Loving Neil

by Ronald Bagliere

  Janet considered him a moment. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Have you ever imagined life with someone else?”

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he said, “No, not really.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Never had the time.”

  “Or wanted to?” she added.

  “I guess, maybe. Like I said, I don’t really know,” he replied.

  “Maybe you should start,” she said.

  After dinner, they went north to Fogarty State Park. It was turning dusk when they pulled into the empty lot. After they parked, they trudged under the overpass of the highway out to the beachhead. A snaking path through the high, soughing grasses led them to a giant desiccated log under a canvas of battered and mottled clouds.

  “Sometimes, I feel like such a clod,” he said, popping his shoes off and rolling up his soiled pants legs.

  “So what? You spilled coffee on the table. It’s been done before.”

  He looked at the stain on his shirt and pressed his lips together. “Right.”

  She rolled her eyes, tossed her sneakers under the log they sat on and got to her feet. She reached her hand toward him. “Come on slow-poke. Time to get your feet in the water.”

  He frowned. “Slow-poke?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed, and it brought a dim smile to his face. Their eyes locked for a moment, then he turned away and stashed his shoes next to hers under the log.

  They walked past the dunes to the water a hundred yards away, pressing their feet into the shifting sand. As they went, the weight of last week lifted from Janet’s step.

  He said, “I feel like a kid again.”

  “Good, it’s the way you’re supposed to feel.”

  “You come here a lot?”

  She pulled a lock of hair away from her face. “As often as I can.”

  “It’s nice. I like it.”

  “Better than nice. Oh, look, a seal. See him? Just beyond those rocks.” She stopped and pointed out to a dark spot stabbing through the roiling water. “They come ashore sometimes during orca migrations. Safer here than out there.”

  He watched the animal bob in the water until the creature barrel-rolled and disappeared. They walked a little further until they came to a wet sandy mat fleeing to the water’s edge. At length, she turned and said, “Remember when we were talking about God and stuff?” When he nodded, she went on, “Well, this is my Church, and the spirit of the water is my God.”

  He gazed out over the water to the setting sun veiled in cloud. “Do you think your prayers are heard?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, sometimes. I think the question is more, ‘do we want to hear the answers?’ ”

  “Right,” he said, companionably.

  They walked a bit more and as they did, Janet felt the urge to have a little fun. “Race you to the water?”

  “Seriously?”

  She winked at him. “Loser buys dinner next time.”

  Neil eyed her sidelong then glanced at the surf twenty yards away. “I think you’re trying to weasel a free meal here, but okay, you’re on.”

  They stopped and lined up, then burst ahead. But Janet had no intention on winning, and as soon as he got ahead of her, she came to a halt and watched him rush into the surging foam. “Damn, but it’s cold,” he cried.

  “It’s the ocean,” she yelled back. She watched him splash around in the water.

  He turned around. “Why do I get the feeling I was just had?”

  “Probably because you were,” she called back.

  He batted at the waves piling around his legs. “You brat!”

  Grinning, she watched him dance around in the surf, then set off for her special place. Hidden in shadow behind her, the massive rock of sandstone dug deep into the sloping bluffs. She climbed its craggy side and sat in its crook.

  After a little while, Neil joined her. They sat and talked about Megan; how she brought out the best in him, teaching him patience, showing him the simplicity of life through the eyes of a child. And then the conversation shifted to Sharon; how he missed her. He knew he had to let her go, but he couldn’t figure out how to do it. Janet listened, offering her silence and attention as he spoke, until at last he rubbed his neck and looked up. The sky was dark, but a pale light coming off the street lamps above the bluff bathed them in its glow. “Well, it appears we’ve yammered into the evening.” He nodded back toward the overpass. “We ought to get back.”

  She conceded reluctantly. She had enjoyed her time with him today more than she could’ve thought possible. She forced away the subtle impulse to let him know how much she was beginning to like him and climbed down.

  He scrambled after her, but the last step down off the rock to the sand was tricky and he lost his balance. He put his hand on a ledge to steady himself, but it was too little, too late. Without a thought, her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. The next thing she knew, they were rolling in the sand and laughing. She stood and brushed her blouse off as he got to his knees. When he looked up, his expression lost its smile and melted into a tender gaze. Her breath ran away, and her heart thudded as she looked back at him, understanding his unsaid words. It was all she could do to turn her gaze away.

  The following week slid by without further word from Neil. Janet scolded herself as the thought of him entered her mind for the umpteenth time. She pulled down her travel case from the shelf in her bedroom closet and plopped it on her bed. In an hour, she’d be off to Crater Lake for two weeks. Should I call him? Let him know I’m out of town. What if he tries to get a hold of me for another shoot?

  Oh, stop. If he has a job, it’ll wait ‘till you get back. What you really want is to hear his voice. Admit it, you like him. A lot! Christ, he’s Megan’s father though! This is nuts. Pack! You have a four-hour drive ahead.

  October 13, 1981 -

  Janet returned home from Crater Lake two weeks later. On her answering machine were several messages. She unleashed Barney and set her bag in her room. After she fed the dog, she hit the replay button. The first message was from her father. He had called to let her know he found a place a few miles west of her in Dallas. He would be moving out west next month.

  She deleted the next few messages from telemarketers promising free trips and merchandise, then heard Megan’s voice on the machine. She pulled a chair up and listened. Things were a little better at home. Brad was trying hard to be supportive. She had been offered work at a local non-profit paper in Salem. But there were still elements of grief and isolation in her voice. I need to call her, see about getting together, maybe next week, she thought.

  Janet went to the fridge and grabbed a cola off the top shelf as the machine announced, “Wednesday, October 7, 1981.”

  “Janet, Neil here.”

  She jerked around.

  “Give me a call when you get in. I have another project for you. Talk soon.”

  October seventh was six days ago. Another message followed. She moved closer as the machine announced the next date. “Friday, October 9, 1981.” “Janet, Neil here again. You must be out of town. If you get this before Monday, give me a shout. Thanks.”

  “Shit,” she muttered. She dug her address book out of her purse and flipped it open to Neil’s number. As she was about to pick up the phone, it rang. She jumped. “Hello?”

  “Janet, Mick.”

  “Oh, hi,” she said. She knew it was silly, but she was hoping it was Neil then remembered she was out of a job.

  “You sound excited to hear from me,” Mick said with a note of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Sorry, I was expecting someone else.”

  “Right … anyway, I was wondering if you’d like a gig. It’s not a big one, but I thought you might want it. That is unless the other rag down the street has you roped in.”

  Janet paused. “Actually, I never checked them out.”

  “Where you been then? I called a couple of times and no answer.�
��

  “You did? There wasn’t anything on my machine.”

  “You know I don’t leave messages. So … umm, where ya been?”

  “Crater Lake.”

  “You’re working then?”

  She hesitated. “Sort of.”

  “For who?”

  “Mick!”

  “All right. So what about it?”

  “What about what?” And why isn’t he saying anything about Meg?

  “The gig. You want it or not?”

  She drummed her nails on the counter. “Sure, I’ll take it.”

  “Humph … Don’t go nuts over it.”

  She shook her head. “Have you talked to Megan lately?”

  He was quiet a moment. When he spoke, his voice dropped. “Yeah, I called her shortly after she got home from the hospital. She’s left the Reporter.”

  “Yes, I know.” And that has to do with … what? She paused, letting the silence speak for her.

  She heard Mick clear his throat. “I can’t believe what happened. I should’ve walked her out. I mean … that could’ve been Vicky.” He paused. “They got the bastard, though, and I’m watching how it’s all handled. One screw up, and I’ll splash it all over the paper.”

  Janet could understand he was angry but it wasn’t going to help Megan. “Let’s hope they lock him up for a long time.”

  “Ditto.” Another pause, and Janet could hear the sound of a cigarette being lit. “Guess I can’t blame her for leaving.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Say … look, I better let you go.”

  “Wait a minute,” Janet said. “When do you want me to come in?”

  “Oh, yeah. Next week. How’s Monday? Around ten?”

  “That works.”

  “Okay, see you then. And take it easy.” There was a click on the other end. When the line went dead, she pushed the button down and waited for a dial tone. It wasn’t until the third ring that she realized it was 3:00 PM. Neil wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half.

  She thought about hanging up when his machine picked up. She didn’t like leaving messages, but it was just business, so she waited for the beep. “Hi, it’s Janet. I’m back. Too late it seems, but give me a call anyway.”

  After showering and emptying her travel bag, Janet sat at the kitchen table going over her receipts from the trip. Her bank account had taken a heavy hit, and if she couldn’t sell anything, she’d be eating spaghetti and sauce for the foreseeable future.

  She sighed and pulling her budget sheet next to her, played musical chairs with the numbers. An hour later, she was no closer to making things work. Crumpling the sheet of fuzzy math work, she tossed it into the trashcan. Suddenly, the phone rang making her jump. She picked it up, and answered.

  “Hey, you’re in! Where you been? I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “Neil!” She leaned back against the chair and tried to compose herself. “I’m sorry I missed your call. I was at Crater Lake doing a shoot. So, what juicy job did I miss out on?”

  He chuckled on the other end. “I don’t know about juicy, but I do have another one if you’re up for it.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her excitement. With forced calmness, she said, “Of course … Where, when?”

  “Next week, in Seattle.”

  “Seattle?” She blinked and let out another breath. “Umm … That’s a haul.”

  “Oh, we won’t be driving.”

  “So we’re flying?” she said. When he confirmed it, she added, “For how long?”

  “Probably three, four days, tops.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t. I have no place to put Barney.”

  “What about a kennel?”

  “No way. I’m not leaving him in one of those places.”

  “I see,” he said, and she heard the disappointment in his voice. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to pass on this one then. Oh, by the way, I trust you got my rent check?”

  The rest of the air went out of her. “Yeah, I’ll deposit it tomorrow. Gee, I’m sorry I can’t do it. I really want to. It’s just that Barney’s family, and putting him in a kennel, even for one day would–”

  “Don’t worry about it, okay?” He didn’t say anything for a minute, and she wondered if he was still there. “Hey, I was … umm, thinking on heading over to Jake’s. Would you … would you be interested in joining me?”

  Janet blinked and sat forward as her heart began to beat again. She eyed her beleaguered checking account. Even with the rent check, she’d be scraping by the rest of the month. I’ll have a salad … and a glass of water. “Ummm … yeah, sure. When?”

  “Half hour. Meet you there, say around seven?”

  “Seven, oh, okay.” That leaves me what … about twenty minutes to put myself together. And what am I gonna wear? “By the bar, right?”

  “Sure. See you then.”

  When he hung up, she ran for the bedroom. Okay, I have the white top with the lace around the collar. It might work with my new jeans. Or, or … the light blue blouse. Yeah, that’s it. She tore through her chest of drawers while Barney watched from the doorway. It’s just business; nothing more. Oh, my God, what am I doing? Her hand reached for the phone to call him back and cancel then pulled back as if she’d been bitten.

  10

  Janet lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The spray of the soft pale light came through her window, casting dim shadows across the room. For the last hour, she wrestled an unaccustomed persistent feeling she was not used to: wanting to be more than just a man’s bed buddy. Neil’s parting words at Jake’s last night lingered in her mind, and she still felt his friendly hug. Why am I so drawn to him? And does it show?

  She gazed at Barney, who lay on the foot of her bed. She never thought she could feel anything more than a passing attraction for anyone. She didn’t want to, or have to for that matter. There were always guys at Jake’s available for the occasional romp when the urge took her. But now, things were different. Megan’s rape and her accident showed her how quickly things could be taken away.

  She took a deep breath as her thoughts swept back to Neil. Fine, I’m attracted to him. But there’s no reason to rush it. Hmmm … I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. She blinked, surprised at the thought, and smiled.

  The following week, Janet headed to Lincoln City to see Tom. She called him the other day and his distant responses raised a silent alarm in her heart. As she drove past shops and fast food joints, she wondered what was going on with him.

  She turned left and followed a narrow paved road bordered with tall waving grasses that melted into a one-lane dirt road. At the end of it stood a small A-framed house atop a ragged bluff that overlooked the ocean. As she parked, Tom came out the side door, carrying a bucket.

  He set it down when he saw her. “Well, hello. How’s my girl?” he said, marching over to greet her.

  She eyed him. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and wore a paint stained flannel plaid shirt. Through the front window she saw an easel. He was painting again. There was also a hint of alcohol on his breath. She wrinkled her nose. “I see you’ve taken the brush back up.”

  He shrugged. “A little. Something ta pass the time.” He slapped his hands against his pant leg, raising a cloud of dust. “Come inside. Got a pot a Joe on if you’re interested.”

  “Well, actually, I thought we’d go out for a bite. To that little diner off Seashore Drive you like.”

  “I’m not much on going out these days,” he said. He considered her with his flashing gray eyes. Rubbed his grizzled face. “But I guess I could for you.”

  She reached out and put her hand around his bony wrist. “Are you all right?”

  His gaze slanted out over the rolling hillside. “Yeah, sure.” When she cocked her brow, he eyed her defiantly. “I’m old.” He blinked, and a far away expression swept over his thin, wind-burnt face. Finally, he came back to himself. “Well, I better get changed if we’re going out
.”

  She followed him through the side door. When he left her to get changed, she drifted into the living room. The last time she was here, there was a couch and chairs on a large oriental blue rug. It had since been converted into a studio.

  She spread her gaze out over the wooden floor littered with half-painted canvases and charcoal study sketches. In the far corner sat the easel she had seen from outside. She crept over and looked at the face taking shape on the canvas.

  On it, deep brown eyes stared back at her. They were grave and focused, as if they looked straight through her. She’s beautiful. Suddenly, Tom was beside her. He pulled the sheet over the canvas, gave Janet a firm gaze that was neither angry nor sad, then left the room.

  Janet frowned; then it hit her. That’s his daughter. Her thoughts drifted back to June telling her about the girl’s suicide. Janet suddenly felt like an intruder, and as she looked around, realized the room had been turned into a private memorial.

  “Okay, I guess I’m ready,” Tom said. He had shaved and put on a denim shirt that hung loosely on his boney shoulders. A pair of faded blue jeans hugged his slender hips.

  Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a booth at the back of a quaint little diner. It was a favorite of Tom’s because he knew the waitresses, but more than that, he liked looking out the windows over the busy little harbor, watching fishing boats putter back and forth over the dark turbid waters. They ordered, and as they waited for their meals, she told him about her new gig with Neil’s firm. He smiled and congratulated her, then his gaze drifted off around the paneled, pine walls dotted with watercolor paintings of the northern pacific coastlines.

  “I went to the doctor last week,” he said quietly. His eyes bent back onto her. “I’ve got a problem with my prostrate.” He sighed. “I’ve decided to move back to Kansas to be near my brother and his wife. Time to give up the life of a vagabond. Hope that’s not gonna put you in a bind.”

  “No, of course not,” Janet said as the waitress brought their drinks.

  He nodded, doctored his coffee and took a sip, then sat back as the waitress came with their orders. After they were alone again, he doused his french-fries with catsup and said, “Paintings are yours if ya want ‘em.”