Blood Brothers Page 0,35
yesterday."
"How's she doing?"
"Fine enough to flaunt that it was seventy-four in San Diego. Rosie's learning to write her letters, and the baby's getting another tooth. Jen said she'd send us pictures."
Cal heard the wistfulness. "You and Mom should take another trip out there."
"Maybe, maybe in a month or two. We're heading to Baltimore on Sunday to see Marly and her brood. I saw your great-gran today. She told me she had a nice chat with that writer who's in town."
"Gran talked with Quinn?"
"In the library. She liked the girl. Likes the idea of this book, too."
"And how about you?"
Jim shook his head, contemplated as Sara drew off Cokes for a couple of teenagers taking a break from the arcade. "I don't know what I think, Cal, that's the plain truth. I ask myself what good's it going to do to have somebody-and an outsider at that-write all this down so people can read about it. I tell myself that what happened before won't happen again-"
"Dad."
"I know that's not true, or most likely not true."
For a moment Jim just listened to the voices from the boys at the other end of the counter, the way they joked and poked at each other. He knew those boys, he thought. He knew their parents. If life worked as it ought to work, he'd know their wives and kids one day.
Hadn't he joked and poked at his own friends here once upon a time, over fountain Cokes and fries? Hadn't his own children run tame through this place? Now his girls were married and gone, with families of their own. And his boy was a man, sitting with worry in his eyes over problems too big to be understood.
"You have to prepare for it to happen again," Jim continued. "But for most of us, it all hazes up, it just hazes up so you can barely remember what did happen. Not you, I know. It's clear for you, and I wish that wasn't so. I guess if you believe this writer can help find the answers, I'm behind you on that."
"I don't know what I believe. I haven't worked it out yet."
"You will. Well. I'm going to go check on Cy. Some of the evening rollers'll be coming in before long, wanting a bite before they suit up."
He pushed away from the counter, took a long look around. He heard the echoes of his boyhood, and the shouts of his children. He saw his son, gangly with youth, sitting at the counter with the two boys Jim knew were the same as brothers to him.
"We've got a good place here, Cal. It's worth working for. Worth fighting to hold it steady."
Jim gave Cal a pat on the shoulder, then strolled away.
Not just the center, Cal thought. His father had meant the town. And Cal was afraid that holding it steady this time was going to be one hell of a battle.
He went straight home where most of the snow had melted off the shrubs and stones. Part of him had wanted to hunt Quinn down, pump out of her what she and his great-grandmother had talked about. Better to wait, he thought as he jingled his keys, better to wait then ease it out of her the next day. When they went to the Pagan Stone.
He glanced toward the woods where trees and shadows held pockets and rivers of snow, where he knew the path would be muddy from the melt.
Was it in there now, gathering itself? Had it somehow found a way to strike outside the Seven? Maybe, maybe, but not tonight. He didn't feel it tonight. And he always did.
Still, he couldn't deny he felt less exposed when he was inside the house, after he'd put on lights to push away the gloom.
He went through to the back door, opened it, and gave a whistle.
Lump took his time as Lump was wont to do. But the dog eased his way out of the doghouse and even stirred up the energy for a couple of tail wags before he moseyed across the backyard to the bottom of the deck stairs.
He gave a doggie sigh before clumping up the short flight. Then he leaned his whole body against Cal.
And that, Cal thought, was love. That was welcome home, how ya doing, in Lump's world.
He crouched down to stroke and ruffle the fur, to scratch between the floppy ears while Lump gazed at him soulfully. "How's it going? Get all your work done? What do