He shook his head. “A job? No. That just wouldn’t work for me.”
“Why not?”
“Let’s see. What would my resume look like? No college degree. No high school degree. No job experience. And just think of what I could list under skills.” He started counting on his right hand, “Hot wiring cars, although I have to admit Ellie is much better at that than I am.”
“Thanks,” I said and smiled at him.
He winked and continued his list, “Breaking and entering, Assault and Battery. Oh, wait, that’s a charge. Would I list that under the jail-time category?”
“Max, enough. I don’t want to hear it.” Jillian glared at him.
“You brought it up. I’m just asking the logistics of it.” He grinned at her, getting a good laugh at her response.
“Whatever.” Jillian rolled her eyes at his answer. Clearly, they had had this discussion before.
“Does anyone want more coffee?” I asked, trying once again to change the subject.
“No, thank you.” They answered at the same time.
“I think it’s time we went back home,” Max said. He stood and hugged his sister warmly. “Thanks.”
“Call if you need anything. Ellie, it was nice to meet you. Maybe we can get together sometime for dinner or something nice.”
“I’d like that.” I smiled and shook her hand. I found I really liked her.
In the car, the conversation took a direction that we rarely pursued. Max and I both liked to live in the moment. The past wasn’t something we talked about, a rotted corpse better left buried. We seemed to understand this with each other and never brought it up. Consequently, we didn’t know each other’s history. Now that I had met Jillian, there was an open pathway.
“Your father must have green eyes,” I said. I meant it innocently, not trying to pry or ask anything. It was just an observation, a matter of genetics.
“Mean eyes,” he answered and chuckled. “I hate that bastard.”
“Wow, that’s strong.”
“He killed my mom when I was eleven.” My jaw dropped open when he said it but he continued on without pause. “There was never any proof but I know he did it. Said she fell down the stairs. He used to beat the shit out of her. Me too, but it got worse after she died. I became his only punching bag. Jillian’s mom actually tried to adopt me but it didn’t go through. She had no grounds for it. They lived next to us. Isn’t that weird? I don’t know how that even worked but I used to hide there when he was in one of his rages.”
I was shocked by his story and surprised he’d just offered it up like that. He was usually so tight-lipped about everything. Jillian had given him something for the pain, and it was making him loose and talkative. It probably wasn’t meant for human consumption.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” My answer felt inadequate, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“I don’t know anything about your parents either. Do you even have any?” He said it as if I had just popped up in someone’s garden and couldn’t possibly have real parents.
“No, I don’t.” This was a can of worms I shouldn’t have opened.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” He genuinely looked like he didn’t expect my answer, like he expected me to say “Oh, they’re jerks, I don’t talk to them anymore,” or “Yeah, they live far away,” some simple explanation of why he hadn’t met them.
He must have seen something in my face. “Really, I’m sorry,” he said again.
“It’s okay, you didn’t kill them. I did.” I figured if he was honest, it was time for me to be honest as well.
“What do you mean?”
“I was building an alarm system for my bedroom so I would know if anyone entered while I wasn’t there. It attached to my door and would call my cell phone when it opened without my permission. I was always inventing things. I had most of it together but had to do some soldering on the electric board. While I was working on it, one of my friend’s called and said they were having a party out in the woods, so I dropped everything I was doing and snuck out for the night. I forgot to turn the soldering iron off. It caught fire, and they died.” I shrugged, trying to pass it off as nothing, but it left me shaky. I had never told that to anyone before. I added with a whisper, “I had a sister, too.”
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I didn’t want to cry; I didn’t want to think about it. That’s how I usually dealt with things, just swept them under the rug and ignored them. Sometimes I was so good at hiding my emotions, I forgot I even had any. When they did appear, they gave me a big kick in the ass.
Now that it was out, it actually felt good to tell him. We shared something that neither of us told other people lightly.
“Shit.” He didn’t know what else to say but I was glad he didn’t tell me it wasn’t my fault. I could feel him looking at me.
“Hey, pull over up here.” He pointed to a turn off ahead. I was thankful he gave me a reason to stop driving; I could hardly see the road.
To the right, a beaver pond spread its glassy surface through the fingers of swamp weeds, with a little dirt patch big enough for a car to park perched on its bank. It was a good spot for people to take photos and get at good look at the surrounding wildlife. I parked the car and we got out, walking to a log next to the water. We sat on it, and he put his good arm around me, pulled me tight to his body, and kissed me on top of the head. We sat like that for a while, watching a pair of geese swim in and out of the reeds.
“They mate for life.” He finally broke the silence but his voice was quiet, so not to disturb the two birds.
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’m not like my father. I will never hit you.”
“I think I know that, too.” I looked up at him and smiled. He was always so sweet to me, so good-natured, that I couldn’t imagine him treating me badly.
“I love you.” It was the first time he said it. He leaned down and kissed my lips before I could say anything in response. He pulled back and smiled, then asked, “Are you ready to go?”
I nodded and took his hand in mine, wiping the tears from my cheeks with my other hand. We got back in the car and drove home.
The next day, I drove out to Jillian’s. It was Sunday; her office would be closed unless she had an emergency. I knocked on the door, a bit nervous she’d find it strange I’d popped in like that or she’d be busy and wouldn’t want company.
“Ellie! It’s nice to see you!” She looked genuinely pleased, putting all of my worries aside.
“I don’t want to bother you. I just brought you some cookies to say thank you for yesterday.” I handed her the plate.
“Not at all. Come on in. I’ll make some coffee.” She took a bite of one of the cookies. “Oatmeal cranberry? That’s my favorite! Thanks!” I had asked Max what kind she would like to make sure I got it right.
She started the coffee pot and took two mugs from the cabinet. “I think this calls for some ice cream. Pick out a flavor from the freezer.”
I opened the freezer door and stared in dumb wonder. It was filled with Ben & Jerry’s pints, every flavor they made.
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “That’s a lot of ice cream!”
She laughed at me, then explained, “I have a friend who works at Ben & Jerry’s in the factory. She gets to bring home a pint after every shift. It adds up to a lot of ice cream for one person so she gives a lot away. You should take some home, I’ll never eat all of that.”
I pulled out a pint of Cherry Garcia, my absolute favorite, and dished it into the bowls Jillian had set out. We sat at the table to indulge in our sweet feast and had a good chat. I didn’t ask her questions about Max, as tempting as that was; it felt like that would be going behind his back. We had plenty of other things to discuss.
Jillian licked her spoon and let it fall with a clank in the empty dish. “I have to say, I was impressed with you in the operating room yesterday. The surgery didn’t gross you out at all and you never once hesitated when I a
sked for something.”
“Thanks. I’m glad I was able to help.”
“I know you don’t want a normal job, but I could really use someone with your brains. Would you be willing to fill in once in a while, like yesterday when my tech wasn’t there? I needed the extra set of hands.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“It’s not like you’d have any kind of schedule, and if I called you and you didn’t want to that day, it would be okay. Totally up to you.” She held her hands up. “No pressure.”
“Really? Like, only when I wanted to?” The idea appealed to me. Anatomy fascinated me, and I had a knack for figuring out how things worked, whether they were biological or mechanical in nature. Had my life turned out differently, I might have gone to med school. Or vet school.
“Yeah. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. You’re smart enough to remember it, too.”
Her flattery brought me around. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Jillian’s wide mouth split into a radiant smile making her almost pretty. She stuck her hand out to shake mine. “Deal! Can you come in tomorrow?”
“Yes, doctor,” I answered smartly, excited to start learning something new.
When Jillian said she would teach me everything, she meant it. I learned all of the ins and outs of veterinary medicine, some of which were extremely gross, and most of which were extremely engrossing. I did them all and was grateful for the experience. More than that, I was grateful to have found a good friend.
10.
One early summer afternoon, I went to the old farmhouse to do a little maintenance on my plane and get it ready for a job that required a few adjustments. Max came with me to keep me company. He’d been living with me as an illegal alien since the previous summer. His profession didn’t require legal status so a Green Card was unnecessary and, due to his past, probably unattainable.
“This place is cool,” he said as he looked in the windows. “Why doesn’t anyone live here?”
“Frank wanted to keep it private for the landing strip.”
“Then why don’t we live here?” He tried the front door, but it was locked.
“I don’t know,” I said and shrugged. I thought he was joking at first, but as the idea rolled around in my head, I realized it actually made sense.
“Do you think we can get in to get a better look?” He was searching the area for a hidden key. Knowing Max, I was afraid that if he didn’t find one, he’d smash a window just to satisfy his curiosity.
“Sure. Follow me.” I stepped down from the porch and headed toward the barn.
“Where are you going?” He caught up with me, but kept throwing inquisitive glances back toward the farmhouse.
“I don’t have a key, but I know how we can get a better peek inside.” I smiled triumphantly at him. “And I’m not going to break anything.”
In the barn, I took a flashlight out of my toolbox and marched to the goat pen in the back. I flipped open the hatch and climbed down the stone steps into the cold subterranean chamber. At the bottom, I turned around and looked up to see Max looking down at me, mouth open in surprise.
“Coming?” I asked. He nodded and followed me into the darkness.
“What is this place?”
“It’s a smuggler’s tunnel. It runs between the barn and the house. Frank said they used to hide moonshine down here.”
We walked the length of stone corridor and came out behind the bookshelf in the cellar. I looked at Max. His face was aglow with this new discovery.
We explored the upstairs, walking through the bedrooms, peeking in the bathroom, opening closet doors. Downstairs, I stopped to tickle the keys on the old piano. It clinked an out-of-tune melody that echoed in the empty halls.
We were already in love with the house, but the secret passage had sealed it for Max. He was completely fascinated by its presence. We talked about it as we strolled around the yard, both of us getting excited about the prospects of moving out there.
When we got back to the apartment, I went to see Frank. Max made me ask him, saying that Frank would never refuse me anything. I don’t think he ever refused Max either, but I agreed to ask. I walked into Frank’s office formulating the question in my mind.
“Frank, is there any reason, other than privacy for the plane, why no one lives at the farmhouse?”
“I grew up there. I’m not comfortable letting just anyone rent it out.” He was sitting at his desk, scribbling coded records in his notebook.
“Oh,” I replied. Now that I knew, I wasn’t sure I wanted to invade his personal space like that.
“Is there a reason why you’re asking?” He stopped writing and looked up at me. His icy blue eyes looked into mine. Frank was good at reading people, especially me. I could lie through my teeth to anyone, but not to Frank.
“Um, I was just wondering about it.” I shrugged and looked away.
“You were thinking it would be a good place for you and Max. Actually, I was thinking the same thing. It would be convenient for the plane, and it would give you guys some privacy.” Once again, Frank read me like the newspaper on a Sunday morning.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’d like to see it lived in again. You guys are the only ones I’d want there.” He paused then gave me a teasing smirk. “Besides, I can rent out your apartment and finally get a little rent money.”
“Thank you!” I stood and gave him a hug. “I love you, Frank. You know, if Max and I ever bother to tie the knot, you’ll be the one I ask to walk me down the aisle.”
He hugged me back and said, “You two shit heads are the kids I never wanted . . . but I love you anyway.”
He smiled at me with soft eyes and gave me another squeeze, then went back to his paperwork. It made me wonder if Frank had planned this all along when he introduced the two of us.
A good scrub and a fresh coat of paint made a world of difference. The house was ready for us to move in within two weeks. The plumbing worked, the electricity was re-wired, and the wood stove sat waiting for a fire. I even got the old piano tuned, not that either of us had any musical talent.
The only problem was we had few furnishings. We had a bed and nightstand, a kitchen table, and a TV. My old shitty couch looked pathetically lonely in the living room and the rest of the house echoed in emptiness.
We had just moved in, only there for four days, when Max disappeared on a Beer Run. Six hours later, he called and said he wasn’t coming back that night.
The house felt too quiet; I wasn’t used to living completely alone. Before, I could just run down stairs and visit with Frank if I got lonely or walk downtown to hang out on Church Street where I often met up with friends. Now, I was out in the middle of nowhere, no close neighbors, nobody else to talk to. It felt weird and would take some getting used to, but I knew once I did, I wouldn’t be happy enclosed in an apartment ever again. Still, I wished Max hadn’t left so soon after moving in.
Over the next three days, I wandered around the house, pacing, unable to relax, even with my usual methods. I was attempting to read a book, although I had re-read the page four times already without comprehending it, when Max came home. He looked tired, but happy. I didn’t ask where he had been; we didn’t discuss business. I took it as a client confidentiality thing. I didn’t give him details about my clients; he didn’t give me details about his.
He walked into the house and grabbed me, squeezing me tight to his chest. He buried his face in my hair and inhaled then took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply, his lips hot against mine.
“Well, hello!” I said to him as he pulled away.
“I have to show you something,” he said and took my hand, leading me out to the driveway. A big white moving van, its back doors open to reveal a full compartment, was parked there.
“What’d you do, knock off a furniture store?” I asked.
“No, I bought it. Legitimately.” He paused, then added, “Well, sort of. It’s not stolen. I did buy it. But with
the money I just earned . . . not so legitimately. I hope you like it.” He gave me a hesitant grin, as if he were afraid of my reaction.
“Wow! Thank you!” I climbed into the back of the van and looked around at the chairs and end tables, the dining room set, the new couch. He had good taste. The job he pulled must have been worth a lot of money to buy all that stuff. There was enough to fill every room in the house.
“I love it! I love you!” I jumped down from the van and into his arms. “I’m so glad to have you back.”
“I’m glad to be back,” he said and kissed me again.
We unloaded the van, bringing each piece in and carefully arranging it. When we were done, my back ached, and I was exhausted, but the house looked beautiful. I plopped down on the new couch and ran my hand over the soft fabric. Max sat next to me and ran his hand up my shirt.
“Maybe we should take it for a test drive,” he suggested. I got his meaning and giggled.
That night, we tested the new couch, the dining room table, the master bed, and the guest bed. They all came up satisfactory.
11.
My car wouldn’t start. I had spent the last two hours trying to figure out what was wrong with it and had worked myself up into a pretty good snit.
“Fucking piece of shit!” I yelled and slammed the hood. Usually, I could find any mechanical problem and fix it, but this one was beyond me.
The car was a Ford Escort almost as old as I was. It was falling apart, and I was afraid it wouldn’t pass inspection, but I couldn’t afford a new one. Frustrated, I gave up and went into the house.
As I walked in, Max was talking on the phone. The conversation was a strange mix of English and French, so I knew he had to be speaking with Raphael.
I had met Max’s best friend on a few occasions. He was French Canadian, about the same age as Max, and extremely attractive.
“Attends, Ellie vient d’arriver. I’ll ask.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, looked at me, and said, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
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