Secrets Everybody Knows (8 page)

“I wanted to talk to you,” Larry said.

Of course he did. Johnny braced himself for the sky to fall.

Larry rocked on his heels. “There’s an account that’s in your name at the bank.”

“In my name?”

“You had a savings account with us. Didn’t you know?”

Johnny shook his head. He didn’t remember having any kind of bank account in Weaver’s Circle. The only place he ever worked was his dad’s garage, and most of his pay from that was room and board. Pocket money always depended on Dad’s mood. He never received a paycheck until he moved to Florida.

“I was able to dig into the records. Old paper records if you can believe it. Looks like your grandfather opened the account when you were just a boy. He must have been seeding it for you because many of the deposits were from before you started school.”

“Wow.” Johnny tried not to get excited. Grampa’s idea of a big tip was a dollar no matter what the bill came to. The savings account could be anything from ten thousand dollars down to twenty bucks. “So can you tell me the balance or do I have to stop into the bank on Monday?”

“I can tell you now there’s a little more than three hundred thousand dollars in there.”

“Three
hundred
thousand?” That took care of the overdue property tax and most of the supplier bills. Depending on what “a little over” amounted to, there might be enough to take care of some of the house repairs.

“Yes. This does put you in a bit of a pickle.”

Johnny stopped calculating how far three hundred thousand dollars would go in paying off his father’s financial disaster. Why was there always a drawback? “How so?”

“Well, if you didn’t know about the money, you haven’t paid any income tax on it.”

“Income tax.”

“You will, of course, be able to get certain breaks because the money was paid in gifts over a period of years, most when you were a minor. However the bulk on the interest was accrued in your majority.”

“Interest.”

“There will be penalties.”

“Of course there will.”

“We sent earning statements to your parents’ house every year. It was the only address we had for you.”

Johnny nodded. His father wouldn’t think to forward them to him. Why? Dad was too busy digging his own hole with the government, various suppliers and his accountant.

“You need to find yourself a good accountant to help you sort this out. And possibly a tax attorney.”

Johnny studied the bank manager. Was he misreading something or was the man actually gleeful at the idea of his having to call in a tax attorney? “Great. I needed an accountant anyway.”

“You know, that gentleman right over there talking to George Kline is an accountant. Violet Bennetti’s grandson. He’s only visiting, but perhaps he could help you out.”

Johnny nodded. “I’ll talk to him. Thanks.” He leaned against the back of the dugout. A surprise inheritance that could have solved any number of problems and it came with its own bundle of issues.

“Problem, boss?” Greg asked, walking into the dugout.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Johnny followed him in. “What am I supposed to do here? The kids know more about the game than I do.”

“Don’t worry about it. Mark coaches first base, I coach third, all you have to do is stay in the dugout, follow the batting order and try to remember it’s just a game.”

Johnny nodded.

“How’s your sister, anyway?”

“Sue? She’s fine.”

“I went to school with her. Graduated the same year. She was always a sweetheart, but I never see her around town.”

“She hangs around home a lot. She runs a nail place there.”

“Well, that would explain why I never see her.” Greg fluttered his fingers and said in an effeminate tone, “I just can’t find time to get my nails done anymore.”

Johnny laughed. George walked onto the field and all the boys started running into the dugouts. Johnny stepped back and let Greg give the pre-game pep talk. The boys were so small. He didn’t remember ever being that small. Nonie’s grandson was standing behind Beth’s chair. Larry had said he was only visiting, but the way he had his hands on Beth’s shoulders looked a little more personal and permanent. He wouldn’t be the first visitor to Weaver’s Circle who decided to take up permanent residence.

The first batter walked up to the plate, and Johnny sensed a small shape standing beside him. He looked down at the little boy chewing his fingernails.

“Don’t bite your nails,” he said.

The boy peered up at him, taking his hand out of his mouth. He looked like a lemur, all eyes with a little face around the edges. Smaller than the other boys too, but Johnny wasn’t ready to trust his judgment on the sizes of children. The batter smacked the ball and the boy beside him flinched. Johnny put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. The kid shook with his own personal earthquake.

“Are you okay?”

The boy nodded, watching the next batter take the plate. The second batter had two strikes and three balls before he hit one. The kid next to Johnny flinched every time the pitcher pitched.

Johnny crouched down next to him. From this height, the ball, thrown by another eight-year-old, looked like a blur. “Goes fast, doesn’t it?”

The boy nodded.

Johnny tried to think what his dad would say so he could do the opposite. His dad would probably yell at the kid to suck it up and be a man. What had Greg said? Try to remember it’s just a game? Johnny imagined that his father had treated it like the fate of the free world depended on the outcome of this Little League game. “It’s just a game.”

“Everybody laughs at me because I jump away from the ball.”

“Let them laugh.” Johnny mussed his hair. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

The boy nodded. Three batters later he went up to bat and struck out without swinging at a single pitch. That marked the end of the inning. Greg came into the dugout as they were going out. He glanced at Johnny as he stopped the little boy.

“Wayne, why didn’t you swing at the ball?” he asked.

“Coach McMannus said it was okay,” the boy whined.

“You’re just a scaredy-cat,” the first boy who batted said.

Johnny grabbed the batter’s shoulder. “Hey, cut it out.”

“Bobby,” Greg scolded at the same time.

Bobby looked up at Johnny with a sour expression.

“Don’t pick on your friends. You never know when you’re going to need them,” Johnny told him with a gentle shove toward the field.

Greg waited until the boys all left the dugout. “Wayne is afraid of the ball. We’ve been trying to break him of jumping out of the way of the pitches.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

Greg shrugged. “It’s okay. You can talk to him later. Never too early to learn that you have to do things even though you’re afraid, right?”

“I’m really not good with kids. Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

“If we don’t have three coaches we have to forfeit. You don’t want the kids to have to forfeit, do you?”

Johnny shook his head.

“Don’t sweat it. You won’t do any permanent damage.” Greg clapped him on the shoulder and then turned to yell encouragement to the boys.

Johnny sat on the bench, watching the action and keeping quiet. By the end of the third inning, they were leading. Greg had a flawless ability to make the kids light up around him. They all seemed really excited and eager to please. Johnny couldn’t figure out where that came from. “You’re really good at this,” Johnny told Greg.

“Kids respond to encouragement more than negativity.”

“My dad encourages?”

“Well, no.” Greg scuffed the ground with his shoe. “I don’t want to speak ill of the…ill, but he’s pretty loud. The boys are having a really good game today too. Makes it easier to be positive. Hey, Josh, great catch.”

Johnny saw Beth and Nonie’s grandson headed toward the concession stand. As they passed the path into the woods, the guy grabbed Beth’s hand and yanked her into the trees. Johnny smiled. That stand of trees held a lot of fond memories. Probably for everyone in town.

Except Elaine. She wasn’t the kind of girl who would go to a make-out spot.

Greg caught his eye and nodded toward the trees.

“I saw.”

“He moves fast. He’s only been in town a couple of days.”

“She’s hot.” Johnny watched the trees for movement. He needed to catch that guy today. Easier than hunting him down on Monday. “I wonder if they know about the poison ivy.”

“Crud, I bet not. Beth was never one to go back there.”

“Neither was Elaine Hammersmith.” Johnny bit his tongue. Why attract attention?

“No.” Greg lowered his voice so the boys wouldn’t hear. “Everybody says she’s a lesbian.”

“What?” Johnny’s stomach clenched. That wasn’t possible. Had he turned her into a lesbian by walking away when he did? How did she stand the pressure of having the whole town know? Did she have a girlfriend? “Are you sure?”

“Well, I’m not sure. It’s not like she makes out with women in the bleachers or brings girls to dinner parties, but nobody ever sees her with a man either.” Greg shrugged. “I don’t really care what her sexual orientation is as long as she does her job. Just kind of a shame. Another woman off the auction block.”

“A lesbian.”

“And her sister, Kitty, is kind of fast.”

“Her sister Kitty? I thought her sister’s name was Kathy.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “She changed it for obvious reasons. Makes you wonder what was going on in that house when those girls were growing up. The Hammersmiths always seemed so normal.”

Johnny wanted to run and hide. Elaine a lesbian and Kathy a tramp. He needed to hunt down Greg Fitzroy and Jeff Wilson and make good on his fifteen-year-old threat to break them in half. But how could he make it up to Elaine for making her hate men? “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

“I’ve got to get out to third.” Greg waved to an older boy lingering just outside the dugout. “Hey, Mike. Watch the batting order, would ya?”

Johnny locked himself in the stall and pressed his forehead against the cement block divider. A lesbian. This was not something he had ever imagined. For a couple of years he’d worked with a Latina dyke. If he still had her number he’d give her a call to ask how he should handle it. She claimed lesbians didn’t hate men, they just liked women more, but the Elaine he knew had liked men.

He
thought
she’d liked men.

She hadn’t been boy-crazy or anything.

She’d made it to sixteen without ever being kissed.

Maybe she’d always been like that and messing around with him had been an experiment.

That thought didn’t convince him or make him feel better.

The bathroom door opened. Johnny flushed and opened the door. The accountant was scrubbing his hands.

“Hi there. Hot one, isn’t it?” Johnny grinned, trying to pretend his universe hadn’t just been shaken like a snow globe.

“Very.” The accountant rubbed between his fingers while the water ran across his hands. He was a bull of a guy. Weighty with an important air, but not like Larry.
This
guy Johnny thought he could like instead of wanting to swat him like a bug.

“I don’t seem to remember your name. I’m Johnny McMannus.”

The accountant frowned. “Johnny McMannus?”

“Well, I suppose we could have the same name.” Johnny shrugged. Being back in a town where he had nearly the same name as his dad was going to take getting used to. Still, it gave him a chance to use a really bad joke. “Seems unlikely though.”

“I thought you had a heart attack.”

“That was my dad. That’s why I’m back home.”

“Oh, sorry. How is your dad doing?”

“He’s still in CCU. He’ll be fine.” Johnny shuffled his feet. Everything around here always came back to his dad. “The man has the constitution of a cockroach. He could survive a nuclear holocaust.” That about summed up Dad. Johnny might not have time to get everything straightened out before his dad came out of this. He summoned another grin. “Are you dating Beth Wilson?”