“Shit’s off-limits too,” I told Sam and he looked over his shoulder toward Joe’s house.
“Violet’s uptight! I’m here five minutes and she’s lecturing me,” he shouted and I shoved him through the door, turned toward Joe’s and started shouting myself.
“Sorry, really sorry, show’s over!”
“No probs!” the woman shouted back good-naturedly.
Joe seemed to be staring at me and he didn’t say a word.
I scooted inside and closed the door.
“He texted me!” Kate told me practically before the door closed. “At school, said he was coming to town and wanted to surprise you.”
“Took a long time gettin’ home, Vi-oh-my, waited frickin’ forever,” Sam noted. “What, you live at that garden center?”
“I was doing overtime,” I answered as I shrugged off my corduroy coat. I turned to put it on a hook by the door, an action which served double duty of allowing me to avoid the look Sam gave me.
“Uncle Sam made his world famous spaghetti carbonara,” Keira announced. “I was lookout. We shut off the lights when I saw your car on the street.”
I turned again to look at the kitchen and saw that my brother did make spaghetti carbonara and he also made the mess that came with it.
Kate rushed up to me and grabbed my forearm, pulling down on it, informing me, “He’s staying a couple of days. He’s gonna meet Dane.”
Lucky Sam, he was going to meet the awesome Dane.
“If that’s cool with you, Vi,” Sam said.
Like he had to ask.
It was cool with me. It was cool he stayed a couple of days or a couple of years. That wasn’t loneliness speaking. That was how much I loved my little brother.
“That’s cool.”
“Excellent!” Keira shouted.
“I’ll get the stuff for the pull out,” Kate offered then ran from the room.
“Keira, honey, set the table,” I told my other daughter.
“Sure,” she agreed, moving to the cupboard and Sam got close to me.
“We’ll talk about overtime after dinner,” he said quietly.
My eyes shifted to the side and up, caught his; I nodded and walked into my house.
* * * * *
We ate spaghetti carbonara at the dining room table and I only felt a twinge of hurt when Sam sat in Tim’s chair instead of beside Keira where he usually sat one of the million times he was around for dinner when we lived close to him in Chicago. I wondered if my girls felt this same twinge but watching them through dinner, I figured they were too excited by Sam’s visit to notice.
Sam made garlic bread and a big Caesar salad to go with the spaghetti and the whole thing was delicious, not only because it wasn’t dinner for one or I didn’t have to cook it but because Sam’s spaghetti carbonara could be world famous if the world was lucky enough to get a taste.
I was sipping my wine as the girls were finishing up eating. Both had been talking about their new school, their new friends and Kate, of course, shared a great deal about the fabulous Dane. Therefore they weren’t paying a lot of attention to their food.
I watched as Sam got up and walked to his bag which was on the floor by the couch in the living room. Bending at the waist to paw through it, he came back to the table with something in his hand as Kate popped the last piece of bread in her mouth and Keira finished her last bite of spaghetti.
Sam moved to stand beside Kate, slapped something on table and said, “One for you,” he slapped something else down and went on, “another for you.” He moved around the table as Kate picked the somethings up, inspected them, her eyes got huge and her mouth dropped open. Standing beside Keira, he repeated this process using the same words. “And one for you, another for you.”
“Oh my God,” Kate finally breathed, the cards held close to her face as if she could not believe her eyes and needed close proximity to the wonders she was viewing for them to be real. Her eyes were huge.
Sam came to me, put something by my plate and finished. “And for you.”
I looked down at the gift cards next to my plate as Keira shouted, “Five hundred dollars at Lucky!”
“And two hundred at MAC!” Kate put in on a yell, waving her two cards around.
I looked down at my gift cards. One was for five hundred dollars on a disposable credit card; the other was two hundred dollars at MAC.
In shock, I looked up at Sam but the girls had sprung from their seats and were jumping up and down again with their arms wrapped around him, jostling their uncle as they jumped.
“You gotta earn ‘em, babies,” Sam said, holding them close in his arms and kissing the tops of their heads. I watched him give them a squeeze before he ordered, “Clear the table and do the dishes, yeah?”
Kate didn’t mind chores. The minute she was asked to do something, she did it, didn’t procrastinate, she got it out of the way and moved on. Keira hated them and would procrastinate as long as humanly possible then bitch the entire time she was doing it. But for seven hundred dollar gift cards to her two favorite stores, she’d do the dishes. Hell, who wouldn’t?
Therefore, they both agreed on shouts, “Yeah!”
Then they raced around the table, grabbing plates and Sam grabbed me. He took my arm and lifted me out of my seat, nabbing the bottle of wine from the table as he did. I snagged my glass and Sam’s hand slid down my arm to curl around my fingers. He picked up his glass with practiced ease, carrying it and the bottle as he guided me to the study.
I’d put Tim’s old desk in there with our old computer and the girls sometimes studied in there at their Dad’s desk. I’d also put the two recliners Tim had in his man cave at home in there at angles in the corner and that’s where Sam took me. I curled into a recliner, my feet in the seat, knees to the armrest and Sam topped up my glass then his own then sat in the other recliner.
“Sam, the gift cards –” I began, knowing he didn’t have that kind of money.
Sam cut me off, saying, “Dad.”
I felt my mouth go tight.
“Vi, don’t,” Sam warned, “just take it and use it for somethin’ stupid. You know that’d piss Mom off most.”
It certainly would. Mom hated anything frivolous, most especially frivolous spending, and trendy clothes and makeup, for that matter.
“She know Dad gave you the money to buy those cards?” I asked.
“She will when she balances the checkbook.”
“Dad’ll catch it.”
“Dad doesn’t care.”
I looked Sam in the eye. “And I don’t care either. Too little, too late.”
“Vi –”
I shook my head. “Too little, too late, Sam.”
I looked toward the kitchen watching the girls tidying up, their thick, healthy, long, dark hair gleaming under the overhead kitchen lights; their flawless, youthful skin glowing; their thin, coltish but blooming teenage girl bodies moving with unconscious grace. I took in my girls as they moved around, girls who had very little to do with their grandparents after my parents disowned me when I got pregnant at seventeen, announced I was keeping the baby and marrying the father, something they disapproved of immensely, or at least Mom did, then I asked Sam quietly, “Dad want them to know it’s from him?”
“That’s your call.”
I sighed, thinking I’d tell the girls, it was only fair, but I wouldn’t like it.
“Vi,” Sam called and I looked at him. “Why you workin’ overtime?”
This made me sigh again.
Then I answered, “Because Kate’s got Dane, she’s wrapped up tight in him, even though they’ve only been dating a few weeks. And Keira’s made friends with the entirety of the eighth grade class. They’re not home much and I’d rather make some extra cash putzing around a garden center than come home to an empty house.”
I watched my brother’s eyes go soft and looked away.
Sam read me and changed the subject but he chose one that was no less uncomfortable ev
en if it was not nearly as sad. “You hear from him?”
“Nope,” I answered instantly.
“Nothin’?” Sam sounded surprised.
“Nothin’.”
I felt Sam lean into me so I looked at him as I took a sip of my wine.
“I been snoopin’ –”
I felt my body grow tight, fear clutching my insides and I leaned into my brother. “Sam –”
He shook his head. “Someone’s gotta do somethin’. He’s not done with you.”
“That someone doesn’t have to be you.”
“Vi, someone’s gotta do somethin’.”
“Let the police deal with it.”
I watched Sam clench his teeth, seeing his jaws flex out at the sides and it was his turn to look away.
“Sam, promise me you’ll let it go,” I said softly.
“Can’t.”
“Sam –”
His eyes locked on mine and he repeated, “Can’t.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I’m bein’ careful.”
I leaned in further and hissed, “You don’t mess with this guy.” Sam didn’t answer and I put my hand to the armrest and got even closer to my brother. “You know, you know, what happened to Tim, and he was doing his job… you know you do not mess with this guy.”
“So I let him mess with my sister?”
“He’ll forget about me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Bullshit.”
“Sam –”
“Bullshit, Vi.”
“Think about Melissa.”
“She agrees with me somethin’s gotta be done.”
My brother had been with his girlfriend Melissa for ten years. They lived together for nine of those ten years but never married. They talked about it all the time but they were always enjoying their lives too much to get around to doing anything about it. Mel and Sam had both been close to Tim, adored him. Sam felt like Tim was his brother, Tim had felt the same. We were all tight. When Tim died, they took it hard, nearly as hard as me and the girls. And Mel had attitude, just like Sam. I knew that Sam spoke the truth when he said Mel agreed something had to be done, not only because they’d loved Tim but because they loved me and the girls.
“Talk to Barry,” I suggested.
“I’m talkin’ to him.”
“What’s he say?”
“He understands a brother’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”
Yes, Barry would understand that. Barry was as crazy as Tim and Sam.
“Sam, Barry’s a cop and he said he won’t rest –”
“And he isn’t.”
“Then let Barry do his work.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need help.”
“Not from you.”
“Just leave it, Vi.”
I looked into my brother’s hard face for a few seconds then I turned away, swallowing and thinking maybe it wasn’t good we were so close. Maybe it wasn’t good I loved him like crazy and he felt the same way. Maybe it wasn’t good Melissa thought the world of me and my girls.
I pulled in a breath, let it out and took another sip of wine.
Then I let it go. I had no choice and I knew it. Sam was stubborn, always had been, so I whispered, “Tell Mel to come down with you next time, yeah?”
“Will do,” Sam whispered back then changed the subject again. “Who’s the big guy next door?”
My eyes moved to my brother. “What?”
“Big guy next door with the blonde chick? She your neighbor, is he or both?”
“He is. Joe Callahan.”
“Good neighbor to have,” Sam remarked.
I felt my eyebrows inch together. “Why?”
“Looks like he could crush a rock with his fist.”
“Why does that make him a good neighbor?”
“Also looks like someone you do not want to mess with.”
Sam wasn’t wrong about that.
“Again, why does that make him a good neighbor?” I asked.
“People don’t let shit happen in their ‘hoods that shouldn’t happen. He’s your neighbor, that asshole thinks to mess with you down here; I figure this Joe guy’d wade in.”
The thought of Joe Callahan getting involved in my troubles sent a chill up my spine. “Let’s just hope that asshole doesn’t think to mess with me down here.”
“He does, you should have a word with this Joe.”
That was not going to happen.
“Sam –”
“Maybe I’ll have a word, explain things, ask him to keep an eye out.”
I leaned forward again and snapped, “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t, okay? Seriously.”
My brother watched me then asked, “You got a problem with this guy?”
“No,” I lied quickly. “He’s just not around very often and I came down here to escape that whole mess. I don’t want everyone in my business.”
“Vi –”
“I don’t, Sam. If something happens then I’ll talk to Colt. He’s a cop, lives across the street. He’s a good guy, a good cop. It’ll be fine.”
“The dude who had that serial killer after him?”
“Yeah.”
Sam shook his head. “Christ, he’ll just love it if that asshole bleeds into his town after that mess went down.”
Sam wasn’t wrong about that either.
“Can we just enjoy your visit and not talk about this shit?” I suggested.
“We can after you answer one question.”
I sighed again then asked, “What?”
“You need money?”
Sometimes it was irritating how well my brother knew me.
I did need money. Things were tight, not to the point where food wasn’t on the table but to the point where it was a constant, nagging worry at the back of my head because I could give my girls what they needed but not a whole helluva lot of what they wanted and that sucked.
“I’m good.”
“Yeah?”
My voice got soft when I lied, “Yeah, Sam. I’m good.”
“Okay, then you use that two grand I set on your nightstand to make yourself a pretty garden.”
I felt my eyes get wide and my mouth drop open but I didn’t speak.
“And you can’t refuse it,” Sam continued. “It’s from Mel and me and Mel’ll go ballistic, I come back with that money.”
“Sam, I can’t take that.”
“You don’t, I’m up shit’s creek with Mel.”
“Sam –”
He leaned forward again. “How many times you and Tim bail me out, hunh? How many?”
“But –”
“More than two grand’s worth, a fuckuva lot more.”
“I can’t –”
“Payback, babe.”
“Sam –”
His hand came out, hooked me around the neck and pulled me across the space between the kitty corner chairs so my face was in his face.
“Payback,” he whispered.
I pressed my lips together to fight the sting of tears in my eyes. Before Melissa, Sam had been a wild one, always doing stupid shit, always coming to Tim and me to bail him out and we always did. Even though it had been years and we never expected anything in return, Sam would feel that weight pressing on him. It would live with him, right under his skin. He needed to do this, I knew it, so he could work that weight out from under his skin and I needed to let him.
I pulled in breath through my nose, nodded and I watched my brother smile.
* * * * *
The next morning, Joe’s truck was still in his drive but his house was quiet.
The morning after that, the morning Sam left, Joe’s truck was gone.
* * * * *
“Shit, Vi, sorry, I got a callout,” Colt said after he flipped his phone shut and shoved it in his back jeans pocket. He was seated at the barstool next to me at J&J’s Saloon.
&nbs
p; I looked down at my mostly finished cranberry juice and vodka. It was my third; Morrie was currently making my fourth. I hadn’t moved from my stool for awhile so I didn’t know the extent of my drunkenness but I figured, since I didn’t drink much, I was closing in on pretty smashed.
“That’s okay,” I told Colt who was my designated driver seeing as I came to the bar with him and Feb after she caught me getting my mail from the mailbox after coming home from work. We’d called our hellos then she’d suggested I go in with her and Colt to J&J’s for a night out.
I’d said yes because it was Friday and on Fridays normal people went out to have a drink, socialize, unwind.
I’d also said yes because Kate was out with Dane and she’d asked for an hour extension on her curfew because there was some party she just had to attend. All the other kids had later curfews and she explained she’d look like a dork if she had to be home by eleven. I’d allowed this because I was a moron. I knew this party wasn’t about kids sedately drinking punch and discussing possible college applications they wished to submit. I just hoped my responsible first born would act responsible. I also hoped her boyfriend, Dane, who seemed more into Kate than she was into him (if that was possible), would take care of my daughter.
I’d also said yes because Keira was at a sleepover which meant Kate and Keira being out, the house would be empty and I’d rather be at J&J’s having a drink sitting by Colt, who was a nice guy (and proved to be a fun guy, in a light-hearted, teasing, big brother kind of way) and not home by myself yet again.
“You want me to drop you home now?” Colt asked.
Morrie slid my drink in front of me and I smiled at him then looked at Colt and, still smiling, shook my head. Colt looked at my drink then at me and he smiled back.
He turned to Morrie. “Can you get Darryl to take Violet home?”
“I’ll get a taxi,” I said quickly because I might have been heading straight toward smashed but it was Friday night and the bar was packed so I knew Morrie couldn’t afford to let his employee Darryl take a trip out to play driver to me.
“That’s cool, Vi, Darryl can take you or I will,” Morrie stated, smiling at me.
Man, he was so nice, they all were.
“Really, I’ll get a taxi,” I smiled back.
At Peace Page 4