Her stern exterior cracked. It started with a twinge of her lips and spread to her eyes until she turned away. He got her. She laughed out loud, slapping the counter with her hands, her whole body shaking. Nothing like humor to help him avoid a health food lecture.
“How about a protein shake?” If he got her off of the oatmeal fiasco maybe she wouldn’t check the trash and find the celery sticks she bought.
Linda nodded, still ensconced in laughter. Tom prepared her protein shake the way she liked it: one percent milk with real strawberries mixed in. Same routine every morning. They tasted like chalk, but he was happy to make them if it meant changing the subject.
After five minutes of stretches, Linda knocked back the protein shake and sat down to shuffle through the pile of invitations.
She pointed to a name on the list. “What about the Danielsons?”
Down to business. She never missed a beat. He sat next to her at the kitchen table and kicked his feet up. “Why would they want to come? We barely know them.”
“I know, but I grew up with Therese. Tea parties and stuff.” She ran her finger over Therese’s name on the spreadsheet.
They'd covered this ground before, but why start tension this early in the morning? He could organize an ocean voyage, a trip to the moon, but heaven forbid he plan the wedding. She liked to entertain and give nice things to their family and friends. He just wanted to stay out of the poorhouse.
Tom placed his hand on her damp shoulder. “We still have to cut fourteen people from the list to stay on budget.”
“We’ve lived in this town forever. If we forget someone, they’re going to hear about the wedding and think we don’t love them.”
He opened his wallet, staring at the conspicuous lack of cash. “I don’t think my credit limit is that high.”
“Then what do you suggest?” she asked.
He rapped his knuckles on the table. “It’s not too late to do an outdoor reception. Sanford Park holds ten thousand people. We can invite everyone in town if we like.”
“What if it rains?”
“Look outside.” He pointed out the window to the clear blue sky. “We’re in the middle of a drought.”
She sighed and attempted to get the last of the strawberries from the bottom of her protein shake. Silence was good. Maybe he’d gained some ground.
“Cutting fourteen it is.” Pen in hand she put marks next to anyone who wasn’t essential.
Though planning a wedding was stressful, he’d do his best to enjoy every second of it. His days as a single man wore at him. Linda buoyed him away from loneliness and into a future of love. If it meant feeding all of Indiana to make her happy, he would gladly sacrifice. But not without a fight.
Tom put a mark next to a name near the bottom of the list. “Why don’t we check off Wade Rollins? When was the last time either of us saw him?”
She circled his name and tapped the pen. “I can’t.”
“He’s not going to show.”
“I know, but… he might. That doesn’t pose a threat to you, does it?”
Tom tucked his hands under his armpits, leaning back in his chair in mock frustration. “What? That you want your ex-boyfriend at our wedding?”
“I’m serious. I almost married Wade.” She rubbed him on the back with a gentle hand and kissed his cheek. “I want to give him the chance to rejoin society.”
“That's very kind of you.”
Another kiss. “What's the matter? You know I only have eyes for you.”
He tapped his feet on the tile floor. “I went from being Wade's oldest friend to marrying his ex-girlfriend. That kind of thing drives a wedge in a friendship.”
She stood and rinsed out her glass. “What's the statute of limitations on a relationship? He walked away from me ten years ago. I think a decade is perfectly acceptable.”
Linda wiped down the counter top and dried her hands on a towel. “He's a hermit. If we don't draw him out, nobody will.”
Yes, Wade needed an excuse to rejoin society, to get out there and mingle with the living. All he did was work in that dank house of his. But did it have to be at their wedding?
Another kiss on the cheek. Linda sat next to him and placed her head on his shoulder.
“Do it for me.”
Tom swallowed his pride. Why do women have such power over men?
“Give him the invite,” he conceded. “But if he doesn't RSVP, my cousin is back on the list.”
# # #
Linda creased and re-creased the edge of the invitation. She stood in the old driveway again staring at Wade's house. It was a single level, two-bedroom home with an attached garage. Nothing special. Outdated tan aluminum siding wrapped around it. A smattering of bushes dotted the flowerbeds, rising above the weeds. Dirt and mold clung to every dark corner of the building. A shutter dangled near the front window and the lawn showed signs of neglect.
She'd heard stories from kids in the third grade class she taught—they rang the bell and ran, praying that the old man inside wouldn't come out and start shooting. He never did.
Linda crept up the driveway, shoes clicking a steady rhythm as she went, every bit as nervous as those kids who taunted Wade with his own doorbell.
She'd spent so many evenings here watching movies, playing games, or staring at the stars in the backyard. Too many nights to count. Back when she thought she loved the man. Before he stopped calling.
She creased the envelope again, stepped onto the porch, and knocked.
Fifteen seconds later the shades on the far window parted and snapped back together. More waiting.
Keep calm, Linda. Hold steady.
The door opened a sliver. Wade’s eyes peeked through, squinting against the daylight.
“Linn?”
The door slid open until the entire figure of the man blocked the entrance to the rest of the house. His hair was gray, his muscles atrophied. The skin on his face sagged, accentuating the depth of his wrinkles. Wade had lost a considerable amount of weight. His shoulders stooped like Quasimodo’s. Large bags hung under his eyes as if he'd sat awake for weeks in a row. He’d aged far beyond his fifty-four years.
It was him all right, but an older version of the man she once knew. Eight years they dated, but he never got down on one knee. He took her mid-thirties, her early forties. Now she was middle-aged, too old to have kids of her own––the ones she'd expected to parent with him.
Wade averted his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
She shifted from foot to foot, like a sixth grader giving a school presentation. Why was she so nervous? “I wanted to see you, Wade. Friends told me they’d seen you at the store, but…. Are you all right?”
He blushed. “Linda, I’m sorry—”
“I thought I’d come over and invite you,” she interrupted. No way could she let him apologize for the past. Not yet. That wound was still raw. “Tom and I are getting married. We’d like you to come.”
He half-smiled, taking the envelope from her with a gentle brush of his hand. The arch in his shoulders grew, as if the weight of the invitation put a strain on his back. His hands shook.
Wade dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy.…”
She plunged her empty hands into her pockets. “What's important is that we want you back in our lives. Both of us do. You've got the invite. Do you think you’ll come?”
“Sure. I mean…, I’ll certainly try.”
They stood for a moment in awkward hesitation. Wade pulled the door snug against his side, blocking her view. “I’m sorry. The place is a mess.”
It was. A quick glance revealed scattered trash and electrical equipment. An old desk with several computer monitors commanded what was once his living room. Stacks of papers cluttered the tables. Large steel boxes darkened every available inch.
What Wade needed was help, a woman’s touch. She resisted the urge to rush in and clean up after him.
No, Linda, those days were gone.
; “It’s okay. I need to deliver a few more invitations anyway. I wanted to.…” She trailed off, hoping to cover the quavering in her voice.
He retreated back into the house. She couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning him to that dungeon. What if this was the last time anyone ever saw him? What if he did something rash because of the invitation? It couldn’t end like this.
She spoke before she really thought it out. “Would you like to join us for lunch?”
He bit his lip and stared at her shoes. “I have some work I should probably––”
Linda reached her hand inside the crack in the door and held it open, brushing her fingers against his. “Please, Wade. It was hard enough to lose you. Don’t let this be the last time we see each other. I promise you can leave lunch as soon as you like.”
She wedged her foot in the door. He would not close her out again. Nothing would deter her from helping this poor man. What he needed was some good food and the love of his friends.
“Okay.” Wade pulled his jacket from a hook by the door. “Okay.”
# # #
Wade stepped in front of his secure webcam and dropped a take-out box on the desk next to him. Lunch over. All alone. Back to work.
With a stretch he reached for the ceiling, then held his arms out to the side.
Done.
Calm down.
That was his first lunch with friends in almost a decade.
The stale air of his living room welcomed him. Good to be back.
He flicked a switch and the monitor lit up. Video conferencing software booted automatically.
But he couldn’t focus. Deep breaths. Relax the heart. The doctor said not to get too excited. Men in their fifties couldn’t take the stress they did in their twenties. It was only lunch with old friends. No reason to go nuts.
The left screen ran a series of calculations while a Chinese-American man appeared on the right. The man bowed.
“Greetings from Seattle,” said Wu, wiping his eyeglasses. He was a short man with a propensity to stroke his chin and fiddle the knot in his tie.
“I’m reading you loud and clear.”
Wade settled in and pulled up the reports he'd generated before Linda’s interruption. Password windows popped up and he filled them out without blinking. It took another thirty seconds to restore his meeting. His fingers danced across the keyboard.
All the talk over lunch messed things up. In comparison, work was consistent, easy. The Department of Defense required only software updates, shipping labels, and reports. They didn’t meddle like Tom and Linda. Why couldn’t people respect his privacy? It was hard to live as a hermit if people didn’t leave you alone.
Wu placed his glasses back on his head. “Good lunch, Mister Rollins?”
Great. Now Wu wanted details.
“Yes. Busy, busy. Sorry to interrupt our meeting.”
Wu leaned back in his chair. “You have to live life.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
A pause. Wade waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Who was she?”
There it was. Now the whole Department of Defense would know that Wade went out to lunch with a beautiful woman. He should have killed the video feed before answering the door for Linda.
Wade grit his teeth, shaken by the audacity of this man. “It’s none of your business.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“She’s marrying my best friend.” Wade growled into the microphone. “It’s not what you think.”
Wu shuffled through papers and coughed. Good. Let him get embarrassed. Served him right for prying.
“Fine, fine.” Wu set his paperwork aside and motioned to Wade. “Forgive me for intruding. You're so stressed all the time and I worry. You should go to Hawaii with us in August. Cheryl keeps asking me about it. When was the last time you took a vacation?”
Wade didn’t want this. Not now. “The Department of Defense would never let me—”
“Don’t worry about them. You've got a month of vacation time built up. What about the trip?”
Wu could really get under his skin. They were supposed to work together, not make travel plans. He was as bad as Tom and Linda.
Wade sank into his chair and flipped through his notes until he found an electrical diagram. Time to change the subject. “You having trouble with the transporter?”
Wu crossed his arms. “You're avoiding me.”
“And you're making chit-chat while we're on the clock.”
Wu raised an eyebrow. The color drained from his face, but he did not challenge Wade. That look. How many times had Wade invoked that response from people? Plenty. After talking with him for a few minutes, everyone looked like Charlie Brown after his friends made fun of his Christmas tree.
Wu fiddled with his tie and stepped away from the camera. A tower of steel with a slit cut in it stood at the back of the room. Inside the hole was a red delicious apple. Wu lifted it with his pale fingers.
“Normal fruit. See?”
Wade nodded. He tested the teleporter with apples all the time. They were cheap and hardy enough to withstand a little impact. Early results looked good. Spots sometimes appeared on the apple’s surface, but they didn't penetrate the meat, and no important side effects occurred. Premature spoiling, a little light bruising. Still, it maintained the same shape and smell. It looked the same before as it did after. Even tasted right. But Seattle reported problems.
“More spots, Wu?” asked Wade.
Wu set the apple back down and pulled a protective shield over his face. “Watch this.” He flipped a switch and a purple glow settled over the test subject. A low hum emanated from the machine.
Wade mashed a few buttons, but didn’t get the data he wanted. “Let me see the feed.”
Wu pulled a lever and Wade’s main screen split in two. On the left was the video and on the right were two columns of numbers, the digital feedback from the teleporter in Seattle. He scanned the code as it whizzed by, searching for irregularities.
Purple light turned to red, then green. In seconds the apple disappeared then reappeared four feet away in another tall steel cylinder. It was intact, still red, and very ripe. Wu raised the protective visor from his face. “Notice anything wrong, Wade?”
He searched the code. No error messages, no obvious flaws. All appeared well, but looks can be deceiving. Ah, the downside of telecommuting. He couldn't inspect things with his own hands. Yes, it saved money for the Department of Defense, but how was he supposed to troubleshoot from the other side of the country? Nothing beat hopping on a plane and touching actual specimens.
Wu lifted the apple and brought it close to the camera. There were no spots this time. Coloration looked good. What did Wu think was wrong?
“We’re seeing it more on symmetrical subjects. Look.”
Wu pointed to the stem of the apple. It was on the wrong side. The teleporter mistakenly switched the stem to the bottom of the apple instead of the top. Wade bit his lip. Not an easy fix.
“Sorry about that, Wu. I’ll dig through the code on this end and see if I can’t get you a software upgrade in the next few days. Lasers need to calibrate again.”
A big blow. Wade spent weeks perfecting that thing, only to have it turn up on the other side of the country and not work. He squeezed a stress ball on his desk and leaned back. “Tell me you guys didn't test with animals.”
Wu’s face went pale for the second time in five minutes. “One mouse with his leg in the wrong place and whiskers around his tail. Don’t worry. We’ll get this fixed.”
Wade sat straight. “A mouse?”
“Yes....” Wu touched a few keys and a photograph took over the screen. The mouse was mangled with one leg sticking straight up from its spine. Dark smudges dotted the tips of its hair, probably burns. Whiskers pointed in all directions from around the tail. How disturbing. Nightmares tonight for sure.
“Keep your head up, Wade. We're making real progress.”
They signed off and Wade stared at the thousands of lines of code on his screen. He relaxed. No need to worry. Sure, the Department of Defense breathed down his neck about this transporter, but stressing out solved nothing. This was a cakewalk compared to having lunch with old friends.
Want to send objects across the room? He could do that. Work forty hours in three days? Sure. But enjoy a conversation? Not a chance.
Yesterday he lived an easy life. Then the awkward lunch happened. Wade stuttered, got food on his shirt. He didn't say one intelligent thing to Tom. Not one. All he thought about was Barb's death and how he didn't even send a card. He was too emotionally bankrupt to be there for his best friend. How do you share an appetizer with someone you abandoned in their time of need?
Cradle Robber Page 2