“Hey, bro. Thought I’d take you up on that invitation to dinner.” He slapped Wally on the back, and the two headed for Wally’s truck.
“Sure,” Wally said, recognizing the sour smell of liquor on Jem’s breath. He couldn’t get the hang of calling him J.C. and had stopped trying. For a man who apparently had lots of business contacts to make along the coast, he was showing up a lot in Stony Point. He was dropping in at The Cup & Saucer too. He frowned. Peggy was always going on about J.C. this and J.C. that. “How are things going?” he asked quietly.
“Swimmingly,” he answered. “And with the prospect of one of sweet Peggy’s fine meals, I’m a happy man.”
“Happy” was not a word Wally had ever connected with Jem. He seriously doubted it was true now. When they were kids, Wally had idolized his older brother; he’d been deeply hurt when he drove away, but relieved too. He didn’t have to keep up anymore or make excuses for him.
“Say, I don’t suppose you’d like to stop in at the Shark’s Head before dinner?” Jem said.
“I don’t have time for that anymore, and no taste for it either,” Wally said. “I told you; I’m a family man now. And you should lay off that stuff too. It’ll kill you.”
“You lecturing me, little brother?” Jem’s smile remained, but his eyes had turned dark.
“I’m talking to you like a brother,” Wally said, surprised at the heat he felt creeping up to his neck. “God gave me a second chance at life,” he heard himself say, “and I’m not going to mess it up.” A lump stuck in his throat. He was glad they’d reached his truck. He swung the door open. “Come on.”
“God?” Jem echoed when he’d climbed in the passenger side. “You’re not lecturing; you’re preaching!” he said. He didn’t seem angry, though, just amused. Wally had always been the go-along-with-whatever guy, Jem’s meek, little shadow.
Jem was quiet for a while and then muttered, more to himself than to Wally, “God never had much time for me.”
Wally wanted to ask how much time he’d had for God, but he let the comment rest between them. They were almost up to the Gas N Go, and Wally turned in. The gauge had been hovering close to the “E” mark.
The place was a hotbed of activity. There were lines at the pumps, and Scooter was doing his best to help drivers get on their way. It was Friday, and folks were filling up for the weekend. He pulled up to a pump when the path cleared and got out to help himself. Scooter was busier than a one-armed paper hanger.
“Think I’ll go in and grab a bag of chips,” Jem said. “Missed lunch, and I’m starving.”
He’d gone inside the station and returned with a bag of Twizzlers. Wally slapped a twenty in Scooter’s hand as the boy whizzed past, and then they left the Gas N Go.
Friday afternoon.
Now, as the conversation on the porch continued, Wally felt a gnawing in his stomach. Was it possible that Jem had … ? He didn’t want to finish the question even to himself, and he certainly didn’t want to hear the dreaded answer his mind was supplying. In the old days, Jem had thought nothing of swiping a soda here, a candy bar there.
But Jem was a grown-up successful businessman now. Surely he didn’t need to swipe money from a cash register. Wally caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth. Those days of penny-ante thefts—larks on a summer day—were over, weren’t they? But what did he really know about this brother who had left home so many years ago?
Wally packed up his tools and walked out onto the porch.
“Ready for some lemonade?” Annie asked, rising. “Ian didn’t eat all the oatmeal cookies. Here, sit down.”
“I—I think I’d better take a rain check. I forgot … there’s something I have to do.” Jem had dropped him off earlier, so he’d have to walk to town or see if Peggy had time to swing by. Either way, he needed time to consider what he’d heard.
“Oh.” Annie seemed genuinely disappointed. Her eyes narrowed briefly. “Is everything all right? You look a little …”
“I’m fine,” Wally managed. Annie had a way of seeing into a person, and Wally didn’t want her to look just now. “I’ll be back in the morning to work on the pantry. Is nine o’clock OK?” He reached for his toolbox and made a show of straightening the bill of his ball cap.
“Sure,” Annie said. “And thanks for all you’re doing. I can’t wait to see the new and improved pantry.”
“See you, Mr. Mayor,” Wally said. He could do with a little time to think. But the direction his thoughts were taking filled him with dread.