
His treacherous mind started up an endless litany—one syllable repeated over and over: Nick… Nick… Nick…. In a desperate effort to shut that voice down, Logan interjected, “Why can’t you let up on this?”
“Because if we don’t answer this question before you and Linda get back together, then you’re eventually going to end up right back here—only things will be even worse. Because you’ll be a repeat offender.” Trudy leaned forward, saying, “There are two things you’re going to have to do in joint counseling with Linda. You’re going to have to deal with the past and the future; admit the wrong you did, yes, but also ask for what you need going forward. You’re getting closer on the first item—I see a lot of movement there. But you won’t budge on the second. Why?”
As he had expected, Trudy had cornered him again. Weary and anxious, Logan fell back on a safe answer. He stared at his old friend the carpet and sighed, “I don’t know.”
Trudy eased back into her chair before saying, “I bet you don’t let your girls get away with that answer, do you?” When Logan simply rolled his eyes in response, the counselor seemed to change the subject. “What was your parents’ marriage like?”
Caught completely off guard, Logan hunched forward, lost in reflection. After some thought, he answered, “It was… good ’nough, I guess. They didn’t fight a lot or anything, not as I remember. Though my dad sure had a temper on him.”
A rueful smile streaked across Trudy’s face as she said, “Runs in the family, eh?”
Logan couldn’t help but grin back. “Seems to. Me and Jim both take after my dad in that.”
“Did you have a good relationship with him?”
“My dad?” At Trudy’s nod, Logan continued, “Yeah, I did. I was hanging around the garage with him soon’s I could walk. Taught me everything I know.”
“Jim, too?”
“Nah, he never took any interest in learning about fixin’ cars. Or—” Out of longstanding reticence about family matters, Logan stopped short.
“Or?”
After a second, Logan rationalized that anyone in Elco could tell Trudy the rest, so he answered, “Or anything much besides raising hell.”
“You two didn’t get along?”
“I didn’t say that.” Logan shook his head, searching for the words to describe something as complex as his feelings about Jim. “Most of the time he treated me okay… ’specially after our parents died.”
“But before that?”
“He kinda… resented how close me and my dad was.” Logan snorted before adding, “Though it was his own choice to never set foot in my dad’s shop. Too much like work, I guess.”
“You were, what? Fourteen, when your parents died?”
“Not quite fourteen.”
“How old were your siblings?”
“Daisy was twenty-one, and Jim had just turned seventeen.”
“That was a lot for Daisy to take on, raising you two.”
“Yeah, family’s real important to her. She always says family sticks together no matter what.”
“You haven’t talked much about her. She’s not standing by you through this?”
To avoid discussing the longstanding distance that separated him from Daisy, Logan evaded, “I didn’t wanta bother her with any of this. She gets ’nough grief from Jim.”
“In what way?”
Logan hesitated, but, figuring the taboo was already breached, he explained, “Ten years ago, he took off for Florida—workin’ on some real estate scam he got mixed up in. Now we hardly ever hear from him, unless he needs money. I told him no, real firm, the first time he ever asked me, but Daisy—he’d bleed her dry if it weren’t for her husband. She still sneaks him as much money as she can, then Jim’ll take off again soon’s he’s got it.” Despite the problems between them, Logan still sympathized with his sister’s perpetual disappointment in their brother. Pensively, he added, “She never learns.”
“Is that something else that runs in the Crane family?”
Logan had no immediate answer, though he couldn’t help but wonder if it was true.
NICK WAS trying to navigate heavy I-279 traffic while keeping his cell phone to his ear as he drove to class on Thursday afternoon. Polly was on the line, giving him an update on his mom, though the conversation so far had focused on Polly’s complaints about Agnes’s doctor. “Yeah, doctors do get backed up these days. I’m sure everybody had to wait that long—”
“Oh, no they didn’t,” contradicted Polly. “I saw some pretty young thing just sashay in ahead of us—she hardly waited at all. They see two little old ladies and think we got nothin’ better to do with our time except sit around and wait and wait.”
Forbearing to ask what other pressing appointments Polly and Agnes did have, Nick tried again. “So what did the doctor have to say after you got in to see him?”
“Rude little snip—asked why it’d taken so long to get your mom in. I had half a mind to tell him it wouldn’t ’ve been so bad if we hadn’t been waiting for an hour and—”
“What wouldn’t be so bad? What was the diagnosis?”
“Pneumonia, he said. Though seems to me if that were true, your mom would have a more productive cough. I remember learning that back in nursing school. In fact I’m pretty sure—”
Nick lost the rest of Polly’s diatribe, first in the blare of a horn and then in dealing with the owner of said horn: a speeding tractor trailer. When he refocused on Polly, she was finally saying, “…so we’re at Allegheny Suburban right now.”
“What? She’s getting admitted to the hospital? Is it that bad?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, hon. They’re mainly worried about the fact that she’s not eating much. Just lookin’ to make some money off your poor mom, if you ask me.”
Already looking for the next exit, Nick said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Don’t worry about rushing; they’re still trying to find a room for Agnes. Looks like it could take three or four more hours.”
“Okay, I’ll be there by…,” Nick did some mental calculations before saying, “By five at the latest.”
“Like I said, don’t rush. These hospitals have no more respect for your time than those damn doctors do. And nobody tells you what’s goin’ on or—”
“Yeah, I know, I hate that, too,” Nick interjected, and before Polly could re-launch her complaints, he said, “Bye, see you in a bit,” and hit the off button.
Nick was on autopilot the rest of the drive to Acken’s shop and arrived on Arlington Avenue with no memory of the ride after his talk with Polly. Still torn between guilt and worry about his mom, he fervently hoped he hadn’t run any red lights or knocked down any pedestrians on the way to South Side. He’d already decided to spend fifteen to twenty minutes congratulating the students and the instructor before rushing back to North Hills. Nick grabbed a bag off the passenger seat and jogged up the steps.
When he entered the shop, the class was already in full swing, though the festive atmosphere bespoke more of a party than a learning module. The girls were in a small knot, Tish in the center, obviously holding court. Nick’s eyes immediately sought out Logan. He was standing slightly aside, looking as happy and rel
axed as Nick had seen him since Kennywood.
Nick cleared his throat theatrically to get the group’s attention, and Logan’s smiling eyes found his. Maybe it was because he needed to believe it right then, but Nick could have sworn the smile deepened before being covered by a grease-stained hand.
Tish looked up and hooted, “Well, look who’s decided to grace us with his royal presence.”
Putting on a relaxed front, Nick shot back, “Yeah, I can see I was holding up the class. What’s up?”
“Me!” Tish laughed. “You’re looking at Dish’s newest waitress, that’s what’s up.”
“That’s great news.” Nick held the bag aloft, saying, “How fortunate that I brought presents.”
Tish’s dark eyes sparkled. “For me?”
“For all three of you.”
The women rushed to him, demanding to know what the gifts were, and Nick quickly handed each one a small, slim, silver rod. Norah and Cheryl thanked him immediately, though they sounded slightly puzzled; Tish stared at the gift for a few seconds before saying, “You shouldn’t have.” She looked at Nick while emphasizing, “Really.”
“They’re digital tire pressure gauges,” Nick explained.
Logan eyed the presents and nodded approvingly at Nick, offering, “Damn nice ones, too.”
There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but nothing else was forthcoming, so Nick said, “I’m sorry I’m late. Got caught up at work. And I can’t stay long either; I got….” Nick had long since wearied of expressions of sympathy veering into pity about his mom; besides, he rationalized that bad news would put a damper on the occasion, so he finished, “My mom’s got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”
“Ever’thing okay?” Logan asked.
“Guess that’s what I’ll find out.” Nick forced what he hoped was a convincing smile. “From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t sound too bad.”
Norah interrupted the general murmurs of concern to say, “Hey, Nick, before you go, I wanted to tell you I’m not going to make our session next week.”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 112
