One String (Lighter Ones)

Chapter 28

Ricky

Friday morning

Having spent the night at Devan and Justin’s house, I wake to the slam of the back door. Since I was the only one in the house when I went to sleep, the sound of an intruder before seven in the morning startles me and pulls me into reality. No one in Riverbend would break in to their house; then again, if word has gotten out about Justin’s accident, maybe someone could think this is an opportune time to break and enter.

Living in the city has a way of making one less trusting.

The chill within the house causes goose bumps to pepper my flesh as I push back the blankets on the bed. In my boxer briefs, I sneak down the front staircase, looking for a weapon. With each step, the wooden floor is cool under my bare feet.

Back when my parents lived here, I knew where to find a rifle. Going through Devan and Justin’s closets while someone could be stealing them blind doesn’t seem like a good use of my time. My heartbeat drums in my ears as I tiptoe down the staircase, hearing noises coming from Devan’s new kitchen. It sounds as if someone is opening and closing cabinets.

How long until that person moves up the stairs?

Everyone knows that people are most likely to hide cash and jewelry in their bedroom.

Scanning the living room, I search for anything that could be a weapon. Hell, a baseball bat would do. My sister is either too good of a housekeeper, or married couples don’t leave baseball bats and guns lying around. I search for something heavy. Finding a crystal bowl on a bookshelf, I lift it over my head. It’s as I turn the corner that I come face-to-face with my mom.

She scans from the bowl down to my toes. “Richard John, what are you doing?”

“Fuck, Mom.” I shake my head, lowering the crystal bowl. “Sorry. I thought someone was breaking in.”

“And you were going to save the day with Devan’s wedding gift?”

I look at the bowl and shrug.

Mom asks, “Would a burglar let that door slam?”

“Maybe,” I say, “if they didn’t think anyone was home.”

“Your car is parked outside.”

I set the bowl on the kitchen counter. “It’s too early for logic.”

Mom waves her hand up and down. “Maybe you could put on pants and a shirt before fighting criminals.”

“Do you think they’d wait? Like I could call out ‘Hey, I’m coming down with a dangerous weapon, but I need to get dressed first. So, could you maybe wait?’”

“It’s better if you’re polite. Always say please.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Please put on more clothes.”

I tilt my chin toward the coffeepot. “I’ll put on clothes if you make us coffee.”

“Deal.”

As I turn to go back upstairs, I stop. “Any news on Justin?”

“Last I heard, Justin was in a lot of pain. They finally got the dosage of pain meds working, and he’s getting some sleep this morning.” Mom sighs. “Devan says she’s not leaving the hospital.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s what she told me.”

“I’m here to get her some clothes and things.”

“I was going to go visit.”

“Call your sister first. Maybe you can take a bag to her.”

I press my lips together and shake my head. “No phone, remember?”

“Oh, is Marilyn going to get that for you?”

Marilyn.

“I didn’t ask her to. It’s better if we back things off for a while.”

Mom’s expression saddens. “Why?”

“We can’t date if I’m here and she’s in Indy.”

“It’s hardly long-distance. It’s basically an hour-and-a-half drive. There are people in Florida who commute that long to and from work each day. Of course, it’s only like twenty miles, but the traffic…”

Not interested in facts about my parents’ second home state, I turn back to the staircase. “I’ll go put on pants. Please” —I use her word— “make coffee. I need a whole pot.”

Walking down the hallway, I remember Marilyn staying in the bedroom near the one where I’m staying. I think about the way her lips were parted as she slept and the way she tried to contain her noises and sounds in the shower.

Fuck.

Those thoughts won’t accomplish anything other than making me need a cold shower. I rub my hands up and down my arms. “Why is it so cold?”

I throw on a pair of blue jeans, pull yesterday’s thermal over my head, and slip my feet into socks. Once I’m back downstairs, I hear the coffeepot spitting and spurting. Mom is in the living room putting wood into the woodstove in the fireplace. “Shit,” I say. “That’s why it’s so cold in here.”

“You need to keep kindling going.”

“Thanks, Mom. I didn’t know how a woodstove works.”

She shoots me a side-eye. “If you’re planning on moving in to their house, you better figure it out.”

“I’m not moving in. I’m taking care of it for them.”

“You know, your dad and I can do that.”

“You have your place in Florida.”

Mom closes the glass front on the woodstove. Behind the small window in the door, sparks crackle, creating flames. She stands and dusts her hands, one against the other. “Dad and I can stay here, Ricky. Both of our houses are relatively maintenance-free. If Devan needs us, we’ll be here. You have a life.”

A life.

A job.

A girlfriend.

I look around to see what time it is. “Can I use your phone? I need to call someone.”

“Sure,” she says, walking back into the kitchen, taking her phone from her purse and handing it my direction. “Here.”

“I have the number upstairs.” With her phone in hand, I hurry back to the bedroom and pull out my laptop. A quick search and I have the number to call Parker and Stevens. I hit the appropriate buttons to get me to Mr. Stevens’s assistant.

“…please leave a message.”

I take a deep breath. “Hello, this is Richard Dunn. I’m sorry for calling so early. Please relay this message to Mr. Parker and Mr. Stevens. I am thankful that they expressed confidence in me. I’m certain their agricultural wealth plan will be beneficial for all.” I pause. “Another opportunity has come up, rather unexpectedly. I regretfully must decline your offer.” Before I can change my mind, I disconnect the call.

Life postponed.

Job gone.

That leaves one loose end.

I can’t think about Marilyn or Justin right this minute. It’s too much. I don’t want to lose her, and I don’t want Justin and Devan to lose their livelihood. Those thoughts and more had me tossing and turning all night. It doesn’t take a wealth manager to know that Devan’s teacher’s salary won’t carry them through an entire year.

By the time I make it back to the kitchen, the first floor is warming nicely. I hand Mom back her phone. “Thanks.”

She pours us each a cup of coffee, looking in the refrigerator for cream and handing me the cup with black coffee. “Your dad wants to stay and help Justin with the farm.”

“No, you and Dad broke free.”

“So did you, Rick.” She sits at the kitchen table and pats the seat next to her at the head of the table.

Begrudgingly, I take the seat.

“Your dad and I are parents, first and foremost. Jack isn’t a spring chicken, but he was doing what needed to be done two years ago. Justin is going to need every willing hand.”

“He’s got me and Randy.” I think about what Marilyn said. “Dax will help when he can. Hell, I’m sure all the guys will.” Meeting Mom’s stare, I add, “Someone needs to take the reins. Until Justin can be that someone, I’m going to take the role.”

“Have you talked to Justin about this?”

I shake my head.

“Marilyn?”

“We’re not that serious, Mom.”

“Oh really? Does she know that?”

I push the chair from the table. “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll head to Bloomington. I doubt Justin is in the mood to chat, but I’ll talk to him. He needs to concentrate on getting better, not worrying about what is happening here.”

“Neither Justin nor Devan will want you to put your life on hold for them.”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

It’s after nine when I pull into the visitor parking lot at the hospital in Bloomington. Carrying the bag Mom packed for Devan, I check in at the front desk and make my way to Justin’s room. With a deep breath, I push in the door and step into the room.

Justin’s leg is lifted by chains and pullies. His eyes are closed, and Devan is curled up in a reclining chair, looking like a kitten under a blanket. Not wanting to wake anyone, I take the bag into the room and open the closet.

“Hi,” Devan says softly.

“Shit,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

My sister stretches, pushing up her arms and fisting her hands.

“I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep.”

“Not much,” Justin says. “Why are you here and not in Indy?”

“Because of you, asshole.”

Devan throws the blanket to the side. “Is that bag for me?”

“Yeah,” I say, handing it her direction. “Mom put it together this morning.”

My sister takes the strap of the bag. “I’m going to go into the bathroom and try to feel human.” She lowers her voice as she steps near me. “See if you can talk to him.”

I nod and turn my attention to Justin. “How you doing?”

He shakes his head. “I’m fucked up. I fucked up.”

My lips curl. “It’s a mess, but it’s fixable.”

Justin turns his face away.

I step closer. “This could be a lot worse than a leg.”

The muscles in his face flex as he clenches his jaw.

“Talk to me.”

Justin turns back in my direction, his eyes blazing. “If I was dead, at least she’d get insurance money. This—” he motions toward his leg “—I promised to take care of her. I told you I would. Now, I’ve fucked it all up.”

“You did promise me. I expect you to keep your word.”

He lays his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “The life I never knew I wanted was right here. It’s gone.” He turns to me. “Do you know we’ve been talking about kids? What a fucking joke. I can’t even support Devan and myself.”

“How long are they talking?” I ask. “Until you’re back on your feet?”

Justin shakes his head. “No one has said a damn thing.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” I say, pulling a chair up beside the hospital bed. “You’ve never lied to me.” Justin’s gaze comes my way. “So I fully expect you to get better and keep your word—to me, to Devan, to your dad, and to the bank.” His eyes close. “And while you’re getting better, you’re going to have to put up with my sorry ass.”

Justin’s forehead furrows. “What? Why?”

“I’m moving in with you. So, that honeymoon you and Devan had is over. I figure this is January. By late summer, you’ll be back to your usual miserable self, and that’s when I was supposed to graduate. I’ll save money getting rid of that apartment, and I’ll let you and Devan feed me.”

“No fucking way.”

“Did I ask?”

“Shit,” Justin says, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “What about working for that firm, the one where Marilyn works? And what about Marilyn?”

“I didn’t get the job.”

“You didn’t? Marilyn told Devan she thought you would.”

I shrug. “Nope. Divine intervention. I’m jobless, and you have a job for me to do.”

Justin closes his eyes, drops his chin forward, and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

I go on. “I’m going to need to understand where everything stands. You’ll need to give me your passwords so I can access all your reports, your proposed P&L, and your bank accounts.”

“You going to rob us?” Devan asks, coming from the bathroom. She’s wearing clean clothes, and her hair is wet.

“No,” Justin says. “He’s moving in.”

Devan’s eyes widen. “What about your job?”

“I didn’t get it.”

Her shoulders slump. “Rick, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have a new job—it’s called foreman of the Sheers farm.”

Seven hours later, my back and neck ache, but I’ve gotten myself up to speed on Justin’s financials. I lean back against the office chair that used to belong to my father and scroll through more financial reports on Justin’s computer. I’ve made notes and checked prices for seed, pre-emergent herbicide, fertilizer. Calculating the amount needed of each and multiplying that by the number of acres. I’ve been sitting here since a little after ten this morning.

I may not have been completely truthful with Devan and Justin, but the truth is that I wasn’t hired for the position I interviewed for. Telling them I didn’t get the job wasn’t a complete lie.

More time passes as I get a feel for what needs to be done to keep Justin and Devan in the black and our family farm out of auction. Back in the living room, I remember to add wood to the woodstove. Outside, the sky is dark. I could go into town and get dinner at the diner or go to my parents’ house, but after a day of staring at the computer screen, I’m okay with finding something to eat in their refrigerator. Hell, with the way Justin eats, there should be plenty of food.

Through the kitchen window, I see headlights coming down the lane.