Lineage(65)

“Yeah, it’s no Superior, that’s for sure, but it’s calm and quiet. That’s all a man my age needs, calm and quiet.”

Lance nodded and studied the older man for a moment. The stoop of John’s shoulders beneath his shirt along with the slight downturn of his mouth told volumes. He was alone. Regardless of the fact that there had been no sounds of stirring within the home to announce another’s presence, Lance could read the caretaker’s face and posture like a road map. Memory and sadness were John’s real clothes, and Lance knew from wearing his own outfit of misery that they were unyielding burdens that refused to be sloughed off, no matter how hard one tried.

“Have a seat,” John said as he folded himself into a padded wicker chair beside a glass table at the center of the deck. Lance did the same, and for a time both men sipped beer in silence.

“Beautiful night,” John finally offered, gazing around at the tall trees that ringed the clearing behind the house.

“Yes, it is,” Lance agreed.

“Getting used to the area then?” John asked, shifting in his chair while taking another pull from his half-empty bottle.

“Yeah, I am. It’s definitely a change from the cities, but I’m enjoying it. My other place is a lot like yours actually—secluded and wooded. I like the feeling of not being hemmed in by houses.”

John gazed out across the pond. “My wife and I lived on the north side of Minneapolis when we were first married. Couldn’t stand it, and that was sixty years ago. No offense, it was like a shoe two sizes too small, just didn’t fit. We moved up here in 1950. Built the place and haven’t left since.”

Lance nodded, feeling more and more foolish as the older man spoke. John’s words and easy demeanor were forthright, and Lance became ashamed at the thoughts of suspicion he had plastered the man with. The remorse he felt at branding him a criminal outstripped the assurances John had stated earlier, and Lance set his beer down on the table next to him.

“I do have to apologize, John. I’ve been an ass. I was so sure you were responsible, and I reacted and lashed out. I had nothing else other than your standoffishness and the fact that you had the only other set of keys to go on. So, I’m sorry.”

John had lowered his head to gaze at the beer bottle in his hand. He didn’t look up as he replied. “Like I said earlier, no need to apologize. I didn’t act myself the day we met. I was flustered at the prospect of the house changing hands again, and I let my emotions get the best of me. I don’t blame you for questioning me, you don’t know me, but my hope is you’ll get to over the time you own the old place.” John broke his eye contact with the bottle and looked up at Lance imploringly.

“I think that’s just fine,” Lance said, smiling across the table. A glimmer of light shone in John’s morose eyes for a moment and then was gone like a comet burning to nothing in the atmosphere. “Now that we’re on the same side of the fence, tell me what’s been going on in the house. The curiosity’s been driving me bat-shit crazy.” Lance sat back and laughed as a smile broke John’s wrinkled face.

After taking a drink to wet his voice, Lance recounted the occurrences of the past two nights to John, who sat quietly listening. Lance paused only when John went to the kitchen to retrieve two fresh beers. Lance left out what he had seen through the keyhole of the locked door on his initial viewing of the house along with the nightmare that had visited him earlier that day. His trust of the older man was building and he didn’t want to taint it with unsubstantiated feelings, irrational dreams, and something that could have been his eyes playing tricks on him. Instead, he fell silent after finishing the account, letting the whisper of the wind in the pines and the occasional chittering of a red squirrel pervade the tranquility of the absence of words. John turned his beer in slow circles on the table beside him for a time, deep in thought. He remained impassive for so long that Lance began to consider assuring him that he hadn’t imagined the nighttime encounters, when the other man spoke.

“Did you see what they looked like?”

“No, nothing distinguishing. Last night I did see his eyes. I couldn’t tell what color they were in the dark, though. I did buy a gun today. I got it from Stub on the far end of town.”

John smiled. “I’m gonna wager he lectured you more than once on safety, along with having a light on your gun.”

“Yeah, he did,” Lance said, laughing. “I’m all set up if someone comes back, though.” John seemed pleased with this and drained the last of his beer, as Lance finally asked him one of the questions he had been wondering since leaving the house earlier that evening. “Do you have any idea who would want to break into the place and not steal anything?”