Amateur Hour

Any sense of levity deserted her, and Lisa tensed in her seat as they drew near the church. She’d had the same reaction when they had headed for town in the Jeep, after picking it up at the house. Tuck didn’t as much see it as sense it, and he was sorry for it.

“You know we can’t avoid it, forever,” he said. “We’ll just drop our stuff off, have a look around, and you can get your coffee maker. We’ll be back in the car in no time.”

“You’re right.”

Tuck squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips. Then, he got out and went around to open her door. Together, they pulled their purchases out of the back, and went up the walk. Lisa paused, short of the low porch.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s mine, anymore,” she said. “It looks like it did, when I got here. Deserted.”

Tuck couldn’t think of anything to say, to that. Or, he couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. Several inappropriate answers sprang immediately to mind, and he had to clamp his mouth down on them.

Lisa didn’t seem to notice, though. She slid the key home and turned it, with a sigh sadder than words.

Part of him wanted to gather her into his arms. Part of him wanted to shove her forward, and out of the way.

The heater had been running, and it was warmer inside than out, but not as warm as it should be. Tuck supposed that it was hard for the unit to keep up with the imperfect seal of the plywood. He made a mental note to bring some caulk with him when he next came back. It would help.

“Stinks, in here,” Lisa said, flipping on some lights.

“It doesn’t. It’s just your imagination.”

It didn’t stink. There was a peculiar absence of odor, if anything. No scent of coffee, no hint of the soap she used, every day, no shampoo, detergent, cologne… It was as if she had never lived there, Tuck reflected. No hint of Gil either, for that matter.

Something stirred inside him that felt almost like glee, and he was confused. Why would he be happy about Lisa having been erased?

He started toward the back of the house. “I’m going to go ahead and put these in the bedroom.” He held up bagged items in one hand, and the maul in the other.

“Just leave them—“

“For God’s sake, Lisa!” he snapped. “What difference does it make? That’s where we’ll be using them. You stay here, if you want to. Get your damned coffee maker.”

What the hell is wrong with you? He demanded of himself, even as his body was stalking down the hall. There was no reason to speak to her, like that.

A little correction won’t harm her. It’s long overdue.

Tuck nearly dropped the maul. Where had that come from?

He wasn’t surprised to see that the cover was off the cellar again. He would have been more surprised, if it hadn’t been. “You’re getting kinda predictable, Noah,” he muttered. He set his bags on the floor and leaned the maul against a wall, before walking over to drop the cover once more into place. The plywood on the windows wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t hear one one of his car doors open and close again.

Had she only stashed to coffee pot in the car, or was she now waiting impatiently for him to join her?

Cauldron stirring coward. No faith in that good luck charm you gave her, I suppose.

“Shut up, asshole. You wish you had her guts.”

“Tuck?” Lisa spoke from the doorway.

“Yeah, honey. Got everything you need?”

“I think so.”

“Let’s get out of here, then.”

“You were talking to him.”

“I was,” he acknowledged, “and, it’s a waste of time.”

“A good bit of time. I’ve been standing in the living room for five minutes.”

“After you put the coffee maker in the car?”

“Yes— I kept expecting you to appear, any second.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, and tried to smile. “Let’s go.”

He followed her down the hall.

See her scurry, like a little mouse? That’s how a woman should move.

Tuck clenched his teeth so hard, he thought he might crack them. By the time they got to the car, he was clammy and his head was throbbing. Lisa was staring at him, with concern, and some fear, too. He felt an urge to slap the look off her face, and that feeling shook him to the core.

“You look sick,” she stated baldly. “Should I drive?”

“Just a headache. I’ll be fine.”

He opened her door, and she had the good sense to get in, without making any more ridiculous and insulting suggestions about driving.

Tuck felt himself concentrating on the steps necessary to start the Jeep, put it into reverse, back out of the space, stop, put it into drive, and steer it out of the lot and onto the road.

“Seatbelt, Tuck,” Lisa’s voice interrupted his train of thought, just as he was getting ready to turn out of the drive.

“What?” he snapped.

“You forgot your seatbelt, dear.”

She sounded intimidated, scared. What was he doing to her?

“Oh. Thanks, honey. Sorry—I’m not at my best, right now,” he apologized, buckling up.

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t though. It would have been, if she’d have called called him ‘Deputy’, not ‘dear’. ‘Dear’ wasn’t even in her lexicon of pet names, as far as he knew. If everything was okay, she would now be empathetic, forgiving, or even ticked off, by his tone of voice. But, she was none of these. She was afraid of him, and he hated it.

Neither of Tuck’s parents had brought him up to bully girls or women, and it had always paid off for him. His mother had taught him from the beginning that women were like any other creature—what you offered them was what you would get back from them, nine times out of ten. And if what you got back was affection, you’d hit the jackpot.

When he was eight, his dad had told him: “You can fight with other boys, and make them your friends, even if they lose the fight. Boys forget about the cuts and bruises they inflict on each other, because it’s fair. You hurt a girl, and she’ll remember it, forever, because it’s not fair. If you’re lucky, she might forgive you—but you’ll have lost a little of her trust.”

Tuck had grown up, cultivating good nature and kindness, first. By the time he was thirteen, he had started to work on charm, as well. Whenever things went badly with a girl or a woman, he considered it his own personal failure, even when it wasn’t.

“Do you think we might stop at the store?” Lisa asked quietly. “I’m parched.”

“Of course. Anything you want. To tell the truth, if I don’t get some aspirin or something, soon, my head might explode.”

In a few moments, they pulled into the store parking lot. Lisa opened her own door, and went inside, with Tuck following. He picked up a bottle of water, and a grossly overpriced vial of aspirin, with six tablets in it. Lisa met him at the counter with a medium sized slush, of all things. She ignored his offer to pay for it.

Outside, Lisa made a beeline for one of the two picnic tables. When she sat down, with her back to him, he took it as a signal that she didn’t want his company, just now. He got into the Jeep and rolled down his window. It was cold as hell, but he felt he needed the air. He kept an eye on Lisa, as he chewed the aspirin, one by one, and washed them down with his water.

She’s trying to guilt you. Oldest trick in the book.

He dismissed this opinion from Noah for the bullshit that it was. She was processing, of course. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. He did wish she wouldn’t do it, where it was so cold, but he thought he understood. It was the change of atmosphere that she needed—not the punishment of the elements. She’d be better for it, not worse, and she wouldn’t blame him, for her being cold.

Tuck leaned his seat back, and closed his eyes, feeling the aspirin starting to work, already. He let himself drift a little, knowing that the draft from the window would keep him from dozing off, completely.

He woke, at the touch of a hand, on his left shoulder.

“Roll up your window, Deputy, before you freeze to death,” Lisa was scowling at him.

He did so, and straightened his seat as she rounded the front of the car, detoured to toss her cup into the trash barrel, and opened her door to climb in. Tuck turned on the ignition, and she reached for the heater controls. They were blasted with more icy air, for a few minutes, then the heat came.

“How’s your head?” she asked.

“Better, now. My ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton, but the pain is gone.”

“You’ve got to get off the aspirin.”

“Have you ever tried to chew an ibuprofen?” he quipped. “Good way to break a tooth. Besides, this is out of the ordinary. I almost never have headaches. Or lose my temper, for no reason.”

“I know. I love you, and when you’re not…you…it scares the hell out of me.”

“It scares me, too, Darlin’. We’re going to get through this.”

They were brave words, and they sounded good. He prayed they were true.

****************************

They had a light, quick lunch of fruit, soup and sandwiches. Lisa was grateful that it was nothing heavy. Her appetite was off, and so was Tuck’s she guessed. He ate only one sandwich, two apple slices, and drank copious amounts of tea, as though he was dehydrated.

The conversation was desultory. Toni had called Janice, to update her on all that had happened since the video conference the day before. Janice had said she’d pass the word to Liam, and also that they would be happy to help with research.

Tuck had mentioned only that the cover had been off the cellar again, when they had dropped off their shopping haul.

Will, for his part, had spent the day mucking out stalls.

“Need help?” Tuck had asked.

“I’m almost done. I have one and a half left to do. We’re about ready for another load of sawdust,” he added, to his wife. “I have enough, to finish. Are you planning on tackling the cellar today, Pa?”

“I suppose so,” Tuck sighed. “We can get a little done, at least. Get Noah’s infernal bones out of the cedar chest. You can try out that new maul, Jethro. Split me some kindling, boy.” He said this with a grin that almost reached his eyes. “I’ll sharpen the old one, while you finish the stalls. I want to go online and look at some cameras, too.”

“I’ll help Will,” Lisa volunteered. “Even I can work a shovel, and push a wheelbarrow.”

“You’re hired,” Will grinned at her. “You’re a little taller than Toni, but I reckon a pair of her overalls will do.”

“I don’t want to dirty up Toni’s clothes.”

Toni laughed. “Yeah, you do. Trust me.”

Aside from being about an inch too short, the overalls fit Lisa just fine. Will, of course, insisted on a picture of the two of them.

“Everything’s an initiation with you people,” Lisa laughed, when Toni had duly recorded the moment for posterity.

“Only because you’re a good sport,” Will said, holding her jacket for her. “Come on. I’ll teach you to drive the lawn tractor. You’ll get a kick out of it.”

“The lawn tractor?” Lisa asked, as they walked down the steps, toward the barn.

“We use it to pull the manure cart. The manure pile is located in a strategically isolated area, undisclosed to those without the proper clearance.”

“I’ll just bet it is,” Lisa laughed. “So isolated, and so undisclosed that I never even thought to wonder where it is.”

“That’s the goal.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Lisa nodded toward a large rectangle marked out by stakes and orange surveyor’s flagging tape.

“Maybe I didn’t spend all morning mucking out stalls,” Will smiled, with a shrug. “That’s where the new barn is going, yes.”

As they neared it, and the old barn, Lisa stopped dead, laughing. Part of the fourth side of the rectangle had been marked with black and yellow Crime Scene tape.

“Oh, Will—“ she said, when she could manage it, “I wonder about you!”

“Everyone does,” he nodded. “I found a couple of feet of it, on an old roll, in the tool shed. Thought Pa would get a chuckle out of it.”

Lisa paused long enough to pull out her phone for a quick picture, before following Will into the barn.

Will put her to work, with a flat bladed shovel, on the stall that was half done, taking bigger job, for himself. Will sang as he worked, but Lisa couldn’t make out a word of it. She couldn’t even say what language it was. One thing was certain, though. Tuck had underrated the younger man’s voice. She had thought the same, while watching him in the play. In an hour, they had the stalls cleaned and new bedding put down.

“Now, I have to know,” she said, as they rested before hauling away the manure. “What were you singing, and what language was it in?”

Will smiled and handed her a bottle of cold water.

“Just some songs my old Irish granny taught me,” he shrugged. “In Gaeilge. The Irish just call it Irish.”

“Do you speak it?”

“Nah. I just know some songs. I know what the verses mean, though. The words don’t always translate, directly into English.”

“Does that explain the red hair?”

“No,” Will shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of water. “She wasn’t actually my granny. We all just called her that. I never knew any of my family.”

“You were…”

“Adopted,” he nodded. “No need to look stricken, Lisa. It wasn’t a tragic childhood. I had all the brothers and sisters I could want. All the food I needed. Loving parents, even though they weren’t related to me, by blood.”

“Did you have a lot of brothers and sisters?”

“Three of each. My folks have a little money,” he shrugged. “I was the last one they adopted. The story is that they didn’t mean to have any more than the six, but I was irresistible,” he winked.

“And, by the time they found out that you’re a mess, it was too late?” Lisa regretted the teasing remark, as soon as she said it, but Will only laughed.

“Exactly,” he said. He sobered a little bit, then. “So, I understand some of the weirdness you feel, right now. It’s not easy, being picked up and dropped into an existing family, even when you’re welcome. I’ve been there. Everyone is kind, affectionate and accepting, but you just can’t stop wondering if you’re only the flavor of the month.”

Lisa stared at a tuft of hay, at her feet, unsure of what to say.

“It goes away,” Will continued.

“I don’t want to get…complacent.”

“I get it. But, you might as well get comfortable.”

“Will, I have nothing to offer your family but trouble.”

“That’s bull. You’ve done wonders for Pa.”

“I’m…my situation…it’s making him sick, Will.”

“Your house is making him sick, sure. That can be remedied. There may be a short term cost, but I can see he thinks it’s worth the long term gain. I agree with him. You know, Toni’s been at him, for years to give up the cop life, and go into something like this,” he nodded toward the staked out location, just visible through the end of the barn. “It took you, to make him take it seriously.”

“Well… he’s made me take some things seriously, too.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“I had a long think, today. I’ve had shorter thinks, over the last couple of weeks. I believe I’d like to join your church.”

“As opposed to sneaking into the back, after the rest of us have been seated? Yeah, I’ve seen you. No one else has, though.”

“You didn’t mention it, to anyone.”

“Not a soul. It’s your business, and God’s. I meddle plenty, in other people’s doings, but that’s where I draw a line. You didn’t take communion, when you went with us at Christmas.”

“I was never baptized.”

“That’s what I thought,” he nodded. “You know more about the church than most laymen, so I’d guess you’ve thought about it, before, and gone to services, before?”

“Years ago. I’ve found out when the next class is for the catechumenate. I need a sponsor.”

“Pa would be thrilled—“

“Would you consider doing it?” she interrupted.

“I’d… be honored. But why not Pa?”

“It’s too…I don’t know. It’s like…having your boyfriend as your gynecologist.”

Will grinned at the analogy, but he nodded. “I see what you mean, I think. It’s just a little too much.”

“I did think about approaching Toni, but…”

“Now, that one, I understand. You feel like you have to earn your way, with Toni, and you don’t want to seem ingratiating. I went through that, with her father. It’s a separate relationship, even if they’re intertwined.”

“You do get it.”

“I told you I did. When do our classes start?”

“This evening.”

He laughed at her severe cringe face. “What time?”

“Eight-thirty.”

“I’ll be ready. You know, you could have just asked me, without helping me clean stalls.”

“I’m happy to do it. You’ve done so much, with Luna.”

“That’s mostly Pa. He’s the top trainer, around here. I’m still learning from him. I’m more comfortable with the thought of teaching riders, just now. I hope I get some students like you, but I’m realistic. I know I’m bound to run into some real brats. I’ll go ahead and run the cart out to the manure pile, if it won’t break your heart to learn how to run the tractor another day.”

“I think I’ll live. Thank you, Will.”

“That’s what friends are for, Lisa—and family.”

*****************************

The overalls weren’t despicably dirty, so Lisa decided to toss them into the washer with a load of her own jeans, after she’d taken them outside to brush the sawdust off them. She checked the dryer, folded the towels that were in it, and cleaned the lint filter. On her way back from the laundry room, she checked the level of the coffee pot, saw that it was low, dumped the remainder into a cup for herself, and started a new batch. Then she carried the towels up the stairs to the hall closet and put them away.

As she moved around the house, taking care of her business, feeling like some of Will’s confidence and mild cockiness had rubbed off on her, somehow, Toni and her father exchanged glances of wonder and amusement.

“How’s it going?” she asked, after a trip to the kitchen to reclaim her coffee, and settling down next to Tuck.

“I may or may not have found a box,” Toni offered. “Only–it’s cedar.”

“Perfect,” Lisa pronounced. “I’ll take it. How much?”

“One-fifty. Seems a little steep, for something to just drop into the ground.”

“Now, you know cedar would only piss him off, right?” Tuck regarded her, with a raised brow.

Lisa shrugged. “At this point, I don’t care. Noah Lovejoy has done nothing lately, to get into my good graces.”

“You’re still mad about this morning.”

“Damned right, I am.”

“What happened, this morning?” Toni asked.

“Nothing, sweetie.”

“Lisa?” Toni appealed to her.

“Your Dad ended up with a blinding headache, after Noah showed his ass, that’s all.”

“It wasn’t blinding. I took some aspirin, and it went away. Lisa’s just out of patience.”