Starting Over

Chapter 12-1

Chapter 12Andy shook his head as he pulled out of The Pompeii Café's lot into traffic. He'd never intended to ask her out. Now that he had, he didn't know what to do about it. You're just a volunteer down there, but your priority is still to Nate. He doesn't need you sniffing around his mother. He needs a friend like you had when you came back from Nam. Someone to listen. I should probably call her and back out. But that would be awkward. Damn, you really screwed the pooch on this one, Bud. He turned the radio on and listened to the morning show babble as he merged onto the main arterial running through town. Fifteen minutes later, he was walking through the front door to McNamara's.

Shedding his jacket, he tossed it behind the front counter. Jonah came out from the stockroom carrying a box of new paperbacks.

“Morning,” Jonah said with a toothy smile. He set the box on the counter.

Andy shifted gears, pushed his dilemma with Janet to the back of his mind and nodded. “Morning. How'd your appointment go at the VA yesterday?”

Jonah shot him one of his trademark 'don't-get-me-started' looks and poured himself some coffee. “You want a cup?”

“No, thank-you. I'm coffee'd out.”

“Okay,” Jonah stirred a heaping spoonful of sugar into his cup, slurped a sip and smacked his lips. “Well, I'm off to work.” He picked up the box of paperbacks, tucked it under his arm and took a couple steps. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He turned around. “Some guy named Jack called. Said he can't make the game. I asked him for his number, but he said you already have it.”

Damn! “Okay Jonah, thanks,” Andy said. Suddenly he wondered what to do about the extra TrailBlazer ticket in his desk. He looked up and saw Jonah shuffling toward the book stacks. i***t! “Hey, Jonah? You wanna go?”

“Go to what?”

“The game,” Andy called back. “TrailBlazers are hosting the Celtics, night after tomorrow. I have a free ticket.”

Jonah opened his mouth, paused and said, “Really?”

Andy nodded. “Would I BS you?”

Jonah's dark eyes narrowed then lit up a pocked face that had seen too much of what life could throw at someone. “I don't know what to say.”

“Umm…'Yes', works.”

Jonah ran his hand over his head and down the back of his neck. “Yes, it does…okay sign me up!” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I've never been to a game.” He grabbed his coffee and the box back up. Taking a few steps toward the book stacks, he stopped and turned around.

Andy saw the look of 'thank-you' on the man's face. You're welcome brother. As Jonah turned away toward the stacks, Nate came to mind. Though the kid came from an affluent family, he was no different from Jonah or from himself for that matter. They all shared one thing in common: dark secrets.

Finally, he turned and went into his office. In twenty minutes, it would be time to open up for the day. Being a Sunday, Amanda was in church and wouldn't be in until after 1:00 PM. That was all right. He needed time to think about how he was going to manage the eighteen-bazillion things on his plate. Chief among them was his pre-trial conference with the lawyers and the Stewart family on the 29th. Hopefully, the department and the family could come to terms and leave him out of it. If not, then everyone would be headed for a trial and an uncertain future. His gut churned at the thought of it.

While it was true the store wasn't tied to the accident, it was an asset and he'd be forced to liquidate to comply with a court order. Why hadn't he incorporated? A personal bankruptcy he could deal with. But as it was, being a sole proprietor left his store wide open to being swept out from under him, and those who depended on him. He eyed the pre-trial conference date on the calendar, circling it over and over with his pencil and sat back. Maybe he was worrying for nothing. His lawyer was confident he'd escape being tied to the settlement if the department and the Stewarts reached an agreement. He looked up and closed his eyes. All my life, I've tried to do the right things. Tried to be a good soldier, tried to be the best husband I could, tried to help people. Yet everything I've done has turned to s**t. What am I doing wrong?

The phone rang, jolting him out of his musing. He picked it up. “McNamara's.”

“Hi, Andy. How ya been?”

“Hey Matt,” Andy said, bracing for another of Matt's well-aimed conversations regarding the accident. He knew it wasn't intentional. Matt was just doing his due diligence, but he wished Matt would talk about other things besides the God damned lawsuit. “I'm doing. What's up?”

“Same ole, same ole. What about you? Been thinking of you big guy.”

“Just trying to keep my head above water.”

“How's biz at the store? You making it?”

“Yeah, we're doing all right. Food's what's bringing 'em in right now, but book sales are picking up. I think by the end of the year, we'll be making a profit. How's things at the station?”

“Not bad. Couple fires in town, nothing major. Oh, and Toady finally got his EMT cert.”

Andy smiled. Dan Revit, affectionately known as Toady, had been trying for the certification for the last five years. It wasn't that he didn't know his stuff; he just froze up when it came to test taking. “Wow, he finally did it,” Andy said, “Give him a pat on the back for me. Who you partnering him with?”

“Gonna put him with Bob. They're tight these days, so might as well.” He paused. “So…umm, you ready for the 29th?”

There it was: the lawsuit…again. He drew breath. “I guess. You gonna be there?”

“Plan on it. Maybe we can grab a drink after. What d'ya think?”

“Sure. So you're thinking we're going to be celebrating afterwards?”

“Hope so. Don't need this going to trial,” Matt said with a warning in his tone.

Andy saw red flags waving. “Something you're not telling me.”

Matt cleared his voice. “The lawyer for the Stewarts, Mr. Reed, has requested the duty logs for that day.”

“And…”

“Andy, you and Bob just came off a sixteen hour shift fighting a blaze down at the Johnson farm. You know the rules about required breaks.”

“There was no one else available. What were we supposed to do, let the guy die?” Andy said, raising his voice.

“I know, I know…but the law's the law,” Matt said and the friendly tone went out of his voice. “Get this thing settled!”

Andy sighed. “I'll do my best.”

“I know you will.” Matt warmed back up. “Don't worry Mac. Things'll turn out okay. Keep your chin up.”

“Right,” Andy said, daring to believe him.

Andy tried to ignore the upcoming pre-trial conference and concentrate on work for the next two days. But as hard as he tried, the ominous meeting with the Stewarts dogged him. Maybe tonight's game would will take my mind off it, he thought as he picked up his nephew, Tim, and headed to Salem to get Jonah. He pulled his Suburban in front of the St. Francis Shelter.

“Looks like we're gonna be fighting the snow awhile,” Andy said to Tim as they waited for Jonah to come out. He watched the mix of sleet and snow spatter against his windshield. He felt a chill run down his chest. “You warm enough?”

“Getting t-t-there. You want me t-t-to sit in back?” Tim said as his body swayed side to side.

“Only if you want to,” Andy said.

Tim cupped his hands over his mouth and blew into them. “Maybe I'll st-stay up here until we pick up…umm…what's his name again?”

“Nate,” Andy said, as the front door to the shelter opened. Jonah popped out into the wintery downfall with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and wearing his tattered green army jacket. As the man heel-toed it toward them with his hands in his pockets, Andy pulled an envelope down from the visor. Nudging Tim with his elbow, he said, “I gave you your ticket, right?”

“Yup, right here.” Tim tapped his jacket breast pocket with a shuddery motion as the back door opened and Jonah got in.

“Hey, Jonah,” Andy said.

“It's cold out there,” Jonah replied, tossing the butt into the wind and shutting the door.

“It's wintertime,” Andy said. He handed Jonah his ticket from over his shoulder, put the car in gear and pulled back into traffic. “You remember my nephew, Tim, right?”

“I sure do,” Jonah said. He extended his hand over the front seat for a handshake. “How you doing?”

“I'm d-d-doing good,” Tim said, gripping Jonah's hand. “And you?”

“Couldn't be better,” Jonah said, sitting back. “Well, maybe a little better. Could be a tad warmer out there.”

“I hear that,” Andy said, pulling back onto the arterial. He snatched up the paper with Nate's address and directions and glanced at it. As they motored along under the falling snow out of town into the countryside, the conversation bounced from the game to the upcoming inauguration of President-elect Obama until they all fell silent.

At length, Andy turned off the main route onto Old Cypress Road. As he drove down the tree-lined lane, he glanced at Jonah through the rear-view mirror and saw him looking out through the passenger side window.

“Damn…there's some boo-coo bucks out here,” Jonah said.

Darn right, Andy thought, following the gentle bend in the road that ran through the wooded land of cypress, oak and pine. Now and then, through the snow-laden trees he caught glimpses of sprawling cedar wood contemporaries, craftsman lodges and log cabin chalets. As he passed them, he started paying attention to the numbers posted on the roadside mailboxes. When he came up to Janet's address, he slowed down.

“5787,” he muttered. “Next driveway's it.” He sped up and turned down a long serpentine drive through the wooded lot.

“Look, over th-th-there. Dah-dah-deer,” Tim said, pointing to a couple of does and a yearling nibbling away on a rangy bush.

Andy eased his Suburban around the loop toward the front porch of the modest lodge-style home tucked away in the woods. As he came to a stop behind Janet's Highlander, Nate hobbled out the front door. Janet followed close behind with arms crossed over her sweater.

Andy rolled the window down, letting in the resinous scent of pine as Nate opened the back door. “Who ordered this crap?” Andy said to Janet.

“I don't know,” she replied, rubbing her arms fiercely. “But be careful driving. I heard there's a chance Portland may get socked.”

“Will do,” Andy said as Nate pulled the door shut behind him. He waved back to her, rolled his window up and started back down the drive. As he pulled back onto the road, introductions were made. For the next hour the conversation centered on the game.

Jonah turned to Nate. “I saw on TV, you're up for a Cross.”

Nate shrugged and let out a sigh. “I guess.”

“You don't sound happy about it,” Jonah said. “Then again, I was never excited about mine either. Just did what needed doing.”

“What's a Cross?” Tim said.

“A Distinguished Service Cross, Tim, is for showing up under heated combat at risk to life,” Andy said. He turned to Jonah. “You never told me you medalled, you old dog.”

“You never asked,” Jonah said. He turned to Nate. “So I hear they held a parade for you. It's nice to be recognized…isn't it, Andy?”

Andy knew exactly where Jonah's anger was coming from. Coming back from 'Nam a hero was nothing to be bragged about in the days when soldiers were, at best, dimly viewed by the public. He viewed the man in his rear-view mirror. Saw piercing dark eyes staring straight ahead.

Nate huffed. “Right.”

Silence stalked the inside of the car until Jonah coughed and said, “It sure is snowing out there.”

“Don't worry, Jonah. This old beast has gotten me through a lot worse than this,” Andy said, glad Jonah had changed the subject.

But Nate said, “So, what is it? Your medal?”

Again silence filled the car. Finally, Jonah said, “A Bronze Star.”