Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (38 page)

―Maybe… but they sure are cheap,‖ Daisy countered.

―Ya get what ya pay for.‖ Before Daisy could answer, Logan held

up a hand and said, ―I know. That don‘t matter to desperate folks facin‘

foreclosure or tryin‘ to stretch out their unemployment checks. It‘s still

sad, though.‖

Daisy was gazing up at him, a speculative look on her face. ―So

why did you really wanta come here? To see just how sad it is?‖

That was the opening Logan had been waiting for, but he couldn‘t

seem to grab it. He looked into the round, benign face of his sister,

knowing her intentions had never been anything but good towards her

brothers, and his courage faltered. He shrugged and bargained for more

time by saying, ―I don‘t know. Hard to let this place go, ya know?

―Yep.‖ Daisy reached out and patted his arm. ―Guess it brings

back a lotta memories, huh?‖

―Sure does,‖ Logan agreed, since part of his mind was screaming

―now or never,‖ he ventured, ―Some of them… not so good.‖ When

Daisy had no answer and resumed walking around the shop, Logan

knew he had to press the issue. ―Like seein‘ Jerry Sievers—‖

She stopped short and whirled to face him. ―Don‘t start on that,

now.‖

Logan took a deep breath before avowing, ―I have to.‖

A world of hurt and frustration was summed up in a single, sharp

syllable. ―Why?‖

―Because it never went away for me.‖

Daisy waved a dismissive hand in Logan‘s direction. ―I don‘t

even know what that means.‖ She hurried towards the shop door,

saying, ―We better be gettin‘ back—‖

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235

Logan moved swiftly to halt her progress by stepping directly in

front of her. ―It means I got a lotta anger I been keepin‘ in, and I

gotta—‖ Seeing Daisy‘s trembling lip and wet eyes made him pause

and soften his stance slightly. ―And I wanta talk about it. Finally.‖

After nervously tucking a curl of soft brown hair behind one ear,

she took a shaky breath and whispered, ―You say you been mad all

these years. Mad at Jim, or mad at me?‖

―Both, I guess, but mainly him,‖ Logan admitted, finally breaking

eye contact and staring sightlessly up at one of the fogged windows.

―But I gotta know. Why?‖ He glanced back down at his sister,

demanding, ―Why‘d you take his side against mine?‖

―It wasn‘t his side against yours,‖ she insisted angrily. ―It was the

family‘s side against some stranger.‖

―Jerry wasn‘t ‗some stranger‘ to me. He was my friend, my friend

that Jim hurt real bad.‖ It was Daisy‘s turn to look away, but Logan

plowed on undeterred. ―You don‘t think he deserved to pay for that?‖

―Oh, Logan.‖ Daisy looked back at him as she reached a tender

hand up to his arm. ―Honey, I felt awful about your friend. I really did.‖

Her tone turned pleading as she added, ―But Jim didn‘t think it through.

You know what he‘s like when he‘s angry. He didn‘t mean to hurt him

that bad.‖

―He didn‘t mean to?‖ Logan sneered. ―I‘m sure that would make

Jerry feel better about all he suffered. You should‘ve gone to see him in

the hospital like I did. Then maybe you couldn‘t wave it all away with

‗He didn‘t mean to‘. What you‘re really saying is that you agreed with

Jim that ‗the queer‘ had it comin‘.‖

―I am not,‖ Daisy protested vehemently. ―How dare you say that!

The whole thing didn‘t even have anything to do with that. Jim was just

so jealous of him—‖

―What? Why the hell would Jim be jealous of Jerry?‖

Looking more miserable than ever, Daisy sniffled, ―‘Cause of

how close you two were. He told me once that you spent more time

with ‗that queer‘—‖ She stopped at Logan‘s glare and amended, ―With

Jerry, than you did with either of us. I guess it reminded him of how it

was with you and Dad.‖

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―Whose fault was that?‖ Logan snarled. ―And if he was so

goddamn jealous of how close I was to Jerry, maybe he could‘ve hung

around the garage with me some himself.‖ He flung his arms wide as

he finished angrily, ―He didn‘t even try to help when I was fixin‘ his

car.‖

―He just didn‘t have a knack for it. Jim has a hard time

concentrating on things—‖

―You‘re still making excuses for him! You picked up right where

Mom left off. That thing with Jerry wasn‘t the first or last time you

covered up for him or took his side, just the worst.‖

Daisy was shaking her head sadly as she entreated, ―I had to stop

you from goin‘ to the cops. Jimmy wouldn‘t‘ve been able to take goin‘

to jail or anything like that. I know he seems tough on the outside, but

underneath he‘s kinda… fragile.‖ When Logan‘s scowl only deepened,

Daisy added, ―I‘m sorry it seemed like I was favorin‘ him, but you

were always the strong one. I never really worried about you, but Jim

needed me to—‖

―He needed you to make him face up to even one of the messes he

made,‖ Logan cut in, his angry words echoing around the empty room.

As Daisy‘s copious tears ran down her cheeks, he took a calming breath

and added more quietly, ―I know you meant well, but you didn‘t do him

any favors. Look at him now, thirty-five years old and I can count on

one hand the times he‘s done an honest day‘s work in his life. He still

bleeds you dry for money whenever he comes to town. And that‘s the

only time he even knows you‘re alive, isn‘t it? And that girl in

Uniontown he knocked up. Did he ever give her any child support?‖

Seeing no answer was forthcoming from Daisy, whose wet gaze was

fixed on the concrete floor, Logan snorted cynically, ―That kid‘s older

than Meghan and probably never seen his dad more ‘an once or twice

in his life.‖

Daisy‘s eyes found Logan‘s as she demanded, ―And you think all

of that‘s my fault?‖

―No,‖ Logan shouted. ―It‘s all
his fault
and
his problem
and you

gotta stop making excuses and trying to fix everything for him.‖

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237

―I know he‘s screwed up plenty, but I can‘t help….‖ Daisy

stopped to wipe the tears from her eyes before continuing. ―I still love

him.‖

Suddenly, Logan felt like a heel for putting Daisy through the

wringer, but he reminded himself that she needed to hear this and he

needed to say it. ―Yeah, well, love him enough to stop babying him.‖

―Meaning what? Cut him off? Don‘t try to help him when he

asks?‖

―Yes, meaning
exactly
that.‖ When Daisy just shook her head,

Logan put his hands on her shoulders and insisted, ―You have to try. It

might be the only thing that can help him at this point. Or he might be

past help, but for your sake if nothing else, promise me you‘ll try.‖

After staring up at Logan in silence for a few long moments,

Daisy drew a shaky breath, but her voice was surprisingly firm when

she said, ―Okay, I‘ll try.‖ Logan managed a small, pained smile and

drew her into a hug, which she gladly accepted. Drawing back slightly,

his sister looked up at him to say, ―And I guess I should say how sorry

I am that I forced you to go against your conscience.‖

Logan choked up for the first time and could only manage a gruff

―Thank you.‖

But Daisy wasn‘t finished. She hugged him again, throwing all of

her weight into it as she asserted, ―I am sorry, Logan. I‘m sorry I didn‘t

understand that you needed me to take your side not because you were

strong or Jim was weak, but because you were right. You were right

about Jerry. I think I always knew that, but owning up to it meant

admitting something about my brother that I just can‘t… couldn‘t

face.‖

Logan patted Daisy on the back and returned her embrace as he

felt the tight knot of anger that he had carried inside him for far too

long finally start to loosen. On the way back to Daisy‘s house, her

relieved chatter filled the car, but it mainly flowed past Logan without

impact. Her words, ―You were right,‖ were still ringing in his ears, and

he suddenly knew how badly he had needed to hear that and how long

he‘d been waiting. He also knew they had other truths to face. Other

confessions were looming on the near horizon—but not now. This

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Felicia Watson

weekend was for savoring one more victory in his battle to escape his

stifling past.

NICK circled the block for the third time, noticing that each time he

passed Flander‘s Funeral Home, the crowd had gotten slightly larger.

He was trying to pretend to himself that he was simply looking for a

good parking spot, but even on a Saturday, finding a place to park in

the small town of Hornell, New York, wasn‘t really a problem. On the

fourth try, he finally pulled into a spot on the street about half a block

from the funeral home. After cutting the engine, he stayed behind the

wheel for a moment, watching the sun drop and trying to deal with the

reality of the situation. When he went into that staid brick building,

there was going to be a coffin in one of the rooms, and Norah was

going to be in it.
How is that even possible? In what kind of fucked up

world could that be real?

It wasn‘t like this was the first time Nick had attended the funeral

of a client. During his third year at ACC, a woman he‘d been

counseling had been killed by her ex-husband, and less than two years

later, another client had been gunned down by her stalker boyfriend. It

was an unfortunate fact that mortality rates were heartbreakingly high

for women who left abusive relationships. But neither of those women

had been as close to him as Norah. That reflection only served to

deepen the pool of guilt in which he‘d been mired since Trudy had

broken the news.
I guess I should’ve felt this way about those two.
The

only saving grace was the lack of self-blame he‘d felt regarding those

deaths. The thought that had been his constant companion for the last

two days assaulted him yet again.
I knew there was something wrong.

Why did I ever let her go?

Nick glanced at his watch and saw that it was after five p.m.

Norah‘s family had scheduled a viewing from five until six p.m. with

the funeral service following immediately after. He knew he‘d delayed

as much as possible. It was time to face up to this awful duty. Nick

slowly got out of the car, straightened his tie, and walked with leaden

steps into the funeral home. After a somber employee directed him into

the correct room, Nick moved quietly inside and signed the guest book.

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239

His eye was immediately drawn to the front of the space, where the

flower-draped coffin was displayed. During several sessions, Norah

had talked about her family, and from her description, Nick thought he

recognized her parents greeting mourners in front of the casket. That

beefy man with the red-rimmed eyes had to be Butch Seebold, and the

small blonde woman at his side was certainly his wife, Nancy.

Nick knew propriety demanded he offer his condolences directly,

but he decided to wait until the line thinned out a bit, so he killed some

time by looking for the flowers he‘d sent. He finally found the

arrangement of pink and white roses at the opposite side of the room,

near a small sofa. Not yet feeling up to greeting Norah‘s family, Nick

dropped onto the couch and steeled himself for the looming

confrontation.

What would they say to him? What would they say when faced

with the counselor who had so badly failed their daughter? Suddenly a

burst of defensive anger welled up in Nick.
What about them? Didn’t

they let her down, too? What happened here that she went running

back to Alex after the visit? Sure, I failed Norah, but they did, too.

Nursing this embryonic grudge gave Nick the first reprieve from

his solo guilt in days, so he was happy to expand upon it. Norah had

always spoken well of her family, but was that the truth? Had she been

hiding something from him, something dark that would explain why

he‘d failed to reach his client? Looking at Butch‘s huge frame

overshadowing his small wife, an insidious thought occurred to Nick.

Wouldn‘t it make a whole lot of sense if Butch was an abuser? Maybe

Norah just never wanted to admit it. The more he brooded about it, the

more merit the idea seemed to gain. Soon he was quivering with self-

righteous anger and glaring at the front of the room.
Go ahead an’

blame me. But what did you two do to her? How did your fucked-up