Promise to a Boy

by Mary Brady

  “We all knew Jesse. He sort of wandered in and out of our lives,” Bessie said as she signaled Vala for more coffee all around.

  “He was such a card,” one of the women who were probably sisters said, and Reed was sorry to say he had forgotten which was Cora and which was Ethel.

  “Is that bad or good?” he asked.

  The sisters laughed and together said, “Both.”

  “He’d forget he was supposed to do a job for us and then he came and did it and then insisted we weren’t supposed to pay him, cause he said it was a mitzvah, whatever that is.”

  “I think he meant he was doing a good deed,” Reed replied.

  “Yup, he was a card,” Cora or Ethel said. “Remember that dog he tried to adopt and the dog just wanted to run around free and not belong to anybody?”

  Both tables of people laughed and Reed got the feeling no one was laughing at Jesse, just about the story.

  “I didn’t know whether to feel sorrier for Jesse or the dog,” the old rancher Curly Martin called out from the other table and then guffawed until he coughed and one of the sisters had to pound him on the back.

  The waitress poured coffee all around and when she brought his breakfast, she brought his flatware and water from the table where he had originally sat.

  “Thanks, everyone. I appreciate your Jesse tales. I just hope they aren’t too exaggerated.”

  Several of them chuckled and the rest grinned and Reed continued. “I’m trying to find out where he might have gone and I wondered if he said anything to any of you, or if you’d heard anything.”

  Many heads shook.

  “You’re best bet for information might be John Miller over at the hardware store. Working there was the last real job Jesse had before he left,” one of the sisters said.

  “Do you need him for anything in particular or are you juss lookin’?” Curly asked. The drilling look of inquisition he gave Reed seemed contagious and soon they were all looking at him as if he were going to fore-close on all their homes.

  Sometimes there was nothing that would suit better than the truth. “Our mother needs to see him.”

  Bessie Graywolf pinched her lips together and shook her head slowly. “I know that one—my daughter, been gone over a year.”

  Reed looked directly at Bessie.

  “Sorry, Bessie,” he said and was surprised to realize he actually meant it.

  As his reward for acknowledging Bessie’s pain, seven expressions lightened collectively. In some circles, mothers carried a lot of weight.

  “Any other suggestions?” Reed asked.

  “You might ask at the sheriff’s office,” Jim Taylor offered. “He fished with a couple of the deputies.”

  A couple more names were mentioned, but they were “out of town anyway.” Reed shoveled food into his mouth as he listened and nodded his thanks.

  The door to the diner opened and a big, blond young cowboy strode in with his hat in his hand.

  “Baylor!” Several of them greeted the young cowboy as if he were an anticipated family member. Bessie motioned Baylor to Fred’s empty chair. “Reed Max well, this is Baylor Doyle. The Doyles own the Shadow Range Ranch and Bay is one of our very own volunteer firefighters.”

  Baylor’s eyebrows drew together as he studied Reed. “Jesse’s brother. The one staying with Abby.”

  Reed recognized the challenge and decided it would be best to sidestep it. “Abby was nice enough to let me stay in my brother’s apartment for a couple of days.”

  Baylor nodded at the people in general. “I can’t stay.

  Just came for some coffee.”

  “I thought you were moving outta town, boy,” Curly called from the other table.

  “Soon, Curly, soon, you old buzzard,” Baylor responded affectionately.

  As if on cue, Vala set a to-go cup in front of Baylor who handed her a few dollars, snatched a sweet roll and stood with the roll balanced on top of the coffee and his hat in his other hand. “Abby is good people,” he said to Reed and strode out the door.

  “Baylor’s right about Abby,” Bessie said and chortled. “And I wouldn’t cross him if I were you.”

  “Warning noted.” He studied each of them and they all seemed serious.

  “And they’re watching.” Bessie jerked a thumb at the other table.

  The pair of women waved. “Hi, neighbor. We live across the street from Abby.”

  “Good to know.” Reed finished off the last few bites of his breakfast.

  “Yup, your best bet today is to head down to the hardware store.” Bessie chased sweet roll crumbs from her apron with a sweep of her hand.

  “You’ve all been very helpful.” Reed passed out his business cards, paid his bill and tipped Vala for every darlin’, honey and sweetie pie because he could and because no one in the coffee shops in Chicago’s Loop used endearments like that. Then he bid them all thanks and goodbye. When he stepped outside the sun had warmed the day to toasty and the sky was the biggest and the bluest he’d ever seen.

  He took a big breath of the clean air just for the novelty of it. He’d be back to pollution soon enough.

  The people of St. Adelbert had drawn him a picture of Jesse. They liked his brother, foibles and all. For some reason that meant a lot to Reed. Could just be that he was glad he wasn’t hunting for some reckless brother who didn’t deserve to be found. Could be he was remembering how much he and Jesse had loved and depended on each other as kids and was missing his brother.

  He stepped off the curb. The redbrick building called Avery Clinic sat perched back from the roadway across the street. A sheriff’s squad car parked under the awning at the front entrance was the only outward sign of life at the clinic. Must be a slow day. Might be a good opportunity to go in and ask the people there about Jesse. Abby might be there since her car was gone when he’d got up, but he was less sure about Abby since he started wondering about Kyle and Jesse. Did she have a secret the town didn’t know about?

  He strode up the ramp and at the top, the glass-and-aluminum doors popped open allowing him entrance. There must be a parking lot out back somewhere because inside, the clinic was hopping. In the waiting room off to the side were several adults and three very loud children. One of the men was trying and failing to control the kids. One elderly woman sat rocking back and forth as if all the noise and activity was soothing to her. If Reed had to guess, he’d say she had turned off her hearing aid. A child’s shouting and screaming came from the treatment area beyond the closed double doors.

  A side door opened and another family poured in to raise the clamor to chaos. A man in scrubs emerged from the treatment area and intercepted the new arrivals. He spoke with the parents and with the injured child. Then he asked them to add themselves to the crowd in the waiting room.

  Two firefighters, probably volunteers like Baylor Doyle, the cowboy he’d just met in the diner, strode out of the patient treatment area and hurried out toward the door. Two of the boys from the waiting room chased after them and their father hurried after them.

  A woman at the reception desk looked up and gave Reed a large PR smile. “May I help you?”

  “Maybe, Arlene,” he said, using the name on the tag on her blue uniform.

  “I’m Reed, Jesse Maxwell’s brother.”

  The receptionist nodded and furrowed her brow as if she already knew who he was, but was willing to let him spin his own tale or even hang by his own rope.

  “Is Abby Fairbanks here?”

  He looked up when the double doors to the patient treatment area popped open. Abby emerged accompanied by the sheriff, the very big sheriff. Tall and broad, who made Reed, who didn’t consider himself so, feel small. The man’s gaze took Reed in. An eagle would have nothing on this man.

  “There she is.” The receptionist nodded toward Abby and her, for all intents and purposes, bodyguard.

  Reed smiled and Abby gave him a tentative smile in return.

  The radio on the sheriff’s belt squawked.
He hefted it to his mouth. “Sheriff Potts,” he said as he walked back inside the treatment area, probably for privacy.

  “Hello, Abby.”

  “Reed, is there something wrong?”

  “Can we talk for a second?”

  She nodded and without speaking led him through the doors, across an open area with two treatment rooms on either side and finally down a quieter corridor with exam rooms and offices.

  “Now, what can I do for you?”

  The sheriff poked his head inside the hallway. He looked at Abby, and studied Reed for another long moment, and then said to Abby, “I’ve got to go. We’ll have to talk later or tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff Potts.”

  He gave her a one finger salute to the brim of his sheriff’s hat and gave Reed another sizing-up, then hurried away. Reed tried not to feel paranoid, but this was one of those times when he knew he was a long way from Chicago. These people could circle the wagons and he’d get nothing from them.

  Abby turned to him and repeated, “Now, what can I do for you, Reed?”

  She gave him a pleasant therapeutic smile and he realized he was meeting nurse Abby. That smile made him believe she could fix anything, anything at all.

  “I was over at the diner and I thought I’d stop in.”

  A woman, a tech her tag said, in dark blue scrubs walked by, gave Reed the once-over and turned to wink broadly at Abby. Abby waved her off.

  “You were at the diner,” Abby prompted.

  “I met a bunch of the nice townsfolk, but they didn’t have much in the way of information about Jesse.”

  “Well, I—”

  “I don’t want anything on my arm.” A child’s plaintive shout came from one of the treatment rooms they had passed earlier. A murmuring female voice tried to convince the child otherwise.

  “Nurse Abby, we need you.” The woman who had winked earlier called out to her.

  Abby turned to Reed. “Can you wait a minute?”

  He held a hand out indicating by all means and she walked away quickly, quietly and disappeared into the nearby treatment room.

  Reed followed, hanging back a bit in the hallway. He might gain some insight into the woman if he could see “Nurse Abby” at work.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I DON’T WANT A CAST.”

  Reed watched as Abby sat down beside the boy, but not close enough so that he might try to scoot away, and then she ignored him.

  “I don’t. I don’t.” The red-haired, freckled-face boy of about Kyle’s age sat holding one forearm in his other hand. An ice pack sat on top of the arm.

  “Yeah,” Abby said without looking at him. “I don’t like it when people treat me special, either.”

  The boy frowned but didn’t say anything to that.

  She ignored him again and fiddled with the stethoscope around her neck as if it held great interest.

  “It’s icky,” she spoke again. “Having people do my chores for me.”

  “Wadda ya mean?” The boy blew at the hair drooping in his eyes so he wouldn’t have to use a hand to push the lock aside.

  The boy’s mother stood in the corner biting her lips so she wouldn’t grin. Reed knew how she felt. He found himself doing the same thing.

  “Well, you wouldn’t be able to do dishes—at all—for at least a week, maybe longer, and then maybe badly enough that your mother would take over and send you out to play. Making your bed would be out for a while, too. I hate it when that happens. I want to make my bed every day. Twice if I take a nap.”

  The wheels inside the boy’s head were turning.

  “And the colors. Did you see the colors? Looks like a bag of Starburst candy in there.” She pointed at the almost neon colors of the cast samples. Nice tack, Reed thought. The boy probably didn’t even notice the change from the negative to the positive.

  “I’ll get teased.”

  “Only by kids who still have to give the dog a bath.”

  “I wouldn’t have to do that, either?”

  “I like giving dogs a bath.” She stopped and gave him a sad clown face. He smiled just a little at that and she continued.

  “I like it when they splash dog-flavored water in my mouth.” She flicked her tongue. “Yum.”

  Now he giggled.

  “My favorite is when they put their wet paws on my lap and drip so it looks like I wet my pants when I stand up.”

  The boy giggled and tried to bury it in his shoulder. He knew he was losing.

  “And then everybody wants to sign their names on your cast with the special pen we give you. Then you watch the kids who still have to do the dishes, make their beds and give the dog a bath. They’ll be the first to sign.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “It might hurt a little, but not any more than it does right now. What Dr. DeVane is going to do is sort of build your arm a cocoon—well, a cocoon with fingers sticking out.” She pulled her hand into the sleeve of her jacket and wiggled her fingers out the end. He nodded in rapt interest. “That way when you do stuff it will have protection for the broken part and it can heal. In six weeks the bone will be all patched up and the cast comes off.”

  “Will you do it?”

  “Dr. DeVane is going to do it. She’s our cast expert, and maybe I’ll get to be her able-bodied assistant.” Abby puffed up her chest and sat taller.

  “Okay.” The kid mumbled the words into his shoulder.

  “Hey, Sammy,” Abby said as she scooted closer.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry you fell off your bike and broke your arm, but Dr. DeVane will help fix you up good as new.”

  “Will she let me feel the baby in her tummy?”

  The boy’s mother came away from the corner with a horrified look on her face and right then a beautiful, very pregnant woman stepped into the room and gave a questioning look to the mother, who shrugged and nodded.

  “She sure will,” the woman Reed assumed was Dr. DeVane said as she put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder.

  Reed decided his place in this scenario didn’t exist, so he turned and walked out of the clinic. He had more than found out what kind of nurse Abby Fairbanks was and any questions he had for the clinic staff would have to wait for a day when he didn’t feel like he was a kid who just watched a Hallmark movie and needed to go to his room and bawl.

  In five minutes, Abby had given that little boy more love and understanding than Reed and Jesse had gotten in their collective rich childhoods. Go figure.

  ABBY WATCHED REED HURRY away and couldn’t help but feel relief. Since she’d seen him watching Kyle last evening, she’d recognized the two adults needed to have a conversation. Right now was not the time, because she didn’t yet have the courage to even think that Kyle might have another family who might want a part of him.

  Maybe tomorrow, next week, or sometime after she started collecting social security would be the right time to verbalize her suspicions.

  “Hey, Abby,” the tech whispered. “That man, he’s the guy living at your place?”

  Abby nodded. “Does anyone not know?”

  The tech laughed. “It’s St. Adelbert, Abby. All we do is eat, sleep, work and gossip. He’s hot. Do you want him?”

  “What kind of question is that?” she whispered back.

  “Hey, if you don’t, can I have him?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Abby said. That would start them wagging, guessing, maybe even betting.

  “Keep me posted,” the tech said and handed Dr.

  DeVane the chosen color of casting material. Neongreen had been the choice, as it often was for five-year-old boys.

  Abby patted a smiling Sammy on the head and left to see to more patients. He definitely didn’t need her anymore. See, she didn’t have trouble letting go—when it didn’t matter.

  REED HURRIED DOWN THE sidewalk.

  That Abby had become a nurse was no wonder—she was a fixer, a very good one. He pictured Abby beside the boy, letting the child set the
pace. The little boy certainly appreciated someone taking the time to understand what he wanted. Reed didn’t blame his brother for hanging around the Fairbanks women as long as he had. He realized if he took on Abby Fairbanks, he would be taking on the whole town. He hoped it would never come to that.

  Reed passed an office building housing among other things, a real estate office and an accounting firm. In a town this small, he wondered if the same people worked in both offices on alternating days.

  Next to the office building was an empty spot of land with a sign that said Future Home of St. Adelbert Community Center, but the sign was old and worn. There was for sure a story about the missing community center. He wondered what had happened between conception and completion. Could he help?

  Now, where had that thought come from?

  Neither Chicago nor Evanston, the suburb in which he grew up, had engendered more than basic civic duty in him. This little town had gotten under his skin in just two days.

  Past the promise of a community center was Miller’s Hardware Store. Beyond that was a second gasoline station connected to a grocery store. At the very edge of the downtown area, there was bearded Fred’s auto repair shop aptly named Fix It Fred’s. By the look of it, not any kind of franchise and badly in need of an overhaul itself, but the tow truck sitting out front was large and shiny with lots of chrome. Reed chuckled. The place looked just like the man he had met in the diner—a little disheveled but never to be overlooked.

  Mr. Miller at the hardware store didn’t have a clue where Jesse might have gone nor where he might be now.

  “He was a different sort of fellow,” Mr. Miller said. “He’d do the job. He’d forget some things from time to time, but he was always willing to make things right even if he had to stay a little longer. I was always a bit concerned about him. He didn’t seem to have any…well, he never seemed to, ah…”