Joe was sitting on a bench on the porch of the mechanic's shop. Eli had visited earlier that afternoon and was met with cheers from the other boys. Now the boys had returned to their respective homes except for Ron and Randy. They would sleep on the two couches in the basement while Joe would retire to a sleeping bag on the floor.
The sun was setting, and Joe was thinking about Paul's story. Paul was obviously close with his brother, and seeing the deep pain in Paul's eyes made Joe miss Frank.
Frank and Joe were closer than most brothers. Being in multiple life or death situations would do that to people. He trusted Frank with everything, even if he was a bit of a stick in the mud, with an annoying propensity for being right. Joe really loved his brother. If they were in prison, and Frank started going crazy-
The idea was laughable. If either of them went crazy and off the rails, it would be Joe. Frank was sense and planning, Joe was impulse and emotion. They were a team, both of them, and being without Frank for (was it only three days?) this long was unnerving for Joe.
He continued to watch the sunset, when he heard Paul shuffle out the door and onto the bench next to him.
"There's something I didn't tell you." He told Joe quietly. "I didn't want the boys to know."
"Adler hated crime at first. I thought he was just being a wuss. I pushed him into it, I hated him for being weak, for taking my money, for always needing to eat. Our financial troubles never seemed to end on the street. I would scream and rage trying to get him to man up."
Paul looked at Joe. "I was a poor excuse for a brother, and by the time we were in prison, he was a different person. I turned him into what he was: a violent criminal. But once he killed himself, I realized that I killed him first. I killed the child in him. I killed the good in him. I'm a murderer, in more ways than one."
Joe swallowed hard. "Paul, you were young, I'm sure it can't have been-"
Paul stood up and said fiercely to Joe, "Don't you tell me what I am, boy! I saw the burnt, twisted carcass of my baby brother, and it was my fault-"
Paul sat down hard on the bench and put his head in his hands. Joe wasn't sure what to do.
Paul finally looked up and whispered, "I would have killed myself if it wasn't for Bett and their son, Alek. I vowed when I got out of prison I would do anything in my power to make their lives comfortable. To make sure my nephew never had to turn to a life of crime."
Joe stated, "You said the boy died in the war."
Paul nodded. "Indeed he did. Killed on a beach in the Philippines. But he had a son too."
Joe raised his eyebrows, "you mean-?"
"Yep. My great-nephew. Born 1937 to a 17 year-old Alek Haas and 16 year-old Anita Spendlove."
The dots started to connect. "Spendlove?" Joe asked.
"Yes", Paul said sadly. "Danny is my brother's grandson. I'll do anything for him."