'But you didn't give in.' Merriment flickered round the edges of her words. 'You're so noble, Sir Norman.'
'No. I didn't. And I was always sorry. That was an archetypal middle-age fantasy come true. And I chickened out. God, I wanted her…
'We were closer afterward. Like she could respect and trust me because I told her no. Probably the only guy who ever did. She never pulled that again, but she made it clear I could collect any time.'
'I should meet a guy like that.'
Cash ignored that wistful remark. 'Then Michael and John went away to school. After a while they stopped coming home weekends. And Teri got pregnant. She married the guy and we didn't see her anymore.'
'John did.'
'Yeah. I don't know much about it. It hasn't been going on long.'
'Didn't he brag? I thought men always kissed and told.'
'Some do, I guess. But I don't know any. Guys I know don't talk about a woman till a relationship is over. Well, that's high school stuff anyway.'
John's place seemed strange. There was an air of gloom about it, as if the structure knew, as if its heart had been ripped out. Nancy's decrepit Datsun stood behind Carrie's Satellite.
'This could get to be pure soap. Michael's wife is here.'
Carrie had red, hollow eyes and wore an air of total despair when she answered the bell.
She stepped aside without speaking, apparently able to respond with nothing but a stare.
'Who is it?' Nancy called from the rear of the house. 'News?' Her voice betrayed false optimism.
'It's Norm. And…' Carrie struggled for the name.
'Beth Tavares,' Beth told her.
Nancy came from the kitchen. She was pale, tense, had a tall drink in hand. Cash glanced around. There had been a lot of drinking and very little housekeeping here since John's disappearance. 'Dad?…'
'It's news all right.' Carrie sniffled. 'Bad news.'
Where are the kids? Cash wondered. Farmed out to a grandmother? 'You'd both better sit down.'
'I told you!'
Beth moved nearer Carrie. The woman was on the verge of hysteria.
'Shit!' Cash swore. The grief was creeping up on him too.
Nancy made Carrie gulp half her drink, forcing her head back till she choked. 'Calm down, Carrie. We expected bad news, didn't we? Dad, get it over with. Did he really go this time?'
'Go? This time?'
'He's threatened to before. He even started out one time.'
'Not this time. I wish that's all it was.'
Nancy sat down on Carrie's feet. In an instant she had become as haggard as her cousin.
'We think he's been killed.' Christ, wasn't there a gentler way?
'Oh my God!' Carrie moaned. And visibly pulled herself together, becoming more sober, more alert, more intense.
'How, Dad? What happened?'
'We're not sure…'
Beth interrupted. 'Norm, let me. You've torn yourself up enough. Make yourself a drink.'
'There's Coke in the fridge,' Carrie told him. 'I think there's still some Bacardi Dark in the liquor cabinet.' She had changed radically. Already she was straightening everything within reach.
How long before she breaks? Cash asked himself. As soon as she runs out of laundry, dirty dishes and dusting?
It wasn't a response that could be maintained indefinitely. He knew. He had tried it.
He mixed a weak, water glass full and downed it. Belching, he mixed another, stronger drink. The wall phone began ringing. It went on and on. Should he answer it just to get it to stop?
It did so as he sipped and stared through the kitchen window into the backyard. The swing John had bought his kids last spring creaked in the breeze, abandoned. Grass grew where little feet should have dragged the earth bare. The children just hadn't been interested. To the swing's left stood the brick barbecue pit he had helped John build two years ago. He smiled weakly, remembering how often they had screwed up.
Yes. John might as well have been his son.
'Norm!'
Beth sounded hysterical.
He ran, expecting to find Carrie dying of self-inflicted wounds.
Beth shoved a phone at him. She stared at the thing as if it had turned into a snake.
