The movies liked to glamorize high-speed chases, but he wondered how many movie directors had ever been involved in one. He could still feel the heat in his neck and face. His heart refused to slow down. A pain had settled between his shoulder blades. He was horizontal, but instead of growing more relaxed, he felt like poured concrete—as if he were “setting up.”
He forced his thoughts to something else. Lee Reston working with her flowers in a good-smelling shop on Main Street. Judd Quincy and his plan for the Fourth of July. Lee Reston and the garden hose he’d intended to fix for her. Janice Reston and the overt interest she was showing in him. Lee Reston cooling her face with the running water at his kitchen sink.
He checked the clock after forty minutes.
After an hour.
An hour and a half.
By ten-thirty he knew perfectly well he wasn’t going to sleep. He felt as if he were on amphetamines.
He rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up with both hands curled over the edge of the mattress. He roughed up his scalp, leaving the hair in furrows. He stared at the mopboard on his left, the nightstand on his right, rewinding the film that had been reeling through his mind for the past two hours: the chase . . . Lee Reston . . . the chase . . . Judd Quincy . . . Lee Reston . . . Lee Reston . . . Lee Reston . . .
No question, he thought of her too much, and not always within the context of mutual grieving. Well, hell, it didn’t take Freud to . gure out he’d developed a mother complex over her. It was natural, the way she hugged him, rubbed his back, fed him leftovers and relied on him for a few of the difficult tasks as she would rely on a son.
Which is what brought the broken hose back to mind.
A distraction!
He bounded off the bed, brushed his teeth, put on a pair of jeans, a police department T-shirt, sneakers and a gold cap and went down to the garage to make sure his tool box was in the Explorer before heading over to Benton Street.
She wouldn’t be home; that was good. He’d been hanging around there too much, but this was different. He’d just sneak in and sneak out and leave the hose repaired. Anything to work off this excess of energy.
He was right. She wasn’t home. Neither was Janice. Both of their cars were gone, but the garage door was wide open again. Damn woman needed a week on the force to find out how many open garages get pilfered. The front door of the house was open, too, and Christopher could see right in through the screen, so he figured maybe Joey was around.
He parked in the driveway, took a jackknife out of his pocket, cut off the end of the hose and went to a hardware store to buy a replacement.
Once again at her house, he sat on the front step in the partial shade to do the repair job. It was pleasant there. The concrete was cool. Some ants were busy doing commerce in the cracks of the sidewalk. About five kinds of birds were singing. The neighborhood always seemed populated by birds because it was older and had so many mature trees. The red geraniums in the planter gave off their peculiar peppery smell.
He sat there whistling, working, failing to realize that the jumping nerves from the chase were finally beginning to calm. He went to his truck to look for a pair of pliers and discovered he’d left them in the apartment when he was taking Greg’s bed apart. So he went into the garage to look for a pair.
The workbench there was amply outfitted with tools. It looked as if Bill Reston had been a tinkerer. Neat, too. There were banks of tiny plastic drawers stocked with fastidiously separated screws, bolts, washers and nails. On the wall above the bench every tool had its spot on a pegboard, though it was obvious that in the years since his death those that were used didn’t always get replaced. Some were strewn on the bench itself, along with a ball of string, barbecue tools and a few gardening tools in a bucket. The whole area had grown dusty.
He looked up at the pegboard again, finding himself fascinated by these telltale hints of the man Lee Reston had once been married to. Tin snips, glass cutters, wood clamps . . . ah, and a common pair of pliers.
He was sitting on the step clamping the new end on the hose when a voice behind him said, “Hey, Chris, what’re you doing here?”
He swung around and found Joey standing in the screen door in gray sweat shorts with sleep-swollen eyes.
“Fixing your mother’s hose. You just get up?”
“Yeah.”
“Everybody else gone to work?”
“Yeah.”
Chris returned to his task and said, “This yard could use some mowing.”
“You just mowed it.”
“That was more than a week ago. Think you better do it today. You got gas?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, go check, will you?”
“I just got up.”
“Doesn’t matter. Go check anyway.”
Joey came outside, barefoot, and went off to the garage. In a minute he returned and said, “Not much.”
“I’ll go get you some, give you a little time to wake up. Then when I get back you’ll mow for your mother, right?”
Joey mumbled, “Yeah, I guess so.”
The hose was all fixed. “Okay. See you in a bit.”
He got the gas can from the garage, filled it at the Standard Station on the corner of Main and Ferry, then returned to the house. The front door was still open, but Joey was nowhere in sight.
He leaned on the door frame and called inside, “Hey, Joe?”
Momentarily the boy appeared, looking unenthusiastic about the whole deal. Instead of combing his hair he’d put on a baseball cap. However, he was wearing socks and grungy Adidas and eating the first of six slices of peanut-butter-and-jelly toast he had piled on his hand.
“Got that gas,” Chris told him. “And I filled the mower.”
“Grmm . . .” Joey stepped outside. His mouth was too full to talk.
“Hey, listen . . .” Christopher scratched his head and tilted the bill of his cap way down. The two stood side by side with their toes hanging off the top step, Chris studying the house across the street and the glimpse of river in its backyard while the smell of peanut butter floated around their heads. “I know your mother always made all you kids do your share around the place, and I know it’s hard with Greg gone, but nothing’s changed. You’ve still got to help her . . . maybe even more. Give her a little break sometimes. Don’t make her ask.” He glanced at Joey from the corner of his eye. “Okay?”
Joey considered a moment, consulting the concrete sidewalk below them where the hose had left a wet spot shaped like a dotted J.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, when his mouth was empty.
“Great,” Chris said. “And when you’re done with the mowing, will you put the sprinklers on?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Thanks, Joey.” He clapped him between the shoulder blades and left him to get the work done.
LEEcalled that afternoon and woke him shortly after five. “Don’t tell me I’ve done it again,” she opened when he’d mumbled hello.
“Mrs. Reston . . . that you?”
“Who else consistently ruins your sleep by ringing your phone?”
He stretched. “Rrrr . . .” After a chesty waking-up growl he asked, “What time is it?”
“Ten after five. You told me you sleep till two when you’re on the night shift.”
“Couldn’t get to sleep this morning. I had a high-speed chase.”
“Oh, no. Not one of them.” Obviously, Greg had talked to her about how hairy high-speed chases were, and how they affected nearly every cop who’d ever donned a uniform. “Did you catch him?”
“Not before he drove in the ditch and got his back bumper stuck four feet up in the air in a tree.”
She chuckled.
“Of course, he blamed us.”
“Was he drunk?”
“What else? They’re the worst ones.”
“Well, I’m sorry you had to start your day like that.”
“The adrenaline’s worn off now that I’ve slept. Hey, what
can I do for you?”
A beat of silence passed before she said, “Thanks for fixing the hose.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And for getting the gas.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And for lighting a fire under Joey. I’ve no doubt you’re the one who’s responsible.”
“Well, I might have made a remark or two.”
“Subtle.”
“Well, I can be subtle, you know.”
“You must have talked to Janice, too. I’ve noticed a change in her.”
“They’re both good kids. They just got a little too wrapped up in themselves and sort of forgot how hard it’s been for you.”
“What can I do to repay you?”
“You really want to know?”
He sensed her surprise before she answered, “Yes.”
“Would you mind if I brought a guest with me to your Fourth of July picnic?”
“Not at all.”
“It’s Judd Quincy. The kid I told you about?”
“The one from the bad home?”
“Yeah. It struck me this morning when I was lying here wide awake thinking about everything in the world but sleep—Judd’s probably never even seen a functional family, much less been among them for a holiday. A kid’s got to see how it can work before he can believe it’s possible. He’s going to grow up just like his parents unless somebody shows him there’s a better way. I can’t think of a family in America that’d be a better role model than yours.”
“Why, thank you, Christopher. Of course . . . bring him.” Her voice had grown warm with understanding.
“And it’s okay if he gets Greg’s rib eye?”
“Absolutely.”
“But listen—let’s get this straight before we get there. Judd’s on my volleyball team.”
“Now, wait a minute. You’re getting mighty pushy here.”
“Well, the kid’s built like a used bar stool. All legs and spokes and about as loose in the joints as they come. You don’t think I’m gonna let him play on somebody else’s team, do you?”
“Well, I think the hostess should get a handicap. We’ll have to discuss it more after I’ve seen him.”
“Okay, it’s a deal.”
Chris lay on his pillow smiling at the ceiling, his wrist cocked above the receiver.
“Well . . .” she said. Then nothing.
“Yeah, I’d better get up.”
“And I’d better throw together some sandwiches. Joey’s playing ball tonight and I’ve got to go watch.” After a pause, she asked uncertainly, “Want to come?”
“Can’t. Got a game of my own.”
“Oh, that’s right. The police team.”
“Yeah.”
“First base, right?”
“Right.”
“Who’s playing center field now?” That had been Greg’s position.
“Lundgren, I think. This is my first time back since . . .”
After a pause, she filled in the blank.
“Since Greg died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We’ve got to learn to say it.”
“I know, I know. The thing is I have been saying it. I don’t know why I pulled back this time.”
She put on a cheerful voice. “Well, listen . . . good luck tonight, huh?”
“Thanks. Same to Joey.”
“See you on the Fourth.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Eleven o’clock?”
“We’ll be there.”
HEcalled Judd and said, “Hi, what’s doing?” “Nada.”
“Wanna go to my game tonight? I’ll pick you up at the usual spot. Six-thirty.”
“Sure. Why not.”
At 6:30 that evening Judd was holding up the front wall of the 7-Eleven as usual. Chris wheeled up and the kid got in.
“Heya,” Chris said.
“Heya.”
“Got a deal for you.”
“I don’t do deals.”
“You’ll do this one. It’s a Fourth of July picnic with these friends of mine.”
The kid couldn’t quite maintain his indifference in the face of the news. His head made an eighth turn left and his eyes did the rest.
“Picnic?”
“Yeah. Steak fry. Backyard volleyball. A few pops. Fireworks afterwards over at Sand Creek Park. What do you say?”
“Shit, man, why not?”
“You’re gonna have to can the talk like that though. These are nice people.”
Judd shrugged. “It’s cool. I can do that.”
“All right.” From the front seat Chris picked up a white bill cap with the maroon letter A. “This is for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. It was my friend Greg’s. His mother said I could give it to you. It’s her house we’re going to on the Fourth.”
Hesitantly, Judd took the cap.
“I’ll tell you something,” Chris said, “you wear that, you wear it with respect. He was a good cop. He stood for something. When you’ve got that cap on your head I don’t want you stealing bicycles or selling parts or doing any of that crap. Deal?”
Judd considered the cap for a long moment before agreeing. “Deal.”
“And one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“We’ve got to get you a new pair of tennies. If you’re going to be on my volleyball team I don’t want you stumbling over those tongues. Cost us points, you know?”
Judd looked down at his fried tennis shoes, then over at Chris. Realizing he was in danger of showing some emotion here, he settled his shoulders against the back of the seat with his usual unimpressibility.
“New tennies I can handle.”
They were almost at the ballpark before he spoke again. “Air pumps?” he asked, cocking a glance at Christopher.
“Air pumps!” Chris exploded. “Gimme a break, kid! You know how much those things cost?”
The kid gave his shoulders a little shrug-n-shimmy then let them droop as if to say, Air pumps, hell, who needs Air pumps.
When they reached the ball field and were leaving the truck, Judd hooked the Anoka cap on his curly head with the bill cantilevered over his left ear.
FOURTHof July came on the way a Fourth of July ought to. Fair, dry, hot. By the time Christopher pulled up at the curb in front of Lee Reston’s house the driveway was full of cars, and music was blaring from the backyard. There was red, white and blue bunting hung above the open garage door and twisted around all the trees in the front yard, where a croquet field was set up. The American flag was waving from its standard on the front stoop post, while below it smaller flags were stuck into the dirt between the geraniums. Christopher and Judd slammed the truck doors and headed for the backyard. Christopher was wearing a white T-shirt and a horrendous pair of shorts in blinding neon colors. Judd was wearing cutoff jeans, a saggy body shirt, Greg’s white cap with the bill sticking out over his left ear and a pair of one-hundred-dollar Air pumps.
For the first time since Christopher had known the kid, his heels weren’t dragging.
They stepped into a backyard stippled by maple shade extending clear across the rear of the house and deck where Lee’s dad, Orrin Hillier, was dumping charcoal briquettes into a number of portable barbecue grills. From the speaker that had been propped in an open window of the house, band music blasted—raucous marches that made an ex-tuba player itch to have fifteen pounds of brass coiled over his shoulder. Just below the deck in the scattered shade, Janice, Kim, Sandy Adolphson and Jane Retting were wiping off the lawn chairs while Lloyd Reston and Joey unwound a volleyball net in the sunny rear yard between the U-shaped flower beds. Lee’s mother, Peg, was out in the flower bed on the left, snipping flowers with a scissors. Sylvia Eid turned from flipping a plastic cloth over a picnic table and hollered, “Get one of those delphiniums, too, will you, Mom? That’ll make it red, white and blue.” There were some people Chris had met only briefly at the funeral, neighbors, cousins a
nd in-laws. One woman was filling a vase from the garden hose. A man came along and stepped on it, intentionally stopping the water flow, and she took off chasing him, laughing, calling him names, slinging water from the vase that caught him on his left ankle and got his sock soaked. Lee slid open the screen and stepped from the kitchen with a can of lighter fiuid.
“Here it is, Dad. And some matches.” She was dressed in white Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt printed with a waving American flag. Handing the matches to Orrin, she caught sight of the new arrivals and her face broke into a smile. “Christopher, you made it!” She came down the deck steps.
Hearing Christopher’s name, Janice swung around, dropped her rag in a bucket and abandoned the job to come over and welcome him with obvious enthusiasm.
Lee pecked Christopher on the jaw and said, “Glad you came.” She stuck out a hand and said, “Hi, Judd. I’m Lee Reston.”
Janice said, “Hi, Chris. Hi, Judd, I’m Janice.” After shaking his hand she gave Christopher’s clothing the once-over. “Cow-a-bunga! Would you look at those shorts! What circus did you get them from?”
“You covet them, I’m sure.” He put his hands on his waist and looked down. “Judd here’s been telling me I need a little color in my wardrobe. Bought ’em specially for today.”
Lee said, “I’d introduce you around, Judd, but everybody will do that themselves. Pop’s over there in the coolers. Doritos and Mexican dip on the table over there to hold you over till steak time. Be careful of the one with the little flag sticking out of the middle. It’s extra hot. Christopher, you can put your steaks in the cooler till the coals are hot, then would you two mind giving Lloyd and Joey a hand with the volleyball net?”
“Be happy to.”
Across the yard Kim called, “Hi, Chris! Who you got there?”
“This is Judd, and he’s going to be on my volleyball team!” Everyone offered hellos as they moved toward the volleyball net, which by this time was stretched out to its full length on the grass while Joey shook a bunch of aluminum poles out of a cardboard box.
Lloyd came to meet them. “Well, this must be Judd. Nice to meet you. Joey . . . look here.”
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