8.
It was searingly hot the next morning as I drove down the rutted road toward Danny’s clearing, and even with my air conditioner blasting cool air in my face, I was perspiring. On the seat next to me was a key ring I’d discovered in my father’s desk drawer. Most of the keys belonged to the various curio cabinets, but there was one that appeared to fit nothing in the house and I hoped it would get me into Daddy’s RV. I’d also brought a few of the old photographs with me, hoping Danny might like to see them. Doubtful, but worth a shot. I actually wanted an excuse to check on him. I hadn’t spoken to him since dropping him off at his trailer the other night and I knew he hadn’t been in the best shape. He wasn’t answering the phone I’d given him, either. I had a feeling he hadn’t bothered to turn it on.
I turned onto the trail through the woods and nearly drove head-on into a police car coming from the direction of the clearing. Oh, God. Why was a cop coming from Danny’s place? I was in a panic as I got out of my car, but then I got a look at the officer in the cruiser. Dark skin. Hair beginning to gray at the temples. Harry?
He grinned at me as he stepped out of the car, and my body nearly sagged with relief. “Hey, Riley,” he said. “One of us is going to have to back up.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked. He was in uniform, his navy blue shirt crisp-looking in spite of the heat. “How come you’re here?”
“Just dropping some books off for your brother.” That grin again. “Him and me got a little book club going.”
“He’s okay?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Oh, I just freaked out when I saw your car. He was pretty down when I saw him the other night.”
“He’s fine.” A shaft of sunlight pierced the trees and he shaded his dark brown eyes. “You don’t see him all that often, so you’re not used to his ups and downs,” he said. “He’s a survivor. It’s the other guy has to watch out for him.”
“I know you keep an eye on him, Harry,” I said. “Thank you.”
Harry shrugged like it was nothing. “He’s my brother,” he said. “We all keep an eye on each other.”
I knew what he meant by brother—they’d served in the army together and that bond would always be there—and yet I felt envious that Harry seemed more sure of his relationship with Danny than I did.
“I wish I could get him to move closer to me,” I said.
He smiled. “How many times have we had this conversation, Riley?” he asked.
I laughed. “I know,” I said. “I just wish I could.”
“I’ve got to get rolling.” He pointed to my car. “You okay with backing up? We’re a lot closer to the road here than the clearing.”
“Sure,” I said, not looking forward to driving in reverse through the woods. I waved at him as I got behind the wheel again. I put the car in reverse and slowly backed out through the tunnel of trees. Once on the road, he drove past me with a wave, and I headed down the trail toward the clearing again.
* * *
When I pulled into the clearing, I spotted Danny lounging in his hammock, one hand holding a book open on his stomach and, in the other hand, a bottle of beer, and I wondered if he might have the right idea about how to live after all. I was the one scrambling around in a panic as I tried to sort out all the things I needed to do, while—at least from a distance—he looked like a man without a worry in the world.
I got out of my car, a tote bag containing the old photographs and the key ring hanging from my shoulder. When he saw me, Danny swung his legs over the edge of the hammock until he was sitting up, his sandaled feet barely touching the ground.
“You’re not answering your phone!” I called, walking toward him across the pine-needle-covered floor of the clearing.
“Forgot to turn it on,” he said.
“Why don’t I believe you?” I aimed for a teasing tone in my voice, but wasn’t sure I succeeded. “What are you reading?” I stopped walking a couple of yards from the hammock.
He glanced at the cover of the tattered-looking paperback and shrugged. “World War II fiction,” he said. “I take whatever Harry brings me.”
“I just saw him. We almost had a head-on collision on the trail.” I dug my hand into the tote bag and pulled out the key ring. “I think one of these is for Daddy’s RV,” I said. “Do you want to check it out with me? Maybe you’d even like to have it?” I asked, hopeful. “It’s not much bigger than yours, so you could move it here to your clearing and have two trailers. More space.”
“I’m fine with what I’ve got.” He pushed his feet into the ground so that the hammock swung a little.
“Should I sell it, then? His RV? Or I could see if the Kyles would like it.”
“Whatever you want to do with it is cool with me.” He held up his beer bottle. “Want one?” he asked.
“No, thanks.” My phone rang and I pulled it from my pocket and checked the caller ID, though I was already sure who was calling. Jeannie Lyons had been badgering me since our lunch the day before, anxious to get moving on the house. She was way too pushy for my comfort level. I hit ignore and slipped the phone into my pocket again.
“Jeannie Lyons,” I said to Danny. “She’s going to help with the house. Did you know that she and Daddy were lovers?”
He stopped swaying the hammock, and the stunned look on his face told me he’d had no idea.
“Well, I wish you hadn’t told me that,” he said. “Revolting images playing in my head right now.” He waved his hand in front of his eyes as if he could make the images go away.
I laughed. “It’s just … weird, isn’t it?” I asked. “She’s weird. It’s been going on for years.”
“Damn,” he said. “I didn’t know the old man had it in him.”
I reached into the tote and pulled out the framed photograph of Danny with Lisa and myself. “I found a whole bunch of pictures.” I stepped in front of him and held out the frame. “I love this one,” I said. “I love how I’m reaching toward you. Remember how close we were when we were kids?”
He barely glanced at the picture before lifting his eyes to mine again. “We were babies back then,” he said. “Fucking innocents.”
I lowered the frame to my side, disappointed. I could hardly bear how lonely his response made me feel. I had a box of treasures but no one to share them with. I wouldn’t show him the others I’d brought with me.
“I found some VHS tapes of Lisa that I want to watch,” I said, “only I had to order a VHS player, so I can’t see them until it arrives. I’m guessing you don’t have any interest in watching them with—”
“You couldn’t pay me enough,” he said. “I had to watch her perform thousands of times when I was a kid. That was enough.”
I felt defeated. “Why are you so … disdainful about her?” I asked.
“You were too little to remember what it was like,” he said. “Lisa was their princess. Their little violin goddess. Their everything. You and I could never measure up.”
“I never felt that way,” I said, defensive of our parents.
“Well, you were not even two when she died, so you lucked out.” He sounded bitter. “The world revolved around her. When she killed herself, she took our parents with her. She turned them into zombies and you and I were left to fend for ourselves.” He shook his head, looking down at the book where it rested next to him on the hammock. “This is pointless,” he said. “Talking about the past. Totally pointless.” He motioned toward the photograph, still clutched in my hand. “Why do you want to live in the past?” he asked.
“I don’t.”
“You’re looking through old pictures. What’s the use?”
I looked away from him and into the forest. I could feel the carved wood of the frame beneath my fingers. “It’s because I feel alone, Danny,” I said finally, turning toward him again. “I miss having a family, and I really wish you and I could be closer, but you won’t even answer the phone when I call. I promise I won’t call about helping with the house, okay? I get that you don’t want to do that. But can we at least hang out a little while I’m here?”
“What would we do?”
“Anything,” I said, exasperated. “We could go to the movies or out to dinner or … you could take me to your favorite bar.” I remembered he’d been banned from his favorite bar and wished I hadn’t added that. “Maybe we could go out with Harry and his wife some night. You could introduce me to your friends.”
“Most of my friends are online.”
“Well, then, you can tell me about them.”
He smiled at me, the sort of indulgent smile an older brother might give his little sister. “You want me to be someone I’m not, Riles,” he said.
“Maybe I do,” I admitted. “I’ll work on that, but could we at least see each other? We can hang out on your terms. Whatever you want to do. Just include me while I’m here, okay? Not every minute. Just sometimes. What do you like to do?”
“Read. Walk in the forest. Fish. And I like to get shit-faced drunk.”
“I can do that.” I smiled, game for anything. “Or I could be your designated driver.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But we stick to the here and now, all right? No old photographs”—he motioned toward the frame in my hand—“or old tapes or stories about Dad’s sex life. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said. And we shook on it.