Abel Baker Charley (62 page)
“That's great,” Harrigan said, not meaning
it.
“You're al
most
Joe Normal again.” He looked at his watch. Let's just see, he thought. We'll see how good that intuition is work
ing.
it.
“You're al
most
Joe Normal again.” He looked at his watch. Let's just see, he thought. We'll see how good that intuition is work
ing.
Harrìgan settled back and watched as Baker painted,
drinking in the feel of Baker's new surroundings. A nice
life, he thought. A little boring, yes, but for Connor Harri
gan and probably not for Baker. Technically, of course, it
sucked as a relocation identity. I mean, the guy keeps his
own last name, he has a blond daughter with him even if she
doesn't limp anymore, he keeps all his hobbies, which in
clude painting, skiing, and putzing around in boats on that
lake out there, and he doesn't even wear those tinted avia
tor glasses now. Me, I'd find him in a week if I didn't al
ready know where he was. Of course, no one's really
looking for him as far as either of us knows. Except possi
bly Sonnenberg, who could also find him in a week.
Baker's no dummy, so he has to know that. Which means he
has something going for him that makes him not worry
about it too much. Which means, if I was a betting man,
which I damn well am, I'd lay very nice odds that old
Charley is just as sharp as ever.
drinking in the feel of Baker's new surroundings. A nice
life, he thought. A little boring, yes, but for Connor Harri
gan and probably not for Baker. Technically, of course, it
sucked as a relocation identity. I mean, the guy keeps his
own last name, he has a blond daughter with him even if she
doesn't limp anymore, he keeps all his hobbies, which in
clude painting, skiing, and putzing around in boats on that
lake out there, and he doesn't even wear those tinted avia
tor glasses now. Me, I'd find him in a week if I didn't al
ready know where he was. Of course, no one's really
looking for him as far as either of us knows. Except possi
bly Sonnenberg, who could also find him in a week.
Baker's no dummy, so he has to know that. Which means he
has something going for him that makes him not worry
about it too much. Which means, if I was a betting man,
which I damn well am, I'd lay very nice odds that old
Charley is just as sharp as ever.
Harrigan checked his watch again. Almost time.
He made small talk about his drive up through the Cali
fornia wine country and the little yellow flowers that seemed to be everywhere this trip, all the while watching Baker's ex
pression. A small wrinkle of concentration now, but Baker
shook it away. Another one a minute later. This time he kind
of tilted his head to one side like he was listening. What do
you hear, Baker? Just some intuition, right?
fornia wine country and the little yellow flowers that seemed to be everywhere this trip, all the while watching Baker's ex
pression. A small wrinkle of concentration now, but Baker
shook it away. Another one a minute later. This time he kind
of tilted his head to one side like he was listening. What do
you hear, Baker? Just some intuition, right?
The deck door opened and Tina ... Vickie ... entered the
high-ceilinged living room. Funny look on her face. Like
something was wrong. Not bad wrong, just wrong, and she
couldn't quite figure out what it was. They looked at each
other. Their eyes met. Same look on Baker's face. Shit, Har
rigan thought. The kid still had it. He hadn't figured on that.
He'd hoped, at least, that Sonnenberg was right. That it
would all be like a onetime dream.
high-ceilinged living room. Funny look on her face. Like
something was wrong. Not bad wrong, just wrong, and she
couldn't quite figure out what it was. They looked at each
other. Their eyes met. Same look on Baker's face. Shit, Har
rigan thought. The kid still had it. He hadn't figured on that.
He'd hoped, at least, that Sonnenberg was right. That it
would all be like a onetime dream.
Vickie touched her father's arm and walked past him to
the window facing the road. She was still there when Harri
gan heard the distant sound of a small truck grinding into a lower gear. Harrigan watched her face.
the window facing the road. She was still there when Harri
gan heard the distant sound of a small truck grinding into a lower gear. Harrigan watched her face.
“Liz?” The word formed silently on her lips. Harrigan
looked out the window. A pickup truck. Two hundred yards
away. Could be anyone.
looked out the window. A pickup truck. Two hundred yards
away. Could be anyone.
Baker laid down his brushes and wiped his hands once
more while crossing to Vickie's side. He saw the truck. His
mouth falling open, he turned and shot a look at Connor
Harrigan. Harrigan wasn't sure whether he saw more of joy
or anger on Baker's face.
more while crossing to Vickie's side. He saw the truck. His
mouth falling open, he turned and shot a look at Connor
Harrigan. Harrigan wasn't sure whether he saw more of joy
or anger on Baker's face.
“Merry Christmas,” Harrigan said, rising. “If you don't mind,
I don't think I'll stay for dinner.” He buttoned his coat
while walking to the door opposite the approaching vehicle.
I don't think I'll stay for dinner.” He buttoned his coat
while walking to the door opposite the approaching vehicle.
“Liz!” Vickie screamed. She whipped open the door and
took the porch steps in a single leap. Tanner jumped from
the cab, her arms opening wide, a beam of astonished pleas
ure on her face at the ease with which Vickie ran, then she
stumbled backward under the impact of a hundred leaping
pounds. Tanner buried her face in Tina's hair, tears dampen
ing it, trying to wipe her eyes dry on the collar of her ski
parka so she could look up at Jared Baker, the dope, who just
stood there on the porch trying to look serious with his
mouth while his eyes were grinning like an idiot.
took the porch steps in a single leap. Tanner jumped from
the cab, her arms opening wide, a beam of astonished pleas
ure on her face at the ease with which Vickie ran, then she
stumbled backward under the impact of a hundred leaping
pounds. Tanner buried her face in Tina's hair, tears dampen
ing it, trying to wipe her eyes dry on the collar of her ski
parka so she could look up at Jared Baker, the dope, who just
stood there on the porch trying to look serious with his
mouth while his eyes were grinning like an idiot.
Vickie stretched to look past Tanner into the cab of the
truck. She saw a large blue duffel, a western hat sitting on
top of it.
truck. She saw a large blue duffel, a western hat sitting on
top of it.
“You're staying?” she asked excitedly. Now Vickie could see into the bay of the pickup. Another duffel. And a pair of
skis in an Olin bag. “How long?” Vickie cried. “How long
are you staying?”
skis in an Olin bag. “How long?” Vickie cried. “How long
are you staying?”
”A weekend?” Tanner asked, looking up at Baker. She
wiped once more at the tears, then stopped, not caring
whether Baker saw them or not. ”A weekend,” she said more
firmly. “Maybe longer.”
wiped once more at the tears, then stopped, not caring
whether Baker saw them or not. ”A weekend,” she said more
firmly. “Maybe longer.”
Baker, his face softening, hesitated for just a moment be
fore stepping off the porch and slowly descending the stairs.
He wanted to run to her, to hold her, to tell her how sorry he
was that he'd hurt her, to try to make her understand.
But he
couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't sound stupid
or that couldn't wait. His own eyes moistened. He didn't
wipe them because he was afraid that when he looked again
she'd be gone. Even seeing her, it was almost too much to
believe that she was really there. That she cared about him like Harrigan said. That she cared enough to swallow back
whatever pride a jerk named Baker had left her and drive all
the way up here, not knowing whether he'd welcome her or
turn her away.
fore stepping off the porch and slowly descending the stairs.
He wanted to run to her, to hold her, to tell her how sorry he
was that he'd hurt her, to try to make her understand.
But he
couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't sound stupid
or that couldn't wait. His own eyes moistened. He didn't
wipe them because he was afraid that when he looked again
she'd be gone. Even seeing her, it was almost too much to
believe that she was really there. That she cared about him like Harrigan said. That she cared enough to swallow back
whatever pride a jerk named Baker had left her and drive all
the way up here, not knowing whether he'd welcome her or
turn her away.
“Your hair,” he said. He knew at once how stupid the first
words he spoke sounded. Of all the things he might have
said. Like, “I'm glad you're here, Tanner.” Or, ”I missed you
very much.” Or, “I'll never know what you see in me, but God, I'm grateful for it, and oh, how I love you.”
words he spoke sounded. Of all the things he might have
said. Like, “I'm glad you're here, Tanner.” Or, ”I missed you
very much.” Or, “I'll never know what you see in me, but God, I'm grateful for it, and oh, how I love you.”
Her free hand, the other hugging Vickie, went self
consciously to her hair, which remained full and thick but
cropped at her shoulders. And beneath her red parka she was
wearing faded jeans. And western boots, the working kind.
And she wore no makeup.
consciously to her hair, which remained full and thick but
cropped at her shoulders. And beneath her red parka she was
wearing faded jeans. And western boots, the working kind.
And she wore no makeup.
“Liz Burke,” she told him, sweeping her hand down the
length of her body as if presenting it. “This is Liz Burke.
Tanner Burke won't be coming.”
length of her body as if presenting it. “This is Liz Burke.
Tanner Burke won't be coming.”
“Maybe longer.” Baker nodded, reaching toward her. “Maybe much longer.”
Epilogue
On the campus of San Jose State University, some forty
miles south of San Francisco, a gaunt, silver-haired man
struggled to pull a wheelchair through the exit of the build
ing housing the faculty lounge. His movements were stiff, and he appeared to stagger with each sudden movement.
miles south of San Francisco, a gaunt, silver-haired man
struggled to pull a wheelchair through the exit of the build
ing housing the faculty lounge. His movements were stiff, and he appeared to stagger with each sudden movement.
The man seated in the wheelchair looked up as the sky
came into view. It still threatened rain after a morning squall
that had left the streets and sidewalks slick. In one hand he held papers he'd already begun to grade. Better to wait, the professor decided. He stuffed them into a leather portfolio, straightened his lap robe, and tamped a green Tyrolian hat more snugly over his head.
came into view. It still threatened rain after a morning squall
that had left the streets and sidewalks slick. In one hand he held papers he'd already begun to grade. Better to wait, the professor decided. He stuffed them into a leather portfolio, straightened his lap robe, and tamped a green Tyrolian hat more snugly over his head.
His face, like the hat, had a robust Alpine look about it.
His cheeks were a vigorous pink, and his intelligent eyes
had the lines of a man who smiled easily. The man guid
ing his chair, in contrast, had eyes that only stared dis
tantly. But they seemed to brighten a shade when the
professor spoke his name and whispered encouragement
to him. He pulled the wheelchair clear of the doors and
turned it into position to descend the three stone steps to
the sidewalk. He was tall but frail, and he moved with
the uncertainty of a recovering paralytic learning anew the
functions of his limbs. He braced himself against the
weight of the chair as its rear wheels eased over the up
permost step. One foot began to skid on a wet surface. He moaned aloud.
His cheeks were a vigorous pink, and his intelligent eyes
had the lines of a man who smiled easily. The man guid
ing his chair, in contrast, had eyes that only stared dis
tantly. But they seemed to brighten a shade when the
professor spoke his name and whispered encouragement
to him. He pulled the wheelchair clear of the doors and
turned it into position to descend the three stone steps to
the sidewalk. He was tall but frail, and he moved with
the uncertainty of a recovering paralytic learning anew the
functions of his limbs. He braced himself against the
weight of the chair as its rear wheels eased over the up
permost step. One foot began to skid on a wet surface. He moaned aloud.
“Hold on,” a female voice shouted from nearby.
There were two young women. Students. Their flats
slapped against the pavement as they ran to assist Professor
Lehrmann and his faltering aide. Each grabbed an armrest of
the wheelchair. Together they held it balanced as the thin
man lowered the chair over the remaining steps.
slapped against the pavement as they ran to assist Professor
Lehrmann and his faltering aide. Each grabbed an armrest of
the wheelchair. Together they held it balanced as the thin
man lowered the chair over the remaining steps.
“Thank you.” The professor smiled. “You are both very sweet. Very sweet indeed.” His voice was deep and strong,
his accent German.
his accent German.
“Our pleasure, Professor Lehrmann,” one answered.
The tiniest wince behind his smile reminded them that he was in pain. He was always in pain, the students had heard. Something about being beaten by
Stalinist
thugs when he was a
graduate instructor at Leipzig. And yet there was always that
good humor, always time to stop and chat. In no time at all,
it seemed as though he'd been teaching there for years.
Stalinist
thugs when he was a
graduate instructor at Leipzig. And yet there was always that
good humor, always time to stop and chat. In no time at all,
it seemed as though he'd been teaching there for years.
“Miss Lindsay Rollins, isn't it? And Miss Carol. . .”
“Carol Burns, sir.”
“Yes, certainly. Forgive me.”
Carol brushed the apology aside, pleased that he remem
bered even part of her name. ”I loved Tuesday's lecture, Pro
fessor Lehraiann. Early German Renaissance. You sure do
make that stuff come alive.”
bered even part of her name. ”I loved Tuesday's lecture, Pro
fessor Lehraiann. Early German Renaissance. You sure do
make that stuff come alive.”
“Stuff indeed,” he snorted good-naturedly. “But of course
it
is
alive. Since childhood you've been singing about good
King Wenceslaus, and now you know the fellow was real. There were two, in fact, in the Luxembourg line. However,
I'm afraid the second called for flesh and wine once too
often, and the electors threw the drunken rascal out. I trust
you'll stay tuned, Miss Burns. Johann Gutenberg is about to
start tinkering with movable type, and Martin Luther is
brooding about giving the pope a piece of his mind.”
it
is
alive. Since childhood you've been singing about good
King Wenceslaus, and now you know the fellow was real. There were two, in fact, in the Luxembourg line. However,
I'm afraid the second called for flesh and wine once too
often, and the electors threw the drunken rascal out. I trust
you'll stay tuned, Miss Burns. Johann Gutenberg is about to
start tinkering with movable type, and Martin Luther is
brooding about giving the pope a piece of his mind.”
The thin man fidgeted as the two freshmen laughed. They
looked up into his eyes. He seemed uncomfortable. Eager to
leave. A very strange duck, they thought, this silent man
with the oddly misshapen head. And yet his twin sister, Pro
fessor Lehrmann's housekeeper, was very nice. Carol had
met her when she returned a book. The housekeeper seemed
to have the same motor control problem as her brother,
hereditary probably, but her mind was quick, and she had a really funny New Yorky way of expressing herself.
looked up into his eyes. He seemed uncomfortable. Eager to
leave. A very strange duck, they thought, this silent man
with the oddly misshapen head. And yet his twin sister, Pro
fessor Lehrmann's housekeeper, was very nice. Carol had
met her when she returned a book. The housekeeper seemed
to have the same motor control problem as her brother,
hereditary probably, but her mind was quick, and she had a really funny New Yorky way of expressing herself.
“Well”—Carol tapped Lindsay's arm—“don't let us keep
you, Professor.”
you, Professor.”
“Yes.” Lehrmann hefted his leather folder. “Off to my
study for more fascinating excursions into the under
graduate psyche. The two of you must come visit me one
day. I shall offer you a glass of hot spiced wine and promise
not to bore you too terribly.”
study for more fascinating excursions into the under
graduate psyche. The two of you must come visit me one
day. I shall offer you a glass of hot spiced wine and promise
not to bore you too terribly.”
Their faces split into grins. Half the kids in their dorm
would give anything for such an invitation. He was fun, the conversation was always wonderful, and then there were all those precious things. Pre-Columbian, mostly. All museum
quality.
would give anything for such an invitation. He was fun, the conversation was always wonderful, and then there were all those precious things. Pre-Columbian, mostly. All museum
quality.
“We'd be delighted, sir. Anytime you say.”
“Four o'clock today then?” He touched the brim of his
hat. “And come in good appetite. My housekeeper's rumaki
is to die for.”
hat. “And come in good appetite. My housekeeper's rumaki
is to die for.”
Professor Lehrmann watched as the two pleased and flat
tered young women fairly bounced toward the next corner
and turned left out of sight.
tered young women fairly bounced toward the next corner
and turned left out of sight.
“Quite charming, aren't they?” he said to his companion.
The tall man nodded indifferently.
“The Burns girl is a National Merit Scholar, you know,”
Lehrmann continued. “Also fluent in two languages, well
traveled, an adequate cellist, a competitive skier—although
I've had enough of those for a while—and captain of the
freshman girls' lacrosse team. An impressive list of accom
plishments for one so young.”
Lehrmann continued. “Also fluent in two languages, well
traveled, an adequate cellist, a competitive skier—although
I've had enough of those for a while—and captain of the
freshman girls' lacrosse team. An impressive list of accom
plishments for one so young.”
He chortled to himself as if enjoying a private thought.
“So many, in fact”—he looked up, grinning—“that I hardly know what to make of her. That's a pun, old friend.”
“So many, in fact”—he looked up, grinning—“that I hardly know what to make of her. That's a pun, old friend.”
The silent man answered with a trace of a smile, then
turned the wheelchair and pushed it forward. At the curb he
had trouble again. The wheels came down hard upon the
macadam, and the professor's leather portfolio slipped from
his lap. He moaned an apology. Stiffly, he bent to pick up the
folder from the wet street. An ice pick slipped from his
sleeve as he stretched. It rolled against the curb, where a
runoff of water twice pushed it beyond his awkward reach.
turned the wheelchair and pushed it forward. At the curb he
had trouble again. The wheels came down hard upon the
macadam, and the professor's leather portfolio slipped from
his lap. He moaned an apology. Stiffly, he bent to pick up the
folder from the wet street. An ice pick slipped from his
sleeve as he stretched. It rolled against the curb, where a
runoff of water twice pushed it beyond his awkward reach.
“Leave it, Stanley.” Professor Lehrmann reached a hand
to his shoulder. “If the need should again arise, your sister always keeps an ice pick in her kitchen.”
to his shoulder. “If the need should again arise, your sister always keeps an ice pick in her kitchen.”
Stanley Levy's eyes cleared for a flickering moment at
the sound of his name. They would clear for longer periods,
the professor knew, with the passage of time and with the
growth of new neuron chains that would link Stanley's brain
tissue with that of his host. Before long, he would catch up
with his less damaged sister. Before long, there would be
more Stanley. And there would be less of the dull and distant
expression that was once the face of Duncan Peck.
the sound of his name. They would clear for longer periods,
the professor knew, with the passage of time and with the
growth of new neuron chains that would link Stanley's brain
tissue with that of his host. Before long, he would catch up
with his less damaged sister. Before long, there would be
more Stanley. And there would be less of the dull and distant
expression that was once the face of Duncan Peck.
“Let's go home, Stanley,” Professor Lehrmann said gen
tly. “There is much to do.”
tly. “There is much to do.”
End
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