Learning to Live Again

by Marie Kinneer

  “The Piccolos have relatives in New York, New Jersey and Oregon. None in New Hampshire. As for friends, nobody knows of friends either boy has except for classmates and each other,” Allison said. “And yes, the police talked to Mavis Piccolo.”

  “How’s Margie holding up?”

  “She’s holding herself together. Waiting by the phone. I tried to get her to come over here, but she won’t leave her kitchen and the telephone. I run over every few hours to see how she’s doing. I don’t dare call and tie up her line. I keep coming back here so I can call out. Brownie’s gone to Keene to look around. You know him. He has to try even if he has no idea what. We’re all worried about the storm coming.”

  “Did either boy have any money?”

  “Nobody seems to know.”

  “How about TV. Any coverage on the local stations?”

  “They’re getting ready to do that. Channel 31 out of White River Junction and Channel 3 out of Burlington are going to air pictures of the boys this evening on their news programs. Channel 31 is going to tape an interview with Margie tomorrow morning if the boys haven’t been found before that.”

  ******

  Where would boys fourteen and sixteen go? Joey Piccolo could easily pass for a twenty year old. He was tall, dark, and not a little sinister looking, Sam thought. Peter, on the other hand, looked fourteen, but he too was tall and might pass for older. They’d have no trouble hiring onto a construction crew once the weather broke, but where would they hole up in the meantime? Sam tried to imagine himself at their ages and given their situation, where he would be. They may have a few bucks, but not enough to eat and pay for lodging indefinitely. They left the vehicle. Not suspected of stealing one, yet, so they’re on foot. Doesn’t compute. Sam pictured the Walmart in Keene and couldn’t visualize a motel nearby. Maybe one of the boys knew a student at Keene State, a long walk to the college dormitories, but if the boys wanted the truck found quickly, Walmart was a good place to leave it. Maybe Joe didn’t want his dad to fret over the truck. Joe probably wouldn’t consider Amos would worry about him.

  Sam saw a rest stop was coming up and decided it was time to take a men’s room break and make a phone call. He pulled up alongside a Honda Civic with a North Carolina license plate. The car looked familiar, but there were thousands of red Civics from North Carolina on the road so Sam was astounded when Randy Shaeffer stepped out from the driver’s side. Randy worked in Accounting at Digitronics. Sam knew him from the company picnics’ softball games. Randy was a good pitcher and a great batter. Sam and he always sought each other out when getting up a game. Together they were unbeatable. It got to where no one would play unless they were on separate teams and in the last few years they played some pretty exciting ball against each other.

  “Randy,” Sam called, coming up behind him on the walk to the rest room facility.

  Randy turned. Recognition brought a grin to his face and he held out his hand. “Sam Gear. How the hell are you?”

  “Doing great. How about yourself?”

  “Except for being among those hit by the cut, I’m doing okay. Just had an interview in Alexandria. Think it went pretty well, but I hate to pull up roots—teenagers don’t move well, and my wife’s folks are in Charlotte,” he said.

  “Cut? You mean Digitronics?”

  “Where you been hiding, man? Digitronics has had a hostile takeover and a 20 percent reduction of workforce. Don’t you read the paper or listen to the news?”

  “I’ve been convalescing with family in Vermont. Don’t hear a word about anything south up there,” Sam said, perplexity screwing up his face. “Mike West called me back to work last week. Said I could head up that chip project that’s been on hold for half a year. What do you make of that?”

  “Man, I don’t know anything about what you guys in engineering are up to; I’m just a money man, but the rumor mill has it that Mike West’s head is on the chopping block despite his stock holdings. He’s made some bad decisions and had some expensive setbacks with the competition getting like products to market ahead of Digitronics. This may be a last ditch effort.” Randy’s eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but Sam felt the sincerity in his words of warning.

  “I’m sure glad I ran into you, Randy. You’ve made a decision I’ve been trying to make a whole lot simpler.” Sam pumped Randy’s hand again, and they walked together to the rest rooms in companionable silence. When they came out, the men exchanged e-mail addresses and promised to drop each other a line.

  CHAPTER XXII

  Back on the road heading north on 81 Sam called Allison. “Do the boys know anyone attending Keene State?”

  “Don’t think so, but I’ll ask,” Allison said. “You know, I think the Ryersons moved to Keene.”

  “That’s interesting,” Sam thought out loud. “I’m coming home, Mom. Hope you don’t mind putting up with me a little longer.”

  “I wondered how long it would take you to turn that car around,” she said.

  A wondrous exhilaration washed over Sam. A sudden sense of rightness and a quietness of heart filled him. He was going home. To Margie, to Peter, to Vermont. He looked out the windshield to a sky of clear blue. Did he expect a sign? Perhaps the ghostly hand of his dad pinching two fingers together in the “ok” symbol? Or maybe an angel fluttering away now that her work was done. He did hear a faint chuckle on the seat beside him and turned, but knew full well he’d see no one there.

  ******

  With the storm threatening and Margie unwilling to abandon her vigil at her telephone lest Peter call, Allison decided to trek up the hill while the road was still passable. She hadn’t made up her mind whether to tell Margie that Sam was headed back or to let him cut his own road. Probably she would let the story unfold on its own.

  Margie answered the door with a thankful face and warm embrace. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee. I have some of those oatmeal cookies you and Peter love. Made them Friday, I think, so they’re still pretty fresh,” Margie said, bustling around the kitchen.

  “Sam wondered if the boys knew anyone who’s going to Keene, staying in a dorm there. I called Angela and asked her if she could think of anyone. She couldn’t. We can call Administration in the morning,” Allison said, pulling out one of the wooden chairs and noting anew the stenciled bunny on the back. She was about to say how adorable the stencils were again, but decided this wasn’t the time.

  Allison thought to explain, “Sam is calling me for news so as not to tie up your phone in case Peter tries to call.” Sam hadn’t told her that, but it was good reasoning.

  “I don’t expect he’ll call me, Allison. He may call Peter now and then, but not me.” Allison noticed a tremble in her voice and a twitch in her wan smile.

  “Sometimes men’s hearts are thicker than their heads. Brownie’s been a widower fifteen years, me a widow six, and he’s just recently realized he’s crazy in love with me. Course I’ve know it a long time, but in my day women waited for the man to make the move and besides, I really wasn’t ready until now.” Allison wasn’t sure why she was blabbering about her own affairs, none of which concerned Margie, particularly given her worry, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She realized with a start that she hadn’t shared that bit of news with anyone else, not even her own sister.

  “It’s wonderful you two have found each other. I’m so happy for you,” Margie said. She sat across from Allison and clasped her hand. “I must tell you, I thought right up to the last minute that Sam would see that we were a match made in heaven, but it was one-sided after all, you see. Made up in my head.” She got up to grab a tissue from the box by the phone and wiped her eyes.

  Sam said he’d turned the car around and Allison knew he was on his way back home, but he didn’t say that Margie was in his plans. He didn’t talk to Allison about Margie or any other woman. He never had. But she had caught him watching Margie from the window in his room. She knew they had been out on a few dates and that he was fond of Peter. She also knew that he
was fighting some personal demons he didn’t talk to her about. In fact, she didn’t know what was in her son’s heart. She was a romantic. Perhaps her dreams were unrealistic, but a “match made in heaven” fit Sam and Margie like it did Brownie and herself. She hoped her son was wise enough to know it.

  ******

  An old Cary Grant/Sophia Loren movie on TCM, a bowl of popcorn with sprinkles of white cheddar cheese and melted butter, steaming cups of Ghirardelli hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows bobbing on top kept them company. The wind kicked up and draped a ton of snow on top and around everything outside their warm cocoon. Allison had been taking peeks at her watch since the storm started. “I’m guessing they are inside somewhere. Peter must have had his last paycheck from the pharmacy on him,” Margie offered, imagining Allison’s fears matched her own.

  “I’m glad to know that,” Allison said, then looked at her watch again, a frown unmistakable on her brow.

  “Is Brownie out in this?” Margie asked.

  “Oh God, I hope not. He’s supposed to be at the garage getting the plow ready for this storm. He’s putting chains on. I’ve got his cell phone,” She said pulling it out of her trouser pocket. “He’s going to call me here.”

  Margie shrugged her shoulders. “Oh my,” she said, “This looks to be a horrendous night.”

  At 10:15 they heard stomping on the porch. “That must be Brownie,” Margie said, relieved for Allison, and went to get the front door.

  “Come in,” she said, turning on the porch light. Sam, having tramped what snow he could off his sneakers, was removing them. “Sam,” she shouted, “Sam. Are you all right? What are you doing here?”

  “The roads are bad,” he said, coming in the house. “Hey, Mom, smells wonderful in here. Popcorn. I didn’t stop to eat.”

  “Let me fix you something,” Margie offered as she helped him off with his parka. “How about an omelet? I’ll use mostly whites, with red peppers and … What are you doing here?”

  “I take it you haven’t heard anything?” He was looking at his mother.

  “No, nothing.”

  “Sam?” Margie grabbed at his arm. “You came back because Peter ran away? Will they hold your job open? Is that why you’re here?”

  Sam put his hand on top of the hand on his arm and shrugged his shoulders. “Changed my mind. Brownie made me an offer I decided to take,” Sam told her, and added, “I got an idea about getting those boys back. I need to be in that TV interview. I’m going to make them an offer I think they’ll take. We’ll just have to hope they’re watching the local news.”

  “You came back because of Peter then. Is that what you’re saying?” She watched his face, trying to read his eyes.

  Sam turned his head toward Allison. “Can I take you home, Mom?”

  “In this? Are you nuts?” She saw pleading in his eyes. “I’ll hang out here. Go in the kitchen. I won’t hear a thing,” she told her son.

  They heard the plow, a thumping, grumbling sound, passing on the road. The wind made a strange bear-like growl as Sam left the house to catch up with Brownie and help if the need arose.

  “Coward. He’s afraid you’ll turn him down,” Allison said.

  “What are you talking about? He’s not in love with me,” Margie said. “He’s already told me that.”

  “Really? When was that?” Allison was all ears.

  “He didn’t exactly say that. What he said was that he was too old and a medical risk. Anyway, he wasn’t interested in a long term relationship with me.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, he’s turned the car around and he’s here. Something’s changed and it isn’t the weather.”

  ******

  The men returned some two hours later. At 12:25 in the morning the women were asleep on the couch and chair. The TV was still on airing another classic movie. Brownie woke up Allison on the couch and Sam sat in front of Margie on a corner of the hassock holding her feet.

  “You guys back already?” Allison asked.

  “Come on, I’ll take you home,” Brownie said, giving her his arm to pull herself up off the decorative pillows under her head.

  “I’ll sleep here on the couch,” Sam said, “if it’s okay with Margie. The TV crew will be here early in the morning.”

  Margie was just opening her eyes and coming awake. “Sure, you can stay,” she told Sam then closed her eyes and was lost again to sleep.

  “Poor kid didn’t sleep at all last night.” Allison said. She’s exhausted.”

  ******

  The snow had stopped before the men had returned from plowing Sunday night and the road to Margie’s house was passable. The Channel Five crew showed up promptly at 7:00 am Monday morning as promised. Sam had spent the night on Margie’s couch. She looked so peaceful on the overstuffed chair with her feet propped on the ottoman, he’d left her there to sleep. Sam woke up at 6:00 and they had been scrambling to be ready for the program.

  After looking over the premises for light and angle, the camera team decided to broadcast from the kitchen. “This is Channel Five News with a message for Joe Piccolo and Peter Merryhill, the two runaway boys we pictured here throughout Saturday and Sunday.” The TV screen showed last years school pictures of the two boys with their names in bold print. “They apparently left home in Joseph Piccolo’s father’s truck Saturday morning, according to Piccolo’s sister. The truck was later found abandoned in Keene, New Hampshire, in the Walmart parking lot. If anyone has seen either of these two boys please call …” The announcer gave the Crime Stopper and police department numbers. “Now we give the microphone over to Peter Merryhill’s mother who has a message for her son. Mrs. Merryhill …”

  The TV camera panned to Margie. “Peter, please call and let us know you’re both okay. Everyone is worried sick about you. We can’t work anything out if we can’t find you. Please give us a chance,” Margie pleaded. “Give me another chance, Peter. I love you so much.”

  Sam pried the mic from Margie’s hand and someone else handed her a tissue to stem the flow of tears. The TV screen filled with Sam’s smiling face. “Hey boys, Peter and Joey, I sure hope you’re watching this. I’ve had a change of plans.” Sam paused, dropped his head as if looking for something and then leaned against the kitchen counter. “Brownie’s retiring in a couple of months and I’m in the process of buying his garage and towing business. Let me tell you how that concerns you two. Seems those great mechanics that have worked for Brownie forever are all at retirement age too. That means I am in need of a couple of sharp young men who want to learn the mechanics’ trade. If you’re interested I need to hear from you right away.” He moved away from the counter, walked a step toward the camera and wore a serious face. “We need to get you started training tomorrow, if possible.”

  Sam handed the mic back to the news announcer and after a few more comments the broadcast ended. The crew were packed up and gone in minutes leaving Sam and Margie feeling empty. It was suddenly so quiet and strange. All the bravado and clamor with the cameras and crew members, and talking into a microphone gave such an adrenalin rush that the aftermath was not only a letdown, it was almost eerie.

  “I guess we just wait and hope and pray,” Margie said breaking the awful silence.

  Before Sam could answer the phone rang. Margie picked it up on the second ring. “Hello,” she whispered.

  “This is Joe Piccolo, Mrs. Merryhill. Is Sam Gear there?”

  “Is Peter with you, Joe?”

  “He’s in the shower, ma’am. If Mr. Gear is there, I’d be much obliged if I could have a word with him.”

  Margie handed Sam the receiver. “It’s Joe Piccolo.”

  “Joe. How the hell are you two? Where are you?”

  “You mean what you said on TV? You buying Brownie’s garage and you willing to give me a chance? I mean if Peter don’t come you still willing to give me a chance?”

  “That’s right. Of course it will be part-time during the school year and full time in the summers. You have to finish h
igh school. We’ll sign a contract that will spell it out for you,” Sam explained. “I started out with Brownie this way and it worked out real fair for everyone. We’ll start you out with minimum tools that will be yours alone. Add to them each month. I’ll purchase them and you’ll pay me back out of your paycheck on time. In the meantime you’ll be apprenticing with Samuels. He doesn’t retire for another year.”

  “Samuels? Jack Samuels?”

  “Yeah. He taught me almost everything I know about motors,” Sam said.

  “You’re not blowing smoke? You’re going to give me a chance?” Joe said, “I won’t let you down, Mr. Gear. I been taking shop this year so I ain’t starting from nothing. I mean, I know a little bit already. You won’t be sorry, sir.”

  “Seven dollars an hour to start. Start tomorrow after school if you get back here.”

  “I’ll call my dad, ask him to pick me up.”

  “How about your friend, Peter. He up for it?”

  “Dunno. He’s pretty bummed out about his old man and Mrs. Merryhill. I just been sticking around to make sure he don’t hurt himself. I was coming home anyways. I talked to my dad yesterday, but I told him to keep his mouth shut. Guess he did, huh?”

  “He sure did,” Sam said shaking his head. “Did Peter see the TV show?”

  “You know what? Never mind, he just came out of the shower,” Joe said. Sam heard his voice muffled, talking to someone in the room. “Here, you talk to him.”

  Sam waited, but heard nothing. “Hello, Peter?”

  “You’re not moving away?” Peter’s voice sounded younger, smaller somehow.

  “No. Brownie made me this offer and I’m staying. You want to work for me?”

  “Joe does. He was coming back anyway. He has no reason to run away, he says. Life sucks everywhere. He’s pretty funny when you get to know him.”

  “He been trying to talk you into coming home?”

  “Yeah,” Peter said. “I got a job already with McDonalds. I’ll be all right.”

  “McDonalds? Don’t they require you to be sixteen?”