“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means when you get back to your office, you can make my leave of absence permanent.” Nick turned back to the door and opened it.
“I will do no such thing.”
“Well, you better, ’cause I quit.”
If he didn’t quite slam the door in Trudy’s face, he came close enough. When he finally heard Trudy’s car pull away, he had to fight the childish impulse to crawl into a closet or under a bed. Those had been his favorite hiding spots as a kid faced with the sounds of his dad whaling on his mom. Nick knew he was too big for hiding now. Besides, as he’d always found out, it didn’t solve anything. With no better idea, he curled up on the couch under his mom’s old afghan and fell into a troubled sleep marred by violent, blood-drenched dreams.
WHEN NICK awoke to the ringing phone, he was totally disoriented. The light coming in from the front room window was soft and dim, and he had apparently fallen asleep on the couch. Still unsure of what day or time it was, he grabbed the receiver and groggily answered, “Hello.”
“Hey, Nick.”
The husky voice on the other end of the line was sad and somber, and the events of the day came rushing back to him. “Logan.” A shard of guilt cut some of the elation that voice brought to Nick’s heart. What right did he have to be glad about anything when Norah was dead? Especially upon hearing from a man who was—essentially—one of Alex’s brethren. Wasn’t he?
“I heard about Norah. I’m so sorry—”
“Yeah, thanks,” Nick cut in. “How did you hear?”
“Trudy called me.”
If he’d had the energy, Nick would have said something about meddling ex-bosses who didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. But he didn’t. It turned out that “Oh” was the best he could manage.
“Yeah, so… she says you’re gonna be goin’ to the funeral, and I thought maybe we could go togeth—”
“Was that your idea or Trudy’s?”
“Does it matter?”
A second of consideration allowed Nick to admit, “No, I guess it doesn’t. Because I’m going alone.”
“Norah was my friend, too.”
“Would you be going if it weren’t for me?”
“Well….”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“So? What difference does it make? I still wanta go with you.”
“I’m a big boy. I can go to a goddamned funeral without a babysitter.”
“Okay! I was just tryin’ to help,” Logan answered defensively. “How ’bout I come an’ get you? We can go to The Liberty Grill for some dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Fine, how ’bout a beer?”
“No, I can’t be around you. I don’t want any company right now.”
There was a long silence on the line before Logan said, his voice choked, “You don’t want any company, or you don’t want the company of a guy like me? Like Alex? Or your dad? Ain’t that what you’re thinkin’?”
“Fuck, Logan, don’t make this about you.”
“I don’t think I’m the one doin’ that.”
Nick heard the hurt behind Logan’s accusation but felt numb to it. “Look, I just know that Norah’s dead, and I….” Let it happen. “…need some time to deal with that. And I need to say goodbye to her.”
“Yeah, okay.” The voice on the other end of the line was still thick with emotion. “I ain’t him, Nick.”
“I know that.” Even to his own ears, his assurance sounded unconvincing. “I’m just not…. I’m not up to talking about this right now.”
“Sure. I understand.” There was silence on the line until Logan added, “I guess you gotta take care of your business and I gotta take care of mine.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I’m gonna be out of town this weekend, too.”
“Then why’d you offer to go to Norah’s funeral with me?”
“’Cause I just decided for sure.”
Nick couldn’t make sense of what Logan was saying right then, and he couldn’t muster up the strength to try. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll talk to you next week. I guess.”
“Yeah, take care of yourself.”
Though he’d slept for hours, Nick felt exhausted. After downing most of a quart of orange juice right from the carton, he fell back onto the couch and pulled the afghan back over him. As tired as he was, sleep was a very long time coming.
Chapter 16:
The Long Uphill Climb
It isn’t for the moment you are struck that you need courage, but for the long uphill climb back to sanity, faith and security.
—Anne Morrow Lindbergh
SATURDAY MORNING, Logan woke and rolled over on his sister’s rec room couch so he could squint groggily at the oversized wall clock in the dim light filtering down the open staircase. It was just after six a.m., and he considered grabbing a little more sleep since they’d all been up late into the night talking over old times. Well, truth be told, Krista had been almost as quiet as her dad while Daisy and Meghan did the lion’s share of the talking, aided by Daisy’s oldest child, Lisa, with the boys, Mark and Pete, chiming in occasionally.
The latter nephew in particular had peppered Logan with enthusiastic questions about the Thunderbird parked in the driveway. Logan had been a bit bemused by the conversation, finding it difficult to reconcile the appearance of this gangly teen with the memory of a squalling baby who, fifteen years earlier, had made a habit of disturbing Logan’s sleep.
Though the attitude puzzled him, it hadn’t escaped Logan’s notice that his brother-in-law had seemed almost disapproving of his older son’s interest in the sports car. The two men had always maintained a cordial, if distant, relationship, so he finally chalked it up to Chuck’s permanent state of crankiness, always in evidence by his habit of growling out complaints about nothing and everything in his raspy voice. Upon Daisy and Chuck’s wedding, Logan had felt welcome enough in their home to stick around until he married Linda, but not enough that he wasn’t relieved when he finally got a place of his own.
After stretching out on the tweed couch and staring at the dropped-panel ceiling for a few minutes, Logan decided that the early morning hours might be the perfect opportunity for a private chat with his sister. He threw off the blankets, pulled his jeans on, and grabbed his shaving kit before heading upstairs to the bathroom, passing silently by the front room where his daughters slumbered, snug in their sleeping bags. The house was very quiet, probably in deference to his brother-in-law, who liked to sleep late on the weekends even though Daisy had always risen with the sun. However, when Logan crested the threshold of the cluttered kitchen fifteen minutes later, he found his sister standing at the stove frying bacon while her husband sat at the nearby table reading the paper. “Morning, folks.”
“Good morning,” Daisy exclaimed. “What’a you doin’ up so early?”
For lack of a better excuse, he mumbled, “Habit, I guess. Plus I gotta get the car over to Cal’s by eight if he’s gonna get the paint job done by tomorrow.” Logan ambled into the room and stopped next to the white-enameled range, where he towered over his petite sibling. “Fixin’ breakfast already?”
“Yeah, I like to make sure Chuck gets a good breakfast in him before he goes off to work. Knowin’ him, he’ll probably skip lunch an’ all.”
Logan refrained from observing out loud that, from the appearance of things, his brother-in-law hadn’t missed too many meals in his life. Instead, he turned to Chuck, saying, “You workin’ today?”
Chuck brushed his poker-straight, thinning hair back before gruffly replying, “Yeah, I had’a let some more guys go, so there’s no one to cover the Saturday shift but me.” He shrugged before grumbling, “Not a goddamn thing I can do about it. Twenty-three years I been bustin’ my ass at that lumberyard, and now I’m back to workin’ the weekends.”
After grabbing a clean mug from the dish drainer and filling it with coffee, Loga
n sat at the table across from his brother-in-law. “Things still slow?”
“Hell, yeah. Can’t see orders really picking up ’til the housin’ market gets better.”
Daisy leaned down and put a dish heaped with bacon and scrambled eggs in front of her husband. Her eyes sparkled warmly at her brother as she said, “I’ll have a plate ready for you in a second.”
“You don’t have to bother, I’ll just have some toas—”
“Like hell you will,” Daisy scolded. “Looks to me like you lost some weight since I saw you last.” She turned back to the stove and plopped six strips of fresh bacon in the pan, noting, “That’s what’ll happen with a man living on his own.” Over the sizzle, she asked, “But you’ll be gettin’ back with Linda soon, won’t you?”
That was one subject Logan had no desire to explore in front of Chuck, so he dissembled quietly, “We were just talking about that on Wednesday.” Which was, if misleading, still sort of the truth. He and Linda had been talking about how that wasn’t going to happen, but still, not an outright lie. To change the subject, he asked Daisy, “Can you give me a ride back from Cal’s place after I drop off the Thunderbird?” Even though the ten-minute ride wouldn’t give him much time for talking to his sister, it would be a place to start.
“Sure thing, hon.”
Suddenly, inspiration struck, and Logan asked, “And could we swing by my shop on the way back?”
Chuck stopped shoveling in his breakfast long enough to growl, “What the hell for? Ain’t it empty?”
“Pretty much.” Logan shrugged and looked at Daisy, who was stacking hot, crisp bacon onto a melamine plate. “But I still own it, and I just wanta check it out.”
Daisy appeared to consider the request as she scooped a mound of fluffy eggs beside the bacon and set it in front of Logan. “Okay, don’t see why not.”
“Don’t see the point,” Chuck ventured, tone as sour as his scowl. “The realtor’s takin’ care of it for you, ain’t he? Nothin’ to do there, unless you’ve heard of somebody finally wantin’ to buy it.”
“Nothin’ like that,” Logan answered honestly. There hadn’t been a flicker of interest in the shop in all of the months it had been on the market. “Just wanna make sure Nate’s keepin’ the place from fallin’ down. God knows, it was close enough when I left it.” He turned to his sister, saying, “A trip to the shop won’t be keepin’ you from anything important, will it?”
“No, ’course not.” Daisy turned to her husband and said, “No real harm in me taking Logan over to High Street, is there?”
Chuck pushed his stocky frame away from the table, answering, “It’s your time, Margaret. If you wanta waste it, guess that’s your business.”
That was good enough for Daisy. She cleared her husband’s place as she promised Logan, “We’ll go right after breakfast.”
“Go where?”
The three adults immediately swiveled their heads towards the doorway, where Pete stood waiting for an answer to his question. His mom immediately filled him in on the plans they’d just made, causing the boy’s eyes to light up. “Can I go, too? It’d be cool to see ’em painting Uncle Logan’s car.”
Logan wanted to groan as his careful plans for a private talk with Daisy came close to ruin. He was silently struggling with a response, wanting to say no but unable to do so without hurting his guileless nephew’s feelings. Unexpectedly, Chuck came to his rescue. “They ain’t gonna be hanging around watchin’ Cal paint that car. And you got leaves to rake. I want that yard cleaned up today.”
“I’ll do it as soon as we get back.”
Chuck grabbed his canvas coat off the back of his chair and watched his son take a seat at the table. “No, you’ll do it first thing. What’s the rule ’round here?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned towards the door and said, “Chores first. Then you can screw around all you want.”
Feeling the need to soothe the problem he had inadvertently caused, Logan offered, “Your dad’s right, Pete. There won’t be nothin’ to see this mornin’. You can go with us tomorrow when we pick the T-bird up.”
Pete sighed with resignation but said nothing as his dad pecked Daisy on the cheek and headed off to work. After his mom laid a plate piled higher than Logan’s in front of him, he said to his uncle, “If only you’d’a waited a few more months. I’ll have my permit, and I could’ve taken it out for a spin.” He smiled shyly, asking, “Maybe you could bring it back next year?”
“I don’t think so,” Logan said. Seeing Pete’s face fall, he hastened to explain. “Remember, it ain’t my car. It belongs to my friend, Nick. I’m just helpin’ him restore it.”
“Maybe he’ll let you borrow it sometime?”
Daisy was beating more eggs in a bowl and gently scolded, “Don’t pester your uncle, Pete. This man ain’t likely to let Logan take his car all over creation. Them Pittsburgh folks ain’t like ’round here.”
Instinctively, Logan leaped to Nick’s defense. “He’s as good a guy as you’d ever find in Elco, Daisy. Better, even.”
There was mild surprise in her eyes as Daisy smiled at her brother. “Well, now, that’s good to hear. Good you got a friend like that.”
“Then maybe he will let you bring the T-bird back here in the spring?” wheedled Pete.
“Could be,” Logan offered doubtfully. How could he tell Pete that he was unsure where he now stood with this “good friend?”
A LITTLE over an hour later, Logan was lost in thought as he stood in the middle of his abandoned shop, frowning at the peeling paint and cobwebs.
“I’m sure glad Daddy can’t see it like this, aren’t you?” Daisy asked, bringing him back to the present.
“Why? It didn’t look that much better back when he had it. Dad never was one for fixing up.”
“I know that,” she laughed as she walked the perimeter of the small space. “I meant seeing it empty an’ that, you know?”
“Yeah,” Logan sighed sadly. He took off his baseball cap and scratched the back of his head. “Where’re folks gettin’ their cars fixed these days?”
Daisy stopped pacing around and stopped in front of her brother, answering, “Most everyone I know goes over to the Wal-Mart in Belle Vernon.”
“Damn, you gotta be kiddin’ me,” Logan snorted. “I hope it’s just for oil changes and small stuff, ’cause they do shitty work there. I know, I had to fix some of their handiwork myself.”
“Maybe… but they sure are cheap,” Daisy countered.
“Ya get what ya pay for.” Before Daisy could answer, Logan held up a hand and said, “I know. That don’t matter to desperate folks facin’ foreclosure or tryin’ to stretch out their unemployment checks. It’s still sad, though.”
Daisy was gazing up at him, a speculative look on her face. “So why did you really wanta come here? To see just how sad it is?”
That was the opening Logan had been waiting for, but he couldn’t seem to grab it. He looked into the round, benign face of his sister, knowing her intentions had never been anything but good towards her brothers, and his courage faltered. He shrugged and bargained for more time by saying, “I don’t know. Hard to let this place go, ya know?
“Yep.” Daisy reached out and patted his arm. “Guess it brings back a lotta memories, huh?”
“Sure does,” Logan agreed, since part of his mind was screaming “now or never,” he ventured, “Some of them… not so good.” When Daisy had no answer and resumed walking around the shop, Logan knew he had to press the issue. “Like seein’ Jerry Sievers—”
She stopped short and whirled to face him. “Don’t start on that, now.”
Logan took a deep breath before avowing, “I have to.”
A world of hurt and frustration was summed up in a single, sharp syllable. “Why?”
“Because it never went away for me.”
Daisy waved a dismissive hand in Logan’s direction. “I don’t even know what that means.” She hurried towards the shop door, saying, “We better
be gettin’ back—”
Logan moved swiftly to halt her progress by stepping directly in front of her. “It means I got a lotta anger I been keepin’ in, and I gotta—” Seeing Daisy’s trembling lip and wet eyes made him pause and soften his stance slightly. “And I wanta talk about it. Finally.”
After nervously tucking a curl of soft brown hair behind one ear, she took a shaky breath and whispered, “You say you been mad all these years. Mad at Jim, or mad at me?”
“Both, I guess, but mainly him,” Logan admitted, finally breaking eye contact and staring sightlessly up at one of the fogged windows. “But I gotta know. Why?” He glanced back down at his sister, demanding, “Why’d you take his side against mine?”
“It wasn’t his side against yours,” she insisted angrily. “It was the family’s side against some stranger.”
“Jerry wasn’t ‘some stranger’ to me. He was my friend, my friend that Jim hurt real bad.” It was Daisy’s turn to look away, but Logan plowed on undeterred. “You don’t think he deserved to pay for that?”
“Oh, Logan.” Daisy looked back at him as she reached a tender hand up to his arm. “Honey, I felt awful about your friend. I really did.” Her tone turned pleading as she added, “But Jim didn’t think it through. You know what he’s like when he’s angry. He didn’t mean to hurt him that bad.”
“He didn’t mean to?” Logan sneered. “I’m sure that would make Jerry feel better about all he suffered. You should’ve gone to see him in the hospital like I did. Then maybe you couldn’t wave it all away with ‘He didn’t mean to’. What you’re really saying is that you agreed with Jim that ‘the queer’ had it comin’.”
“I am not,” Daisy protested vehemently. “How dare you say that! The whole thing didn’t even have anything to do with that. Jim was just so jealous of him—”
“What? Why the hell would Jim be jealous of Jerry?”
Looking more miserable than ever, Daisy sniffled, “’Cause of how close you two were. He told me once that you spent more time with ‘that queer’—” She stopped at Logan’s glare and amended, “With Jerry, than you did with either of us. I guess it reminded him of how it was with you and Dad.”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 124
