Читать книгу The Homecoming - Robyn Carr, Robyn Carr - Страница 9

Three

Seth’s days were long, but that was by choice. Thunder Point was his town and he had a terrible fear of missing something important. He didn’t have hard days, just long ones. He was scheduled to work five days a week from nine to five, but he started much earlier. He was usually in his office by six in the morning, while the next deputy didn’t come on duty until eight. And he didn’t leave Thunder Point before six or seven each evening. Until he got the lay of the land and figured out when the town was busiest, when there was potential for problems, he was there. Not always in uniform, but always ready. The office was closed Saturday and Sunday with a deputy or two on duty or on call in the evenings. Being on call on a quiet evening was the prime job in a quiet little town—you could go to a movie with your family and chances were good you wouldn’t be called out and you were still getting paid.

Seth was usually in town on the weekend, as well, for a couple of hours, maybe more. Not only was he trying to learn the town, he was trying to become the familiar face. To that end, he hung out a lot. He did about five hours a day of management, which included paperwork. He spent the rest of the time driving around, having coffee, grabbing a meal, talking to people on the street. He ran into folks at Cooper’s on the beach, Waylan’s, Cliffhanger’s, Carrie’s, the diner and the service station.

The service station was now called Lucky’s and the new owner, Eric Gentry, was a heck of a good guy and he’d turned that old wart of a gas station into a showplace. It was completely remodeled down to new pumps, and in addition to the extended maintenance shop he had added a classic car restoration garage including a paint bay. And the place was as clean as his mother’s kitchen. Eric’s equipment was new. It was no longer the greasy, run-down old shop of Seth’s youth.

“Every time I come to this place I wonder what happened. It’s nothing like the garage I spent half my life in. We all worked for my dad growing up. Forget labor laws, he had a broom in my hand when I was ten.” Seth laughed at the memory. “He said if he didn’t pay me it wasn’t against the law and he wasn’t a man to break laws.”

“That sounds like Norm,” Eric said. “He must be glad to have you back in town.”

Seth raised one eyebrow. “Does he seem happy?”

Eric laughed. “Well, no. But he must be....”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. My dad and I have what you’d call a prickly relationship.”

“I have to admit, he’s good with the customers,” Eric said. “How is he with your brothers?”

“He’s easier on them. But I was a big disappointment to Norm. I was supposed to have a big pro-football career, make lots of money...”

“Norm had his eye on your money?” Eric asked, sounding surprised.

“Nah, he has money. No one on earth knows how much, but he’s always been a miser, and he was real proud of the fact that this station was paid off when he put it up for sale.”

“And he asked a high price, too,” Eric said. “The station needed a lot of love, but the land it sits on is prime land. It was covered with junk, but it’s a good plot. It allowed me to expand. So if it wasn’t money?”

“I think it was bragging rights,” Seth said. “I was all-conference in high school, went to the U of Oregon on scholarship, was on the shortlist for the Heisman, took a pro contract with the Seahawks, played about an hour the first season and then, bam. Car accident. Football over forever.”

“How can a guy be mad about a car accident? Was it your fault or something?”

Seth shook his head. “Miraculously, it was not my fault, but I was speeding. I was cited for speeding, but the other guy blew a stop sign. Thing is, we might not have been so badly injured if I hadn’t been going too fast, so even though he caused the accident, I still feel responsible. Wrong place, wrong time, young guy who felt bulletproof in his fancy little car. That was me. If I’d been going slower, I might’ve been able to avoid impact. Or maybe we wouldn’t have been seriously injured. We’ll never know.”

Eric shook his head sadly. “Norm should be happy you’re alive.”

“Somewhere under that crusty exterior, maybe he is.”

“I know how you feel, buddy. I disappointed my parents, too. That might be the definition of youth.”

“How’d you do it?” Seth asked.

Eric looked surprised. “You mean you don’t know? Even Mac didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“I guess I should feel relieved—at least I’m not a legend around here.” He clapped a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Brother, I went to jail. I served some hard time.”

“No kidding?” Seth asked, completely shocked.

Eric nodded and for a moment his green-eyed gaze was hard. “With a couple of buddies who decided to boost some beer while I waited in the car. One of them poked a finger into the pocket of his hoodie and said, ‘Gimme your money,’ which elevated it to armed robbery even though there wasn’t a weapon between us. We were pulled over ten minutes later, taken into custody and the two lunkheads I was with either got better lawyers or lazier judges. I didn’t have a clue what was happening until my public defender explained it to me. He wasn’t very good, it turns out. I did five.”

“No shit?” Seth said.

“Stupidity can be so expensive. And time-consuming.”

“I guess you turned yourself around....”

“Prison made me very smart. This is my second garage. I sold a profitable body shop in Eugene and invested in this place and it’s going well. Some of my old classic customers have followed me, we’re doing more maintenance work and staying open longer.”

“Are your folks still disappointed?”

“I think there are some years they wish I could erase. But I have a good woman in my life—Laine. Just having her with me has smoothed things over. I’m sure they can’t believe it—she’s smart and beautiful and a former FBI agent. My dad came around faster than my mom, but if I’m honest, my mom has always had a hard time being happy with me. How about Norm?” Eric asked.

“Oh, Norm has always been a little bit on the irascible side, but when I blew a pro football career, he got downright grumpy.”

“What are you gonna do about that?” Eric asked.

Seth smiled. “I’m gonna wear him down.”

* * *

Seth thought adding a good woman to the mix wouldn’t hurt his reputation, but the only one he could think of was still pissed about the senior prom, even though she was thirty-four years old.

It was weird, his feelings about Iris. They had developed over years and largely in absentia. He’d always known Iris was his best friend, even if he was loath to admit that to the guys when he was young. He and Iris always seemed to understand each other and met on equal ground. Since they’d never crossed that line into a romantic relationship, he’d dated other girls. Iris had dated other guys...hadn’t she? He’d always thought she was pretty. It was all irrelevant because they’d had a misunderstanding, the friendship was lost and Seth went away to college where the girls were plentiful and eager. He had fun for a while, no denying that, but there was always something missing for him. They didn’t understand him, for one thing. Iris had always understood him, even when he’d rather she not.

In the years that followed, after his recovery from the accident, there had been women now and then. Much to his surprise, they hadn’t seemed to be repulsed by his scarred face or his unsteady gait. There were a few he’d felt comfortable with for a time, some he had satisfying sex with, some who shared his interests, others who had been interested in building a future with him. But there’d never been one who could take Iris’s place. And it made no sense to him at all.

He thought by coming back to Thunder Point he’d figure it out. If he could just restore his friendship with Iris to what it had once been, he’d see their relationship in proper perspective, the way he had growing up. They were good friends, and that was enough. He’d marry someone someday and maybe have a couple of kids. Iris would do likewise. Partnered with other people, they’d be couple friends. Their kids would play together. Life would be fulfilling and logical once again.

Of course, it was all complicated by one small thing. He sometimes had dreams of making love to Iris. Okay, two small things—Iris had always been pretty but over the past dozen years she’d grown truly beautiful. It was obvious to him that she didn’t realize it, but there was no question about it—she was a knockout. Maybe it was as simple as fixing her hair or realizing her confidence, but the reason hardly mattered. The same girl he’d taken for granted when they were kids, the childhood friend who could kick a soccer ball as far, hit a baseball farther, was now the most beautiful woman in town.

And those dreams. They embarrassed him, and he’d had dozens over the past fifteen years. Why Iris? The only girl in school he hadn’t tried to seduce. Truth was, he would have been scared to death to try—she’d probably coldcock him! He’d tested her out several times by carefully explaining his lust for other girls, and right after telling him he was a pig she’d give him pointers on how to talk to a girl, where to take her on a date, what to do to get her attention. If Iris had any interest, she wouldn’t have done that. But still—he dreamed of her. He had to figure out how to make that go away.

At the end of business, he changed into his running clothes and took off across the beach. It always made him feel better about his new position. Then he grabbed his duffel and dropped in on his mother, who let him use the shower. Normally, he’d just head home in his running gear but tonight he had a date. Sort of. Mac was off duty. His wife was busy with their girls so Mac had suggested they get together for a beer and some crab cakes and talk over how things were going for Seth in the new job.

Seth walked into Cliffhanger’s. He liked this place—the bar was upscale and the dining room was kind of fancy. A person could take a woman to dinner here and feel downright adequate. In fact he saw the back of an attractive blonde standing at the bar having a glass of wine—pretty hair, even though it was pink on the ends. Nice body. She might turn around and have the face of a horse, but from the back...

“Seth?” the woman said. She turned toward him. A better detective than he was, she’d seen his face in the mirror. “Is it really you?”

He smiled at her. “Sassy?”

“Please, I’m Sue. I left that horrible nickname behind.”

“Sue,” he said, his grin widening. Fat? Missing a front tooth? Iris had been baiting him. It made him feel loved. He wasn’t sure why. “How have you been?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m your new town deputy. Mac was promoted and is working out of Coquille now.”

“Really? That’s fantastic! We’ll have to get together!”

Seriously? he thought. Never gonna happen. “You’re married, right?”

“Not anymore. But if you are I can get a date and you and your wife...”

Seth instantly saw nightmares. But then, even though Sassy hadn’t gained weight and wasn’t missing an incisor, of all the women he could think of, Sassy was the last one he’d like to spend an evening with. “I’m not married, but my work schedule is terrible,” he said.

“What are you doing here at Cliff’s?” she asked.

Seth, bedeviled, started to laugh. He couldn’t help picturing Sassy as overweight and missing a tooth. He tried like hell to stop, but he couldn’t seem to suppress his laughter. That damn Iris! She was a troublemaker.

“What’s so funny?” Sassy asked. She frowned as she sipped her wine.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his thumb and forefinger rubbing his eyes while he tried to get control of himself. She had pink hair! And he couldn’t remember her boobs being that big, but then, she was older. Did boobs grow? “I’m meeting Mac,” he said, still laughing. “It’s kind of a business meeting, since I’m taking over his post.”

“Sue,” someone said. “That’s fish and chips, coleslaw, garlic toast.” Cliff put an enormous brown bag on the bar.

She passed him a credit card but glared at Seth. “Are you laughing at me? At my hair?”

He sobered instantly, though the laughter stayed right there, right behind his lips. He sought an excuse. “Your hair? No, of course not. I was just thinking, remember when we were about sixteen? Remember when you were cheering a hockey game? Out on the ice? And you were skating backward and got rammed by Robbie Delaney? And he sent you flying across the ice at about fifty miles an hour?” He didn’t add, The same guy you cheated on me with.

“It wasn’t that funny,” she said. She leaned on the bar to sign the charge slip.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sure if you’re the one getting hit, it’s not. Sorry.”

“I had problems with my tailbone for years....”

“Ah, there’s Mac!” he said. “You know Mac, right?”

“I don’t spend a lot of time with the law,” she said stiffly.

Still struggling not to laugh, Seth stuck out his hand. “Hey, Mac. You know Sassy...I mean, Sue Marie Sontag, right?”

“Delaney,” she corrected. She shook Mac’s hand but gave him a tight smile.

“You married Robbie Delaney?” Seth asked. “Wow.”

“I’d better get this home to the kids.” She lifted her wineglass and gulped down what was left.

“Kids?” Seth echoed. And then in spite of himself he started to laugh again, picturing her with a hockey-player’s smile. He was going to kill Iris.

“Three,” she said, greatly irritated with him. “See you around.”

When she’d cleared the door, Seth sat at the bar and started to laugh again. He put his elbow on the bar, his head resting on his hand and just shook his head.

“That must have been some joke,” Mac said.

“That damn Iris,” Seth said.

“Iris is here?”

“No. No, she’s not,” Seth said. “Iris and Sassy—I mean Sue Marie—were kind of competitive in high school. It’s a long and complicated story, but I accidentally asked Sue and Iris both to the prom, but I went with Sue. And I had a horrible time, but I never did have good instincts about stuff like that. Iris apparently still hates her. I was surprised to hear Sue was still around Thunder Point and Iris told me...” He stopped to laugh a little more. “She told me Sue had gotten fat and was missing a tooth right in front. She didn’t mention the pink hair.”

“Cliff, two beers, whatever is on tap,” Mac said. Then he turned to Seth. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” he said.

He remembered the last time he and Iris had had that problem—out-of-control laughter. They’d been seventeen and in English class. They sat at the same table for two. Their teacher, the dowdy and homely Ms. Freund, had noticed Mr. Gaither, the new, slightly younger and handsome advanced algebra teacher in the classroom next door. Ms. Freund had been seen staring and nearly swooning. He and Iris had been joking about how easily Ms. Freund could be had if Mr. Gaither played his cards right. And then she came to school with her hair streaked and, boy, was it streaked, nearly striped in yellow, and in some bizarre updraft style that looked lacquered together. Her eyelids were blue and she damn near killed herself in her spike heels. She wore a new outfit—a skirt so tight she could hardly move and a fitted sweater with a low neckline so she had some pathetic cleavage. In fact, they thought it looked like there might be cotton peeking out. And before class was over, after all that action at the blackboard, Ms. Freund’s left boob slid to her rib cage. Iris and Seth lost it. They started to laugh so hard they almost had to be physically removed from the classroom. They could not get things under control in the principal’s office. They had been completely consumed by the stupids and couldn’t even talk about it weeks later without losing control. Every hour of detention was worth it.

Damn, he had missed her.

* * *

Since John Garvey, the senior guidance counselor, had taken his retirement from the school district, Iris was left in charge of the counseling office in the high school. Garvey said it was an early retirement but if you asked most of the teachers, and Iris for that matter, it wasn’t quite early enough. Garvey had an antiquated notion of what high school students needed and often he did more harm than good. He was quite famous for telling young girls they “weren’t college material.” As if these girls didn’t have self-esteem problems enough!

It did leave Iris with an awful lot on her plate. A new counselor was being sought to work with her and, in the meantime, she was promised an intern from the college. It was going to take time to find another counselor—the requirements were steep and the pay wasn’t great. Iris needed that intern yesterday—it was testing time in the high school and she was setting up SAT and ACT test schedules. Doing this without help left precious little time for actual counseling. And everywhere she looked, she saw the need. She was on the lookout for behavioral problems, academic struggles, self-esteem issues that led to things like anorexia and bulimia, bullying—and that wasn’t just students bullying each other. Sometimes teachers were far too corporal or verbally abusive and sometimes they suffered the same from students. She kept vigilant for signs of depression, anxiety, drug and alcohol issues, unstable home lives. Her days were long and she worked at home on evenings and weekends—no spare brain cell was unused.

And she loved it.

Iris hadn’t known when she was in high school that this was the perfect direction for her, but then her counselor was John Garvey, who had not done one thing to help her discover her aptitude. At the time, neither Iris nor her mother had any idea what Garvey should have been doing with her—a student who’d not only graduated with honors but had done some serious damage to an SAT. Fortunately, Iris had had better guidance at the university and really took to social work. So began her driving need to get her master’s degree and return to her high school as a guidance counselor and do for the kids and teachers what John Garvey had not. Since she’d been at Thunder Point High they’d instituted a no-tolerance drug-and-alcohol program and a zero-tolerance-for-bullying program. And while it hadn’t exactly been an issue, there was also a no-tolerance-for-cheating program in place now. Three absolutely necessary and useful programs that Garvey had neglected if not ignored.

Her desk was awash in paper she’d been struggling to control for hours when Troy Headly gave a light tap on her open door and stuck his head in. “Hey,” he said. “Got a minute?”

She put her pen down and smiled at him. “Are you here on business?”

He didn’t smile, which was very unusual for Troy. Often his visits to her office had more to do with flirting, since they’d been a couple for a while last spring and she’d broken it off, to his extreme displeasure. Troy was a great guy, a lovely man, but it just wasn’t working for her. Troy had been looking for another try ever since. He fully expected her to come around and admit they were right for each other.

“Can I close the door?” he asked.

“Business, then,” she said.

He sat in the chair that faced her desk. “How well do you know Rachel Delaney?”

She shrugged. “I know her a little. She’s never been referred to me. I went to school with her mother.” She grinned. “Back in the day they called her mother Sassy. She was the most popular girl in the senior class.”

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Troy said.

“Sassy was kind of mean.”

“Rachel seems to be enjoying similar popular status, though she’s a junior this year. Beautiful girl and I’ve never seen her be mean. She’s very sweet. Know anything about her family? Home life?”

Iris folded her hands on top of her pile of papers. “Where’s this going?”

“Maybe nowhere. Just that I have this hunch...it’s possible she’s being abused.”

“In what way? What gave you your hunch?”

“Either she’s one of the klutziest girls in her class or someone’s knocking her around. A few weeks ago, I noticed some bruising on her neck and shoulder and asked her what happened. She said she got tackled playing football on the weekend. A few weeks later she claimed to have taken a volleyball in the face, causing her black eye. Since then she’s wearing lots of sweaters and high necks.”

“It’s getting cold,” Iris said.

“Yeah, I know. I touched her arm yesterday to stop her from leaving class so I could give her back her paper, which was very well done and I wanted to praise her. But she winced and jerked away. I asked her if anything was wrong and she said she was sore from a big workout. She was very nervous and not too convincing.”

“Do you have any experience with this sort of thing?” Iris asked.

“I have some experience at how people cover it up. When I was growing up our neighbor was physically abusive to his family. He was such a smooth-talking bastard, all smiles, always had the best of everything. Except his wife and kids had no freedom of movement and everything had to be perfect. The wife and mom—she couldn’t even visit at our house for a cup of coffee. My mother kept saying it was all wrong, my dad kept saying she had a wild imagination and should mind her own business. Then one day the police came. The oldest girl was taken away in the ambulance, the rest of them were bruised and shaken up and he was arrested. It had been going on a long time, we learned. My mother could tell. My father wanted her to leave it alone. That’s it,” he said. “That’s all I’ve got. Could be she’s really clumsy or maybe her father is hitting her.”

“Actually, her father isn’t in the picture just now. She, her mom and two younger brothers are living with her mom’s sister and brother-in-law and their kids. It’s very crowded and it’s not a big house. I suppose that could be an issue, but Sassy and her sister were always close. And if you knew Sassy—she wasn’t one to take any crap. From anyone.”

“Is there anything you can do about this?”

“Uh-huh. There’s lots I can do. I can give the PE teacher a heads-up to let me know if Rachel has signs of problems that include injuries. I can talk to her teachers from last year and ask if they had concerns about her. I can check for absences or illnesses, look over her grades, watch her movements around campus. If someone is hitting her or otherwise hurting her, there will be other signs. And then, of course, I can talk to her.”

“She’s a good student,” Troy said. “And she’s not isolated. Batterers usually isolate their punching bags. Rachel is popular and has quite a posse.”

Iris grinned at him. “Why don’t you get your master’s and work with me? You have such good instincts about this sort of thing.”

“Why would I want to go back to school when I can surf and ski and dive on my time off?”

That was Troy, Iris thought. The fun guy. Active, busy, always on the move, dive trips to faraway waters, ski trips to exotic runs, very athletic and every sport was extreme and on the edge. It was one of the things she had enjoyed about him even if she didn’t share his kind of fun—he was untamed. Adventurous. He was a little younger than Iris—just turned thirty. And he was an exceptional history teacher.

“You can leave this in my hands,” she assured him. “If you think of anything more, let me know.”