by Nick Poff
The music stopped abruptly with the sound of a phonograph needle being yanked off a record. Ed winced. Judy appeared shortly after that.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
“Good,” said Josh and Jane together.
“I’m going down the street to my friend Angie’s house,” Judy said to Ed. “Mom said it was okay.”
“I know. Have a good time.”
“We’re going to make Christmas cookies,” Judy said, pulling her coat from the closet.
“Mmm, that sounds good. Think you’ll be able to spare some for a hungry handyman?” Ed asked with a grin.
“Oh, sure,” she said, buttoning her coat. “Which do you like best, the Santas or the Christmas trees? Or maybe wreaths. I think they have a wreath cookie cutter, too.”
“Christmas trees,” Ed replied, “with lots of green icing.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Judy searched her pockets for something. Mittens, it turned out. She pulled them on, then stood silently, staring at Ed. He looked back at her. He noticed, with empathy, her preteen awkwardness, but had no doubt she would be as popular as her mother had been when she hit high school.
“Ready to go?” he asked, made uneasy by her stare.
She blinked once, studying him further, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Uncle Rick spends a lot of time at your house, doesn’t he?” she finally asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Ed mumbled, searching his toolbox for another screwdriver.
“You don’t have any kids, do you?”
“No,” Ed admitted.
“Well, then.” She looked back at her brother and sister. “I don’t blame him. A bit,” she hollered in their direction. “I’ll see you later,” she said politely to Ed. “Bye.”
Judy left through the open door, as Ed breathed a small sigh of relief.
“Big turd,” Josh muttered.
“Shut up,” Jane said.
Ed went back to work, hoping to stay out of the crossfire. He examined the old doorknob. He agreed with Rick. Whoever had installed it had definitely done it on the cheap. The knob fell out and hit his knee.
“Aw, crud.”
Josh looked up from his magazine. “Can I help?” he asked, walking over to Ed.
Jane ignored him, still engrossed with Kukla, Fran, and Ollie, and the CBS Children’s Film Festival.
“Sure. You can hand me stuff when I need it. Here,” he said, giving Josh a screwdriver.
“Neat,” said Josh, his face lighting up.
Ed grinned at him. He felt as though he were dealing with a miniature Rick.
The two worked together, Josh eagerly handing Ed his tools, while Ed explained what he was doing. Josh leaned over and picked up the keys Ed had bought for the new lock.
“Can I hold these?”
“Well, okay,” Ed said. “But be really careful. We can’t lose them.”
“I will be.” Josh turned the keys over in his hand. “I like those colored keys they have better.”
“Sorry,” said Ed. “This was all they had at the lumberyard. Let’s just hope they work okay.”
It didn’t take too long for Ed to install the new knob and lock. He pushed the door shut and opened it, testing the knob, then locked and unlocked the door.
“Not bad,” he said, pleased with his work.
“Are we done already?” Josh asked.
“Nope.” Ed opened the door and walked outside. Josh followed him. “Now we need to see if the lock works okay from the outside.” He pulled the door shut. “Okay, Josh, hand me a key. Let’s see if it works.”
Josh got a stricken look on his face.
“Josh, I told you to be careful with those keys,” Ed said, twisting the knob. “Don’t you still have them?”
“No,” Josh whispered. “I knew you wanted me to be careful with them, so I put them on the table so I wouldn’t lose them.”
Ed tried the door again. Yep, it was locked all right.
Ed looked at Josh. Josh looked back at Ed.
“Aw, crud,” said Josh.
“It’s not the end of the world.” Ed peered through the glass to make sure Jane was still watching TV. “We’ll just go around through the garage and—”
Josh was shaking his head. “Mom always locks the kitchen door when she leaves the house.”
“Maybe this time she didn’t. You wait here.”
Ed walked around the house, through the garage, and tried the door to the kitchen. Damn, the kid was right. He walked back to the front steps, where Josh was banging on the door, hollering, “Let us in!”
“No,” Jane shouted back. “I’m still mad at you.”
Ed wished he had asked earlier what was going on with them. “Okay, what’d you do to her?”
“Nothing,” said Josh, sitting down on the steps.
“Come on, Josh.” Ed sat next to him. “I was mean to my sister all the time when I was your age. You can tell me. Maybe I can get her to unlock the door for us.”
Josh sighed. He looked up at Ed. “Promise not to tell?”
“Cross my heart.” Ed did just that.
“Well . . . she took some of the comic books Uncle Rick gave me this morning, just when I wanted to look at them. So I hid her teddy bear.”
Ed would have been amused if he wasn’t beginning to get cold. “Well, that’s no problem. Just tell her where you hid it. Then she’ll unlock the door for us.”
“I can’t,” Josh said, looking away.
“Why not?”
“’Cause I don’t remember where I hid it,” he admitted, rubbing his arms.
It was Ed’s turn to sigh. He noticed that Josh was wearing only a T-shirt with his jeans. The temperature couldn’t have been much above thirty degrees outside. It would be just great if the kid gets hypothermia while I’m incharge.
“C’mon,” he said, leading Josh over to his truck in the driveway.
He opened the passenger door and boosted Josh up to the seat. Then he went around to the other side and got in. Fortunately his own keys were in his pocket. He started the truck and jacked up the heater.
“We’ll just sit here a minute while I figure out what to do.”
“Can we go someplace?” Josh asked, apparently unconcerned about his sister in the house. “I don’t think I’ve ever ridden in a pickup truck before.”
“Maybe later,” Ed said, hoping to shut him up.
He turned the radio on. Barbra Streisand wailed through the speakers, telling them that she was a “Woman in Love.”
“Do tell, Babs,” Ed muttered.
He tried to think. Josh was happily exploring the glove compartment. He pulled out an Indiana highway map and promptly unfolded it. Ed glanced at him, wondering if the kid was any better at map folding than he was. He was pretty sure all the windows in the house would be shut and locked. These big-city types, he thought. No one else in Porterfield ever bothered to lock anything. He knew the storm windows were on, too, because Rick had told him about putting them on several weeks ago. He thought about trying to reason with Jane, but rejected it. He remembered that no amount of reasoning had appealed to Laurie at that age. He could break a window and crawl in, but wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of explaining to Claire why she had a broken window on a cold day. Ed would replace it, of course, but still . . .
He suddenly felt his back pocket to see if his wallet was there. Yes, it was. He opened it and took out his Shell credit card, remembering something he’d once seen on television. He looked over at Josh, who, it turned out, was no better at map folding than Ed was.
“Josh, I want you to wait here for a minute. I’m going to go check on Jane.”
“Okay,” he muttered, messing with the map.
Ed walked over to the front door and looked in. Jane was still on the sofa, but she was ignoring the TV in favor of the purloined comic books. He hurried into the garage, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Josh was still in the truck. He studied the door to the kitchen. Sure enough, it was relatively fli
msy, with a simple, inside door lock on it. He squatted so the knob was at eye level. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he slid his credit card between the door and the doorjamb, wiggling it against the lock. It had worked on TV, so maybe it would work for him.
“Are you gonna break the door down?” Josh suddenly asked from behind. Ed, startled, fell over, dropping the credit card.
“I thought I told you to wait in the truck,” he snapped.
“I wanna see what you’re doing.” Josh picked up the credit card. “What’s that?”
Ed looked at the boy for a moment. “It’s a supersecret handyman’s tool,” he finally said. “It’s so supersecret that only handymen are allowed to have them and to use them.” Okay, so someday the kid would find out he lied. He’d worry about that later. “I’m going to use it to open the door.”
“Neat,” said Josh, his eyes open wide.
Ed slid the card back in. It took some work and some silent cursing, but he finally managed to open the door. His Shell card was rather mangled, and he figured he’d catch hell the next time he tried to use it. “Whew,” he sighed, walking into the kitchen, Josh behind him. He sat down on a kitchen chair in relief while Josh ran into the living room.
“Hey, gimme back those comic books.”
“Not until you give me my bear!”
“Ed, make her give me my comic books.”
Ed closed his eyes, suddenly remembering that his truck was still running. Making sure the door was wide open, he ran outside and shut it off. He came back to find Jane hitting Josh with one of the comic books.
“Hey!” Ed clapped his hands. “Who’s up for a game of Candy Land?”
* * * * *
Claire and Rick came home several hours later to find Josh on the sofa reading his comic books, while Ed, Jane, and her bear were sprawled on the floor, involved with their sixth game of Candy Land. Ed was once again stuck in the Molasses Swamp, much to Jane’s delight. Jane, at Ed’s insistence, had given the comic books back to Josh when Josh remembered that he had hidden her bear in the dryer.
“Well,” Rick said, taking in the scene. “Looks like it’s been a quiet afternoon around here.”
Josh ran over to him. “Ed locked us out of the house, and I got to sit in his truck, and then he broke open the kitchen door. Boy, he’s neat!”
“Hmm,” said Rick, “would that have anything to do with this?” He held up Ed’s battered Shell credit card. “I found this on the kitchen floor.”
Ed was about to defend himself when Jane socked him on the arm.
“Your turn.”
Ed drew a card, a yellow one.
“Ha! Still stuck,” she gloated.
“So you like Uncle Ed, huh?” Rick picked Josh up and swung him around. Claire snuck by with several bags she was obviously going to hide. “Teaching my nephew how to break and enter,” Rick said to Ed, grinning mischievously. “Some babysitter you are.”
Ed tried to glare back at him, but ended up grinning as well. “So did you bring the pizza or what? We’re all hungry.”
Judy arrived shortly thereafter with two covered plates of cookies, one for her family and one for Ed, whose plate consisted entirely of heavily iced Christmas trees. At the sight of pizza, the children suspended all earlier fights to happily devour their share of a Gino’s extra pepperoni special.
Watching Rick with the kids, Ed felt his shame from earlier in the week return. Rick was wonderful with them and would make a terrific father, Ed thought rather wistfully. Ed had never given the idea of fatherhood much thought, but seeing Rick gently encourage Jane to finish her pizza slice before she attacked the cookies, he wondered what it would be like to have a little Rick or a little Ed running around. The idea of two men having a child was rather radical, so he reluctantly dismissed it from his mind. Rick caught his eye across the table and grinned. Ed couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing.
“Ed, I hope you’ll take some of the leftovers home with you,” Claire said, carrying plates to the sink.
“Oh, sure,” he said. “I’m the king of leftovers. Just ask my mom.”
“We can have it for lunch tomorrow,” Rick said, smiling at Ed, who was pleased to know Rick planned on returning home with him for the night.
“Are you staying over at Ed’s house again?” Josh asked, wiping away a milk mustache.
“Yeah. I’m trying to think of a way to steal all of his records,” Rick whispered to Josh, mischievous grin in place.
Judy looked up at this information. “Do you have a lot of records?” she asked Ed, bright-eyed.
“I sure do. Some of them are kinda old, but if you want, you can come over sometime and see if there are any you like. We’ll have a record party, like we used to do in school.”
“Cool,” Judy said. “Can I bring mine over, too?”
“Sure. That’s what a record party is all about.” A thought occurred to Ed, and he turned to Josh. “Hey, Josh, does it bother you when Uncle Rick spends the night away from your room?”
“No,” Josh answered, flipping a pepperoni at Jane, who promptly flipped it back. “He snores a lot.”
“Really?” Ed marveled, looking at though he was learning something new.
“Yeah. It’s okay when I fall asleep first, but some nights I have to hit him with my pillow so he’ll stop.”
Ed chuckled as Rick sighed in disgust.
“Well, I’d change it, if I could,” Rick said, looking into Ed’s eyes.
Ed sensed the double meaning behind Rick’s words. “Well,” he said, as Jane crawled into his lap, demanding a Candy Land rematch, “if all we have to worry about is a little snoring, then I guess we’re all pretty lucky.”
As Ed allowed Jane to drag him back to the Candy Land board, he looked back at Rick, who mouthed “I love you” to him. Ed smiled at Rick, thinking he was luckier than any of them knew.
Chapter Eleven
Rick was making his usual early afternoon rest stop at Ed’s house. Unusually, though, they weren’t kissing, fondling, or teasing. They were just standing, arms around each other, listening to the stereo as Ed’s scratchy 45 of “Ticket to Ride” played. It was December 9, 1980, and like millions around the world, Ed and Rick were in shock after hearing the news that John Lennon had been murdered the night before.
“It’s so sad,” Ed said quietly, holding on to Rick. “I mean, I was never a huge Beatles fan or anything, not like some of the kids I knew back then. But I always liked them, always thought John was cool, especially all the peace stuff he did. I just can’t believe some nutcase would shoot him.”
Rick nodded silently. Suddenly he smiled. “Remember seeing them on Ed Sullivan for the first time?”
Ed chuckled. “Oh, yes. You should have heard what my mom had to say that night.”
The record changer clicked and another 45 dropped into place. “Revolution” began to play.
Rick’s smiled dimmed. “All that talk. All that protesting. I don’t think this damned world has changed a bit. It’s still fucked.” He sighed, hugging Ed to him. “Oh, well. At least one thing is going right. I happen to be in love with the cutest handyman in Porterfield, Indiana, and he’s in love with me. Or at least I think he is.” Rick looked at Ed, almost grinning.
Ed kissed him. “He is. Crazy mixed-up in love.”
They both fell silent. The tragedy had taken all the fun out of their daily banter.
“Well,” Rick finally said, sighing. “Back to work. You busy this afternoon?”
“Yeah.” Ed reluctantly let go of Rick. “I’m installing the Rinkenbergers’ new water heater, something I’ve never done before. If you hear an explosion coming from Oak Street, it’s probably me.”
“Be careful. I don’t want you blown to bits now that I have you.” Rick lifted his mailbag from the floor. He groaned, pulling the bag over his shoulder. “Damned Christmas mail. And it’s only the ninth.”
“Well, then, you be careful, too. I may need you for so
me cheering up later.’
“Okay, okay,” Rick said, adjusting the heavy bag. “I’ll call you later. Maybe we can get together, have a toast to John, play some more Beatles records, and . . .” He trailed off and appeared to think for a moment. “I know. Then we can make love, not war, in honor of John. How do you like that?”
Ed smiled. “I like that very much.”
“Good. It’s a date.” With one last kiss for Ed, Rick was on his way.
* * * * *
That evening, Ed relaxed with a beer on the sofa, while his old Beatles 45s played once again. He congratulated himself on his successful installation of the water heater, and mentally reviewed all the jobs he had lined up before Christmas. He was pleased to realize he’d have enough extra cash to buy something really nice for Rick. He didn’t want to go overboard—it hadn’t been two months yet—but he did want to get something to show how happy he was these days. He was contemplating and rejecting various ideas when the phone rang. He reached for it, assuming it would be Rick.
“Ed? It’s Claire. We’ve got a bit of a problem. Rick threw his back out on his route today. He’s been to my family doctor, who gave him some medication and told him to get several days’ bed rest.”
“Oh, no! Is he in a lot of pain?”
“Well, enough to make him a handful, if you know what I mean. He’s always been a big baby when he’s sick,” she said—rather impatiently, Ed thought. “The thing is, between my job, the kids, and all their Christmas stuff starting, I can’t really do much for him right now. And you know he shares that tiny bedroom with Josh. I was wondering if you would be willing to put him up at your place for a few days. I think”—Ed could hear a smile in her voice—“that he might get the attention he wants with you.”
Wow! A chance to have Rick all to himself. Of course, he wasn’t in very good shape, but still . . .
“Sure, I’ll take care of him. Do you want me to come over and get him?”
“Oh, would you?” Claire said, sounding relieved. “I’ll pack a bag with some of his stuff. Ed, I really appreciate this. First you babysit my kids, now my brother. I’m going to make sure Santa Claus knows about you.”