"Well, we might be able to help with that. Rockport's not that far away. We could deliver..." He trailed off, thinking.
Even selling to Mr. Hucklebee at a price lower than what was commanded in the city would be more than what he'd make from the buyers in Rockport. Suddenly numbers started flying in his head; gas expense, time involved, profit margins.
"What a stroke of luck," Mr. Hucklebee said to his wife. She nodded in agreement.
"There is time to work out all the details," she assured. "Right now I think Mr. Garrett would like to meet his brother." She glanced at the clock and not a moment later a door opened behind them. A small wiry man in a dated suit with wire rimmed glasses stepped out with a collection of books under his arm.
"He did well today," he said.
"Wonderful. We'll see you on Friday," Mrs. Hucklebee said. She went to pay the tutor in meat and see him out while Jonathan sat twisted in his seat, staring at the open doorway that led to the bedroom.
"Jeffrey!" Mr. Hucklebee called out. Though he yelled gently, it startled Jonathan.
He heard a shuffling and then saw a man back out of a room. He was hunched over, walking slowly, carefully backward. He suddenly turned around and thrust out a paper.
"Look!"
Jonathan did. There he was. The resemblance was undeniable. He had the same dark wavy hair cut short and neat. The same blue eyes, though Jeffrey's were more round than Jonathan's. His jaw wasn't as angular, but softer. He was clean shaven in a light blue button down shirt. He was sturdy. Healthy looking. Not as muscular as Jonathan, but every bit as tall. While Jeffrey stood staring at Mr. Hucklebee, waiting for him to acknowledge his paper of simple math problems, Jonathan stared at Jeffrey, his eyes misting. Jeffrey stood with a lean, his head moving in uncoordinated jerks. His eyes didn't stay in one place. He licked and rolled his lips, grinning wildly.
"Very nice, Jeffrey," Mr. Hucklebee said as he stood. He went to his son and took the paper. Jeffrey looked as if he might explode with excitement and pride.
"Double addition," Mr. Hucklebee said, matching his excited expression. "You've been trying to master this for quite a while. Good job, Jeffrey, good job."
Mr. Hucklebee turned and held the paper out to Jonathan. He accepted with a shaking hand as he rose to his feet. He looked it over and felt like crying, both from pride and pity. The addition was scrawled in a messy child's handwriting. A few problems were scratched out and redone. In the end, the tutor wrote a large red A on the top.
"I like math," Jeffrey's first words to Jonathan were slow and a bit slurred.
Jonathan looked up and met his eyes. "So do I," he said quietly.
"I did that," he said, pointing a warbling finger.
"I see that. You did very well."
Mr. Hucklebee put his hand on Jeffrey's back. "I have something to tell you, Jeffrey." He guided him a few steps closer to Jonathan.
"You remember how we brought you home from the orphanage all those years ago?"
"Yes," Jeffrey said with a deep nod.
"And do you remember how you said you always wondered about the man and woman who had you?"
Jonathan's heart twisted. Man and woman. Not mother and father. He supposed they didn't deserve to be called that after throwing away a child.
"Well, the man and woman who had you are no longer here. They passed away."
Jeffrey looked confused.
"They died," Mr. Hucklebee clarified.
"I'm sorry," Jeffrey whispered, looking down.
"I'm sorry you never got to meet them. But I have someone else for you to meet." He slid his arm down and held Jeffrey's hand. "This is your brother, Jonathan."
Jeffrey's head gave a snap and he looked over rather wide eyed as if seeing Jonathan for the first time.
"Brother?" he asked.
"Yes, the man and woman who had you also had him. That makes you brothers."
Jonathan couldn't have asked Mr. Hucklebee to handle this in a better way. Clearly he knew Jeffrey and knew just the words to say to make him understand.
Still, it took a moment to sink in. To make sense. Then he walked closer to Jonathan, studying. Without warning he grabbed Jonathan's arm and pulled him across the room to a large mirror hanging on the wall. Gripping his sleeve he pulled Jonathan down so their faces were side by side, only inches from the mirror. Jeffrey's eyes flickered from his own face to Jonathan's and back a dozen times. He couldn't verbalize it, but he recognized the resemblance.
He stood straight and Jonathan did too, more slowly, waiting.
"You're my brother," Jeffrey whispered as a slow crooked smile spread across his face.
Jonathan nodded. "I am."
Jeffrey clapped his hands. "I like math."
Jonathan grinned, blinking against tears. "So do I."
***
While Claire was walking the floor with Jac in a desperate attempt to get him to sleep, Aryl sat on the sofa. Staring at the flames in the fireplace, low burning as they were, hypnotized. His mind wandered back to the city tenement, further back to the crash and even further back than that, to the campfires he, Jonathan and Caleb would make when they went camping in the woods as boys.
The knock on the door at this late hour startled him out of his reminiscing and he tensed. Late news was rarely good news. When he opened the door he saw the last person he expected to see.
Peter smiled, albeit nervously, and nodded.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked.
"About what?" Aryl asked. He was immediately cautious, suspicious.
"I need some advice. And maybe some help."
Aryl barely knew Peter. He'd gotten a bad feeling from him in the little time they'd worked together on the boats. He had no idea why he would be coming to him for either of those things and the question still loomed, what did he want help with?
It was biting cold and Aryl was aware of the fact that all the heat was billowing out the open door.
He considered inviting Peter in to talk, but because something still bothered him about this young man, he decided to keep it out of Claire's earshot.
"Let me get my coat," he said, closing the door in Peter's face. He bundled up with coat, black wool hat and a thick scarf. He left the gloves and after stepping outside onto the porch, thick with snow, stuffed his hands inside his pockets.
They walked silently to the end of the walkway and when they got to the snow drift at the street, stopped, turned and faced each other.
"I heard you've been through some bad stuff and might know your way out of a sticky situation."
Aryl kept a straight face, though his heart picked up. He didn't need much more clarification and feeling like dangerous life changing things, things associated with a life he used to know were getting too close to him, he was tempted to turn and walk away. His curiosity got the better of him and he stayed, justifying it by the need to know what was going on around him in this town, even if only to protect Claire and Jac.
Peter was still waiting for Aryl to say something, make some expression or noise. He remained silent.
"I know you and Muzzy were out at the house a few days ago. I like Muzzy. I like you, too. I don't know you all that well. I only worked with you a few days, but I get the feeling you're an honest guy and-"
"And you don't want to see us get hurt," Aryl finished for him.
"This is really complicated. I don't know if you can understand."
"I'll wager that I might."
"I came to you because I heard you're the one who least wants trouble. Which means what I tell you should stay with you and not find its way into that new gossip column."
Though it was worded kindly enough, Aryl got the meaning loud and clear. Peter knew where he lived, where his family lived and he should keep his mouth shut for their sake. Aryl debated again whether to walk away.
"Like I said, it's complicated. And it's not just one thing."
"Is it ever?" Aryl asked.
"No," Peter said and scoffed,
looking up at the clear night sky. "I try to be good, you know? I swore that when I came back this time things would be different. I wouldn't go looking for any trouble. I'd get a real job and live a real life. Maybe find a good girl and settle down, no matter how boring it might be. I don't know what it is, but trouble finds me. No matter how hard I try to hide from it."
Peter's rambling caught Aryl off guard. He knew an emotional purging when he heard one. His face softened.
"I really don't have anyone," Peter said, holding his hands out. "Folks are dead, no brothers or sisters. I got an uncle, but...he's no good if you know what I mean."
"Friends?" Aryl asked.
"Hard to make friends when memories run long in this town."
So he'd done something bad before he went away. Aryl pulled his hands out of his pockets, folded his arms and waited for clarification.
"Listen, I'm just going to lay it all out-er-as much of it as I can, anyway. Maybe it will make sense, maybe it won't." He shrugged as he took a few steps toward the neighbor's Ford and sat on the bumper.
"When I was younger, some stuff happened. It wasn't even really my fault. I went away for a while. Where I went wasn't a fun place," he said, frowning.
"Prison?" Aryl guessed.
Peter gave a hard nod.
"You told Muzzy you were at your grandparent's."
"Well, I couldn't exactly tell her the truth, could I?"
"Yes, you could have. The fact is, Muzzy is a reporter. She can smell a lie a mile away and it sets her off like a bloodhound. It's just a matter of time before she finds out about your past."
Peter stretched his neck to each side before looking at Aryl again. "Muzzy is a big reason I came here to talk to you tonight. I like her. I mean, I don't know if I really..." He cleared his throat and averted his eyes. "Like her, but she's growing on me. She's not like any other woman I've ever met. I thought it might go somewhere, but now I'm caught up in these lies and this trouble."
"I'm a little confused as to how you need my help. All I've gathered so far is that you did something, went to prison and you might have taken a liking to Muzzy." Aryl lifted his shoulders, waiting.
Peter cut to the chase. "Her paper is in danger. She's in danger. I really tried to throw them off, but-"
"Throw who off?" Aryl asked.
"What I'm about to tell you is real sensitive. It could have me locked away again for a long time this time and I need to trust you. Complete secrecy?"
"Complete secrecy," Aryl said in quiet agreement. What he saw in Peter now was a desperate young man looking for help in getting out of a tangled web of his own mistakes and lies. As much as Aryl wanted to dislike Peter, he had a bigger urge to help him.
"Remember my uncle who isn't such a good guy? Well, he happens to be the clerk treasurer. Some money went missing. My uncle asked me to poke around the paper to see if Muzzy had caught wind of it. I assured him that she hadn't. All while telling me he had nothing to do with the missing money, he says he's going to drive the paper out of business so this whole thing can just blow over."
Corruption on the city level wasn't something new to Aryl. His gut told him that this weasel would most likely hang himself if given enough rope. It wasn't worth intervening.
"What does that have to do with the house Muzzy and I were watching?"
"Nothing. Not directly, anyway. I work there. I make deliveries from Boston and to surrounding areas."
"You run drugs and liquor," Aryl said flatly.
Peter wouldn't acknowledge or look him in the eye.
"I used to do that. Over in London and here for a short time. Caleb, too, but only because he was mixed up with Marvin." Though he most likely knew that, Aryl couldn't expect Peter to tell him everything if he didn't share a little, too.
Peter looked up.
"Is that old shack on Fairway Lane still operating?" Aryl asked.
Peter shoved a hand through his hair and actually looked relieved. "Yes."
"You use the stuff?" Aryl asked and held his breath for the answer.
"No. I have a drink now and then, but that's it. I see what that stuff does to people."
"So, there are two problems, your uncle and the guys you work for. And Muzzy is in danger from both."
Peter nodded. "And..."
Aryl waited patiently while Peter worked the courage to say the words. He knew it was coming. He could see it in his eyes.
"I've been thinking a lot lately about a good woman and that the boring life might not be so boring after all." He took a deep breath. "I want out."
"That's no easy thing," Aryl said.
"I know. I was hoping if anyone knew how to help me, you would."
Aryl could help. Possibly.
"Are you in debt?" he asked. Were there any missing drugs? Any empty bottles of liquor? Any payments recently walk away?
"No," Peter said with conviction. "I've been real careful."
Aryl nodded slowly. "Got any enemies?"
Peter thought that was an odd question and frowned. "No. At least I don't think so."
Aryl gave a humorless laugh. "You'd know. Got any money saved? Maybe you could start over somewhere. Just disappear."
"I have a little. But I don't want to run away. This is home. I want to make it work here."
Aryl twisted his lips and thought.
"You fell in love and you can't risk exposing them to your new girl," he said distantly. "You're protecting them."
"What?" Peter asked, thoroughly confused.
"A possible story," Aryl explained. "A weak one, but possible." And, Aryl thought, not an entirely false one. Peter wouldn't be here risking everything if he didn't care about Muzzy more than he was letting on. Claiming to be unsure, yet he was sure he wanted to protect her and sure he wanted out. He glanced back at his own house, the windows glowing warm and smiled. Sometimes a woman was enough.
"They'd know that wasn't true. See, I live there, too."
"Well, I'd say that's where you need to start. At least to start putting some distance."
"I can look at renting a place," Peter said, seeming rather impatient. "But what about throwing Muzzy off and helping her save her paper?"
"Give me the night to think on it, okay? That's not an easy one."
"We can't tell her," Peter said. "That'll send her head on a spin to get all the details."
Aryl smiled. Yes, it would. "I know. I'll think of something." He took a step back. He was cold and wanted to go inside. Peter stood looking as if he wasn't quite ready for the meeting to be over.
"What do...what do I do in the meantime? About where I'm at."
"Do what you have to in order to get by. Let's get Muzzy straightened out and then we'll figure out how you're going to break free."
Peter nodded gratefully as Aryl turned.
"Say, wait," he called. Aryl stopped and looked over his shoulder through plumes of white breath. "I know I asked for your help, but you know you didn't have to. I was wondering why?"
"Because I can," he said and turned away again.
Episode Eight
"Gone the Next"
It was well after nightfall and Ava was waiting for Jonathan by the open door with hands clasped together. The children were upstairs playing and she'd wait until she'd talked to Jonathan before calling them down to greet him. On the stove, a hot pot of coffee was waiting.
"Well, how did it go?" she asked when he was halfway up the walk. His smile set the tone for what he'd tell her moments later at the table, warming up.
She put a warm blanket around his shoulders and it only took a few moments for his teeth to stop chattering.
"We really need to find a better way to get around in the winter," he said.
She sat poised and waiting, anxious to hear about his brother.
"It went well," he said, looking up, his eyes shining.
"He was adopted by a couple years ago. They really love him. More importantly, they believe in him and his potential, limited as it might be..." He
trailed off, looking down. "My parents were wrong to give him away."
Ava nodded silently.
"He's a sweet boy. Man, really." Jonathan laughed. "He's a man, physically. He looks like me."
"Was he happy to meet you?"
"He was. I promised to write and the Hucklebee's, the couple that adopted him, said they'd help him write back."
"How...functional is he?"
"Very basic reading, writing and math. But they said he keeps improving. Keeps learning. It's amazing, really."
Ava reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you found him so quickly and that it went so well. I was worried how the parents might react to your showing up out of nowhere."
"They were nervous at first. Very concerned that I wanted to take him from them, which I would never do. Although I have been thinking about trying to arrange for them to come here for a visit. Or all of us out there. I'd like you and the kids to meet him."
"Well, Patrick did invite us out to watch a match. We can stay with Shannon. I think we could manage it, even just for a weekend."
Jonathan smiled. "After I make up for missing two days. And after it warms up. I froze all the way home. I can't have you and the kids out in this weather."
"Caleb and Aryl have been by three times today," Ava said with a laugh. "They're a bit worried and so curious they're ready to burst. You might want to let them know what's going on."
He thought about going over to see them, but after a hard shiver, thought twice. He'd see them tomorrow and explain everything.
Later, the house was quiet, the lights low. Ava returned downstairs with a relieved breath.
"They're asleep."
Jonathan nodded and held his hand out for her to sit close.
"What's on your mind?" she asked.
"A lot."
"I get the feeling that there's more to your trip than you've told. Would you like to talk about it?" she asked as she snuggled close, tucked her legs underneath her and pulled a blanket over their laps.
Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 19