Eagle River (6 page)

“Cam. Cam Fawst.” A petite but very pregnant blond in a waitress uniform was moving his way, smiling at him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her. “How are you doing?” The girl oozed enthusiasm and perkiness. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been forever.”

Where was Sal? Who was this chick? This whole thing was taking way too long. It was what you get for trying to do something nice.
Still, Cam smiled, unleashing the easy, masculine charm that was his social face. “Honey, could you go back to the kitchen and grab Gene for me?”

“You don’t recognize me, do you? I’m Hannah. Remember?” She smiled suggestively and the flash of dimples, the greenish eyes, and the honey blond hair took Cam back to his sixteenth birthday, his sophomore year of high school.

“Hannah. Of course. I remember. The rocket pops.” He grinned roguishly. “I remember quite a lot.” She had been his birthday present. He had a mental image of a lithe Hannah stripped down to nothing but a pink thong with a bow tied right over the sweet curve of her bottom. After that night, he had called her up, even seen her a couple of times. Then, he’d moved on. She hadn’t gotten the message.  She’d kept following him around with those sad, puppy dog eyes. That had gotten old real quick. Vaguely, he recalled seeing her with some corn fed farm boy after that.

“Looks like you’ve been keeping busy since graduation,” he said, glancing at her belly.

“Luke and I got married right after graduation,” she said, her face beaming. “This’ll be our second baby. We already have a year-old girl. Caty’s her name. You remember Luke, right?”

Cam had a mental image of a beefy blond guy. “Lineman?”

“Yes. He’ll be so pleased that you remember him.” She smiled again, seemingly content to chat the morning away.

“Could I get you to grab Gene for me, Hannah? I’m in kind of a rush.”

“Oh sure. I’m sorry.”

“It was good catching up,” he lied glibly. He heard a familiar male voice rumbling somewhere in back. “Gene? Gene? Come on out here,” he called out impatiently.
You’d think the guy was performing brain surgery back there.

“Cool your jets. I’m coming.” Gene, the proprietor of the diner, appeared. He was thin, wiry and weathered as always and carrying an overflowing plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and hash browns. He placed the plate before a down-on-his-luck-looking fellow who sat up at the lunch counter.

“Here you go, Mike. Just the way you like it.”

Gene moved out from around the counter and offered Cam his hand and a big grin. “Cam, I didn’t know it was you out here. It’s been quite a while. I hear you’ve been doing real good down in Milwaukee.”

Cam leaned closer to Gene. “You should check if that guy can pay you before you feed him,” he whispered to Gene.

“Nope, none of that for me, boy,” Gene chuckled. “I believe that the good Lord intended for folks to look after each other.”

“Whatever works for you, man. Anyway, I stopped by to drop this off for Sal,” Cam handed Gene a bag. “Could you give it to him, and tell him that I had to get back early this morning?”

“He’ll be disappointed that he didn’t get to see you in the flesh. Feels like a football. Can I take a look?”

Cam nodded.

“Let’s see. My, it’s an autographed Coyote football. Sal will be thrilled to get a hold of this!”

“Just paying back an old debt. My mom finally told me that you and Sal paid my football registration until I got into high school. You guys didn’t have to do that.”

A blush bloomed in Gene’s leathery cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to find out. It wasn’t a big deal or anything. You were a kid who deserved to play ball.”

“Well, it meant a lot to me. Thank you.”

“You made my day, Cam,” Gene commented as he admired the ball.

“Yeah, well, I gotta go now. Get on the road.”

Gene glanced curiously first at Cam and then at the idling car which he could see through the diner windows. “You and your lady got special plans for today or something? You’re with Kjersten Solheim, right?”

Cam nodded, already backing towards the door. “Something like that. Thanks Gene. See ya.”

“It was good seeing you, Cam. You don’t come home near enough.”

“Well, goodbye.” He made his way out of the diner without looking back.

Chapter Five

The Pride of Eagle River

~ Galen ~

Galen realized that he was awake, had been for several minutes. He turned to face the clock, five of seven. Kyle had let him sleep in, and he’d slept hard, and felt groggy and heavy as a result. The light that eased in through the shutters was a gentle yellow-gray. His left leg tingled with pins and needles. Slowly, he moved it, only to find that it was buried under the dead weight of Heidi, the Odgers’ ancient boxer. Heidi turned her head and gazed at Galen soulfully with her dark eyes.

“All right, Heidi.” He stroked the silky head. “Two more minutes.” The dog rested her chin back down on the coverlet. Galen lay still, savoring the peacefulness of the morning and the decadent sensation of sleeping in.

The house was absolutely silent, but that wasn’t unusual in and of itself anymore. Kyle was never around and Pop wasn’t exactly a talkative kind of guy. The old house only felt like a home when Sandra and Joe and their brood stopped by.

His mother always said that “morning was the time to face reality,” to deal with life. So, Galen dwelled on the events that had transpired the previous evening.
I handled it all wrong. I didn’t even talk to her. The break up was my fault. But why did she have to get together with Cam Fawst?
The thought that she might actually love Cam Fawst twisted and coiled in his gut. He couldn’t stand thinking of Cam’s hands on her, touching her.

Shit happens. Whole mountain ranges of it.
Sometimes it seemed as if Galen’s whole life had gone to shit.
We’ve been through so much together. I don’t want to lose her as a friend. Maybe I already have.
He longed desperately to speak with her.
I gotta speak with her, even though it’s too late.
There was nothing that he could say or do that could take anything that had happened back.
Still, I gotta talk to her. I just can’t let it go like this. I can let her leave Eagle River with it so messed up between us.

Resolved, Galen got up and threw some clothes on.

He found the kitchen as disastrous as usual, the used microwave trays from the previous evening lay crusty on the kitchen counter while some dirty dishes were stacked in the sink. Jim Odgers sat reading the previous day’s
Eagle River Eagle Eye
at the kitchen table, oblivious to the chaos and filth around him.

“Mornin’, Pop.”

“Morning. There’s coffee in the pot.”

Pleasantly surprised to find the coffee made, Galen dug around in the cupboard until he located a clean mug. He poured himself some of the coal black, acidic, jet fuel that passed as coffee to his father. “After the milking, I’m gonna go into town for a while.”

His father didn’t respond.

He could tell that the old man had had another rough night of it. This morning, his eyes were bloodshot and his expression more hangdog than usual.
Wonder where he hid the booze this time?

“What’s going on in town that’s so all fired important this time of morning?” Jim still didn’t look up from his paper. Galen saw that he was reading the obituaries.

“I want... I need to talk to a girl. Before she leaves.”

“Some girl can’t wait until chores are done?” Jim didn’t look up as he turned the page of his newspaper.

You could do some chores
, Galen reflected.
Then it wouldn’t be an issue.
But his father had shut down on life long ago, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. “Kjersten Solheim.”

The only sign that Jim had registered what his son had said was a brief raise of his eyebrows. His chin moved slowly down as he scanned the Classifieds.
Not that he would ever take a job. No, Pa can sit around the house all day moping while we work like dogs. He always said he’d “earned the right.” Sure.

“Your Mom always did like that girl... Haven’t seen much of her around here lately.” He turned another page.

“I guess so.”

“Where’s she going to school?”

“Milwaukee University.”

The two men, one old, one young, sat in silence, sipping coffee. It should have been a peaceful moment, but it wasn’t. It was electric with unspoken words and tension. After a moment, Galen got up and put some water on for oatmeal.

“You want something to eat, Pop?”

Finally, Jim looked up from his paper. “I ate that crap almost every day for the twenty some years your mother and I were together ‘cause she said it was good for me. Now she’s dead, and there ain’t any point in worrying about what’s good for me and what ain’t.”

Galen glanced at his father in surprise.
The old man was being downright talkative.
“Can I have the Sports Page?”

“Go ahead.” Jim pushed the remaining sections of newspaper over.

Galen located the section he wanted and began to read.

“You and that Solheim girl used to go together, right?”

“Yeah.” Galen listened unsure of where this was going.

“Didn’t work out for you, did it?”

“Nope.” Just hearing the words spoken out loud made him angry and hurt at the same time.

“That’s what I thought,” Jim smirked. “Don’t waste your time on women. They just let you down.”

Galen wasn’t one to stand by and hear his mother insulted, especially by his worthless father. “You’re the one who let Mom down. Ever since the accident.”

“Jessica left me before the accident. You think you’re so smart. Did you know that? The only reason we didn’t get divorced was because I was in such bad shape.”

“Mom took care of you for years.”

“She didn’t treat me like a husband ever after that.”

“Maybe ‘cause you didn’t act like one.”

“Don’t you disrespect me! That’s somethin’ else she taught you.”

I am so done with this conversation.
Without another word, the younger Odgers finished his breakfast, made some futile efforts at straightening the kitchen, and then headed out to the milking parlor to give Kyle a hand.

The two brothers finished up about two hours later. Then, Galen showered, changed, and drove into town, to the Solheims.

As he pulled into the long driveway, George Strait’s “Famous Last Words of a Fool” was playing on the radio. He clicked the radio off. He didn’t need a poignant, tear jerker of a song to make things worse. Just driving the familiar driveway was enough to bring back the memories of the countless times that he’d biked up this same driveway to this same house.
I wish I could make it right. I gotta make it right.

He paused for a moment and stared up at the house.
Are they still asleep?
He took a deep breath, opened his truck door, jogged up the steps leading to the front door and rang the bell.

No one came to the door.

He listened for a sound from within.
Nothing.
He rang the bell a second time. Glancing nervously at his watch, he shifted his feet. Still, no one came. He’d turned to go back down the steps when the front door swung open. Mr. Solheim stepped out. Nick Solheim remained the tall, slender, elegant man he’d been since he’d come to town years before. But this morning, he looked tired and care worn. He reached up and smoothed the still thick, white hair back from his brow. He didn’t look happy to see Galen, but he didn’t look upset either.

“Mr. Solheim, good morning.” Galen held out his hand.

“Galen,” Solheim said and took the proffered hand. “I’ve been reading about your exploits a lot these days in the Eagle Eye. You’ve become the pride of Eagle River.”

“Thanks, sir,” Galen responded awkwardly. “I’m really sorry to bother you so early in the morning.”

Solheim waited for Galen to continue, then said, “I was already up. Is there something that I can do for you this morning?”

“I... I wanted to speak with Kjersten. Is she around?”

Mr. Solheim’s face shifted, was troubled for a moment. “She’s already gone back to school. She left early this morning.”

“Oh.” His heart sank. “I thought maybe she’d come home for the weekend.”

“So did we. Apparently, she had to return earlier than she had originally planned. I’m sure that her mother will speak with her this evening, would you like her to deliver a message for you?”

“No. That’s all right. Maybe I’ll give her a call or something.”

Mr. Solheim retreated back over the threshold to the door. “It was good to see you, Galen. I understand that your college prospects are looking good.”

“Thanks, sir. Well, yeah. I gotta get back. Thanks again.”

“Good bye now.”

Galen turned and walked back to his truck, opened the door and climbed in.
Kjersten was already gone and I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. I was too late, again.

* * * *

The Court’n House bar and restaurant opened at noon on every Sunday. By twelve thirty, when the obligations of church and family breakfast had been satisfied, a decent crowd invariably formed to watch the afternoon’s sporting events.

Sal moved slowly, decorously, like a reigning monarch through his hazy, smoke-filled domain. He greeted everyone assembled at the round tables by name, as he gracefully navigated his bulk around in such a way as to avoid blocking any view of the big screen.

Ben shouldered his way to the end of the bar. “Sal?”

“What can I do for you, Benny?”

“Could I please use your phone for just a minute?”

Sal went over and rummaged behind the bar again. He set a black touch tone out in front of Ben. “Here you go. You didn’t forget the rules, did ya, college boy?”

“No long distance and under two minutes,” Ben recited. “I remember. Thanks.” He picked up the receiver and dialed the Odgers’ number.

“Odgers.”

“Hello?” Ben asked.

“Yeah.”

“Galen, it’s me. The Twins game starts in half an hour. Get over here.”

“You’re shouting in my ear.”

“Sorry. They have the pregame show blasting here.” Ben pressed his hand against his ear not pressed against the receiver.

“I don’t know if I’m up for it today, Ben.”

“Come on, Galen. Everyone’s here. You should stop by. I’m only going to be in town for a couple days.”

There was silence for a long moment. “Okay. I gotta couple of chores to finish up then I’ll be over.”

It was early in the third inning when Galen finally showed up at Sal’s. His buzz cut blond-brown hair was still damp from the shower. He wore a faded blue t-shirt on which the Copenhagen tobacco emblem had faded to almost a memory. His neatly pressed but washed out and patched Wranglers defined his long, muscled legs.

“Glad you made it, Galen,” Ben commented when his friend appeared at the bar.

“You could have saved me a seat.”

“You know how it works.” Ben gestured to the men sitting on both sides of him. Both had pitchers of beer on the bar before them. “A root beer drinker doesn’t have much say here.”

“Gotcha.” Galen leaned up against the bar.

“Galen boy, we haven’t seen much of you lately,” Sal commented. “The only way I hear about what you’re doings is by talking to that brother of yours, or to one of his lady friends. What can I get you?” Sal’s ears and bald head were red and glowing from frequent trips to the kitchen and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal his hairy, black forearms.

Galen’s face eased into the familiar crooked, wide, one dimpled grin that Ben remembered from their childhood but that had been scarce in recent months. “I could really use one of your Sunday specials with the secret sauce.”

Sal took a step back and bellowed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen: “Another special, Maria.”

“And another one for me, Sal,” Ben called out.

“Maria, make that two... Happe, you want the sauce?”

“Please.”

While they waited, the two friends sat and watched the baseball game.

“You heading back to Milwaukee soon?” Galen finally asked.

“Next Wednesday. Mom and Dad are taking me down.”

“Here you go, guys.” Sal appeared with two plates filled with his trademark hot beef sandwiches and fries.

“Thanks, Sal.”

“So good,” Ben moaned in anticipation before he sunk his teeth into the layers of soft roast beef.

“Whole game been like this?” Galen muttered between mouthfuls.

“Yeah. Twins suck this year. Don’t you ever read the paper or watch the news?”

“It’s baseball,” Galen countered. “Besides, no one is whacked out about stats as you are.” Contemplatively, he toyed with a large batter dipped fry in his ketchup. “Kjersten took off early this morning.”

“That’s what I heard.” Ben studied his friend’s deliberately blank expression.

“I stopped by the Solheims. I wanted to talk to her. Wish I knew why she took off so quickly.”