?You can stop if you want. It?s hot.?
Andrew smiled weakly. ?I?ll keep going until quitting time.?
His uncle returned the smile and squeezed his shoulder before continuing down the row.
He watched his uncle walk into the barn and wondered for the hundredth time what made the salty old curmudgeon tick.
* * *
Mike went into the barn, grabbed a Coors Light from the refrigerator, and plopped himself behind his desk. Shade. Quiet. The beer was cold. Mike didn?t have to pull weeds today. He put his feet up.
He was still making up his mind about his nephew.
The kid was already regretting coming to Oklahoma, certainly didn?t want to be on his hands and knees pulling weeds. But Andrew was hanging in there, didn?t complain. The kid was okay. He was only here because his father had said to come. If something really bad happened, go to Uncle Mike. For years Mike had existed to the kid as a made-up story, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. Dan Foley had invented a myth of safety for his son. A myth that had sent him west into Mike?s life.
Mike wanted to be responsible for this kid like he wanted an anvil hung around his neck. In the old days, he?d killed people. Mike had never saved anybody. Maybe that needed to change. Maybe doing this for the kid would change something important about Mike.
Dan Foley had saved him. He owed his brother in blood. Reason enough to watch out for the kid.
Mike rubbed the back of his neck, squirmed in his chair. He couldn?t get comfortable. How would he go about looking after the kid? When would he pronounce the all clear? Mike didn?t like playing defense, didn?t like waiting for some danger that maybe didn?t even exist to drop on his head. All his contacts from the old days were either dead or faded into legend. He couldn?t even call somebody to check on Andrew?s supposed killer.
The phone rang, and Mike jumped.
He grabbed it. ?Scorpion Hill Vineyards.?
?Is that him bent over in the vines?? Linda asked.
?Him who??
She
?He?s pulling weeds,? Mike said. ?Young people need to be kept busy.?
?He?ll get heatstroke.?
?It?s either him or the weeds. I think it?s a fair fight.?
?I?m bringing dinner down for the three of us tonight,? she said.
?Don?t bother. I?m going to do a couple of frozen pizzas.?
?Your awkward domestic situation is the only entertainment in town,? Linda said. ?I figured a third party might help facilitate polite conversation.?
?So this is some kind of diplomatic mission??
?I just hate to eat alone.?
Mike cleared his throat. ?I drank too much last night. Sorry about that.?
?You didn?t puke on anything.?
?What?s for dinner??
?Lasagna.?
?I?ll get out some of the special reserve,? Mike said. ?Not for me, but for you and Andrew.?
