Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (18 page)

106

Felicia Watson

―Hey there. You must be Crane.‖ The man rose unhurriedly to his

feet and offered his hand, explaining, ―I‘m Dave Acken.‖

Logan shook his hand, mumbling, ―Good to finally meet you.‖ He

gestured at the shop, wincing internally at the mess they‘d left in the

main bay but managing to say sincerely, ―Nice place ya got here.‖

Dave seemed unfazed by the disarray. ―Thanks. Nothin‘ fancy,

but suited me for thirty years.‖ The white hair grazed his bushy and

equally white eyebrows when he shook his head, musing, ―Thirty

years… don‘t seem possible.‖ A chubby hand brushed the hair back as

he exclaimed, ―Oh hell, what‘s wrong with me? You must be

wonderin‘ what I‘m doin‘ here.‖

―Yeah,‖ admitted Logan, glad to be relieved of the burden of

asking outright.

―Nick called and asked if I‘d shoot over and let you in. He‘s

runnin‘ late—some trouble with his mom.‖

―Oh, that‘s a damn shame.‖ Logan shuffled his feet nervously

while wondering if that meant Nick had headed home to… Kittanning,

wasn‘t it? ―Wish he‘d called me.‖

―He would‘ve, but he doesn‘t have your number.‖

―He should. I called him just a few days ago,‖ Logan answered,

feeling ever so slightly defensive for reasons he couldn‘t understand.

―I think he said he left it at work or somethin‘. Well, no big deal. I

didn‘t mind. Gave me a chance to see what you‘re doin‘ with the T-

Bird.‖ Dave scratched his stubbled chin while gazing intently at the car

and motor. ―Looks like you boys got a good start there. I‘m itchin‘ to

jump in and help, but my doctor‘d have my hide, I guess.‖

Logan was stunned that the man was neither annoyed nor

surprised at the chaotic scene on his shop floor. As Dave went on to

leisurely and cheerfully describe several rebuilds he‘d done over the

years, it occurred to Logan that, from the looks of the desk alone, Dave

Acken was a man who could live with a mess.

When Nick finally showed up at ten a.m., Dave‘s monologue was

still going strong as he scrutinized Logan‘s technique for removing the

cylinder bore ridge. Logan turned and watched the two men shake

hands, noting that Nick was wearing a loose, raggedy pair of chinos

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

107

topped by a faded, untucked, blue oxford. He swore there was some

sort of message in Nick‘s choice of attire, but he wasn‘t going to

examine the matter too closely.

Nick rolled up the sleeves slightly while saying, ―Sorry I‘m late.

What can I do?‖

―Plenty,‖ Logan answered with mock ease. ―But how‘s your

mom?‖

―She‘s okay. She‘s got this cold that‘s wearin‘ her down, and I

just had to make sure she drank plenty of juice and got some

protein….‖ Nick trailed off, apparently reluctant to give more detail.

Logan had a few follow-up questions he would have liked to ask, but

Dave‘s presence made him skittish.

And Acken showed no inclination to leave. He kept up a running

commentary while Nick and Logan rolled the engine over again to

remove the pistons and rods and finally the crankshaft. When Logan

started his examination of that last part, carefully searching for any

deep grooves or excessive wear, Dave finally took off, saying that he

didn‘t want to miss out on Sunday lunch at The Liberty Grill.

Nick walked him to the shop door and waved Dave off with the

exhortation, ―Say hi to Larry for me.‖

Logan‘s stomach performed somersaults as Nick strolled over and

leaned casually against the workbench. There was a streak of grease on

Nick‘s cheek, and Logan dug his fingers into the engine part he was

holding to resist the temptation to reach over and wipe it off. Nick

nodded at him, asking, ―How bad is it?‖

―Huh?‖ Logan gulped, fearing his thoughts were that transparent.

―The crankshaft—can we get away without regrinding it?‖

―Oh, yeah… looks like I can just polish it up some and cross drill

it, and it‘ll be better than new.‖

Nick‘s smile looked like it had cost him some effort, but he said

cheerfully, ―Good news.‖

Noting the strain, Logan asked, ―You worried ‘bout your mom?‖

―Always.‖ A shrug punctuated the response before Nick added,

―She has dementia, so a cold is the least of her problems.‖

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Felicia Watson

―Geez, Nick. That‘s rough.‖

―Yeah, it is.‖

Ready to examine the condition of the pistons, they needed

Dave‘s micrometer set. While Logan was rooting through the tool

chest, Nick said, ―Speaking of rough and family members, how‘d it go

with your daughters yesterday?‖

Emerging with his prize, Logan opened the micrometer case,

saying, ―It went real good.‖ He was tempted to leave it at that but

couldn‘t resist the chance to unburden himself on a sore point. He put

the tool kit down gently and turned to face Nick. ―There was this….

Krista did ask me if I was ever gonna do anything like that again.‖

Nick shrugged, apparently unfazed by Logan‘s revelation. ―That‘s

a fairly common fear. It‘s good she was able to articul—to tell you that

right out.‖ He straightened and trained a suddenly intent gaze on

Logan. ―What did you say?‖

―I said I was gonna do my damnedest to make sure nothin‘ like

that ever happened again.‖ Logan started his examination of the pistons

but kept one eye on Nick, measuring his reaction as minutely as the

condition of the pistons.

―Good, but she‘s gonna need to hear that again. They
both
will

probably need to hear that a few times.‖ Nick picked up one of the

micrometers and examined it idly. ―That‘s the worst part, you know.‖

Logan studied Nick‘s unusually blank face, asking, ―What do ya

mean?‖

Eyes still on the delicate instrument, Nick answered, ―The waiting

and wondering. ‗When‘s it gonna start again? Tomorrow? Next week?‘

Even when nothing‘s happening, there‘s always this fear….‖ He shook

his head, finishing, ―You can never relax.‖

―That‘s what it was like for you, huh?‖

―Yep.‖ Nick put the micrometer down and leaned back against

the bench, his eyes directed towards the window but unfocused. ―The

worst times were when he was between jobs. See, he was a contractor.

Well, he
claimed
to be a contractor, but he really just picked up odd

jobs, painting, putting up sheds—stuff like that. Anyway, when he was

outta work for a couple of weeks, it was inevitable….‖ Suddenly he

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109

turned to Logan, saying, ―I don‘t know why I‘m telling you all this…

it‘s not like you‘re….‖

Logan gave him a few seconds, but when there was no

continuation, he demanded, ―What?‖

Nick‘s voice got more formal as he answered coolly, ―What I

mean is, your girls will have this fear, and you‘re going to have to deal

with it. Especially when….‖ The dark eyes slid sadly away from

Logan‘s face as he finished, ―When you get back with your wife.‖

Anything but grateful for that reminder, Logan managed to choke

out, ―Yeah, I understand. Thanks for the advice; I‘ll remember that.‖

He resumed silently examining the pistons but felt the air between them

fairly crackle with tension. Logan wondered if Nick joined him in

cursing fate or if he had a more human target for his frustration.

Nick broke into his reverie, drumming his fingers on the

workbench, asking, ―What can I do while you‘re doin‘ that?‖

Glad to put some distance between them, Logan dredged up his

best instructor demeanor, saying, ―You can look the block over real

good, see if there‘s any wear, scratches, or cracks. Then we can put the

lifters in that box with dividers. That‘ll be enough for today.‖

―Sounds good.‖ Nick worked in silence for a few minutes, then

affirmed that the block was in reasonably good shape. He moved on to

the second task and asked over his shoulder, ―How was class on

Thursday? Everybody ready for graduation?‖

―It was good. I‘d say they‘re ready.‖ Logan withheld the news

that he‘d missed Nick‘s presence keenly—didn‘t seem like something

one
friend
said to another. ―It‘s weird though. I think I‘m actually

gonna miss doin‘ it.‖

The only immediate response was the soft thud of metal against

cardboard, but then—Reluctantly? Tentatively? Logan wasn‘t sure

which—Nick offered, ―You don‘t have to. If you‘re willing, I could set

up more modules. I have plenty of other clients who need to learn about

cars.‖

Trying to hide his eagerness, Logan strolled to Nick‘s side,

casually answering, ―Okay.‖

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Felicia Watson

―Really?‖ Nick directed a wide smile—the first of the morning—

up at him. ―You‘re willin‘ to be a permanent volunteer?‖

―Sure.‖ Logan crouched down to join Nick in his task. ―Why

not?‖ The idea of having this lasting connection with Nick—one that

would stretch out past finishing the T-bird—gratified Logan in a

manner he was unwilling to scrutinize directly.

Together they quickly polished off the chore of numbering the

lifters and stowing them in the box. As they were finishing up, Nick

gave him a sidelong glance and said, ―Look, I‘m not trying to recruit

you or anything—I already have my ‗Queer Scout‘ merit badge—but

there‘s somethin‘ I gotta ask.‖

Logan ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips. ―Okay.‖

Sitting back on his heels, Nick said, ―That was a joke, you know?

The ‗Queer Scout‘ thing. It‘s okay to laugh.‖

In an effort to don a casual front, Logan jibed back, ―Maybe it

just wasn‘t funny, Zales.‖ He carried the box over to the workbench,

saying, ―What did you wanta ask?‖

―That guy you told me about, the one that got beat up in Elco.

Was that you?‖

Almost dropping the box in shock, Logan shoved it onto the

bench and whipped around. ―What?
Hell
no!‖

Nick slowly rose to his feet to face Logan. Raising a hand in a

placating manner, he said, ―Okay, sorry, I didn‘t mean to…. I just

wondered, is all.‖

Logan glared at Nick for a long second, his mind a whirl of fury,

confusion, and memories. Finally, he grunted, ―It was this guy, Jerry

Sievers. Was a senior when I was a freshman in high school.‖

―So what happened?‖ Nick prodded, walking over to join Logan

at the workbench.

―He hired me to restore this MG Midget he‘d gotten his hands on.

His plan was to drive it ‘cross the country after graduation.‖

―And he was gay?‖

Shaking his head as he stared at the grease-stained concrete,

Logan murmured, ―I don‘t know.‖ He cleared his throat and continued

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111

in a stronger voice, ―Some folks thought he was ‘cause he was…

different.‖

―Effeminate?‖ Nick guessed caustically.

Logan looked at Nick, taking in the grim set of his face. ―No, not

at all. But he wore weird stuff like… leather pants, and striped socks,

weird shirts that pulled over instead of buttonin‘ up. And he quoted

poetry. All the girls was wild about him, but he never really seemed to

have a girlfriend. Stuff like that.‖

Nick snorted, ―He could‘ve been gay… or he just could‘ve liked

thinkin‘ for himself. I guess they‘re equally bad in Elco. What

happened to him?‖

―One day after school, I went to work on the car and found the

garage door wide open and Jerry bleedin‘ on the floor. Some guys had

worked him over good.‖ Logan paused to swallow down eighteen-year-

old sorrow before he continued. ―They used one of my wrenches, even.

He was laid up for months. Had to miss graduation and everything. His

family moved away that summer after his dad sold the MG to some

junkyard. We never even got to finish it.‖

―Did they get the guys who done it?‖

That was hitting too close to home. ―Nope,‖ Logan answered

tersely, turning to retrieve the tools they‘d left on the floor. ―We done

here?‖ He peered over at Nick and was discomfited to be met with a

puzzled frown.

Fortunately Nick broke his inspection after a second, saying,

―Yeah, I better get home.‖

As they loaded the T-bird parts into the Ford‘s spacious truck bed,

Logan felt the work slowed by Nick‘s efforts to avoid so much as their

sleeves brushing. Their awkward interaction had Logan weighing the

pros and cons of the morning. ―That was good, right?‖ he asked Nick.

―Good morning‘s work, I mean.‖

Nick tilted his head and jiggled his keys before answering,