by Dale Mayer
He nodded. "That's fine. I know you stayed late here to finish up, thanks."
She shrugged it off. "Not a problem. Whatever works to get the job done, right?" She brushed past the two men, wishing the small deck were four times larger. There were too many people here now. She packed up her stuff and grabbed the charts before saying good-bye to Meg and Dr. Mike.
Outside, she hopped into the SUV she'd driven to work, and left. Without saying another word.
As she pulled away, she noticed Tony was writing notes on his chart. Brownie points or demerit points? She hadn't been joking. Whatever worked for the team and the job, worked for her. Still, she wanted to see this job through to the end and if he wanted to, Tony had the ability to prevent that.
She couldn't wait for the week to be over at this rate. Friday. That put a smile on her face. Wait until she told Duncan. He'd be worried and delighted. A real date. Wow.
***
The greasy cabin window wouldn't let any light in again. Old Peppe had used his sleeve on the glass yesterday to try and wipe it so he could look out. He looked around for the binoculars he knew were around here somewhere.
He could see movement through the trees – barely. There were so many people on the site today. Why? What had they found? Surely nothing too important. He'd watched as they'd thrown body after body into that grave originally. Nasty business that. He'd wanted to help, but not being strong any longer, and with his mind wandering the way it did, no one trusted him with anything. In fact, no one even came and talked to him anymore.
He was a prisoner in his own home. Dependent on his son for food. His daughter...well he hadn't even seen her hardly since the quake.
He missed his old life. The brief glimpses of better days. His wife's death had devastated him. He didn't even remember how long ago that had been. Tasha had been a teenager then, Emile not much older. He couldn't function on his own for a long time after she died. His kids had suffered and he was sorry for that. He loved them. He didn't understand why they hated him so much now.
He sighed and rubbed his beard. He hated the damn thing and when he could he took scissors to it. Speaking of cutting it, he grabbed up the dinner knife beside him and started sawing away. He threw the chunks of hair on the floor. His daughter should be coming to clean soon. At least he thought she would be. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her sweep the floor, but in the back of his mind he could see her with a broom. So she must have. She needed to come soon.
Damn useless child.
He'd taught her better than that. Hadn't he? Surely he had. He'd give her 'what for' the next time he saw her. And that damn useless son of his. How about he come and swing a broom?
Then again, he himself had never been lazy. He could manage a damn broom himself.
He stood and walked to the doorway where the broom should be, and opened the door. He couldn't find a broom; at least he didn't see one. Damn kids. What had they done with it?
He shuffled outside and sniffed the air. Something strong assailed his nose so he turned back to the house – and wrinkled his nose. That smell was coming from inside? Horrible. He'd really have to say something when someone showed up. Damn, he was hungry.
He left the door open and wandered back into the small kitchen to check for what there was to eat. Stale and crusty pasta and peanut butter. At least that's what he thought it was. Opening the jar he sniffed the contents and almost heaved. He tossed the jar in the garbage, watching as it hit the closed garbage can lid and bounced to the floor. The garbage was too full. It needed to go out.
He headed back to the front door, frustrated by his life. He needed them to come. And now. There was his cane, leaning against the front door. He'd been looking for it for a while now.
Figured one of them had taken it.
"Hey Dad."
Finally. Someone. He stared at the face so familiar and yet so strange. "Do I know you?"
"Yes, I'm your son, Emile." The overly exaggerated patience in the voice pissed Peppe off.
"Says who? I wasn't born yesterday. How do I know you're my son?" He tottered forward. "Why does this place stink so bad? It's worse than the dump."
"This place has turned into a dump. Dad, you need to go change your pants."
"What's wrong with them? My wife got these for me. Who do you think you are?"
The young man rubbed a weary hand over his face. "I can't do this anymore. You don't even know us. So you won't miss us, will you?" He looked around at the mess on the floor and the tiny kitchen. "We'll have to burn this place after you're gone."
"I'm not going anywhere. If you can't keep this place clean, then go get one of those women and have her do it." He muttered to himself. "Your mother would die if she saw this mess."
"She's dead, remember? From cancer. Made Tasha and I promise to look after you."
"Well, you haven't, have you? Look at this place. Where's Tasha? She should be here taking care of me. The least you could do is bring me a damn broom so I can sweep if you're too lazy to do so."
"Right. Tasha is in a bad way. She can't come. And as for your request for a broom, as you are leaning on it right now, that doesn't make a whole lot of sense."
"I am not. Don't you try to make out like I'm crazy?" he screamed. "I will not tolerate that kind of disrespect in my own home. Do you hear me?"
"Absolutely. So you don't want this rice and chicken then huh? Cause if you're going to start your screaming fits again, I'm not going to leave them. In fact, I'll just walk away and hope you're not breathing by the time I check back in. Got it?"
The two men glared at each other, fury and stubbornness etched on matching faces.
And just like that, the storm blew over.
His face wreathed in smiles, Peppe asked, "I love chicken. Thanks. What's in the jar?"
Emile groaned and held them out. "Your favorite – peanut butter."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Before Tony left, he pulled Jade aside in the hotel lobby. The heat from outside penetrated through the large double doors.
"If you are having trouble handling this project or staying focused on the job, I will pull you off. This isn't a holiday, no matter what you think with your sightseeing tours and dates. We have a job to do and I want it done right. I'm not a fool. Just because I can't be here all the time, realize that there is someone keeping an eye on you. I need to make sure you're handling yourself here."
He walked away leaving Jade staring at his retreating back in shock. "What the hell was that all about?"
"What?" Bruce walked in the other door. "Did you say something?"
"I'm not sure what just happened." She motioned to the direction Tony disappeared. "Let me ask you something. Have I ever given you the impression that this job was too much for me mentally? Or that my social life is stopping me from doing my job?" At the astonished look on his face, some of the panic calmed and she added, shaking her head, "Anything at all that made you consider I don't belong here?"
"No, of course not. Not a thing. Why?" An understanding settled into his eyes and he glanced out the empty door. "Was that Tony by any chance? Warning you? I am sorry. He's a bit of an overkill kind of guy."
"Ya think?" She studied his face. Would Bruce be honest? "He didn't ask you to keep an eye on my mental state?"
Bruce shook his head. "Absolutely not. I don't understand where he'd have gotten that idea in the first place." Bruce frowned, scratching his chin.
"I do, unfortunately, and you'd have to have been there at the time to understand fully but..." She gave him a quick rundown on how she and Tony had met and the possible reasons behind his trepidation now. "The thing is, I've been here for over three weeks and I hardly think I've let anyone down."
He patted her shoulder. "No, you haven't. Tony is nothing if not thorough. But I wouldn't let that worry you. There is always a team memb
er assigned to keep an eye on the team – physically, emotionally and mentally. So let them, and just be your normal happy self. Don't let Tony upset you."
"Are you going to be as happy to see him leave as the rest of us will be?" She shouldn't have asked. Bruce was the team leader. It wasn't fair to put him on the spot like that.
Bruce laughed. "Have to remember that people like Tony make the money flow. Either to us or away from us. We need them and they need us. The partnership usually works." He grinned, more relaxed than she'd seen him in days. "It's still nice to see the boss leave for a while. Everyone will relax again and work that much better."
"Unless we find another bunch of skeletons whose deaths appear a little suspicious."
"But he doesn't know about those, so it doesn't matter." He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Right?"
"I don't know about what?" Tony stood in the doorway, his suitcases in his hand. "Are you taking about me?"
"No," said Jade, a calm smile on her face. "We were talking about Dane and the fact that he doesn't know any charters or tour guides in this town."
Tony's face lightened "Good. Well then I'm off. Should be back in a few weeks to a month depending on problems and progress." He gave a perfunctory smile. "Good-bye and good luck." Then he disappeared.
Jade stared at Bruce who stared back. Afraid Tony might be still around the corner, he mouthed back, Thank you.
"You're welcome."
They watched from the lobby as Stephen drove to the front of the hotel in a company SUV. Tony got in. While they watched, Tony was driven way.
"Thank God for that," she said.
"Amen."
***
When Dane finally made it back to his brother's house the next day, he asked himself once again if it were time to leave Haiti. The sense of finality had been growing steadily. The hospital wing he was working on wasn't complete, yet it wasn't that far off. The interior finishing always took longer than expected. Much of the stuff they needed had to be ordered in. Dane's Seattle office was handling most of that. Dane had a good foreman here. He might be able to go home and fly back and forth until the job was done. He'd originally hoped to remain long enough to see his niece or nephew born. Now he didn't think he'd make it that long.
He wouldn't mind being gone from this family scene. And as much as he enjoyed rustic living, he would appreciate running water again. He'd been told the property used to be a lively and profitable farm until the soil was overworked and the creek running through the property dried up. He didn't think the property had provided Peppe's family a living in a long time. He'd learned that Peppe had been employed as a builder at one time and unlike many other natives, his kids had gone to school – at least for a while.
John didn't go into too much detail as to how he'd met Tasha or what they lived on. Tasha had worked in one of the bed and breakfasts in town and he suspected that had been the extent of their income. Except for stuff she made and sold to tourists. And since the earthquake a year ago, John's business had failed. As much as he loved his brother, John didn't appear to be bringing in much – if anything. And that was yet another area John wouldn't discuss. His brother took on mostly small jobs now to pay the bills – not that he'd seen John go to work much.
At this point, Dane figured that the money he paid them to stay in the cabin at the back of the property was what the entire family was living on.
His brother seemed happy enough, at least on the surface – only Dane didn't know how he could be. Was it the pregnancy that had turned his sister-in-law into a crazy shrew or something else – like this damn grave thing? He didn't know. At this point, Dane made a habit of staying late at work and leaving for work early in the morning. And ate out often and showered at the hospital. He'd made arrangements to shower there, to avoid going home. Money bought almost anything here. Dane would have spent a lot more to minimize the time he spent listening to her berate his brother.
Tasha's appearance had started to slip as well. Her hair was unkempt instead of contained in the long braid she'd worn when he first arrived. Her face was unwashed, more often than not. And her clothes... Had she changed them in the last week?
He immediately felt guilty for not being more understanding. He'd heard pregnancy could do things to families and that pregnancies could be incredibly stressful. Dane just didn't understand why, because, according to John, she'd been fine for the first three and even four months. These days it was as if whatever control she'd had over herself, had come loose. He felt sorry for her. But even sorrier for his brother.
Dane shook his head as he walked to the kitchen door. She was at it again. Their argument carried easily in the clear air.
"Damn it, John. Emile says he can't look after Peppe. I need you to go and give him his food. Emile did it yesterday."
"And why can't Emile give him his meal today? Peppe's his father."
"I'm sure he has a reason. What's your reason for not wanting to help out? I do all the cooking here, as it is. You don't work anymore… You could start doing that again, too. When was the last time you cooked a meal?"
John's long-suffering sigh didn't go unnoticed. She started in on him again. "Oh don't start that again. You are not hard done-by. I hardly ask you to do anything around here and the minute I do, you start complaining. Well stop, damn it. Emile isn't home and Peppe needs food."
Dane opened the door, wondering when Tasha was due? Another six to eight weeks? Dane shook his head as he studied the beaten look on his brother's face through the open door.
"I'll tell you what, Tasha. I'll go with you and you can introduce me to your father," Dane offered, stepping through the doorway.
Horror flicked across her face. "What? No. No. I can't. I mean I'm not feeling well." She dropped the tray onto the table beside John and fled.
Dane stared, open-mouthed at the empty doorway. He turned to face his brother who looked equally surprised. "Well that didn't go as expected."
John stood. "That's the story of my life right now. Nothing I say is received the way I expect it to." He glared down at the tray. "This Peppe – Emile thing is driving me nuts. Emile is Peppe's son. He should be the one to do this."
Dane didn't have an argument for that. He didn't know how bad the situation really was. He'd only seen Peppe a couple of times since he'd been here and the old man appeared more or less normal each time. Apparently things had deteriorated. "True enough. There has to be something going on here if neither child wants to help the parent."
"I want him in a home. I haven't been able to find a place and Tasha fights the idea, but neither will she deal with him." John ran a weary hand down his face. "You even suggest that she should go see her father, and she bursts into tears."
"Perhaps she can't stand to see how badly he's deteriorating?"
"I don't know what the problem is. She won't tell me." His hands fisted, then relaxed on his hips.
Dane looked around the small kitchen. Pots sat on the table. He didn't know if there was food in them or not. He was glad he was taking Jade out tonight.
He glanced down at the plate prepared for Peppe. It looked like rice and beans. Looking around the kitchen he realized how old and faded everything was. Definitely in need of a new coat of paint and new flooring. Another sign their financial troubles might be bigger than he'd initially believe. There'd been money here at one time. Not for a while though. Probably not since the death of Tasha's mother. They weren't at the level of poverty he saw rampant all over the rest of the country but things hadn't been good here in a long time.
How had John made a living here before? And as much as Dane would love to help, how could he? He given his brother money when he'd first arrived to help him rebuild his business and help out when the baby came. He gave them money for room and board – and didn't eat here.
So, if things were that tight, the
re'd be no money for Peppe's care either. "How expensive would it be to hire a local to care for him? Surely that would be a minor cost, given the economy right now?"
John's mouth twisted. He walked over to stare out the window. "I don't know. I mentioned something about hiring a woman to come and help out, only Tasha just got a weird look on her face and said, 'No women.' Now I've seen for myself that Peppe can be in tough shape from one day to the next and I know that Emile has lost his temper more than a couple of times when he found his father had soiled himself – apparently his father hadn't even noticed. Some furniture had to be thrown out one time."
Dane tried hard but couldn't quite contain the wrinkle of disgust. It wasn't Peppe's fault. He needed help and shouldn't be living alone. Usually in a case like this, the job fell to the family members, but if they wouldn't or couldn't then someone had to be hired to do the job.
"I don't think you have much choice. You can't leave him like that. If Emile and Tasha won't do it, then hire a man. Let him go there once a day and clean Peppe – give him a shave and a hot meal. I don't know what all else he needs. Surely, with so many out of work, you could find a brawny man with the right disposition to help out?"
John turned to face him. Dane hated his brother's whipped-puppy look and the glimmer of hope sliding into the back of his eyes. He could understand the situation John faced but sometimes hard decisions had to be made. John was going to be a father soon. He needed to step forward and be a man.
Dane couldn't resist pushing the point home. Not that John would listen. "John if they aren't capable of making a decision, then you have to step in and make it for them."
Straightening his back, John sighed. "I know that. Really. It's just not that simple. I need the pregnancy to be over and have my Tasha back. I don't know what's eating away at her. It's most likely just hormones, but she's so volatile right now."