They both chuckled, and before going out the back way, Keegan reminded Carrie to take it easy. She had found a comfortable spot on the sofa and had picked up a book.
“I suppose this fits your definition of taking it easy,” she said.
“Call if you need anything. I may not hear you over the hammering, but I guarantee Delores will.”
They stopped at the shed for tools and supplies before trekking back to Duke’s trailer. Keegan set his ladder against the front siding. “Let me go up first,” he said to his son. “I’m sure it’s safe up there, but I wouldn’t want your mother calling to ask me why I let you fall through a roof.”
Once they were both on top, Keegan located the trouble spot and spread out the shingles they would use. He put the necessary nails in his work belt and started hammering. Taylor held the shingles in place as Keegan pounded them in.
They’d only replaced a couple of pieces when Taylor said, “So, what was all that at the doctor’s office, Dad? The doctor called Carrie ‘Mrs. Breen.’ If you guys are married, don’t you think that’s something I should have known?”
“If we were married, then, yes, definitely,” Keegan said.
He sat back on his knees. “Of course I’m not married. There’s a perfectly good explanation for why the doctor called Carrie Mrs. Breen.” Keegan smiled to himself. Only if lying were a good explanation. He proceeded to tell Taylor the whole story of Carrie’s need for a convenient husband.
“I figured it had to be something like that,” Taylor said. “Besides that look you gave me, I already figured that Carrie’s way too young for you. She’s a lot closer to my age than she is yours.”
Keegan scowled. He remembered thinking Carrie was too young for him, as well. Heck, he still did at times. But then he’d kissed her, and all thoughts of her immaturity had vanished. But he certainly didn’t want his son thinking he would rob a cradle. “For your information, she’s seventeen years older than you,” he said, striking his hammer down.
“No way! She looks like she’s twenty or something.”
“Maybe she does, but she’s not.”
A few minutes went by when neither one spoke. Then Taylor said, “So is something going on between the two of you? I mean, I know about the accident and everything, but are you interested in her?”
“Nothing’s going on,” Keegan replied, a bit more forcefully than he’d intended. “I found her on the road in a snowstorm and helped her out. I had no idea I would be having a houseguest for this long.” To further define his independence to Taylor, he added, “If anything, as nice as she is, she has been something of an inconvenience.” Keegan looked up at the clear, cloudless sky, grateful that a storm wasn’t approaching now. If he were struck by lightning on this roof, he would deserve it for telling a whopper worse than any Carrie had told.
Taylor picked up another shingle and held it in place. “She’s pretty, don’t you think?”
“She’s okay.” Keegan stopped working long enough to give his son an earnest stare. “Now that you know her age, you’re not getting any ideas, are you, Taylor?”
“About her and me?” Taylor laughed. “No way. She’s way too old. I’ll admit she’s pretty well preserved for her age, but geez, Dad, she’s thirty, right? I wouldn’t be interested in any girl who could send me to my room for misbehaving.”
“Wait until you hit forty, son,” Keegan said. “Not to mention forty-one, like I am. You’ll realize that preservation doesn’t come so easy. It’s a constant battle to keep ahead of the clock.”
“Yeah, for you,” Taylor said. “You’ve been to all those awful places. Cold and hot, and sun and desert.”
Keegan didn’t think he looked all that weathered. Sure, he had a few wrinkles, a few scars. His beard, when he used to let it grow, was sprinkled with a few gray hairs. But he’d avoided the typical middle-aged potbelly. And he still had all his teeth and hair. He wondered now at the way his son saw him versus the way he viewed himself in a mirror. Was he only fooling himself? Was he showing the ravages of a dangerous life and Father Time? Would a sweet, young thing like Carrie think of him as a kindly old uncle? But he’d kissed her, and he was quite certain that Carrie had enjoyed kissing him back. Still, he’d always been a realist, and he’d do well to keep his imagination in check now.
“Can I ask you something, Dad?” Taylor said.
“Sure. Anything.”
“Why did you take those assignments, the ones that took you to all those dangerous places?”
Keegan put down the hammer. He’d known this question would come up eventually, and he wondered what Marta had told their son about his reasons for writing about the most troubled spots in the world. Had she made him out to be a purely selfish thrill-seeker? And if so, was she completely wrong?
Taking the easy way, he said, “What did your mother tell you?”
“Mom always said you were brave.”
Okay. Not bad.
“But sometimes she added ‘stupid’ to that. Mostly she just said you were a good man but not so great a husband.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know you always sent money,” Taylor said.
“Being a good husband isn’t about money. At least, that’s not the only thing.”
“So why did you go to those places?”
Because he couldn’t not go, but would his son understand that illogical, self-centered reasoning? Could he make Taylor understand that he went because he had to see for himself what a messed-up planet this earth had become? He had to try to understand what made cruel people tick and natural disasters crumble major cities to rubble? And he had to attempt to put into words the feelings and conclusions he reached on each assignment?
No, these didn’t seem like good enough reasons for a thirteen-year-old to accept why he was left without a father so many times. So he said what was also true. “The money was good, Taylor. I was a journalist, and taking these jobs was a way to make more money than I could have at a regular nine-to-five job.”
The boy nodded as if he understood. “Okay.”
“And another thing,” Keegan said. “I had the best darn photographer in the business. Butch Slattery was fearless. He and I went anywhere there was a story that needed to be told. There was no picture he wouldn’t take, no situation that could make him drop that camera and run for his life. If there was one more shot, one more image to burn into people’s minds, Butch would take it.
“We were obligated to each other,” Keegan continued, remembering his old friend fondly. “We were responsible one for the other. And maybe we even thought we were invincible. I don’t know. Some of Butch’s photos hang in the White House. Pretty impressive, eh?”
Taylor nodded.
“He was the best, and together we were the best ever. People get addicted to all sorts of things, Taylor. Butch and I were addicted to getting the story no one else could. Was it selfish? Yeah, it was, and I lost a lot because of those years. You, in a sense, your mom, my friends and, even though you might not understand, even part of myself.”
Taylor’s eyes were wide as he said, “You could have been killed, Dad.”
“Yep, I could have. Almost was a time or two.” He smiled. “But the most dangerous thing I do now is replace shingles on an old trailer.”
“Do you miss it?”
Keegan wanted to say an unqualified no, to put his son’s mind at ease. But he couldn’t, because sometimes he did miss it. His writing was helping him cope with what he’d seen and experienced. But too often the inactivity made him itchy in a way that even he didn’t understand. Would he go back? By all that’s holy, he hoped not. He hoped he had more sense now.
“That’s all behind me now, son.”
“Good. I know you and I may never live close to each other, but I don’t want to think of you in those dangerous plac
es.”
“We’re done here, Taylor. Thanks for your help.”
When they’d put the tools away, Keegan and Taylor stood outside the cabin as both seemed to survey the property from his own perspective. For the first time, Keegan experienced a twinge of regret that he would have to make Duke move. He started to feel the hint of loss that he wouldn’t have Delores’s “shingle scones” to make him chuckle in the mornings.
As if reading his mind, Taylor said, “This place isn’t so bad, Dad. I’ll bet it looks a lot better in the summer.”
“It does for sure.” Keegan turned, stared down at his son. “Are you saying you’d want to come back?”
Taylor smiled. “Oh, no. I’m not saying that at all. There’s nothing to do. It’s miles to the nearest town. I’d be bored to death.”
Carrie’s sketches popped into Keegan’s mind. “You might not say that if you knew what Carrie wanted to do with the campground. She wants to turn it into a resort almost.”
“Well, that’s different,” Taylor said. “You add a tennis court, mini-golf, a game room and a swimming pool, I’d come back for sure. In fact, thinking about cute girls in bikinis, I might even offer to be your lifeguard.”
Keegan laughed. “Not going to happen, son. The next time, if there is one that you come here, you’ll see a five-story hotel and a parking lot.”
“I wonder what my great-grandfather would think of those plans.”
Keegan weighed his answer for a long moment. “He might be disappointed, and I’m not basing that on Granddad’s love of bikini-clad teenagers.”
Taylor smiled.
“Granddad loved this place. He and my grandmother were friendly people who liked welcoming guests and planning activities for folks. I’m afraid those genes didn’t pass down to me.”
“Then why have you stayed here?”
It was a good question. Why had he stayed so long? Originally, he’d arrived at his inheritance intending only to take a quick look around, put the property up for sale and move on. But something about the memories of his childhood and now the solitude of the place beckoned to him, and so he stayed, longer than he’d ever thought he would. He’d started writing. He’d started healing and coping with what he’d seen. But now it was time to go—where, he wasn’t sure. Not someplace crowded, but someplace near a larger city where he could be busy, do things, appreciate things. He looped his arm over Taylor’s shoulders. “I suppose I stayed because it was easy,” he said. “I could kick back and smell the roses, you know.”
“This is the perfect place to do that,” Taylor said. “Though I haven’t seen a rose.”
“Nope. No flowers at all anymore. But if Carrie had her way...” His mind wandered again to those sketches. She wouldn’t have her way, and that was kind of sad, but America was flush with dirt and forests, so she’d find plenty of places to plant and groom. “Let’s go check on her,” he said to Taylor. “We need to figure out what kind of pizza we’ll serve up tonight.”
* * *
TRAFFIC WAS STILL heavy at nine thirty Tuesday morning when Keegan and Carrie circled the Cleveland airport terminal and headed west for their two-hour trip back to the lake.
“Hard to believe Taylor will be home in Seattle a couple of hours after we get back to the lake,” Keegan observed.
“And Marta will be there to pick him up?” Carrie asked.
“Yeah.” Keegan sighed. “He’s so grown up. Didn’t even want me to park so we could go into the terminal with him.”
“He’s thirteen, Keegan. I doubt he needs his parent to escort him to his gate. Besides, the prospect of acting the experienced traveler is something most kids his age would prefer.”
Keegan rubbed the back of his neck.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just that, well, I missed so much of his growing years. He was always this little boy, who giggled and ran around and hugged me good-night. Now all of a sudden he’s ready for high school and then it’ll be college.”
“Can’t stop the passage of time, Keegan,” Carrie said.
“I know that, but I wish... I wish I had been there for him for the tough times. I only saw him when we had vacation days planned, and every hour was jam-packed with rides and games and fast food. I let Marta carry the load of raising a responsible boy who did his homework and ate his vegetables, while I got him for the fun times.”
Carrie paused before responding. “Pardon me for pointing out what’s obvious here, Keegan,” she began. “But I’d say a kid just entering his teen years might still have some tough times ahead, times when he’ll need his father. And I think you opened some windows these last few days, if not a door, to communication. I watched you and Taylor in your quiet moments, and it seemed to me that some genuine bonding might have been going on. Your fathering days are not over.”
Keegan glanced over at her. “I suppose.”
“You can thank me anytime, you know.”
He stared at her. “Don’t pat yourself on the back too quickly. You still overstepped your role as houseguest by about a mile.”
“How can you say that? Everything turned out great.”
“It did, yes. But a happy ending certainly wasn’t written in stone, Carrie. You spoke to my ex-wife, for heaven’s sake—something I rarely do. You paid for a plane ticket without consulting me. You put two awkward males together, and one of them had little more than a half hour’s notice to prepare.”
She crossed her arms over her chest in a smug gesture. “If I had told you ahead of time, you would have just stewed.”
“Maybe, but that wasn’t your call. None of this was your call. At least admit it, Carrie. You interfered in a situation which you had little knowledge about. This whole trip could have backfired.”
“I knew it wouldn’t,” she said simply.
“How could you know?”
She pulled the hexagonal crystal pendant from under her blouse and showed it to him. “See this piece of quartz? My mother gave it to me, and I’ve always believed that maybe it guided me. I just felt bringing Taylor here was the right thing to do.”
Keegan darted a quick, skeptical look in her direction. “Oh, well, that explains a lot. I didn’t realize that you were using hocus-pocus to bring Taylor and me together.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic,” she said. She thought back to some tough times when she’d needed good judgment, like the night she realized she wasn’t ready to make a serious commitment with Jeff.
“Look, I admit that I’m at least a partial believer in fate,” Keegan said. “I could have taken a direct hit from a bullet or an IED many times when I was only grazed. Maybe some lucky star was watching out for me. And maybe your mom’s special faith in you has made you a wiser woman somehow, but you still went too far by arranging this visit.”
She cleared her throat until he looked over at her. “Well, overstepping or not, my cynical friend, at the end of the day, only one question really matters.”
“And that is?”
“Are you satisfied with Taylor’s visit? Are you, deep down, grateful that I brought him here?”
He frowned over at her, but she could tell he really wanted to smile. “That’s two questions. Yes, I’m satisfied, more than satisfied, but am I grateful to you for butting in and taking a chance that this little ‘meet up’ of yours would work the way you wanted it to? No. Taylor could be flying back to Seattle right now thinking up excuses why he won’t see me again.”
“Do you think that’s what he’s doing?”
“No, but he could be.”
“But he’s not.” She let the silence settle comfortably in the car before she said, “You don’t have to tell me, but I hope that whatever you and Taylor discussed helped you to understand each other.”
Keegan nodded. “It d
id. Taylor asked me some serious questions about my past, my plans, the occupation which kept me away from him and his mom for long periods. I almost felt like I was talking to an equal, an adult who would understand my lame answers, or at least try to.”
Carrie sat forward in her seat, straightened her spine and said in her most queenly tone, “Well, then, that sounds like gratitude to me!”
Keegan took a hard right off the two-lane road they were traveling and sped toward a forested rest area up ahead.
“What are you doing?” Carrie demanded. “I don’t need to use the facilities.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KEEGAN DROVE INTO the nicely landscaped park but passed the restroom building and kept going to a picnic area which currently had no picnickers and probably wouldn’t until at least May. He parked his Tahoe, settled his left arm over the steering wheel and just stared at Carrie.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why did we stop here? What are you doing?”
He kept the car running, heating the interior comfortably. “You want to talk so badly... Well, let’s talk.”
She sat a bit straighter. “I don’t know if I want to talk anymore. Why don’t you take a crack at it?”
“Okay, I will.” He angled his body so he was closer to her, his knee practically touching her thigh. “First of all, Carrie, are you for real?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sorry to be so blunt, but you are a combination of so many contrasting characteristics, that sometimes you make my head spin. One minute you’re this creative environmentalist who hates to see one acre of land go to waste...”
“Well, is that so bad...”
“No interruptions. This is my time. The next minute you’re a sunshiney do-gooder who believes the world is a beautiful place and who is determined to make everyone happy, improve everyone’s situation, whether they want you to or not. And then there’s the Carrie who runs around hugging trees and who has probably seen fairies in the forest.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never seen a fairy.”
Rescued by Mr. Wrong Page 14
