A Late Hard Frost

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A Late Hard Frost Page 9

by Stephanie Joyce Cole


  “I mean, Cindy, it’s been years.” What should he say? “It’s wonderful to see you.” That sounded lame and he knew it.

  Holding the coffee pot, Sally stared at both of them with intense interest.

  “Uh, Sally, this is my daughter, Cindy.”

  Sally’s eyebrows shot skyward, and she smiled. “Well, well, I can’t say I even knew Nick had a daughter. Nice to meet you. Didn’t I see you a couple of days ago downtown? I remember your coat. And you had a little one with you, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Cindy kept her eyes locked on Nick’s. “That’s Kevin, my son. He’s four.”

  She bit her lip. “He’s back at the motel, watching some TV with the kid from the front desk. Your grandson…Dad.”

  ~ * ~

  His hands were shaking when he brought Cindy’s coffee over to the corner table, which wasn’t private but the best he could do in the whirl of activity that was The Twins. She took it from him without a smile or a word, glancing at him briefly before staring out the window.

  “Cindy, well…” His voice trailed away and he cleared his throat. What do you say to a daughter you have no contact with, by her choice, and you haven’t seen in years? “You, ah, well, you look good.”

  She turned her face back towards him. “Thanks,” she said, her voice flat.

  He waited for more, but Cindy said nothing, pouring some cream into her coffee, staring into her cup like it was full of poison.

  “How long have you been in town?” And why are you here?

  She shrugged. “About a week.”

  A week. All that time and he hadn’t known she was in Homer.

  “And you have a son. Well, that’s just great.” The conversation was going nowhere. Why was she here?

  “Kevin. His name is Kevin. He’s four.” She shifted in her seat, cupping her hands around the coffee she had yet to drink.

  Anger suddenly flamed through his body. A four-year-old grandson, and he’d had no idea he existed. He tamped down his feelings. There had to be a lot more to this story.

  “Cindy, are you on vacation? I mean, it’s wonderful to see you after all this time, but you didn’t let me know you were coming…I don’t even know how you found me. I’m…I guess I’m just confused.” He pressed his hands flat on the table and stared into her face. She was pretty in a delicate way, like Anya, and she had her mother’s long, elegant limbs and refined features, but dark shadows under her eyes gave her a haunted look. After she shed her tattered orange wind jacket and draped it behind her on her chair, her slight body seemed buried in a too-large, heavy, black sweater over a black turtleneck. Her long hair was scrunched into a ponytail, and her right nostril, rimmed with red where it was pierced by a silver ring, looked raw and sore. She had to be just twenty-one now, but the hard, bitter lines in her face made her look older than that.

  Sally was swiping the empty tables, inching closer to them. He shifted in his seat, trying for a bit more privacy. This is going to be all over town by tonight.

  He leaned over the tabletop, hoping that his voice wouldn’t carry far, but as he moved towards her, Cindy pushed herself against the back of her chair, keeping her distance. He swallowed. “Cindy…of course, I’m delighted to see you. It’s a wonderful surprise.” He paused. “And, of course, I can’t wait to meet Kevin. I’m just wondering why you just showed up without letting me know, and why it’s taken a week for you to get in touch.”

  She took a sip of her coffee then, probably, he thought, to buy herself some time. When she answered, her voice was jerky and gravelly, as if words were being pulled out of her mouth against her will.

  “We’re in a bit of trouble, Kevin and me, and we need some help. We need some money. I figure you owe me.” She stared right in his eyes then, hard and defiant and challenging.

  Cindy abruptly crossed her arms over her chest, and announced that she needed to get back to Kevin. She’d asked the desk clerk to babysit for just a little while, and she couldn’t leave him for much longer. She gave a terse nod when Nick said he’d drive her. They waited a few minutes for Wesley to drop off a scratched and dented ancient pickup, but at least it had four intact tires.

  They hustled out to the truck, not speaking. Cindy’s hard eyes looked straight ahead as she strode next to him, matching him step for step. He could hear her breathing, harsh and fast, a warrior’s breath, readying for battle. Battle with him, he realized. He didn’t even have the bare bones of the story of whatever was going on with Cindy, but it was obvious that she had some axes to grind, grievances to air. He winced. What had happened to her, after he’d left her and her mother, was years in the past now, but it had been a terrible time, and he was sure it still festered in her. After the divorce, Anya blamed him for every failure in their marriage and turned Cindy against him, blocking his efforts to be a father at every turn. Finally, he’d given up the fight and moved north. He couldn’t have known what Jackson, Anya’s new husband, was doing to his daughter. Still, the guilt he felt, the guilt he felt he’d earned, still burned within him.

  They didn’t speak on the short drive to the motel on the edge of town. His thoughts whirled. His daughter was here, beside him! And he had a grandson—he was going to meet his grandson! A grandson who was four, but who he’d never met, who he never knew even existed. He shook his head. Cindy had refused to have any contact with him over all these years, but surely he deserved to know about Kevin. Emotions were at war inside of him: excitement, anticipation, and, yes, anger.

  She left him in the dark and dusty lobby while she marched down the hall to her room. He heard the room door creak open and then slam shut. The wind had picked up again, and it whistled around the front door behind him. Faint sounds from a television lurking somewhere down the hall drifted his way: voices, the ding of bells, bursts of music and applause. A game show, maybe. He had to remind himself to breathe, just breathe. A few minutes later, he heard the door open again.

  Nick’s breath caught in his throat. The skinny kid standing in front of him, shifting his weight from foot to foot, was his grandson. It was hard to make sense of it. Kevin looked up at him without any emotion in his flat eyes. Nick squatted in front of him and held out his hand, and Kevin stared at it but then slowly took it. Kevin’s hand sat in his palm like a flabby, warm, dead fish. The expression on Kevin’s pale face didn’t change, though he sucked his teeth and looked away while scratching his butt with his free hand.

  Kevin looked nothing like Cindy. Instead of her elegant bones and dark eyes, Kevin was a skinny bundle with unkempt, orange-red, curling hair and blue eyes. His faded T-shirt and long shorts were too big and hung loose on his almost skeletal frame. With a shock Nick realized who he did look like. Nick had a few faded childhood pictures of himself, and if Kevin had been standing next to him in those pictures, they would have looked like brothers. The same red hair, the same pale eyes, the same long body. Except that Nick always looked happy in those pictures, while Kevin looked like a lost soul.

  “Hello, Kevin.” He still held Kevin’s limp hand. His voice was husky with emotion. “I’m Nick. Your grandfather.”

  Kevin gave a slight nod. He pulled away his hand and stepped closer to his mother, grabbing the fabric of her faded black jeans. He leaned against her leg and stared at the floor.

  “He doesn’t say much,” Cindy said, dropping her hand to rest on his head. Her voice softened. “He’s kind of been through a lot.”

  Nick’s heart flipped. There was some sort of mess here to unravel. No doubt there was a long story to be told and to absorb, and he suspected there would be tears and anger, too. But right now, his heart soared. Impossibly, he was here with his family. His daughter and his grandson were here, right here in Homer with him. His family!

  He was at a loss for what to do next. This story couldn’t be told here, in this drafty, dark, public lobby.

  “Why don’t you grab Kevin’s coat and we’ll go up to my cabin?” He squinted down at the small figure huddled half behind Cind
y’s leg. “We can talk there.”

  No one spoke as they bumped up the dirt road to the cabin. Nick’s thoughts were whirling. Cindy looked terrible, tired and drawn and thin. And this kid—his grandson!—still hadn’t said a word or even made any eye contact. What was wrong with him?

  He tried to gather his thoughts. Cindy was twenty-one now, so if Kevin was four… Kevin would have been around the last time he talked to Cindy on the phone, a little over a year ago. He’d located her and wanted to reconnect with her then, to explain why he’d left her and to apologize, but she would have none of it. And she never mentioned Kevin. Her spite and anger had been palpable, even through the phone line that faded in and out over the bad connection riddled with static bursts. “I don’t need anything from you.” Her voice had been cold and precise, the words bitten off sharp. “You’ve done enough damage. I don’t need you in my life. Now and never.” The brutality of that call still cut him, even after all this time. Yet here she was.

  The cabin was chilled and dark when they arrived, so Nick snapped on lights as quickly as he could, moving to light a fire in the hearth. Cindy sat at the kitchen table, straight-backed, stoic and blank-faced, her eyes staring pointedly into space, but Kevin’s eyes followed Nick’s every move. Nick smiled at him, and Kevin ducked his head but the corners of his mouth turned upward, just a little.

  Nick filled the old kettle and put it on the stovetop. There wasn’t much in the kitchen cabinets, but he found a package of Fig Newtons and put them on the table in front of them. Cindy ignored them, but Kevin’s hand snaked out quickly to grab one.

  Nick sat across from them and paused. He wasn’t good at this stuff. He wasn’t sensitive or perceptive like Merry. He cringed for a moment. Even now, random thoughts of Merry were painful. He tried not to think about her, as much as possible. It wasn’t too possible.

  “Cindy…it’s good to see you. It’s good to meet Kevin.” Kevin glanced up at him at the sound of his name, his mouth rimmed with cookie crumbs. “But I don’t really understand any of this.”

  She shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “Well, we don’t have any money.” Her words were soft and tentative, but she shook herself and started again, pitching her voice louder and sharper. “We don’t have any money, and we need help. We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  They stared at each other across the table. “What happened? Where’s your husband?” He didn’t want to be cruel, but he figured there weren’t any good ways to go about this. He had to know what was going on.

  “Don’t have one.” She stroked the top of Kevin’s head as he leaned it against her. “I know I told you I did when you called me, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t. Never had one.”

  Okay, that was a start. “So Kevin’s father…?”

  “Dead.”

  Nick looked across at Kevin, but Kevin hadn’t reacted. He’d just started into his third cookie.

  “Drug overdose. Heroin.”

  She was still staring ahead into space. “It happened a long time ago. Kevin was just a little over a year old.” She shrugged. “We weren’t living together. We hardly knew each other.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nick got that much out, but he had no idea where to go next.

  “We’ve been living in California, near Anaheim, but I lost my job. Not my fault.” She flashed him a defiant look, though he hadn’t said anything. “The company I worked for went under. No notice or anything.”

  “Has Anya been helping you?”

  Cindy smirked. “Mom? She’s never forgiven me for outing Jackson. Or maybe she was just mad that he chose me over her. Who knows?”

  Anger surged over him, closely followed by a crushing wave of guilt. Jackson, Nick’s replacement, had abused Cindy for years. Even though Nick hadn’t been around then, he still felt responsible. Somehow, some way, he should have known. He should have protected her. He looked at her more carefully. Under her prickly exterior, she looked bruised and beaten.

  “How did you manage to get here?” He softened his voice. “It’s pretty pricey to get up here. And Sweenie’s—well, it’s no palace, but it still costs. Alaska’s damned expensive.”

  “I have a credit card.” She slumped lower in her seat. “It’s maxed out now. Not sure what comes next.” For an instant, her face crumpled and he thought she might cry, but then the fierce look was back.

  “Well, I’m not sure either. But for right now, maybe you and Kevin should stay here.” He looked down at Kevin, whose eyes were drooping with exhaustion. “I’ll go and get us some real food. I can get your things from Sweenie’s on the way. And I can stay down on the boat, no problem, so you can have some privacy.”

  Relief flooded her face, and in it, for a moment, Nick glimpsed a flash of the little girl he’d left behind. He pulled on his coat while Cindy settled Kevin down in the middle of his bed. Kevin was already fast asleep, curled in a fetal ball, his thumb drifting towards his mouth. Nick looked at them, and his heart cracked open.

  ***

  He almost ran into the Striders’ border collie on the road out. It tore into the road from their dirt driveway, barking wildly, and he had to jam on the brakes, hard. Damn. He yelled out the open window at the dog, but it just wagged its tail and trotted away, happy to have done its job chasing him away. He slapped his palm against the steering wheel. Running over a dog with Wesley’s loaner truck—that’s all he would need to make this day complete.

  Groceries for Cindy and Kevin, dealing with the sliced tires—and Cassandra, he’d forgotten all about Cass. He swore under his breath, and then again, louder. He’d have to explain all this to Cass, and he didn’t yet understand it himself.

  At Safeway, he tossed random items into his cart. A loaf of bread, a half-dozen eggs, peanut butter, lunch meat, apples. Some cans of juice. Three kinds of cookies. He had no idea what they liked or what they’d want to eat.

  At the checkout stand, he scowled at Regina, the cashier, for no good reason. She was busy carrying on an animated conversation with another cashier one aisle over, so she didn’t seem to notice, which only deepened his level of irritation. When Johnnie, the bagger, plunked his eggs at the bottom of his bag, he muttered under his breath and brushed him aside, pulling out the groceries to rearrange them, while Johnnie stood by awkwardly watching him, his long, skinny arms plastered to his sides.

  “Nick, you okay?” Regina stared at him, with alarm in her eyes.

  “Jeez, I’m sorry.” He put his hands up. “I’m really sorry. Just a bad day. Very bad day.”

  He smiled sheepishly at them. “Shouldn’t be taking it out on you two. Really sorry.”

  Regina nodded at him, her mouth curling into an uncertain smile. Johnnie stayed completely still, shoulders drooping, staring intently at a spot right between his feet as Nick hurriedly grabbed his groceries and headed out the door.

  On the drive back, he took some deep breaths to calm himself. He hated being out of control, hated it with a passion, and his whole life was a mangled mess right now. Nothing was settled with Cass, he couldn’t stop thinking about Merry, and now he had a kid and a grandkid on the scene and they wanted—what? Money? Well, he didn’t have much. He’d like to help them, but it might be one of those blood-from-a-stone situations. He had his cabin and his boat, but he barely made enough from fishing to keep himself afloat. He shook his head. What a mess.

  Even now, Merry’s face hovered in his memory, and he muttered a curse, trying to push it away. Thoughts of Merry and what he’d lost haunted and taunted him. When he was with Cassandra, when he was working on the boat, late at night when he lay in bed and his arm stretched across to where she’d lain with him for such a brief time…it was all about Merry. Surely, the pain would lessen over time. But now, every time he thought of her, the memory was still bright and fresh and bitter.

  Kevin was fast asleep in the middle of the bed, his right thumb deep in his mouth. Cindy huddled on one end of the couch facing the fire, her feet tucked under her, her head tip
ped back against the pillows. At first, he thought she was sleeping too, but she looked up when he put his grocery bag on the table. She didn’t smile. She looked like hell. She looked like she needed a good meal and a full night’s sleep and who knows what else.

  “I picked up a few things. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but there’s enough here to do for a while, I think. We can go back to the store together, maybe tomorrow, and you can pick out what you want.” She nodded in his direction, still not smiling. Were those deep dark circles under her eyes bruised skin or smeared makeup? He paused, but then decided to jump right in. “Cindy, I don’t understand why you at least didn’t let me know you were coming.” He searched for the right words. “What did you think was going to happen once you got here?”

  It was harsh, he knew, and she flinched, but he needed to get to the bottom of this.

  She opened and closed her mouth, and turned her head to look into the fireplace. For a few moments, the crackle of the fire was the only sound. Defiance flitted across her face, and passed, and was replaced by a look of total defeat. “I don’t have a plan. We don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.” She cleared her throat and pulled her back straight and looked at him. “I…need you to help us.”

  His heart collapsed in his chest. This scraped, hard wreck of a person was his little girl, the girl who’d sat on his lap and called him daddy and skipped down the street at his side. This was the little girl he’d unknowingly left in the clutches of an evil and cruel man who abused her. Now she was a grown woman with a kid of her own, and he wouldn’t let her down this time. He couldn’t remake the past, but, damn it, he’d get her what she needed. Whatever it was. Somehow.

  ***

  After he put the groceries away, Nick dropped into a chair next to the couch and waited. His mind kept searching for glimpses of his little girl in the defiant, tightly-wound woman in front of him, but he could only see that Cindy in brief flashes, the way she opened her eyes wide and looked sidewise, the way she patted her knee as she searched for a word or phrase.

 

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