Honest Betrayal (26 page)

“Do you know where the wine is?”

He sighed. “Follow me.” Once in the liquor section, the man stared at the row of bottles clueless.

 “Do you know what kind of wine would go with this cheese?” he asked.

No, he didn’t and the fact that this guy thought a black man in faded jeans and a T-shirt that said:
Lighting Rod
would know anything about wine and cheese amazed him. Beer and hot dogs? Sure. Wine? No way. “Give me a minute.” He dialed Brenna. He saw a man frown at him and shrugged. Yea, now he was one of those idiots talking on the phone in a supermarket. Oh well. “Hi, Brenna. Do you know what kind of wine goes with um what was that...right...Brie cheese?”

“You’re buying Brie? Have you forgotten where the cheese spray is?” She began to laugh.

He frowned. “No. Will you answer the question?”

“Brie cheese goes well with champagne. But it depends on where you got the cheese.”

“At the store.”

“The regular store?”

His tone turned surly. “No, that special store on the planet Neptune.”

“I prefer Venus.”

“Stop being a wise—” He glanced at the man and censored his words. “Guy. Just tell me what’s wrong with the grocery store cheese.”

“Unless you want cheese that tastes like wall paper paste go for Brick cheese in a regular grocery store. It’s excellent with grapes and apples—”

“What kind of wine?”

“Chardonnay. I think you could—”

“Thanks.”

“But you could—”

“Bye.” He hung up and turned to the man.  “I’d suggest you get Brick with—”

“Chardonnay. I heard.” He gestured to the phone. “Girlfriend?”

“No, sister.”

The man nodded and picked up a bottle. “I had a sister. She’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry.”

He put the bottle back. “I’m not.” His eyes twinkled. “She was a pain in the ass.”

They selected the wine then picked some fruit. At the cashier, the man fumbled through his few bills. The cashier looked annoyed so Stephen offered to pay for everything. The man feebly protested, but Stephen knew he was grateful. Once outside they parted ways. Stephen jumped in his truck and glanced at the clock. Fiona was probably going crazy by now.  The image made him both smile and groan as he started the engine. She was going to kill him for being so long. He glanced up and saw the old man running for the bus. The bus passed him, leaving him in a cloud of black smoke.  Too bad, Stephen thought as he pulled out of his parking space. The next bus wouldn’t arrive for a half hour. Probably even longer considering Murphy’s Law about cold days. He gripped the steering wheel then swore. He couldn’t leave him.
Damn his bleeding heart
. He drove up to the bus stop where people huddled in dark colored coats, while puffs of air escaped them as they breathed.

He rolled down the window. “How far do you live?”

“Few blocks.”

“I could give you a lift.”

The man smiled and opened the door. He climbed in as eager and trusting as a child. Stephen found it a bit unnerving, but was glad to help. “Thank you.”

Stephen nodded then caught glimpse of a woman scowling and eyeing him as though she might have to identify him in a line up one day. He smiled and waved; her frown increased.

On the drive to his home, the man told Stephen his name was Percy Seaborn. He’d been a teacher for thirty years at a Vermont private school. He’d been married twice: divorced once and widowed once. A daughter had died in a car crash at thirty-six and he had a son who hadn’t spoken to him in five years. He continued talking as they pulled up to a little gray and white house. One of the few original homes that hadn’t been swallowed up by new development. Enormous half million dollar houses nearly swallowed up the neighborhood. Stephen helped the man take his bags inside and rested them on the kitchen table.  It was a clean but dark house with furniture from the fifties with a well worn but functional green couch and orange carpeting. In the kitchen he saw light brown standing water in the sink. He looked around, his mind brimming with ideas of how to brighten the space. A nice lamp in the living room and recess lighting in the kitchen would help.

He watched Percy put his purchases away and wondered what he was celebrating. Did he live alone now? Was he going to invite a friend over or was it a treat for himself? He shrugged it was none of his business.

Percy handed him a few bills. Stephen waved them off. “It was no problem.”

He shoved the money back in his wallet. “Aren’t too many people like you around nowadays. What’s your name?”

“Stephen Garrett.”

He shook his hand. “Thanks young man. I’ll remember this day always.”

Stephen shrugged then left.

At home, Fiona met him at the door with a loud shriek. “Where have you been?!”

Stephen slipped out of his jacket and tossed it on a chair. “There was this old man—”

She waved her hands. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve been waiting
forever
. Everything is soaked.”

He fixed the toilet then cleaned up the mess. Once finished, he sat at the table as Fiona read a magazine and ate a bowl of chips.

“His name was Percy,” he said.

She grabbed a chip. “Who?”

“The man I helped.”

“Oh,” she said without interest.

“He lives in this nice little house, but the plumbing is awful and the lighting terrible.”

“Yea, a lot of old people live that way.”

Stephen rested his forearms on the table. “Not out of choice.”

“I’m sure he has family that looks out for him.”

“I’m wondering if I could help.”

Fiona glanced up suspicious. “How?”

“I could work on the place. Maybe even get one of the guys to help with the plumbing.”

Her eyes lit up. “Do you think he’ll pay you?”

“He probably couldn’t afford to pay me.”

She looked at him curious. “Then why do it? You’d have to pay for all the supplies and just think of all the hours wasted.” She stood and kissed him on the head. “You’re sweet, but impractical. You don’t even know him.”

“He seemed nice and—”

“Everyone seems nice to you.” She wrapped her arms around him. He leaned against her, rubbing his cheek against her arms. She smelled good. “I’m glad you have me to keep you out of trouble. You’d give away half your time.  It’s not as though you’re rich enough to do that. Now what do you want for dinner?”

He drew away. “I’m not hungry.”

She straightened. “Are you sure?”

Stephen rested his palms on the table and looked up at her. “I think I could help him,” he said more certain. “It wouldn’t take long. I could —”

Fiona placed her hands on her hips. “Want to know what I think? I think it’s a stupid idea to help some old man you hardly even know. I bet you he wouldn’t even want your help. He has his pride. He’s not a charity case. Someone to help you make yourself feel better.”

His tone tightened. “I’m not suggesting this to make me feel better.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh sure. I know you. You always start coming up with strange projects when you’re bored. Why can’t you take up pool or something? You have ideas that never work. Remember that training course you took? A complete waste of time and money. I love you and I’m tired of seeing you get hurt. So please leave this alone.” She patted him on the shoulder then headed for the kitchen. “Now I’m going to make your favorite soup okay? While I’m doing that give that cat a bath will you?”

The cat was named Lillian and she hated the flea dip, but endured it with cat dignity. To make up for the ordeal, Stephen took her for a ride. Lillian loved to travel, he’d discovered that when he first brought her home. She cried in the carrier so he let her out to see if she was hurt. Instead she crawled out and sat on the seat and began grooming herself. He began to drive and she jumped to the floor of the truck and fell asleep. He eventually created a harness for her because Lillian sometimes liked to climb on the door and look out the window. He didn’t want her to get hurt.

“I think she’s wrong,” Stephen said to the cat. “I think I could help him. It will have to be a secret of course. Can you keep a secret?”

Lillian looked at him, blinked then turned back to the window.

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Yea, I agree.”

***

The next weekend, he knocked on Percy’s door, listening to the sound of the melting snow, dripping from the rafters. He caught a glance of the neighbor a neat looking man who hurried into his house after sending Stephen a suspicious look. Stephen knocked on the door again. As he stood on the porch, he rehearsed what he would say. He’d offer to help him install a fixture or two nothing fancy. It was up to Percy to say no.

Percy peered out the door suspicious. “Hello?”

Stephen shoved his hands in his back jeans pockets. “Hi, um I’m Stephen Garrett. I’ve been thinking about your house and—”

He frowned. “It’s not for sale.”

“No, I’m an electrician and I see your house is kinda dark. I could help with some—”

“I’m fine.” He began to close the door.

“It wouldn’t cost you anything,” he said quickly. “Actually, if you give me some time I bet I could at least fix your sink in the kitchen. You shouldn’t have standing water like that.”

Percy hesitated then opened the door wider. “Why would you want to help me?”

Stephen shrugged. “Nothing better to do.” He took out his wallet and handed him his card. He remembered Brenna insisting he get one and now was glad.  “Here’s my card. As I said it won’t cost you anything. You can check me out if you want. I encourage that you do.”

Percy stared at the card then up at Stephen. He finally nodded. “I trust you. Come on in.”

Stephen spent the rest of the day with him. They chatted as Stephen fixed the sink, then a rusty door. They ordered some sub sandwiches and talked about TV and sports then Percy’s family. Midday he drove Percy to the site off of Riggs Road where his daughter was killed. Then they went to a bar later that evening where they watched a game of darts. Under a black sky they returned home. Stephen knew he could have dropped him off and returned home, but he didn’t feel like going home just yet. He told Percy his ideas for his place. Percy listened impressed and asked him to check the lighting in another room. Stephen did and saw that it needed a lot of work. He returned to the living room to tell Percy his observation when he saw the older man sitting on the couch, hunched over a machine scanning a card.

“What are you doing?”

Percy jumped. “Oh, you’re done looking already?”

His darting look made Stephen more suspicious.  Stephen snatched the card from Percy’s hand and read it. It was a credit card with his name on it. He then glanced at the machine. “Planning on robbing me?”

Percy looked sheepish. “I wouldn’t have taken much.”

“So this was your plan all along?”

He was quiet a moment, absently tugging on his right ear. “You’re young. How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

“I’m twenty-five.”

 Percy nodded then leaned back to rest one arm the length of the couch. “This is all just a small misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s a crime.”

“I didn’t expect you to come back so quickly. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself, but I’ll pay you back for the things you bought.” He reached for his wallet.

Stephen grabbed the machine off the side table and turned towards the door angry at himself for being duped. “Goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

He swung the door open. “I don’t believe you.”

“Will you still consider fixing my place?”

Stephen glanced at him. “Don’t push it old man.”

“Look I said I’d pay you back. I’m desperate. My Social Security doesn’t cover everything and no one will hire me and I need the money, but I shouldn’t have planned on taking from you. I made a mistake.”

Stephen saw the sadness on his face and felt both disgusted and guilty at the same time. “So did I.”

“Stephen I—”

“I’ve gotta go. My wife will wonder where I am.” He raced into his truck and slammed the door. He swore as he pulled out of the drive and sped down the street. He’d been an idiot.  Harmless old man my ass. Fiona was right. It’d been a stupid idea. He parked then took off his shirt knowing how much she hated him coming home sweaty. He changed into the shirt he’d brought to wear then took a deep breath before heading inside.

“Where were you?” she asked as he came through the door.

“Out,” he said. He walked past her and headed straight to the shower.

***

Brenna glanced around the studio as the camera crew set up to see if Hunter was around. The make-up artist had almost given up on her for being so fidgety, but she couldn’t help it. The success of this commercial depended completely on her. A part of her felt she was making a big mistake. Her entire reputation had been built on what she’d been able to do despite her leg and now...now she was making it a part of her. Admitting her limitations in front of thousands of people. How she needed a cane to walk, something other people did without thinking. Those kids who had taunted her at school, those patronizing teachers could now point and say ‘See that’s all she ended up doing.’ Her spirit rebelled, but then surrendered. She had to succeed at this. It had to be done. The company was important to her and Hunter and she wasn’t going to back out now.

She’d hoped he would have made the time to stop by, at least for some moral support, if not to see that everything went as planned. Unfortunately, he was nowhere in sight.

“Ready?” the director asked her.

She nodded and walked into position.

She smiled at the camera, ready for another performance although this time she entered the stage alone.

Miles came up to her once taping was over. “You’re a natural at this.”

She turned, pleased to see him. “It’s my first time.”

“I wouldn’t have known. Nor will anyone else.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

They both fell quiet as they thought of the man who did.

Brenna buttoned her coat. “I suppose when you spend your life pretending, you get good at it.”

He looked at her curious. “Pretending what?”