6. Kane
CHAPTER 6
KANE
TEN YEARS LATER
“ C oming out tonight?” John asked Kane.
Kane wiped his greasy palms on his blue work pants. “Not tonight,” he said. “Got to get home to Toby.”
“You say that every night.”
“Well, Toby’s important.”
“I could understand if you had a girlfriend. Toby is a Labrador.”
Kane shrugged. “If you’ve never had a Labrador, it’s not something I’d expect you to understand.” Toby was his best friend in the world. Not that Kane had a surplus of friends. He had always had people he could rely on — first his buddies in the military, and then the guys at the auto shop. But those relationships had all been more professional than personal. John asking Kane to come out for drinks after hours was something that always happened, but it wasn’t something Kane had ever agreed to. He came here to work, not to make friends.
Friends only let you down. He’d been around the block enough times by now to understand how that worked.
Labradors, though — them, you could count on.
Kane clocked out as his shift drew to a close and jogged home. It was the best way to get exercise, jogging the mile and a half between the shop and his little apartment in the south of Detroit, even though he always arrived home feeling gross and covered with grease.
He stripped off his clothes and stepped right into the shower, calling out a greeting to Toby, who knew enough to expect to wait until the shower had stopped running to bark for his dinner. That was the way things went every evening. Kane showered as quickly as he could, then came out and poured a dish of dog food. He placed it on the kitchen floor next to the water bowl, and Toby set to work devouring it quickly. Kane scratched him behind the ears then went over to the mail, which he had dropped on the kitchen counter when he had come in.
It was the usual pile of junk. Requests to subscribe to streaming services he didn’t want. Catalogs from furniture retailers and window replacement vendors that he wasn’t going to use. Applications for credit cards that he didn’t need and probably wouldn’t qualify for if he bothered to apply. He dropped them all in his recycling bin.
But he held on to one item. It had been hand-addressed in tidy penmanship. A business envelope. And the return address was from Miller Creek, Iowa.
His stomach dropped.
He didn’t recognize the name on the envelope — Thomas Greely. But he knew Miller Creek, all right. You couldn’t forget the place you’d grown up, even if it had been years. Even if you had allowed yourself to believe you would never see it again. It was supposed to be behind him now. He hadn’t even spoken to his father since the day he’d lit out of there. Miller Creek had made it clear to Kane that it was done with him, so he had decided that he was done with it. There was no reason to go back.
But now here it was, reaching out from the past to lay claim on him once more.
Kane opened the envelope slowly and scanned the letter inside.
It took him three times through it before he understood what he was reading.
The letter had been sent by a man who claimed to be the executor of his father’s estate, a term that didn’t connect for Kane until he recalled the death of John’s mother a few years back and the procedures that had been followed in the wake of that event.
So his father was dead.
He supposed he should have expected this to happen sometime soon. Jason McCormick hadn’t been a healthy man. Still, he hadn’t been old either. Kane himself wasn’t yet thirty. It seemed so early to be dealing with the loss of a parent.
Was this a normal way to react? Surely he should be grieving — he should be feeling something other than this cold, analytical questioning of the timeline.
Why wasn’t he feeling anything?
Was it just the fact that he hadn’t seen or spoken to his father in ten years? Maybe it was normal not to feel anything for a man who was no longer a part of his life. Maybe it made sense that Kane couldn’t bring himself to grieve.
Maybe it was just the shock. It didn’t feel real right now. It was a piece of paper in his hand, that was all. This had been true for days now. Long enough for Thomas Greely to track down Kane’s address and mail him this letter. And Kane had just been going about his life. To him, it had only become a reality when he had opened up that envelope and discovered what had happened.
And then a second reality hit him.
He was going to have to go back to Miller Creek.
That was why the executor of his father’s estate was writing to him. There were details that needed to be dealt with, and as his father’s only living family member, those things were Kane’s responsibility. He was going to have to return to the town he had left in disgrace. He was going to have to face the people he had run away from all those years ago.
Kane McCormick wasn’t afraid of much, but that thought made him want to turn and start running again for the first time in years.
But he wasn’t the teenage kid who’d fled town when things had gotten hard. He had strength now that he hadn’t possessed back then, and he had perspective as well. He knew that, no matter how difficult this journey might be, eventually it would come to an end and he would be able to come back to Detroit.
Besides, who was to say that the people he had run away from were even in Miller Creek anymore? Jeff Chesterfield had been older than Kane’s father, and though Kane certainly didn’t wish for anyone’s death, there was no guarantee that he was still alive. The people he had been closest to, his schoolmates, would have been scattered to the four winds by now.
Kane shot off a text to John to let him know that he’d need some time off of work. He knew that it would be all right. John was very understanding, as employers went, and wasn’t the type of guy to give someone a hard time about needing to take time off to deal with the death of a family member. So he didn’t feel the need to wait for John’s response — he knew he’d be able to go.
He went to his room instead and started to pack his things.
How long would he have to be away? He would have liked to think that it would be only a few days, but he had never handled anything like this before, so who was to say? There might be a lot to deal with — things that he couldn’t foresee. He might need to stay for a while.
He decided to plan for a month. The idea of spending that much time in Miller Creek was actively painful, but surely it wouldn’t be any longer than that, and when that time was over, he would be able to come home. And besides, it would probably be a lot less than that. He would probably be pleasantly surprised when he found out the truth of what was needed from him.
It wasn’t until he was zipping up his suitcase that the first wave of pain at the death of his father hit him.
Suddenly, he found himself thrown back to that awful day ten years ago when he had decided to leave town. His father had been in the kitchen when Kane had gotten home from the Chesterfield farm after talking to Taylor. Kane had already decided what he was going to do, though it wasn’t a fully formed plan in his mind, and seeing his father there had thrown him off.
His father had looked up at him — eyes red, hair in disarray. “Where were you?” he had asked quietly.
“I went to the Chesterfield place to see if I could help.”
His father had shaken his head. “You, help? I’m sure you’re the last person in the world they want to see today, Kane. I want you to stay away from there. For God’s sake, just leave that family in peace. You’ve done enough.”
“I won’t bother them again.” Kane hadn’t bothered to tell his father the plan he had come up with about trying to raise money to make up for the losses. Now that he knew how bad it had been, that idea had seemed laughable. He had been stupid to ever think it was a possibility — of course he couldn’t make up for what he had done. Of course there was no hope of it. The best thing he could do was to stay away. Never bother anybody again.
“They’re not going to press charges,” his father had said. “You’re lucky.”
Kane had hardly cared. In a way, he’d thought, it would have been better if they had pressed charges. Then he could be held accountable for what he had done. He could make amends in a way that everyone would have to agree was good enough — and he could leave it behind him. As it was, no one had given him any way to move on.
He looked at his father. They hadn’t had a good relationship in years, and yet the idea of leaving him now was painful. Kane wasn’t sure he would be able to do it unless he did it quickly. He’d realized suddenly that he needed to go today, now . There was no room to sit around and plan. If he did, he would lose his nerve.
So he had gone to his room to pack. And from that day on, zipping a suitcase had always made him think of that day — the last day he had seen his father.
But always before, Kane had been able to tell himself that he could go back any time he really wanted to. If he wanted to see his father, if he wanted to make things right, all he really needed to do was to pick up a phone.
He couldn’t do that now. It was too late. That chance was gone, and things would never be right between the two of them.
For a moment, it knocked the wind out of him, realizing how badly he had sabotaged himself, how he would never be able to set things right. And he couldn’t help remembering the last thing Taylor Levine had told him — that some things couldn’t be fixed. That sometimes, it was just too late.
He had been running from that truth for ten years, but she had been right all along.
Kane had to sit down on his bed for a moment as feelings of guilt, shame, and loss washed over him. He would have given anything, in that moment, to be able to apologize to his father for what he had done. To have mended their relationship in time to spend even a few years together.
He hadn’t done it. His father had died hating him, for all Kane knew. And if he had, Kane didn’t think he could even blame the man. Wouldn’t anyone hate a son like him? Kane must have left him in disgrace, unable to face the rest of the town.
It was only fitting, he supposed, that he was going to have to face them now.