Between locations Johnny had so far managed to avoid seeing Elaine, though he had gone through the woods last night and spent an hour looking at her parents’ house. According to the phone book, they still lived there. Elaine didn’t have a separate number listed. He wasn’t sure if that was because she still lived at home or if she was unlisted.
He passed the old Barker house where a woman with long dark hair like Elaine’s tried to start a lawn mower. She looked red-faced and frustrated so he turned around at the next drive and went back. By the time he pulled in, she was kicking the lawn mower.
“You need some help?”
“Yes. This piece of junk won’t start.” She kicked it again. “It’s been getting harder and harder and now it won’t do anything at all. My arm is going to fall off from pulling this cord.”
Johnny crouched. “You know, you should clean this off after every mow.”
“Really?” She crouched beside him. She was small like Elaine, but not as small and her hair was just a shade lighter.
“The easiest thing to do is blow it off with a leaf blower.” He pulled one of the spark plugs. It was coated with decomposing grass. “See this? It’s keeping your plugs from sparking so the mower won’t start.” Using the rag from his pocket, he cleaned them one at a time.
“And that’s just grass?”
“That’s just grass.” He pulled the cord and her mower started right up.
“Wow, thanks. Mr….” She held out her hand.
“McMannus.” He shook her hand.
“McMannus? Related to John?”
“He’s my father.”
“Oh good, I needed to talk to you.” She pressed her hands to her not-quite-as-ample-as-Elaine’s chest. “I’m Lily Walker, with the festival.” She leaned down and switched off the mower. “Your dad usually did auto support for the visitors. Were you planning on continuing that?”
“George told me. I will. Dad made the promise, I’ll carry it through.” Lily Walker, the girl George was so hot for it made him tongue-tied. Johnny looked her over. She did have a lot going for her. She wasn’t Elaine, but she was close.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Lily flushed. “Thank you so much. We are all so grateful. I am sorry about your dad.”
“My dad will be back just like new in no time.” Not that his dad had been great when he had been new, but Johnny didn’t want to say that in front of her.
“Poor Elaine, she works with me on the festival, feels so terrible. She was arguing with him when he had his heart attack. We keep telling her it wasn’t her fault, but I don’t think she believes us. You know Elaine, don’t you? Elaine Hammersmith. You must if you grew up in Weaver’s Circle.”
Johnny nodded, not willing to trust his voice.
“Do you think you could talk to her? Tell her your dad’s heart attack wasn’t her fault?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” Lily stared at him with huge, but not blue, eyes.
Johnny scrambled for an answer. How would he ever talk to Elaine if he couldn’t keep it together in front of this pale shadow of her? “I just don’t think she’d believe me.”
“Your sister said the same thing, but I can’t help but think she would appreciate it.”
This Lily Walker might not be local, but she certainly understood the Weaver’s Circle spirit. Everybody involved in everybody else’s business. “If I get the chance.”
“I can give you her cellphone number,” Lily offered.
Johnny started to salivate. Elaine’s cell? He wouldn’t have to meet her eye to eye. Just hearing her voice would be fantastic. He had a good reason to have the number. No one would ever know he’d talked to her. How many times would he call it just to listen to her answer? “No, I’m sure I’ll run into her.”
“All right. Will you be in town long?”
“Probably just until my dad gets better.”
“I didn’t think anybody ever moved away from here.” Lily giggled. The sound grated on Johnny’s nerves. Elaine had never been a giggler. “Where do you live now?”
“Florida.”
“Florida. How interesting. We’re just getting so many out-of-town visitors lately. You here from Florida and Nonie’s grandson from Atlanta.”
“Nonie?” Johnny felt dizzy. He needed to get away from chatty Lily who reminded him too much of Elaine.
“Mrs. Bennetti. Her grandson was involved in that real estate scandal in Atlanta. Beth says he’s the one who found the discrepancy in the books. He’s an accountant.”
“Really?” Johnny grasped that bit of information and filed it. He needed an accountant. If there was one at loose ends roaming around town, maybe he could help sort out the garage finances. “I really have to go. My family is waiting dinner for me.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Well, I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Me too–I mean, see ya.” Johnny got back in his truck and drove away as quickly as possible. According to the doctors, his dad wasn’t going to be out of the hospital for weeks and not able to work for maybe a year. If he’d given Elaine a year fifteen years ago, she might have figured out a way to let them stay together, but he left town. Karma had caught up with him.
He parked the truck in the usual spot behind the house, but didn’t go inside. Instead he set off in the opposite direction.
As he passed the garage, Sue opened her apartment door. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
“I’m not keeping dinner for you,” she snapped.
“Then don’t.” He wasn’t sure why his sister cooked dinner every night and wasn’t about to ask that either. All the old habits were coming back. Don’t ask questions. Keep your ears and your eyes shut as much as possible. Pretend this is normal.
He wasn’t sure he could anymore. His parents were drunks. His father was sometimes violent. His sister was an enabler, and he had just dropped out. Pressing through the overgrown orchard, he didn’t even wonder why no one tried to take care of it. Until his grandparents moved to Florida, they’d had a fruit and vegetable stand. They’d kept chickens and sold eggs. Once Grandma and Grandpa were gone, the chickens were all picked off for dinners and the orchard was abandoned except for mowing. Obviously when he left, mowing had been dropped too. It fit in with the many small and not-so-small home repairs that hadn’t been done in a long time. A broken window in the dining room covered with a garbage bag, the leaking water heater flooding the basement, the Fiero in the side yard rotting into the ground. Home sweet home. In the woods, Johnny followed the too familiar path to the stream and up the stream to their trysting spot.
Fifteen years ago, he’d taken an old quilt out of the house and brought it to the barn for them to lie on. When the weather warmed up, they had spread it on the flood pan of the stream and left it in the roots of a tree that hung over the bank between times. It was gone now, but he remembered the flowered pattern of the squares like the pattern of lines on his palms. The stream had shifted to the spot where they had lain, so Johnny sat down on a tree root and just looked at it.
Everything seemed the same. His body almost believed Elaine would come running up the stream to jump into his arms, laughing and happy. The world seemed like a brighter place when he was with her. It wasn’t just touching her and holding her or even the things she let him do and teach her to do, it was talking to her. She never treated him like a dumb mechanic who barely scraped out of school. She didn’t act like his family was any different from any other family in town. With her, he was a good guy, hardworking, with no bad past and only a bright future in front of him. When he taught her how to work on the Packard, he felt smart, worthy. She believed in him.
She was the only one who ever did.
That was a little scary.
Chapter 5
Elaine dangled her toe in the stream. Her birthday had come and gone yesterday. She was eighteen now. Legal. For some reason, she had thought Johnny would call or something. That wou
ld have meant he cared about her. Why else would the ultimate cool guy in Weaver’s Circle have anything to do with her?
Oh, I don’t know, because I did anything he asked? Because I was too stupid to realize he was using me just because he was bored?
Some of the older kids had been looking at her funny. He’d probably told them about the scam he had pulled on her. “Dorky Elaine Hammersmith. She’ll do anything. Out in the woods she’s the biggest slut in the world. She believes I’m in love with her. Isn’t that the most hysterical thing you ever heard?” They were all a bunch of losers who hadn’t gone to college after graduation. Tim Fitzroy. George Kline. Bill Nagy. They would never amount to anything.
Come September, she was going to go to college and get her teaching degree. Then she was going to come back here and show them all. She and Beth Wilson were going to change things around here. Beth hadn’t proved herself to be a two-faced loser. She really did want to escape her family’s bad reputation.
A yellow flower caught her eye. Elaine leaned down. The quilt was still crammed in the roots of the tree hanging over the stream. Johnny kept it in the barn to put over the hay last winter and brought it out here last summer. He must have forgotten to take it back home when he was finished with her. Elaine took it out of its garbage bag and shook it out. The ancient fabric was soft, but sturdy. All that showed of its year in the woods were a few spots of mud. Johnny had chosen its hiding spot well. He was no dummy, no matter what he said.
Elaine traced the small pieces of fabric that formed the North Star pattern. At least it wasn’t a Wedding Ring quilt. They had lain together on this quilt spread over the rocks, kissing and touching for hours. Exploring one another. Bundling it back into its bag, she decided to keep it on her bed as a reminder of how stupid she had been–so she’d never make that mistake again.
Her mother was out. She’d been working on a nursing degree for the past year. Her father was still miffed about it, but at least they were speaking now. He was at work. Kathy lay on the couch in short shorts and a halter top, flipping through cable channels.
“What’s that?”
“None of your business.”
“I’ll tell Mom.”
Elaine shrugged. “Mom is busy. It’s your turn to make dinner. What are we having?”
“My turn!” Kathy leaped off the couch. “It is not. My turn was yesterday.”
“Mom made dinner yesterday, that means it’s your turn today.” Elaine carried the quilt into the basement and stuffed it in the washer. When she went back upstairs, she found her sister head and shoulders in the freezer. “I’m going to go get my hair cut.”
Kathy slithered out of the freezer with a paper-wrapped parcel in her hands. “Why?”
“Because it’s hot and I’m sick of having long hair. Want to come? I’m going to that place by the mall. Maybe see a movie.”
Kathy looked at the parcel in her hand. “But I have to make dinner.”
“I’ll wash some potatoes and carrots, you get out the Crock-Pot and set up the timer. It’ll be ready when we get back. Dad will love it.”
“You’re a genius.”
Elaine smirked as Kathy thundered down the stairs in search of the Crock-Pot. A genius, but not very smart.
* * * *
Johnny stood in the dugout watching Beth fight with Joe Camolo. That one had always been fierce. Mrs. Bennetti and Miss Forrester looked a lot more fragile than he remembered, but about right for their age. The guy holding Beth back must be Mrs. Bennetti’s grandson, the accountant. Johnny wondered if he should wander over and give the guy a hand. It would be one way to guarantee an introduction. George walked between them. Better to let George deal with it.
Larry Phelps clapped him on the shoulder. “Are you ready, coach?”
“No.” Johnny glanced at where the team was warming up. He’d never played baseball as a kid. He spent those years in the garage learning how to fix things. His dad had only decided to sponsor and coach a team after he left. “Greg Monaco is going to be running the show today. I’m here for moral support.”
“Toby’s dad? He’s a good guy.” Larry folded his arms, puffing up for a professional encounter.
Johnny wished a sinkhole would swallow him. He’d thought he’d discovered the worst news in the garage office, but little bombshells kept falling, like the property tax on his parents’ place that hadn’t been paid last time it was due. If only Elaine knew this was why his dad had a heart attack. Depending on what Larry said, Johnny thought he might have a heart attack himself.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Larry said.
Of course he did. Johnny braced himself for the sky to fall.
Larry rocked on his heels. “There’s an account that’s in your name at the bank.”
“In my name?”
“You had a savings account with us. Didn’t you know?”
Johnny shook his head. He didn’t remember having any kind of bank account in Weaver’s Circle. The only place he ever worked was his dad’s garage, and most of his pay from that was room and board. Pocket money always depended on Dad’s mood. He never received a paycheck until he moved to Florida.
“I was able to dig into the records. Old paper records if you can believe it. Looks like your grandfather opened the account when you were just a boy. He must have been seeding it for you because many of the deposits were from before you started school.”
“Wow.” Johnny tried not to get excited. Grampa’s idea of a big tip was a dollar no matter what the bill came to. The savings account could be anything from ten thousand dollars down to twenty bucks. “So can you tell me the balance or do I have to stop into the bank on Monday?”
“I can tell you now there’s a little more than three hundred thousand dollars in there.”
“Three hundred thousand?” That took care of the overdue property tax and most of the supplier bills. Depending on what “a little over” amounted to, there might be enough to take care of some of the house repairs.
“Yes. This does put you in a bit of a pickle.”
Johnny stopped calculating how far three hundred thousand dollars would go in paying off his father’s financial disaster. Why was there always a drawback? “How so?”
“Well, if you didn’t know about the money, you haven’t paid any income tax on it.”
“Income tax.”
“You will, of course, be able to get certain breaks because the money was paid in gifts over a period of years, most when you were a minor. However the bulk on the interest was accrued in your majority.”
“Interest.”
“There will be penalties.”
“Of course there will.”
“We sent earning statements to your parents’ house every year. It was the only address we had for you.”
Johnny nodded. His father wouldn’t think to forward them to him. Why? Dad was too busy digging his own hole with the government, various suppliers and his accountant.
“You need to find yourself a good accountant to help you sort this out. And possibly a tax attorney.”
Johnny studied the bank manager. Was he misreading something or was the man actually gleeful at the idea of his having to call in a tax attorney? “Great. I needed an accountant anyway.”
“You know, that gentleman right over there talking to George Kline is an accountant. Violet Bennetti’s grandson. He’s only visiting, but perhaps he could help you out.”
Johnny nodded. “I’ll talk to him. Thanks.” He leaned against the back of the dugout. A surprise inheritance that could have solved any number of problems and it came with its own bundle of issues.
“Problem, boss?” Greg asked, walking into the dugout.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Johnny followed him in. “What am I supposed to do here? The kids know more about the game than I do.”
“Don’t worry about it. Mark coaches first base, I coach third, all you have to do is stay in the dugout, follow the batting order and try to remember it’s just a
game.”
Johnny nodded.
“How’s your sister, anyway?”
“Sue? She’s fine.”
“I went to school with her. Graduated the same year. She was always a sweetheart, but I never see her around town.”
“She hangs around home a lot. She runs a nail place there.”
“Well, that would explain why I never see her.” Greg fluttered his fingers and said in an effeminate tone, “I just can’t find time to get my nails done anymore.”
Johnny laughed. George walked onto the field and all the boys started running into the dugouts. Johnny stepped back and let Greg give the pre-game pep talk. The boys were so small. He didn’t remember ever being that small. Nonie’s grandson was standing behind Beth’s chair. Larry had said he was only visiting, but the way he had his hands on Beth’s shoulders looked a little more personal and permanent. He wouldn’t be the first visitor to Weaver’s Circle who decided to take up permanent residence.
The first batter walked up to the plate, and Johnny sensed a small shape standing beside him. He looked down at the little boy chewing his fingernails.
“Don’t bite your nails,” he said.
The boy peered up at him, taking his hand out of his mouth. He looked like a lemur, all eyes with a little face around the edges. Smaller than the other boys too, but Johnny wasn’t ready to trust his judgment on the sizes of children. The batter smacked the ball and the boy beside him flinched. Johnny put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. The kid shook with his own personal earthquake.
“Are you okay?”
The boy nodded, watching the next batter take the plate. The second batter had two strikes and three balls before he hit one. The kid next to Johnny flinched every time the pitcher pitched.
Johnny crouched down next to him. From this height, the ball, thrown by another eight-year-old, looked like a blur. “Goes fast, doesn’t it?”
The boy nodded.
Johnny tried to think what his dad would say so he could do the opposite. His dad would probably yell at the kid to suck it up and be a man. What had Greg said? Try to remember it’s just a game? Johnny imagined that his father had treated it like the fate of the free world depended on the outcome of this Little League game. “It’s just a game.”
Secrets Everybody Knows Page 5
