‘Come on. You know George is going to bump somebody back to make room for us.’
Coop smiled and shrugged. ‘George’ll work it out, Susan.’
It was only a little thing, but somebody who’d booked a table might have to wait a little longer for their meal because of them. Susan was aware that the Valley Hotel occasionally stayed open beyond the hours permitted by George’s license, a fact that Coop chose to overlook. It meant he didn’t have to wait long for a table in the restaurant on a busy night. Then there was Tommy Lee, who she knew occasionally dropped off half a deer at Coop’s door, and who sometimes carried overweight loads on his truck when he was hauling around the back roads. She doubted he ever got a ticket. Coop reasoned that Tommy struggled to keep his truck on the road at all with the competition from the big out of town companies, which meant sometimes he had to cut a few corners. What good was it going to do if Coop made things harder for him than they already were?
Susan understood his point but sometimes it bothered her anyway.
While they were waiting, Craig Saunders - who ran the Texaco station - and his wife, Julie came over to say hello. Craig and Coop were friends from high school, and when Susan first moved to Little River with David they were some of the first people she’d gotten to know. The three guys were fishing buddies, and Julie would come over with her three kids and they would spend the afternoon getting food ready for a barbe-cue later. The whole notion of the women taking care of the domestic stuff while the men went off together for a good time was foreign to Susan. When she and David met they had both been working in the city. Though she liked Julie well enough, they were very different. She sometimes thought Julie disapproved of her.
The talk turned to hockey, and Julie asked how Jamie was doing.
‘He’s fine.’
‘I saw you guys the other day when he got off the bus, I waved but I guess you didn’t see me. You know, he looks more and more like David when he was younger.’ She laid a consoling hand on Susan’s arm. ‘It’s such a shame. It must be hard for you coping the way you do.’
‘It’s not so hard, Julie. We get along okay.’
‘How’s he doing at school?’
‘He’s doing good.’
‘You must be worried about what’ll happen when he goes to high school. God knows I worry about my three enough and there’s nothing...’ Her voice trailed away and for a second she looked stricken, then she smiled brightly and added, ‘I guess there’re tutors though.’
Susan’s smile froze. Silently she counted to five. What had Julie been about to say? That there was nothing wrong with her kids. Unlike Jamie.
‘Jamie doesn’t speak,’ she said. ‘That doesn’t mean he’s mentally impaired.’
‘Of course not! I didn’t mean that,’ Julie protested. ‘I just meant it must be harder for Jamie to keep up if he can’t ask questions. And some of the other kids must make it tough for him. You know what they can be like at that age.’
‘The other kids?’
‘The names and so on. It really makes me mad when I hear about it, so I can’t imagine how it makes you feel.’
An image flashed in Susan’s mind. She saw Jamie getting on the school bus and finding somewhere to sit alone. He didn’t hang out with his friends like he used to, and it worried her that he spent so much time by himself, but it never occurred to her that the other kids were teasing him or worse. The realization shocked her. How could she not have known and done something about it?
‘Susan, are you okay?’ Julie asked looking concerned.
‘Yes. I... It’s nothing.’
She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk at all. She was relieved when Coop and Craig stopped talking about hockey. Craig started complaining about his business and how it was getting harder these days to make a decent living. Susan barely listened until Craig mentioned her new neighbor.
‘I heard Michael Somers moved into his parents’ old place,’ he said. ‘You must be worried having a guy like that living practically next door, Susan’
‘Why should I be worried?’ She swallowed a twinge of guilt, recalling the way she’d acted towards Michael Somers the other day.
‘Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about him? Didn’t you warn her, Coop?’
‘He used to live here,’ Julie explained. ‘Craig and Coop went to high school with him. He was always a little bit strange. A loner, you know. I don’t think many people were surprised when they heard he shot someone.’
‘There was more to it,’ Craig said. ‘The papers said he tried to kill his wife and baby girl. He would’ve got life if his lawyer hadn’t convinced the judge he wasn’t sane when it happened. I don’t think that surprised anyone either. He probably takes after his mother. She was an odd woman from what I remember. After he went off to college she killed herself.’
‘Is that true?’ Susan asked, turning to Coop. ‘That his mother killed herself.’
He nodded. ‘She took an overdose.’
‘That’s terrible.’ Susan thought about the man she saw outside her house and the way she behaved towards him. Though she was aware of the stories going around, she hadn’t heard any of this before.
‘I know these people don’t always know what they’re doing,’ Julie went on. ‘But you have to wonder if letting them out is the right thing to do? I mean, you feel for them and all, but you have to think about other people too. I mean how does anyone know he won’t do something like that again?’
‘He’s served his term,’ Coop said. ‘We can’t lock people up for something they might do.’
Craig shook his head. ‘Doesn’t mean we have to have the guy living in our own backyard.’
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ Susan said. ‘If he had some kind of mental problem it shouldn’t be held against him for the rest of his life. He has to get another chance doesn’t he?’
Her comments were met with silence. Nobody would meet her eye and she knew they were thinking about Jamie, but that had nothing to do with it.
‘I met him,’ she said. ‘He came over the other day and he seemed like a regular kind of guy.’ She wasn’t even sure why she said it, distorting the truth like that, making out that she was so different from the rest of them.
Coop was surprised. ‘You didn’t say anything about that.’ He sounded vaguely reproving.
‘There was nothing to say. He just came over to say hello.’ She was irritated that Coop thought she had to report everything that happened to her.
‘Excuse me.’ She put her glass down and made her way back to the rest rooms. She was angry. She needed a moment to calm down. Behind her the door pushed open and Linda Kowalski came in.
‘Hey. What’s up with you?’
‘Nothing. Just something somebody said.’
Linda smiled. ‘I saw you with Julie and Craig. Are you eating with them?’
‘God, I hope not.’
‘So it’s just you and Coop?’
Susan caught a note in Linda’s tone. ‘Coop and I are friends.’
‘Are you sure Coop sees it that way?’
‘Of course. Since David died he’s been great. I mean, I know he likes me, but it isn’t the way you mean.’
Linda raised a skeptical brow and Susan knew she was kidding herself. ‘Christ, I don’t know how this happened,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to encourage him to get the wrong idea. Do you think I did?’
‘By having dinner with him? Having him over to the house all the time? Of course not.’
‘He doesn’t come over all the time,’ Susan protested. ‘And this isn’t a date. I’m not interested in any man in that way.’
‘You could do worse.’
‘I know he’s a good person. Coop’s been good to us, especially to Jamie. I just don’t feel ready for a relationship.’
‘Well, if you really feel that way, you should think about telling him,’ Linda advised. ‘You know that as far as this town is concerned you two are as good as ma
rried, don’t you?’
Susan rolled her eyes. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘What did you think?’ Linda arched her brows. ‘Why else do you think the guys around here aren’t swarming over you like bees around honey? It’s because of Coop.’ She paused, letting what she’d said sink in. ‘Are you sure it’s such a bad thing, Susan? Are you planning to stay by yourself forever? And what about Jamie? Don’t you want more kids?’
For a moment Susan tried to picture herself with Coop. Was it true she hadn’t meant to encourage him? Perhaps holding back had nothing to do with him, maybe it was just that she was still caught up in the past. She still missed David. She thought about him a lot and still found it difficult to accept that he was gone. Then of course there was Jamie. How could she think about anything else?
‘Can I just say one thing?’ Linda said. ‘Sometimes we don’t appreciate the things we have until it’s too late. Don’t write Coop off yet.’
Susan smiled and held up her hands. ‘Alright, I get it. I’m not writing him off.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Say hi to him for me,’ Linda said and kissed her cheek. ‘Enjoy your meal.’
***
After dinner they drove back to Susan’s house. After a few glasses of wine Susan was feeling mellow, content to listen to the low sound of music on the radio and watch the headlights flash through the trees along the road. It didn’t strike her until they pulled up outside her house that Coop had been unusually quiet on the way home. She’d been thinking about her conversation with Linda earlier. Perhaps it was time to move on with her life rather than dwelling on the past and her memories of David.
‘Do want to come in for some coffee?’ she asked when he turned off the engine.
She always asked him the same question but he always said it was late. He was giving her space. Tonight he hesitated.
‘Maybe I’ll just come in for a minute,’ he said.
She covered her surprise and they went inside to the kitchen. She put the coffee on and they chatted as they waited. It occurred to her that she didn’t really know a lot about Coop. She knew the basics - like where he lived, how old he was, that he liked fishing, but there had to be more to him, personal things they’d never discussed. She was usually the one who did the talking, often about David during the months after he died. Coop was always there for her, but to her slight shame she’d never delved into his life. Not his inner life anyway. He wasn’t the kind of man who talked much about his feelings or what he was thinking.
‘Coop? Can I ask you something? How come you never married?’
He considered her question thoughtfully. ‘I guess I never met the right woman before.’
It was a stock answer, but there was an implication in the way he added ‘before’. Before what? Was she supposed to read something into this? A silence fraught with meaning extended between them and Susan’s heart thudded in her chest. She felt a subtle change. I could stop it now, she thought.
He finished his coffee and put his cup down. She held her own cup to her lips, avoiding his eye. Neither of them spoke. When she put her cup down, that’s when something would happen unless she said something. She felt panicked, but at the same time experienced a current of excitement. Coop was going to kiss her and she was unsure exactly how she felt about that. She caught sight of David’s picture on the noticeboard. A part of her questioned how she could have allowed things to come to this, while another argued she always knew it would. It had been a long time since somebody had held her, since she’d felt she wasn’t all alone. Maybe Linda was right and she had to appreciate what she had right here.
She placed her cup on the bench and he put his hand on her arm and turned her toward him. She didn’t resist. His lips touched hers, firm to her own softness. An unfamiliar sensation. She closed her eyes and responded to him. He held her gently, almost reverentially, his hands on her arms and hers on his so that they remained slightly apart. A spark of warmth ignited in her belly.
Their kiss was slightly awkward but pleasant too. She waited for the spark to become a fire but it failed to happen and she thought it was just the situation. They were both nervous but she thought perhaps it was also because he’d been David’s friend and suddenly she wanted to be alone. She needed time to think. She pulled away from him and he looked into her eyes searchingly. She saw his disappointment.
‘I should go,’ he said quietly.
‘Coop ...’ she began, wanting to explain. ‘I don’t know if I’m ready … I mean I need time.’ She shook her head, uncertain what exactly it was she was attempting to say. She let him move away feeling the cool space of air between them. She didn’t trust herself to speak again.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said.
‘I can’t promise... ‘ She faltered. She felt like a fool, stumbling over her words like a tongue-tied teenager.
‘It’s okay.’
She walked with him to the door, and on the porch he bent to kiss her cheek. She watched him leave until the lights of his car vanished in the trees and the sound of the engine faded.
When he’d gone she washed up their cups and turned out the lights. Before she went upstairs she checked in the TV room. The reel Coop had bought for Jamie lay where he’d left it on the floor.
In her bed she closed her eyes but sleep was slow in coming. She kept thinking about Coop and the feeling of being close to another human being after so long, but it was David’s image that filled her mind, and though she screwed her eyes tight and bit her lip, she couldn’t stop the tears from coming.
CHAPTER 9
There was a stillness around dawn and just before night fell. In the mornings Michael sat on the porch and watched the sky lighten over the mountains as they changed from black to ink-blue before the first sunlight hit the snow. At the other end of the day the clearing became awash with the soft, purple haze of twilight.
The woods fell quiet as birds settled for the night. Not a breath of wind disturbed the air. A lone cry echoed, raising goose-bumps on his flesh and a shape flashed above the trees pursued by another, which twisted and banked without making a sound. He thought it must have been an owl.
The twilight faded to darkness.
Since his return, Michael had used only a few rooms in the house. When the mood took him, he wandered the others, allowing long buried memories to surface. He used to tell people he left Little River because he’d hated the town. He came to believe it, but he knew now it wasn’t really true. He would have left anyway, as plenty of others had shed their small-town roots to go out into the wide world. But perhaps in different circumstances he would have remembered it fondly in an idealistic kind of way, redolent with images of youth and long drowsy summers. For him, though, the town was too tightly interwoven with what went on in this house, so that afterwards he could never separate them.
He sat in the room where they used to eat dinner. He could remember how his dad’s Dodge would pull up outside and his mother would look up from cooking.
‘Go outside and meet your dad, Michael.’ She’d wipe her hands and pause at the mirror, her hand going to her hair to make some small adjustment. She would be dressed as if they were going out for the evening, the way women of her mother’s generation did. Her make-up was freshened and when she quickly hugged him the thick scent of her perfume was almost cloying.
‘We have to be nice to him.’ She would crouch down to Michael’s level. ‘You know we have to be nice to him, don’t you?’
So he’d go outside and sometimes he’d catch his dad looking at the house with a kind of weary, sad expression. His mother always told him that his father had a temper and they had to be careful not to upset him. He heard them shouting sometimes, but it was usually his mother’s voice that carried up the stairs.
At dinner, conversation was punctuated with endless silences. His dad might tell them about something that happened at the store and his mother would smile with glassy brightness and lean over to smooth Michael’s hair.
> ‘Ask your father if he wants more beans, Michael. Tell him if the meat’s tough it’s because it was ready at six.’ This last part if his dad was a few minutes late, said with a smile as bitter as the words. She never spoke to him directly if Michael was present.
Thinking back, Michael tried to remember his dad ever raising his voice in anger, except when he heard them fighting after he went to bed, and then it seemed like his dad’s voice was the calming one against his mother’s shrill recriminations. He found it hard to think of his father other than as a vague, remote figure, while his mother was always there, always telling him they had to try their best.
His thoughts turned to practical matters, like how he was going to earn a living. He had some money but he was aware that it wouldn’t last for ever. Despite the experience at Wilson’s car lot he circled several ads in the help wanted column of the local paper. He decided to lower his sights and only chose the kind of jobs where he wouldn’t be in the public eye.
In the morning he presented himself at a tire shop on Seventh Street, dressed in boots and jeans, and asked to see the manager. A short fat guy wearing greasy overalls came out of a door, chewing on part of the thick cheese sandwich he held in one fist.
‘What can I do for you?’
Michael gestured to the paper he was carrying. ‘You ran an ad for someone to fit tires.’
The guy looked him up and down doubtfully. ‘You done any work like this before?’
‘A little.’
In fact he’d done some machine work while he was in prison and he didn’t think it would be so difficult to learn how to fit tires. The shop was small, racks of tires around the walls, a couple of mechanic pits in the floor by the hoists. Behind the smeared glass pane of the office cubicle a middle-aged woman worked on some paperwork. Behind her was another small and ancient desk. A calendar featuring a blonde wearing cut-off jeans and a miniscule top was pinned on the wall above it.
‘You live around here?’ the manager said. He took another bite out of his sandwich.
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