So Long, Chester Wheeler(68)

That had been a few hours earlier, that hilltop conversation, but when I thought back on it, it felt like something that had happened months ago.

“He talked in his sleep,” I said.

“Oh yes, he did.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t know if he always had.”

“Always. How do you think I knew about the whole Mike thing? It’s not like he was freely sharing that kind of information. But I’m sorry. Go on.”

“Anyway, the first night I was taking care of him . . . I think it was the first night . . . Ellie’d had an intercom installed. And he mentioned your name in his sleep.”

“Uh-oh.”

“No, it wasn’t bad. It was . . . ordinary. It was like this . . . ordinary moment. This is probably not word for word, but he said something like ‘No, it’s okay, honey. Go back to sleep, Sue. I’ll get him. He probably just wants a drink of water.’ It sounded like a situation with a child waking you up in the middle of the night. He said they’d shine a flashlight under the bed and in the closet, so he’d know not to be afraid.”

“That would’ve been Johnny,” she said. “He was scared of the dark. Saw monsters everywhere for years. Or maybe not saw them, I don’t know. But he just knew they were there.”

More silence fell. I wondered if I was making her feel bad for separating Chester from his kids.

“So that’s what you saw in him,” she said.

“I think it was, yeah. Not only because it was a glimpse into a regular husband and father, but also that it still came up in his sleep all those years later. That ordinary little moment from raising a kid was still there in his subconscious to bubble up after all that time.”

She didn’t answer, so I added, “I can’t tell Mike that he died. I don’t have his phone number.”

“I’ll tell him if you want.”

“Yeah, thanks. Tell him I said thank you. He was nice with Chester, I think. I mean, I wasn’t there. But it seemed like he was honest with him and made him feel better instead of worse.”

A pause fell, and she did not fill it.

“I’d better get back on the road. I’ve got a long drive in front of me.”

“You okay, honey?”

“It’s a weird experience. You know. Waking up with a dead body.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I’ll be okay, though.”

“I know you will, Lewis. You’re good at this.”

“At what? Waking up with a dead body?”

“No, all of it. The care thing. It seems like the role you were born to play.”

“That’s what Ellie said, too. But I think you’re both wrong.”

“Call me when you get in safely.”

“Will do.”

We ended the call and I fired up the engine and let it warm up for a bit.

While I was waiting I used my fingers to shrink the map app on my phone, so I could see the whole country. I counted states. Seven. I was seven states from home. Just like Pauline had said. Pauline is good, I thought.

Then I headed east, alone.





Chapter Twenty-Two:




* * *





Weenies

I picked up the 76 on my way through Denver and veered north toward Nebraska.

I knew I wasn’t destined to achieve a lot of miles that day.

It was after ten o’clock in the morning, and I was physically, mentally, and emotionally taxed. Just completely drained. But I had to try to get closer to home. I just had to.

Anna called on my way down out of the mountains. I put her on speaker.

“Hey,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

“What am I thanking you for?”

“For introducing you to the perfect guy.”

“When did you do that?”

“The minute you get home.”

I sighed. I was hoping it wasn’t loud enough for her to hear it.

“What’s with you?” she asked, apparently having heard it.

“Mostly tired.”

Also the prospect of a fix-up was making me feel even more exhausted.

“Chester driving you crazy?”

“He’s dead.”

“I give up. What are you going to kill him for this time?”

“No, he’s dead, Anna. He’s actually, physically dead.”

A brief silence while she—I guess—took that in.

Then she said, “I know some tricks to make it look like an accident.”

It hit me very badly.

“It’s really not so damn funny, Anna.” Then, before she could answer, I said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bark at you. It’s just . . . I’ve had such a damn day. I mean, I woke up this morning and he was dead in the Winnebago four feet away from me, and I’ve been dealing with it ever since.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea it would be so hard for you. I actually thought you’d be relieved.”

I opened my mouth to try to explain that I wasn’t exactly the same person I’d been when I first drove that land boat out of Buffalo. But I knew she wasn’t ready to hear that, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to say it. I certainly wasn’t ready to try to explain it.