Walker nodded.
“That’ll work. I gotta go meet that crippled neighbor of yours first to give him an estimate on a new roof. I’ll pick you up after.”
“Walker, don’t say that about him.” Edie bent forward. “Hey, look over there. Your boys are gonna cross the road.”
He spun on the heels of his boots. His sons stood along the road’s shoulder. A car sped in front of them.
“You two! Stay right there!” he yelled before he slapped the panel of Edie’s door. “See ya later.”
Walker marched across the road. Behind him, the tires of Edie’s car dug into the dirt as she drove away.
“I thought I told you two to stay in the truck,” he growled at his sons.
“We wanted to see Aunt Edie,” one boy said.
“Your aunt had to get going. She’s got lots of food in the car that’ll spoil. She’s taking it to all the old people who shop at your grandparents’ store.”
Walker shut the passenger side door after the boys climbed inside. One boy stuck his head through the open window.
“Ma says you like Aunt Edie too much,” he said.
Walker’s neck got hot.
“She did, did she? Sometimes your mother can say silly things.” Walker kept his voice at a casual tone. “You remember what I told you about your Uncle Gil, how he died in the war? Your aunt and cousin just need a little help cause they’re all alone. Sometimes I’m the only one who can do it.” He playfully tugged on the lid of the boy’s ball cap. “Besides, everybody likes Aunt Edie a lot. Don’t you?”
The boys’ heads bobbed.
“Yeah,” they said.
“All right then, let’s get going. I bet your mother has lunch ready.”
Worked
Walker was the first one in the house. His wife sat on the edge of their bed, her wide rear end sinking into the mattress. She held a mirror close to her face as she plucked her eyebrows, definitely the woman’s best feature. She didn’t take her eyes from the glass.
“How’d the boys do at practice?” she asked.
“Great. Coach says Randy’s gonna be the starting pitcher next game.”
She lowered the mirror.
“Really? He’s that good?”
“That’s what he says.”
She raised the mirror and pressed the tips of the tweezers over a hair. The skin popped upward as she pulled.
“Sharon, I was thinking of going to the camp today to open it up for the season.”
She worked on another hair.
“When do you wanna leave?”
“Uh, I was going to go by myself this time.” He swallowed. “I need to meet those folks from New York. You know, the Jews who bought the old Hamilton place. Name’s Goldberg.”
“We could always wait in the truck while you talk with them.”
“That’s not such a smart idea. Those people are his and her lawyers. I don’t want them thinking we’re a bunch of hicks.” He relaxed as he built his story. “This could be a really big job for us. Really big. I warned these folks before they bought the house it was gonna cost them a bundle to fix, but they didn’t care cause they had their heart set on living in an old place in the country. They haven’t even mentioned money, so you know they’re filthy rich. It could mean we finally go on that vacation to Florida you’re always talking about. How about taking the boys to Disney World this winter? They’d love it.”
“Florida. Really?” She smiled because he nodded. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t wanna rush it. I gotta handle this just right.” He paused. Disney World was the clincher. “Who knows what I’ll find at the camp? Last year, I had to get rid of a rats nest.”
She made a familiar sour face as she squeezed the tweezers. Her eyes were on the mirror.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead without us. I’ll take the boys to Vera’s. Just try not to be too late.”
Nice View
Walker climbed the wooden ladder he set against Harlan Doyle’s house. He took the rungs easily until he was on top of the roof. Harlan followed slowly, using his arms to pull himself upward, but he stayed on the ladder.
“Yes, sir, you need a new roof alright.” Walker stepped over the shingles, which broke easily beneath his boots. “Some of the boards seem soft. They could be rotted. If that’s the case, they’ll have to be replaced. It’s not a big deal. It’d take my crew two days tops for the whole job.”
Walker kicked at a shingle.
“How soon could you get it done?” Harlan asked.
“Next week, maybe. We could use a fill-in job right now.” Walker crouched on the roof. “Nice view from up here.”
Harlan pointed toward the west.
“Those the Berkshires?”
“That’s them all right.”
Walker turned toward Edie’s house. He recognized his mother’s car in her driveway. She held Amber’s hand. Her head tipped forward as she smiled at the little girl. Walker frowned. He didn’t remember his mother being so tender to him even after Gil died, and she should’ve been.
After they got the news about Gil, the whole family went to the apartment above the store where Edie lived. So many people were there, so much grief, and in the middle of it, Walker tried to help his mother down the stairs to her car, but she pulled her hands from him, squawking for him to leave her alone. She might as well have said, “I hate you. If I lost a son, it should’ve been you and not Gil.” But Walker’s draft number was high. He didn’t have to go to Vietnam. She never said she was thankful for that, at least.
Walker kicked a shingle and watched it sail off Harlan Doyle’s roof into the treetops. He grinned at the man’s scarred face.
“Like I said, this shouldn’t take more than two days. Let’s get down, and I’ll write you up an estimate.”
Harlan lowered himself so slowly down the ladder Walker muttered, “Poor fuck,” and he meant it.
Home Sweet Home
Walker took it slow over his camp’s muddy driveway. The property was on a lake in the northwestern part of the state, an hour away, almost to New York.
“I helped my father build the cabin when I was a boy,” he told Edie. “It used to be the only one for miles, but now a couple of new places go up every year. Newcomers. They build houses with those big-ass windows and docks for their speedboats. You know, second homes for rich people from out of state.”
“It’s real nice here, Walker,” Edie said.
“My father gave up this camp a few years ago when he lost interest in it. Before that, the men in our family used to fish and hunt here a couple of times a year. We went for a week, living it up on steak, trout, and booze, tromping through the woods, sometimes getting a deer or a bird. It’s all mine now.”
Edie sat forward as she took in the view of lake.
“It feels so far from home,” she said.
“That’s why I like it.”
Walker usually came with Dean, his best buddy and the foreman of his crew. The two of them talked over the old days and their family troubles. Walker hated his wife and loved Edie. Dean, broke from a divorce and deaf in one ear from Vietnam, lived in a singlewide trailer within walking distance of the Do on the west end of town. Dean had no intention, so he said, of ever getting married again.
“It used to be a lot quieter in the summer,” Walker said. “But I know other places around here to fish. We could even go swimming if it’s warm enough. What do ya think?”
“Okay, Walker, I brought my bathing suit like you asked.”
“Nice, baby.” He patted Edie’s thigh. “I gotta warn you, it’s pretty rough. No electricity. There’s just an outhouse. Or you can go in the woods like I do. Nobody ever comes here. Nobody.” He smiled at Edie. “There’s a bar in Hartsville that serves food, so we could go there for dinner.”
“You think we’d be all right?”
“Don’t worry, baby. Nobody knows us here.”
The cabin, its exterior covered by vertical boards, rose on cement posts above the dried leaves and pine needles of the forest’s floor. A shed for his boat and hand tools was beside it. Firewood was stacked in high rows between the maples. Edie followed Walker around his land. Limbs were down from this winter’s ice storms, but except for some broken planks on the deck and a busted hinge on a door, his place was in okay shape.
Walker unlocked the cabin and used his shoulder to shove open the swollen door. The camp was too still from being without people. Its tight walls kept the cold and must inside.
“Home sweet home,” he joked.
The one-room cabin didn’t have much: a galley kitchen with empty shelves and a hand pump in the sink, a two-burner camp stove, propane lanterns on the counter, and a built-in table. A ladder next to the woodstove lead to the attic, which had a few extra beds from when the place was full of hunters. A couch, a double bed, and bureau were behind the ladder. A stuffed pheasant, its tail feathers spread like a fan, was perched on the wall above the bed.
Walker stood behind Edie and circled his arms around her. He kissed the back of her neck. She smelled nice. He touched her front, moving her toward the bed, until she and he fell on its quilt, kissing and pulling off each other’s clothes. Sunlight coming through the small window near the bed shined on her body, and he kissed her belly and breasts. He whispered her name and then, “Baby.”
Scared
Edie dressed as she walked around the cabin. She kneeled on the couch to study the dusty black-and-white photos of men holding dead game and strings of fish. Walker grinned from the edge of the bed, where he pulled on his cowboy boots.
Her face spun toward him.
“It’s Gil and you,” she said.
Walker stood beside her. Two smiling boys, wearing plaid jackets and furry hats flapped over their ears, posed with rifles.
“It’s us alright. Dad used to bring me and Gil up here when we were kids.”
“Look at you two. Just like Shane and Randy.”
Edie studied the photo. Walker cleared his throat. He wanted her to look at him.
“What do ya think it would’ve been like if he lived?” he asked her.
“Well, for one, I wouldn’t be here with you.”
She smiled. But Walker felt his jaw freeze. His words came from the back of his throat.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we would’ve been happily married. I wouldn’t have been alone with Amber.”
“You think so, huh?”
“Course, I do.”
“Sure.”
“Walker, this is silly.”
He clasped her arm tightly and brought his face close to hers. Her smile went flat. Edie cried out, and when he let her go, she dropped the photograph to the floor.
“Yeah? You probably would’ve had a bunch of kids, got fat, and he’d be cheatin’ on you.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Walker, stop it.”
She tried to move away. He wouldn’t let her.
“I should’ve had you first.”
She was scared, he could tell, but she wasn’t backing down. She jerked her head back.
“No, you wouldn’t have cause I loved Gil more. I always will.”
Walker saw darkness and light flash like a summer squall. His fingers pressed into Edie’s upper arm as he rushed her across the room. Her shoes crushed the broken glass, and the hem of her dress flapped around her bare legs. He gripped harder. She cried when her hip smacked the corner of the bedpost as he threw her down on the mattress. She tried getting up, but he shoved her down again and kept her pinned. He slapped her arms and legs, her backside. Her fists hit against his chest. He held his hand high, but Edie covered her face and rolled to the other side of the bed. Sobbing, she stayed that way.
Walker balled his hands into fists as he charged outside to the dock. The lake that spread before him was as gray as his heart now felt. He took the air in short, sharp breaths. He kicked the part of the dock where the boards had fallen away. He should’ve known better than to ask something like that. Gil was a topic they rarely discussed. No one did, except for Dean, and he was allowed because he brought up stuff they used to do.
“Goddamn it, I really fucked things up back there,” he said out loud.
Walker shuffled through dried leaves toward the open doorway. He didn’t see Edie. He searched the cabin, saying her name, but she was gone. He went outside, calling again. She didn’t answer.
He saw movement through a clearing between the trees. His eyes followed it. Edie ran up the road.
He shook his head.
“Walker, you’re such an asshole,” he told himself.
Edie didn’t stop when he called her name. He flung open the door to his truck and got it started. He kept it in first up the driveway and on the gravel road. He didn’t want to scare her any more than he already had, but she glanced back and ran harder.
Walker drove slowly alongside her. He reached over to crank down the window on the passenger side.
“Edie, Edie, please, stop, please. I’m so sorry.”
“Go away, Walker.”
“Aw, Edie.”
She kept going. He pulled the truck to the edge of the road. He jogged to catch up with her.
“Edie, hey, wait up.”
She stopped running and bent deeply at her waist. He moved toward her.
“Edie, forgive me, please, baby.”
Her lips quivered when he stood in front of her. She took a step backward.
“Honey, it’s breaking my heart seeing you like this,” Walker said. “I know I deserve it for treating you that way. I don’t know what got into me being jealous of Gil. It’s stupid.” He paused. “I just want the kind of love you had for him. Can you forgive me, Edie?”
Her head was down.
“Can you?” he repeated.
She still didn’t speak.
“Come on, Edie, get in the truck. There’s no way you can walk home from here.”
“I’ll go to the restaurant we passed back there, and I’ll call Pop to come get me.”
“The Lookout’s at least six miles from here. Suppose you can’t reach him? It’s Saturday. He’s probably out.”
“I’ll call Aunt Leona.”
“You really want her driving all the way out here?”
Edie thought it over. He wanted to touch her, but he didn’t dare.
“Okay,” she whispered.
She was silent as they walked back to the truck. He opened the passenger’s door.
“Here you go, darlin’.”
Walker put his arm around her. She didn’t resist. He held the door open until she sat inside. He got in the driver’s seat.
“I gotta lock the place up first.”
She nodded.
Walker backed the truck until he reached the driveway. He parked beside the cabin.
“Edie, listen to me. I’m really sorry. Believe me.” He shook his head. “I was just being a jerk again. You know me by now. Hey, hey, there.” His voice was soft and pleading. “Come on, baby. It’s all right. That’s my girl.”
The Lookout
Walker chose a back booth at the Lookout Bar and Grille, the restaurant they passed on the way to his camp. It was a rustic place done in knotty pine, with deer heads hanging off the wall as if a tall herd was ready to dart across the room. A fieldstone fireplace, blackened by smoke, took up one wall. Picture windows overlooked the lake.
The waitress, the wife of the owner, came to their table. She grinned at Walker.
“Hey there, handsome, I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said. “Who’s this pretty lady? You usuall
y come here with a bunch of guys stinkin’ of fish.”
Walker chuckled.
“This is Edie,” he said.
“You have a nice place here,” Edie told her.
“Lucky guy,” the waitress said, winking. “What’ll it be for you two?”
They drank beer on tap as they waited for their order, local trout, he insisted, although next time he’d do the catching.
“I’m gonna make a list of supplies for when we come up here. Maybe you can help me. I’ll have to do some work, but we can have some fun, too. I could take you out on the canoe. I bet you’d like that.”
He sat back, studying Edie. She was here, but not really. Usually, he’d tell her a joke, and her eyes would get bright as if he were the funniest man in the world but not tonight.
Edie leaned forward. She held her hand over the side of her face.
“Buddy. Buddy Crocker’s over there,” she whispered.
“Shit,” Walker said.
Edie bolted for the women’s room.
Walker searched the room behind him. Buddy, Sharon’s cop brother, a sergeant in the Conwell Police Department, was at the cash register, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. Buddy’s red hair looked as if it had been cut straight across his scalp with a brush hog. The man’s cheese-white face didn’t have a whisker. His spine was locked straight.
Walker squinted at the women’s room door and lit a cigarette. He waited until Buddy grabbed his coffee and a brown paper bag before he called him over.
“Hey, Buddy, working tonight? You’re a long ways from home.”
Buddy came toward the booth.
“I’m fillin’ in for somebody up here. They’re shorthanded in this town.” His head tipped forward. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What’s up?”
“Just opening up my camp at the lake,” Walker said. “It took longer than I thought. Kind of a mess there.”
“Lake? Sounds nice.”
“You should go sometime. You and the family. Good fishing. Got a canoe. Just ask for the key.”
Buddy eyed the tabletop, the extra beer.
The Sweet Spot Page 6