The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(86)

“Sure,” Justin said, clearly unconvinced.

Eric sighed. “Go to the bank.”

Eric knew what would help Justin. Everyone knew. He needed a foster parent. And Eric was tempted. He knew it wouldn’t be more work than he could handle—those boys knew how to live independently. But if he took on that job he’d have to live with them and he had waited his whole life for something else, something he thought he might have with Laine. They had enough working against them. A whole continent separated them and he wasn’t sure how long that would be the case. He hoped not too much longer but in his heart he knew she could be committed for a long time. A mean and selfish little voice said, If she hadn’t made up with Senior, this would be someone else’s problem. Then the gentler side of him said, She waited her whole life for Senior to be proud of her, to rely on her. He was lonely but, though difficult, he was happy for her. No one should lose their parents before things were settled with them. And he’d be ashamed to admit the number of times he wanted to beg her to come back. Just ask your brother to hire someone to take care of Senior and come back. At least he hadn’t given in to that temptation.

He picked up the phone in the office and called the diner. Maybe he could find out something that would ease Justin’s mind a little. Gina answered and he said, “Hey, Gina, it’s Eric. Do you have a phone number for Ray Anne?”

“I do. You looking for real estate?”

“I have more real estate than I know what to do with,” he said with a laugh. “Al left today and he said he had a friend who needed him. I wonder if Ray Anne knows any more than that. Justin looks like he lost his best friend. Which I guess maybe he did.”

This idea turned out not to be one of his best. When he asked Ray Anne the question she said, “Gone? He left? When?”

“At around noon. He said a friend needed his help. He didn’t have a better or more detailed explanation for you?”

She was quiet for a long moment. “No,” she finally said. “He didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Ray Anne,” Eric said. “I assumed he’d tell you he was leaving. Say goodbye. Or something.”

“I would have assumed that also,” she said softly.

“He’ll call you, then,” Eric said.

“I have a cell phone—he has a cell phone. There are no messages or texts. He doesn’t like to text—he thinks it’s impersonal. Did he say where he was going or when he’d be back?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I see. Thanks for letting me know, Eric. I’m glad I didn’t find out another way....”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear from him,” she said. Then she disconnected the call.

Well, way to go, Al, Eric thought. In all the years he’d known Al he couldn’t remember a time when it went down like this, a bunch of hard feelings and broken hearts left in his wake. What the hell happened? he asked himself. Too much pressure? Did things get a little too tight for him with Ray Anne and Justin, both needing him?

It must have been a real emergency, Eric thought. Al really liked Ray Anne. And unless he missed all the signals, he was committed to helping Justin.

But the phone didn’t ring. At least not with a call from Al.

Laine called twice and they filled each other in on the day and for some reason he couldn’t really explain, he didn’t tell her about Al leaving. He asked after her family and she reported that she was going to have to let another home health-care worker go—she suspected he was dipping into the liquor cabinet in the study. Either that or carrying a flask—she could smell alcohol on his breath. Senior was doing quite well; it seemed like there were very few bad days, knock on wood. He needed a companion, that much was evident; he couldn’t live alone. Most of his daily functions he managed independently. He could bathe, shave with a new electric razor—no more razor blades, not even disposables—but he couldn’t cook or drive alone. There was too much potential for disaster.

If anyone in my family ever gets Alzheimer’s I am now an expert, Eric thought.

Of course it wasn’t long before people started asking, “What’s that I hear about Al?”, since Eric had let the cat out of the bag. Other than that, it was a quiet afternoon and evening at the station. He sent Justin home a little bit early and told him to get some rest. Then he closed up and went home.

Every time he walked into that house he braced himself for a miracle. When she was here, she always at least left a light on in the kitchen and something in the refrigerator, but more often she was waiting for him. But the house was cool and dark. He didn’t turn on any lights. He walked toward the doors to the deck and saw the lightning flashing over the mouth of the bay, a distant rumble of thunder grumbling. It wasn’t going to develop into a full-fledged storm, but Laine would have liked the lightning.

He thought he heard something. Music. Laughter. Splashing. Before he even gave himself a second to think about it, he ran for the stairs, took them two or three at a time. The bedroom was unchanged; the bed was made but not turned down. They had had a rule, last one out makes the bed.... The bathroom was dark and empty but if he closed his eyes he could sense her there, the candlelight flickering, her iPod plugged into the speakers, the smell of her bath stuff. He could almost hear her laughter and a little splashing around while she waited for him in the tub. Then the next morning at five when he was in the shower she’d ask him why. Wasn’t he clean enough after that romp in the tub? And he’d carefully explained that he smelled like a girl and his customers didn’t like prissy mechanics.