Firefly Rain (17 page)

“You have no idea what you’re talking about” was all I trusted myself to say. “There’s a hell of a lot of stuff going on that you know nothing about, and that you can’t know a damn thing about, and I’ll thank you not to say things like that about Father.”

“Look, Logan, I’m sorry. But you’re sounding so strange and, hell, I’m worried about you. You never did mood swings in Boston, but now you’re going like a metronome. All I know is what you tell me, but that’s telling me something’s really wrong, and you sound like you could use a friend.”

“Sometimes friends know when to stay away,” I said softly.

“And sometimes they know enough to ignore bullshit protestations that everything’s fine.” She let out a short, sharp breath. “Here’s the deal, okay? I’ll be there Friday night. When I show up on your doorstep, if you don’t want me there, I’ll turn around and go right back home. But I’m betting you will want me there. You’re just too proud and stubborn to admit it.”

I swallowed hard. “Deal,” I said—was all I could say, really. A moment passed, and then I added, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “But something tells me I ought to. See you Friday, General Lee.”

She hung up. I stared at the phone for a minute, then did the same. Friday. I had two days to figure out what was going on before she got here, otherwise things could get right ugly fast. Once Jenna sank her teeth into a problem, she didn’t let go until it was solved or in pieces, and if she tried bulldozing her way through Carl and Hanratty, there’s no telling what would come of it. She’d come down here thinking that the same act she pulled in Boston was going to bowl over the locals, but she’d learn soon enough that things were different down here—learn the hard way good and sure.

Jesus. I caught myself. What the hell had I been thinking? For a minute there, it had sounded like Carl was living in my skull, not me. I shook my head to clear it, and I made a silent prayer that I hadn’t pissed off Jenna too badly. Right now, I wasn’t sure
what was worse—if she took my words to heart and cancelled the trip, or if she came down mad. Either way, it wasn’t going to go well for me.

But one thing was for damn sure. I wasn’t going to figure anything out sitting at the kitchen table and worrying. I needed to get off my butt and do something.

As I sat there, the phone rang again. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, and I stared at it suspiciously for a moment before lurching to my feet to answer. I caught it on the fourth ring, right around the time most sensible people start thinking about hanging up. Figuring it was Jenna calling back to argue some more, I launched right in.

“Look, you really don’t have to come down here. I’ll even cover the cost of your tickets. I mean it.”

“Damn, you’re good. I hadn’t even asked if you wanted me to swing on by yet,” said a faintly familiar male voice. “But, since y’all feel that way about it, I guess I don’t have to ask. This, in case y’all are wondering, is Samuel Fuller. I gave you a ride into town the other day.”

“Yeah, right, of course,” I stammered. “I mean, let me start again here. Thank you kindly for calling, and you do have my apologies. I, well—let’s just say that I thought you were someone else.”

“I had made that guess, yes.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice. “Apology accepted. Now, would you like me to tell you why I called, or do you want to feel like an ass for a while longer?”

I felt myself grinning. “Can I do both? You do the talking. I’ve gotten real good at the being-an-ass thing lately.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Samuel said, and he chuckled. “Anyway, me and Asa were going to head into town in the morning, and it
occurred to me that you might be wanting to ride in with us. I mean, I hope I’m not pokin’ my nose where it don’t belong here, but you didn’t seem to have a car last time we talked, and I’m thinking that walk is mighty long. All of which is a roundabout way of sayin’ that if you’d like, we’d be more’n happy to stop and pick y’all up along the way.”

I gnawed my lower lip for a minute while I thought about it. “That’s mighty friendly of you, Samuel—”

“I told you, call me Sam,” he interrupted. “The wife does, and what she says, goes.”

“Sam, then. It’s very friendly of you, but I’d hate to put you out. If you and Asa have business in town, I don’t want to hold you up.”

“I told you, Logan, you won’t be putting us out none. You’re on our way. My place is about three, four miles past you, down the Harrison Farm Road. We pretty much have to swing by. Ain’t more than a minute to stop for you.” He chuckled again. “Or if’n you want, I can just slow down and you can try to hop in. Just try not to land on the dog.”

I had to laugh out loud at that. “Well, keep Asa in the cab, and I won’t. All right, you talked me into it. What time should I expect you?”

Sam hmmed a bit. “I’m thinking ’bout maybe ten thirty, if that’s all right with you.”

“You’re the one driving, Sam. Whenever the hell you feel like getting here, I’ll be ready.”

“Mind the language, Logan. This here is a God-fearing phone.” There was no heat in his voice, though, and I didn’t take him seriously.

“Your phone has my deepest apologies, then,” I said. “See you in the morning, then?”

“Morning it is,” he said, and he hung up.

I busied myself doing nothing important. Making the bed, tidying up the towels, cleaning a wad of hard toothpaste off the side of the sink—the sort of housekeeping a man’s got to think of when a woman might be paying his house a visit. By myself, I’m sure I would have gotten around to it sooner or later, most likely later. With Jenna coming, though, I needed to start getting the place in order.

Mother always liked a neat house
, the voice in my head whispered.
It’s good of you to keep things the way she liked them.
I frowned and shook it off. Slamming doors were one thing, but voices in my head were proof, right and proper, that I’d gone bughouse. Answering would just have put the cherry on top of the sundae of crazy I was making myself.

Besides, if I’d said anything, I would have had to say that I was doing it for Jenna, and I was afraid that somehow I’d get an argument.

The sun was going down before I’d finished all the little chores that I’d been neglecting. That was fine with me. There was no mystery in the washing up or in doing some laundry in the sink with help from an ancient bottle of Woolite. No sense in mucking about with the washer, I decided, not if I was only washing a few things. Besides, it felt good to be doing something with my hands that I could see the results of, even when those results were wet socks and dirty suds.

I hung the clothes outside as the sky went purple and the first sparks of yellow light appeared on the road. “Not this time,” I told them as I went back into the house, and I tipped two fingers to my forehead in a salute. “You fellas stay over there where it’s safe. You decide to come back, well, I’ll be waiting.”

They didn’t answer, not that I’d expected them to. Besides, I’d
seen what I needed to from them. Right now, I had other concerns.

The toy soldier was still where I’d set it, right next to where the gun had rested on the kitchen table. Something Hanratty had said—that the poor little fella looked like he was standing guard—struck a chord with me. It gave me an idea.

Not a good idea, I’d have been the first to admit, but an idea just the same.

I made my way back to the bedroom and to the drawer I’d set the box of soldiers in back before I’d gone chasing my car out into the rain. It was still there, but I could see proof that it had been moved and then replaced. Wrinkled clothes, curled corners, that sort of thing. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

Wasting no time, I emptied the box out on top of the dresser. The little men spilled out, their clatter the loudest thing in the house. “Sorry, boys,” I told them as I sorted one from the other, “but you’re going to have to work together for a little bit.”

Like I said, it was a damn stupid idea. I didn’t think it was going to work; hell, I didn’t even know what half the idea was. But doing something felt good, and doing something to watch my back felt even better.

Even if the ones doing the watching were little lead toys.

“Here’s the deal,” I said, picking up one blue soldier and one red. “You’re going to watch out for me. I’m going to put you where you can keep watch, and you stay there, you hear me?” A few steps, a turn into the bathroom, and I found myself in front of the window that had caused me so much trouble. Carefully, I put the soldiers down on the sill, facing out. “Don’t you let anything in, neither.”

They didn’t say anything, nor did they suddenly snap to attention, salute, or do anything else a lead soldier was supposed to be
unable to do. They just stood there, facing out, and a great peace came over me.

Sometimes a man needs his old friends to look out for him.

With those two in place, I went back for another handful, and then another. They were placed around the house, on windowsills and facing doors and one in front of the fireplace on general principle, in case Santa came early and in a bad mood. Like I said, I didn’t actually think this would do anything, but I felt better for doing it, like I was staking out my borders. They marked my fence, sure as wood and stone would have, and stood as a warning to anyone who’d cross it.

The only door I didn’t place one in front of was the one in the mudroom. I’d be going out that way to fetch the laundry, and I didn’t want to risk stepping on anything I ought not to. It didn’t bother me much, though, to leave that place unguarded by tiny painted eyes.

After all, it was just the damn mudroom, and once I finished with the laundry, I’d take care of it, too.

A wind came up around ten, howling around the house while I sat in the kitchen reading one of the books off Father’s bookshelf. It was some two-fisted detective novel, a Hammett or a Chandler or someone who wanted to be like them. There were plenty of mean streets and meaner people walking down them, some shooting and some tough talk, and not a whole lot of decency or human kindness. It was a good read, but not the sort of thing a man would necessarily want to live, I decided, putting it facedown on the table as the wind shook the windows.

A few minutes more of listening told me that it was time to bring the laundry in before it all flapped away down to the
Thicket. I put my shoes back on—I’d slipped them off when I’d sat myself down at the table—and went out back, trusting there’d be enough moonlight for me to see by.

There was, more or less. With the moon looking down and the wind picking up, I gathered my things and brought them in. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking. I cursed the sort of cruelty that would leave a dog out in bad weather, and then I went back inside.

I shut the door, blocking out all sound except that of the wind, then took myself to bed. For once, dreams didn’t follow.

The wind left and morning arrived, and I got myself up and ready to go to town. The lead soldiers were all where I’d left them. So was the laundry, which I rectified after getting a cup of coffee and some cereal in me.

By ten o’clock I was ready to go. More than ready, really, which meant I was banging around the house like a lizard in a jar. “Calm yourself down,” I said. “It’s just a trip to town.” But I wasn’t listening. For one thing, it looked less likely I’d run into Carl in Maryfield than on my own property. For another, there were things in town that I missed, that I’d wanted to do and hadn’t yet. Pieces of childhood were waiting to be revisited, and I’d been tardy.

A quick check of my watch told me that I had maybe five minutes before Sam arrived, so I quickly scooped the gun out of
the kitchen and shoved it under my bed. No sense having it be the first thing he saw if he came in, after all. He was a sensible man and would probably disapprove of the way I was handling it. Then it was just a case of grabbing my keys and wallet and heading out the door. I locked the door behind me, and then I tried the knob five or six times to make sure I’d actually done so.

I was on attempt number seven—just in case, you know—when Sam rolled up. Asa was in the truck bed this time, head hanging over the side and eyes watching me steady. “Come on,” Sam yelled through the open window on the passenger side. “Time’s a-wasting.”

I gave the knob one last twist, fought off the urge to try once more, and trotted up the driveway to where the truck was pulled in on the roadside. I scratched Asa’s head, which he didn’t seem to mind too much, then hopped into the cab.

“Howdy,” Sam said, and he shook my hand.

“Howdy yourself.” I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. “You didn’t need to get Asa out of his seat for me. I’m just a passenger.”

Sam made a dismissive gesture, then clamped his hand on the gearshift. “And he’s been wanting some wind in his face for a while now. Had to keep him in on account of the rain, you know. Now hush up and enjoy the ride.”

“Yessir.” I grinned. “Thank you again for the ride, Sam. I do appreciate it.”

He snorted and threw the truck into gear. “’Course you do. That’s why I offered.” The landscape started rolling by. “And don’t you worry no more about putting me out or nothing. If I offer something, I mean it. You understand.”