Loving Neil

by Ronald Bagliere

  “Actually, I’m sixty miles southwest,” Janet said, still in awe of meeting him again.

  “That’s a bit of a commute.”

  Megan cut in. “She’s a freelancer. Sort of like a sub-contractor. She does a lot of pieces for the Reporter.”

  “She keeps me in the loop,” Janet added.

  “Doesn’t surprise me. Megan’s quite the organizer.

  Rather insistent, too, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Janet grinned. “Oh, I’ve noticed. She tells me she’s trying to get you out west.”

  “Yeah. It’s nice out here, but I don’t know. I’m afraid she’d be running my life before long. Telling me where to go and when.” Megan frowned and swatted his arm. He rubbed it. “See what I mean?”

  “You never had it so good,” Megan replied. Just then, Kyle cried out. “Excuse me, while I go see what he wants.”

  After Megan left, the two of them stood in their own thoughts. Janet fidgeted. Okay, this is uncomfortable? Should I say something? But what, I see you’ve lost some weight? That’s stupid! I hate meetings like these.

  “So,” Neil said, clearing his throat, “Megan told me you’re inheriting some property.”

  “Yeah, I’m turning right into another Donald Trump,” Janet quipped, as his name finally popped into her head. The boy came back with her soda. After he scooted off, Janet said, “So, what’d’ya do?”

  He smiled. “Draw pretty pictures. I’m an architect.”

  “I thought about doing that when I was in high school. I guess I liked photography better,” Janet said, sipping her Coke.

  “Good decision.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, I enjoy it well enough.”

  They observed the children playing on the swing set for a couple of minutes. Janet said, “I should let you get back to your ball game.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. I should be out here anyways.”

  “And I should be getting back on the road. Have to see the lawyers. Can you let Megan know I had to go?”

  He nodded and walked her to the gate. “You know, I’m going to catch hell letting you sneak out of here like this.”

  “Just tell her I tricked you.”

  “Right,” he said with a smirk. “Well, it was great seeing you again. And good luck.”

  Janet forced a smile. “Same here–seeing you that is.” She didn’t know what else to say, so she went over and said goodbye to Barney, then pulled the gate shut behind her. As she headed for her car, she wondered what the chances of meeting him again were? The odds against it were … well, she didn’t know what they were.

  After the reassignment of June’s house was complete with the exception of transferring tax documents, Janet picked up Barney and headed for home. When she got there, she found her father sitting on the chase-lounge on her porch with his carryon bag beside him. Astonished, she blinked, then suddenly wondered what was wrong. Last she knew her father wasn’t interested in coming out west. That meant what? She got out of her car with Barney following behind and braced herself for bad news.

  “Hey Skeeter,” her father said rolling his newspaper up. He tucked it under his arm and stood. “I see you got yourself a pooch.”

  Janet took a deep breath and tried to control her pounding heart. “Dad, what’re you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d surprise you.”

  Janet had a hard time swallowing his surprising her, but she was glad to see him all the same. “You drive all the way out?” she said, not believing it for a moment as they came together with a quick hug.

  “No, I flew.”

  “You don’t like planes, remember? What’s going on?” Janet said, and eyed him suspiciously while Barney raced around them barking. “Barney, down,” she commanded.

  Her father pulled back, offering a tight smile. “No, I don’t and nothing’s going on.”

  Janet shook her head, but she wasn’t in the mood for an argument. Instead, she opened the door and let him in, then went back to the car to retrieve her satchel. When she returned, her father looked up from studying a photo of her mother.

  “You’ve added a few more pictures since I was last here,” he said, averting his gaze to a piece hanging over the mantle. It was a recent shot she had taken of Mount Shasta.

  Janet set her satchel down on the dining room table. “Yeah; that one caught my eye.” She stepped into the kitchen and went to the fridge. “You want something to drink? I have a bottle of Merlot that’s chilled and ready.”

  “Maybe later.”

  “So when did you get in?” she said, uncorking the bottle and pouring herself a glass.

  “‘Bout three hours ago,” he replied as he came around the corner. “So, how have you been?”

  “Busy … Barney, you hungry?”

  The dog barked and licked his chops as she went to the cabinet to pull his kibble out. After filling his bowl, she drew back the vertical blinds from the sliding glass door that led to her backyard deck. As she did so, she felt her father’s gaze on her. At last, he said, “So, how’d things go with the lawyers?”

  Janet sipped her wine. “Just finished up the last of it, ‘cept the taxes. How come you never told me you were on the deed?”

  “Never thought about ‘til they called.”

  “Why were you on it anyways?” Janet said.

  Her father shrugged. “Your aunt needed a co-signer, and I thought it was a good investment at the time. I assume they got everything they needed from me?”

  “Yeah, they did, thanks,” she said, and couldn’t help wondering if his being out here with her had anything to do with it.

  “You’re welcome. So, still planning to keep ‘em? They’d fetch a fair dollar on the market.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I don’t want to throw Tom out.”

  “He’s her tenant in the cottage, right?”

  “Yeah, and I’d really rather not talk about it right now if that’s okay.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Well,” Janet said, leaning back against the counter, “how long do I have you for?”

  Her father looked away. “A week. Say look, I’m a bit lagged. Mind if I lay down awhile?”

  “Oh, not at all. You know where the guest room is. I’ll put some fresh towels out for you.”

  He went and snatched up his briefcase and carryon bag. “Wake me in couple hours, would you?” he said, and didn’t wait for an answer. Then again, she didn’t expect him to.

  The next morning, Janet woke early and put a pot of coffee on. As she waited for it to brew, she sat perusing the morning paper at the kitchen table. She liked this time of the day, when it was quiet except for all the little creaks and noises of the house.

  Her father shuffled into the room part way through her second cup of coffee. She looked up from working her puzzle and saw him wearing the blue, terry cloth robe she’d bought him a couple of years back for Christmas.

  “Morning,” she said, setting her pencil down.

  He nodded. “That decaf?”

  “Yep.” She watched him pull a mug down from the cupboard then pretended to go back to her puzzle. But from the corner of her eye she saw his furtive glances. At length, he sat across from her, coffee in hand, his hair in an uproar. “Want some?” she said, offering him the sports section.

  He yawned and took it as she jotted down the answer to 67 across. “So, should I take the day off?”

  He leafed through the section and looked up, “Nah. I have a few things I need to take care of. Tomorrow maybe?”

  She shrugged.

  He got up, walked to the window and looked out over the back yard. “She was a good woman, your aunt.”

  Janet set her puzzle down, wondering where that came from. “Dad, you barely saw her the last twenty years.”

  He sucked down a gulp of coffee. “We wrote each other occasionally.”

  “Really?” Janet said, pointedly.

  He looked at her and hardened his
long face. “You have a problem with that?”

  Janet picked her puzzle back up. “Doesn’t matter what I think.”

  He knotted his brow and turned his gaze out through the window. He was quiet for several minutes and the only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock. Finally, he said, “Janet?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you when you were growing up.”

  Janet sat back. Where’s this going? “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  He sighed. “There’s something I don’t know what to do about.”

  “What?” Janet said getting up from the table. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Care to turn around and talk to me?”

  He shook his head and set his coffee cup down. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  Janet pulled him around to face her. When she saw his rigid jaw, her heart thumped. She had never seen him like this before, and it scared her. “Dad, talk to me. Is Craig all right?”

  He nodded. “It’s not him. It’s Christine. She’s left me.”

  “What happened?”

  He coughed and looked away. “Who knows? I’ll be searching for apartments when I get back. For the time being, I just need time to think and I didn’t want to barge in on your brother so soon after he got married.”

  Janet ignored the fact that she was second choice and reached out to him. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I love you. Take as much time as you want.”

  Her father drew a deep breath, nodded, and for the first time in a long, long while hugged her like he meant it.”

  4

  August 14, 1980 – three months later -

  Janet took a deep breath and pulled into the long, narrow drive curling around June’s house. It had been a month since she had last stepped inside the cozy little bungalow nestled within a copse of hazelnut and ash. She opened the car door, letting Barney out and went up the porch stair with a box of cleaning supplies. As she pulled back the screen door, the memory of finding her aunt on the floor came roaring back. She took a deep breath, forcing the memory away and unlocked the front door. Once inside, she set the box down and pulled the drapes back to let the warmth of the summer sun flood the dark musty room before heading to the kitchen.

  As she entered in, a vision of her Aunt rolling out dough for one of her famous strawberry-rhubarb pies flashed before her. Aunt June was a round woman with an ever-present smile that went along with the old, tattered apron that stretched around a generous body.

  A smile tugged at Janet’s lips as she panned the dirty dishes, pots, and pans that were spilled across the white Formica countertops. The room was just as her aunt left it. Mixing bowls and utensils were still stacked in a porcelain sink. An open cookbook and a pile of papers lay on an old wooden table.

  Janet rolled her sleeves up, turned the small radio on to a local station and went back to get the box of supplies. An hour later, she was wrist deep in a sink of dishwater finishing off the last round of pots and pans. Rinsing a baking sheet, she set it in the dish drainer and pulled the sink plug.

  “I need a glass of something cold. How about you, Barney? You thirsty?” The dog got up from where he was lying by the bay window and wagged his tail. Janet grabbed a soup bowl, filled it with water, and after setting it down for him, grabbed a can of soda from June’s refrigerator. As she pulled back the tab on the can and sat, an envelope on the cluttered kitchen table caught her eye. She pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a letter to her aunt from her father.

  June

  Thanks for keeping me posted on Janet. It’s nice to know she’s doing well. She called me a while back wanting me to come out, but I couldn’t. Things are not good back here. Christine has decided she’s not happy. I have no idea why. I thought we were doing great.

  I know you’re right about Janet, and I wish I could’ve been the father she deserved. But it’s a little late for that I’m afraid. Every time I try to do something, she shuts me down–not that I blame her. If I could only tell her what happened between her mother and me. It wasn’t her fault…

  Janet peered out the kitchen window at the hawthorn bush mystified and uncertain of her feelings about the letter in her hand. How many more secrets were her father and aunt holding back from her? She finished her soda, wondering if she’d ever find out.

  By the time four o’clock came around, she was bushed. She packed up a few items and threw them in the back of her car as Barney scooted into the front seat. Although she was tired, she felt a need to walk along the shores of Fogarty. It was only an hour away, and she’d be home well before bedtime. She locked up June’s house and before she knew it was cruising down the main road through Lincoln City.

  Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into Fogarty’s entrance and found a spot close to the underpass leading to the beach. When she opened the door, Barney bounded out and danced before her. “Okay, no leash today. But you be good,” she said shutting the door behind him.

  With journal in hand, she made her way through the underpass and meandered out onto the beach toward her spot in the bluffs. As she walked, a stiff gritty wind raked her sleeves and played with her hair. Up ahead, Barney splashed through the frothy water, barking at the floating birds off shore. She laughed, loving how her little dog found so much fun in the simple things. Bending over, she picked up a stick and tossed it into the surf, sending him into a mad scramble.

  In the crook of the curling bluff ahead was an outcropping of sandstone that she claimed as her own. Its smooth sloped face rose up over the beach, and notched within its face was a small indenture. A grotto, and from it, a view of the entire coastline could be seen in either direction. She headed for it. Climbed to her spot and sat in the sheltered notch.

  With her knees pulled up under her chin, she thought of her father. All her life he had been distant. Now he was reaching out. Did it have to do with his divorce? The secrets he held from her? Did the prospect of being alone drive him to her? He had been alone before. Did getting older focus one’s priorities?

  Barney climbed up on the rock and sat beside her. She pulled him close. The dog rolled his deep brown eyes upward and then pressed himself against her. “You’re a good dog, you know that?” she said, and pulled out her journal to write.

  After a light dinner in Depoe Bay, Janet headed back home. There was a submittal due for the ‘Oregon Trails’ in three weeks. The photos had already been shot, but there was developing and editing to do. She already had an idea on how she’d crop the shots. And then there was another shoot for a new account in Newport–“Lives of the California Seals”. And … and another one, what was it?

  Suddenly her heart flipped. She slapped her hand down on the steering wheel. Oh no, the Reporter submittal! I told Mick I’d have it for him a month ago. I can’t believe it. He’s gonna be so pissed. She pushed the accelerator down, tipping the needle towards seventy-five.

  The changing landscape swept by with deceptive speed. The needle drifted toward eighty. Suddenly, a loud pop! The steering wheel jolted out of her hands. The car slashed across the road. Launched into the air. Her body froze. The car twirled, hung in mid air–her breath caught with it. Then, all at once the ground came up with a crushing thud.

  Her neck hurt. She blinked and looked down, except down was up. “Barney,” she cried as a tapping sound pattered nearby. She struggled with the seatbelt. Saw the dog lying on his side on the roof of the car below her. Smoke was creeping into the vehicle as a sudden jolt shot up her leg. She winced and her eyes rolled back as she fought to stay conscious.

  In the thick, gray miasma, she heard voices. One, very close, hollered, “Hang on, help’s coming!”

  “There’s a dog in there too!”

  She opened her mouth, gasping, and in the swirling dark cloud above, saw her father on the dock fishing. The way they used to do when she was little before things fell apart. He was leaning back, sipping a beer–smiling. She was sitting on the edge, her feet dangling in the water. A little Zebco 202
rod and reel was in her hand. It was just the two of them.

  Daddy, her mind cried out. I love you.

  Janet winced, and with an effort, opened her eyes then shut them against the piercing light shooting down from above. Her head felt as if it might explode as the echo of nearby voices clanged in her brain.

  “She’s regaining conscience. Pulse 54, BP 62 over 44.”

  I’m cold. She shivered. The sensation of spinning in mid-air sent a wave of nausea through her. An odd noise–thop, thop, thop–thumped in her ears. Where am I? She opened her eyes; saw a dark shadow bent over her.

  Licking her lips, she tasted the acrid remnant of smoke. It hurts. She glanced down at a blurred sea of white. Saw something around her leg.

  A shadow moved over her face. Something tightened around her nose and mouth. A face veered into focus. A man. Dark eyes. The world spun again. Shapes stretched and contorted. Visions of fire flashed before her with detached arms pulling her through the flames.

  Janet awoke and blinked at the world coming into focus. A bright light blanketed her. Where am I? Ouch. She drew breath, coughed, and tasted smoke. Ugh! My throat! What’s that sound? She turned her head, saw a rack of monitors and watched the little bright light running continuously from left to right, making up and down movements.

  A soft warm hand settled on her arm. She rolled her head and looked up at a pair of soft brown eyes. “Well hello there,” a woman said, fiddling with something over Janet’s head. “My name’s Gina, and you’re in Salem Memorial. You gave us quite a scare.”

  Janet coughed and swallowed. “My mouth feels like an ash tray.”

  “Don’t try to talk. You inhaled a lot of smoke,” Gina said and stepped back out of focus only to reappear on the other side of Janet. She hit a button on one of the monitors, and a long strip of paper spewed out. After she tore it off, she folded it and put it in her pocket. “Are you in pain? Just nod if you are.”

  Janet moved her head up and down as she tried to get her bearings, and as she did so, realized there was a wide bandage above her brow. Gina turned and pushed a button on a device sitting in the monitor rack and adjusted the knob on the IV. When she finished, she picked up what looked like a small foam paintbrush, dipped the end of it in a glass of water, and put it to Janet’s lips. “Here, suck on this.”