Foothills Pride Stories, Volume 2

by Pat Henshaw

  Lloyd shifted, finished his coffee, and leaned toward me.

  “The marshal would like to know if you want to go through any salvageable debris they find.”

  I looked at Christopher, who shrugged. He had moved closer now that we’d finished eating and were just sipping coffee. He slung his arm around me, gave me a hug, and then left his arm across my shoulders.

  “Yeah. Yes. If he finds anything, yeah, we’d like to see it. Christopher and Henry had things in the house too.”

  Lloyd nodded and rose.

  “I’ll keep you updated on what we find out.”

  As the sheriff walked away, Christopher asked me what I wanted to do besides shop today.

  Then the real world came whooshing back again. This time I was prepared and calmed my breathing while I drew as much strength from Christopher’s touch as I could. When I had myself under control, I answered him.

  “First, I need to check in with Riley at the store. I can’t work today. Like you said, we’ve got to find clothes and essentials. For all of us.”

  “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got you. We’ll take it slow.”

  His touch didn’t just supply strength and support, but also hope for the future.

  RILEY UNDERSTOOD that I couldn’t work. He said he’d call me if anything came up, but otherwise he was fine with running the store while Christopher and I went to the mall.

  While I conferred with Riley, Christopher called Abe and talked to him about the Adams-Scott House. On the drive out of town, Christopher said he needed to meet with Abe sometime in the afternoon, something about signing the agreement papers to start work.

  I enjoyed buying clothes with a boyfriend much more than shopping with the boyfriend’s teenage son. We constantly snickered at each other because Christopher kept selecting shirts and pants closer to what I liked, and I was choosing stuff he usually wore. If we didn’t watch it, we agreed, we’d become clones. Maybe Henry would get us confused. We knew our laughter sounded hollow, but we soldiered on.

  I’d just started to settle into the new status quo by afternoon when my world was hammered again.

  Lloyd called to say that I’d received a letter at the store. I thought it was odd that the sheriff was calling instead of Riley. When we met at the hotel, Lloyd explained that Riley had seen it and said he had a bad feeling about the letter. The return address was Emil’s at the bank.

  I’d forgotten all about Emil, thinking that he’d nested in with one of his friends until he felt comfortable coming back to the farmhouse for his things. I was ashamed to admit that not thinking about him had been easy. As far as I knew, now he was without a home and clothing too. I felt guilty until the sheriff put an envelope in my hand and asked me to open it.

  After I read the short note, I held it away from me before I collapsed into a chair. Lloyd grabbed it before Christopher could.

  “Read it out loud,” I asked the sheriff. I couldn’t believe what I’d read. If my house weren’t gone, I’d have thought the message was a joke.

  His voice started neutrally then quickly turned grim.

  Frank, I hope your guests are at the house when I start the fire. I want you and me to be on equal ground. I have nothing and no one to live for. You deserve the same.

  I wanted to be part of your life and your family and for us to be together forever.

  I don’t understand how you can’t know how much I’ve loved you. How could you not know? Now I hate you.

  You deserve to have everything you love taken away from you.

  I’ll go to prison for this, but you should know that it’s all your fault. You stole my life. Now you know how it feels to have no one and nothing.

  Rot in hell.

  Emil

  Stunned, I looked up from my hands to find Christopher squatting in front of me.

  “Frank? He’s wrong, Frank. You have to know that. You are the nicest, kindest, most caring person in the world.”

  I could feel Christopher’s fear as well as his caring. Did he think this note would send me over the edge?

  Oddly, my body wasn’t seizing up. Maybe I’d had too many attacks in the past week. All I felt was numb, from my head to my toes. Even my heart was numb.

  The sheriff opened his mouth as if to speak, but I beat him to it.

  “When you catch him—and I’m sure you will—you can tell him I don’t hate him. I feel sorry for him. I wish I shared his love, but I don’t. I guess I don’t have to evict him now. He evicted himself.”

  I started chuckling. Tears were running down my cheeks. No, I wasn’t crying. I refused to cry for Emil, and I especially refused to cry for myself.

  Christopher and Lloyd looked alarmed. But really, I was okay. Stunned but okay.

  “What Emil didn’t understand,” I told them, “is that family isn’t something a person can take. It has to be given to you. The people in a family are handing themselves over to the safekeeping of the others. There’s nothing there to steal.

  “Emil could hoard all the bits and pieces of my life, all the hardware that helps hold my days together, but family is larger and heavier and more encompassing than the bits and pieces. Family can’t be held or even photographed. Family is like a good soul. You either have it or not. No one can take it away except for the family members themselves, by breaking the bond of trust.”

  As I took a breath to keep going, Christopher handed me a glass of water.

  “Here, Frank. Drink. You have something else to say, Sheriff?”

  I took a sip, and Lloyd pulled a chair closer to me and sat.

  “We found pieces of a body in the house. The arson investigator thinks the pieces are from the body of the person who started the blaze. He thinks the arsonist used too much accelerant and couldn’t get out of the house fast enough when the fire began. He thinks it’s Emil, Frank.”

  12

  THAT SUMMER was the worst of times and the best of times, to paraphrase Charles Dickens.

  Christopher, Henry, and I spent it living in adjoining rooms in the Bandy Hotel, eating every meal at the Bottom, Monique’s Bakery, or the downtown diner. Henry and I worked at the store with Riley and Larry and one other kid I hired so that Henry and Larry had some summer days to goof off together.

  The tourists overran Old Town and swarmed the hardware store. Residents came in either singly or in groups to commiserate on the loss of the farmhouse, a part of Stone Acres history. With designer Fredi Zimmer’s help, Riley, the boys, and I gave the store a makeover. We added a history exhibit that looked like a scene from the old hardware store, where kids of all ages could weigh out two-penny nails or touch antique saws and hand tools. A couple times a month, I demonstrated how to plane wood and other traditional skills.

  As his house took shape inside, Christopher refused to accept any of the furniture or furnishings his ex now wanted to foist on him. Instead Christopher took me up on my offer to make a few pieces and to teach both him and Henry how to do basic carpentry.

  I’d been offered a gorgeous slab of redwood and said in passing one day that it would make a great-looking dining room table. Both the Darlings latched on to the suggestion and wouldn’t let it go until I agreed to work on it in the shop’s back room with them as my main helpers.

  Emil’s arson and his death slowly faded to the back of my mind as the niggling details of everyday life overran me. Some of his friends had a little memorial for him, but I didn’t attend. Still, I pitied him and his sad outlook on life.

  I couldn’t understand his total reliance on someone else for his happiness, while leaning on Christopher and Henry for mine. Only the mirror on the fairy-tale wall could see well enough to know I was falling into the same trap that had caught Emil. The only difference was that Christopher and Henry seemed to return my regard and weren’t spurning me.

  MY BIRTHDAY and the end of the summer season were fast approaching. The table was nearly finished, and the days were getting cooler. The new store sign was being delivered and would be put up
. I knew I could count on a few hundred comments to come my way when the residents saw it.

  The three of us and Larry were eating lunch at the diner. The chef and owner had started coming up with some interesting sandwiches and soups this summer, making what was once a hole-in-the-wall bar into an attractive breakfast and midday meal place. His boyfriend had commandeered the nearly sunless walls to experiment with low-light plants and flowers. You never knew what you’d have hanging in your face as you ate.

  “Is the table finished yet?” Henry had asked this question four or five times a day lately.

  “Yes, Henry. The table is finished.” I put down my sandwich and stared at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Why do you want to know? Are you planning on using it for something?”

  His face reddened, and his eyes went to his dad, who sighed.

  “So what are you two using the table for?”

  Christopher crowed and tousled his son’s too-long hair. “We have plans, Frank. Big plans for the table.” He shot me a wry smile. “So many people have seen it and tried to buy it that we thought maybe we’d….”

  He winked at me as I protested.

  “You want me to sell the table?”

  Now he and the boys were cracking up, their laughter making everyone in the diner look our way. It always took me a few moments to catch on when they were teasing me. I was already pretending to be grumpy.

  “Really funny, guys. Ha, ha, ha. What’s going on?”

  Christopher shot the boys a look. “I think what Henry’s been trying to ask, in his own unique and charming way, is where you’ll be living when our house is finished. We’d like to know what your plans are.”

  Henry looked a little puzzled, then nodded and grinned at me.

  Okay, not really what Henry was asking but still a question to be mulled over. I hadn’t moved from the hotel. I hadn’t made any plans for the future but had sailed through the summer like the cruise I was on didn’t have an end date. I was adrift while the Darlings had mapped out their future.

  “I… I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought.” I stopped and swallowed. “About the table…. We made the table for you. For your renovated house. I guess I thought….”

  I shut up in shock.

  I’d done the dumbest thing in my life. I’d become Emil.

  Because Christopher, Henry, and I had been doing everything together, I’d assumed. Weren’t we going to be a family after the house was finished?

  Now I understood how Emil felt after five years of living at the farmhouse, often driving to and from work with me. We hadn’t been sleeping together, but we’d spent a lot of time in each other’s company. I knew why he’d assumed we were together and were a family. In his mind, I’m sure, the months and years together equaled closeness. It had to be only a matter of time before we’d form an unbreakable bond. He’d be my family, and I’d be his.

  I also understood how devastated Christopher felt when his ex moved out. It was even worse in his case since they’d been sharing a bed and, from Christopher’s viewpoint, a life. They’d adopted a child and raised him together for a while. Then years later, when Christopher’s husband fled, Christopher must have felt like the floor had dropped out from under his feet.

  Now I knew how easy it was, even after only three months, to come up with erroneous ideas when two people didn’t share their inner plans and feelings. Neither Christopher nor I had talked about what would happen in the fall or the winter or for the foreseeable future. We’d only talked about the now—the day-to-day problems.

  As I looked back, I realized Christopher had talked pretty, and I’d been too flattered to think clearly. I’d fallen. I’d stumbled. And I’d let him pick me up.

  Then I’d assumed.

  I’d been certain they’d adopted me. I never doubted I’d become part of their family.

  I’d fucking assumed.

  Embarrassed at my faux pas, I jumped up, knocking into the table as I rose. I evaded Christopher’s hand and backed away, appalled that I’d nearly said the redwood table would go with me into our house.

  “Uh, sorry. I’ve got to get back to see if the sign’s here and they’re putting it up, uh, correctly. I’ll, uh, see you later.”

  I tried to smile at them, but I couldn’t look them in the eyes. I was mortified. Scared. Heartbroken. And I couldn’t be any of those things in public. Not and retain a semblance of sanity.

  All I knew was I had to scurry back to the store as fast as I could to have my panic attack in private. I couldn’t let the world see my shock and despair.

  Walk, walk, walk. Hurry, Frank. Faster, faster.

  I was bumbling along in earnest now. I heard Christopher behind me, calling my name.

  I couldn’t look back but could only face forward. Why hadn’t I been looking forward before this? I had so much to do. Find a house so I’d have somewhere to live. I couldn’t just float along hoping that someone else would take pity and rescue me.

  I had to rescue myself.

  Now.

  13

  THE INSTALLERS were inching the old Hardware sign off the building as I sailed past. They’d be rehanging it inside over part of the historical exhibit. The new sign looked good: McCord’s Hardware, Established 1889.

  I plowed past Riley, who asked, “Is everything okay, boss? Frank?”

  I locked myself in my office and pulled the slats closed over the window.

  I sat, put my head on the desk, and willed myself not to hyperventilate.

  I needed time to think and reassess. I didn’t have room for weakness and panic.

  Christopher banged on the door.

  “Frank! Frank! What the hell happened back there? What’s going on? Let me in!”

  I opened my mouth to tell him to leave me alone, but all I did was choke.

  After I stopped coughing, I tried again. “Go away, Christopher. Go away.” My words sounded weak and puny, but they were the best I could do. “I need a few minutes, and then we can talk. Just give me some time. Please. I just need time.”

  Maybe it was how desperate I sounded, but he stopped pounding on the door. I could hear him conferring with someone, probably Riley.

  “Okay, Frank,” he said finally, “we’ll give you fifteen minutes. Do you need water or something?”

  I nearly cried at his continued kindness.

  “No. No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  But I wasn’t.

  As I calmed down, I fell into my coping mode. I started making a list. At the top was to find a Realtor and start looking at properties for sale. I wanted to live in town from now on. It would be easier in the winter when the snow fell. I wouldn’t have to rely on Riley to walk down from his place.

  I also wanted to be on the opposite end of Main Street from where the Darlings would be living. I knew I couldn’t avoid them totally unless they moved, but I could make the chance of running into them at every turn less.

  Item number two on my list was to call the hotel and change rooms. Away from the darling Darlings. No point in prolonging the pain. My heart had taken enough blows lately. The store was right around the corner from the hotel, so it would be foolish for me to move out of the Old Town area. In fact, I hoped I’d used up my quota of foolish for a while.

  As I sat thinking about what other steps I needed to take and stared at my short, succinct list, Christopher knocked on the door again, more quietly this time.

  “Frank? How’s it going in there? Are you ready to talk to me?”

  I sighed, got up, and unlocked the door.

  He stood in the doorway, looking unsure and upset.

  “C’mon in.” I stared past him at Riley and Henry, who both looked worried. “Do you want to talk too?”

  They shook their heads and backed away.

  Riley pointed behind him.

  “No, Frank. Customers.”

  In tandem, Henry whispered behind him, “IKEA.”

  I gave them a grim smile. Christophe
r walked into my office, and I motioned for him to sit. I closed the door. Before he said anything, I started.

  “First, I want to apologize for taking up so much of your time this summer.”

  He gave a snort and opened his mouth. I raised my hand.

  “You asked me in the diner what I was planning to do. I can honestly say that I hadn’t given it much thought. I was drifting along, thinking everything was okay. I want to apologize for that too.”

  He opened his mouth, and my hand went up again.

  “Wait. Let me finish. Then you can say whatever you want. Please.”

  He shut his mouth and glared at me.

  “While you and Henry were planning your house and taking the time to rebuild your lives, I wasn’t looking any further than day-to-day. So your question caught me off guard.” I grimaced. “I assumed some things that I shouldn’t have. But with your reminder today, I’m going to correct that.”

  I pointed down at my pitiful list.

  “I want to thank you for taking care of me and getting me past the fire. I couldn’t have done it without you and Henry. I’ll always be grateful. I was serious about wanting you to have the table. I’ll get or make my own furniture when the time comes.” I tapped my list. “You’re right, though. I have to figure out what I’m going to do with my future. I get it. I understand.”

  “No!” Christopher leaned forward and tried to grab one of my hands. “You’re wrong.”

  He was still handsome and alluring. He promised lifelong friendship, and someday we might get there. But not today. Not now.

  I marveled at how quickly the effervescence of new love had worn off and how swiftly the crushing reality of life had taken over. I no longer felt like a teenager in the throes of new romance, but again like the middle-aged owner of a historic hardware store in the middle of nowhere. Christopher and I had had our fling, and now the temptation to fall into Emil’s ennui was tempting.

  Fleetingly, I wondered if tonight when they had dinner and then went back to the hotel to go to bed, they’d feel a Frank-shaped void in their lives. I knew I’d feel a Christopher-and-Henry hole in mine, just as I had after my grandfather, my mother, and my father died. I knew the holes shrink but never go away with time.