To
-thunderknight: Thank you so much!
-Jolly001: Thank you, I was rather proud of my wordplay there if I do say so myself :)
-whitetigers: Thank you for reading, sorry for being unclear… Suppose Fenton started drinking after noon whichever-day and woke up in the afternoon the next day…
-Red Hardy: Thanks for reading. I liked your interpretation of things, I didn't even realize I was doing it the way you described it… I only know what I'm doing with Fenton…:D Thanks again!
-astalder27: Sorry if you got confused… the idea of a title for this story came from a song called "He's no hero" by Bryan McFadden…Thank you…
-FrankMustGetHurtSomehow: Thanks a million! Your username's funny…
XOXOXOX
4. Memories of the weekend
The days passed and life went on. For a while Fenton could only tend to paperwork while his feet were healing from his little accident with the glass bottle and Sam took care of the rest.
He didn't like it although he knew he was useless for anything else. But when he was alone in his office, the memories assaulted him consistently. At least the boys could go out with their friends and enjoy themselves but he was a prisoner in his own home where everything screamed her name at him.
Almost twenty years together, through thick and thin and now she wasn't there anymore.
The thought of even longer time without her was unbearable.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he looked up. For a moment he was stunned.
"Laura?"
"Mr. Hardy?" Brown eyes observed him shyly but worriedly.
He blinked. The vision disappeared.
-"Is Frank at home? Gertrude let us in but she seemed to be in hurry. He's not in his room."
"Oh…yes, Callie, he's in the garage," Fenton replied and when he noticed Biff standing behind her, he added, "And Joe's there too."
"Ok, thanks Mr. Hardy. Take care of yourself," Biff said, smiling sympathetically before turning and walking back down the hallway after Callie.
XOXOXOX
"Oh my goodness! I can't believe we're gonna go through all this stuff –and what the hell for? After a week it's all gonna be a heap of mess again, anyway," Joe said exasperated.
Frank shrugged. "I guess Aunt Gertrude just wants to keep us busy."
"Well, it's weekend. I don't wanna be busy doing things I don't wanna do," the younger brother complained.
Frank shook his head and picked up a cardboard box full of old music records since the early days of their parents. He put it on the top shelf innermost in the garage and turned to the next box to see what it contained. It turned out to be old photo albums.
He randomly chose one to look into. He stared at the first opening for a few seconds. Then he burst out laughing.
"Hah! Joe, you gotta see this!"
Joe, who had been trying to figure out where to put some gardening tools, walked to his brother and looked over his shoulder. "What am I looking at?" he asked although he had a pretty good idea. But he wanted to be sure.
"I'm 99, 9 percent sure that's dad," Frank said and started laughing again.
In the photo, Fenton was wearing ridiculously tight, faded and torn jeans and a leather jacket and his hair was long and messy done in something akin to a mullet.
"This is just too scary," Joe said with horror.
"Oh and look, here's mom," Frank pointed at the picture below. "She doesn't look as terrible as dad… She was kind of pretty."
"She's –was –always pretty," Joe snorted, "Despite that hairstyle. How much mousse did she use per day, I wonder," He smiled sadly.
Frank's face also showed his nostalgia. He flipped over to the next page.
"Who's that?" Joe asked, his forehead wrinkling in thought.
"Could it be…?" Frank hesitated and then shook his head, "No. No, that's impossible…"
-"What?"
Frank bit his lip to keep the grin from spreading over his face. "Could it be that this is…Aunt Gertrude?"
They both stared at the photo for a while. The young woman in it had long, dark hair and a bandeau over her forehead. She wore a t-shirt with large letters that read: NO RULE! ALL RULE! She was holding her thumb up and smiling broadly into the camera.
"Should we ask her?" Frank asked.
Joe eyed him as if he had lost his mind. "Ask her? You wanna ask Aunt Gertrude if she ever was anything else than a serious, ever-reprimanding, household-tyrant? –A pot-smoking, protestant hippie, for example? Well, you go ahead. I'll wait somewhere to pick up your remains..."
They found another picture of her, holding hands with a black man with long dreadlocks and they were both smiling widely.
Then there was a picture of Laura and Fenton together, probably from the early days of their relationship.
"They looked so happy," Joe commented.
"They did," Frank agreed. He got a lump in his throat.
The garage door opened and Callie and Biff entered.
"Man, that was creepy," Callie was saying. She seemed shocked, her eyes were wide and she was holding a hand over her heart.
"It was sad, is what it was. Poor man," Biff said.
"Hello to you too," Joe said, "And thanks for knocking. What are you talking about?"
"Your dad thought I was your mom," Callie said and moved into Frank's inviting arms.
"He doesn't seem to be coping very well," Biff said.
"No, he isn't," Frank said, "I just don't know what to do about it."
"It hasn't been that long. He just needs time," Callie looked up at him and he tightened his hold on her waist.
-"I know. It's just so…. I mean, he's been always so strong."
-"And now he's a nerve wreckage," Joe finished.
-"Exactly. And here we're feeling guilty because we're not as devastated."
"So you've accepted that it was an accident?" Biff asked.
"We've accepted that there's nothing we can do to change the past," Joe avoided answering directly.
"Well, that's a start, huh?" Biff slapped him on the shoulder in a supportive manner, "Anyway, I was just going to ask you to join me on a quest, leading away from these tragic events to a little gleam of joy in everyday-life!"
"In modern English?" Joe required.
-"Well, remember Chet was saving up for some wheels? He had decided on two…"
-"Yeah, I remember. He bought one of them?" Joe said, "Which one?"
-"The Buick."
-"Oh, yes! That's awesome!"
-"I know, she's gorgeous. It's a Skylark 1970. Well, Chet told me she hardly runs but a little touch up and she'll be good as new. I was going over there to check it out but as you know I'm kind of short on transport resources," Biff grinned innocently.
"So you're saying you need a ride?" Joe verified.
-"Yes. That's exactly what I've been saying. Weren't you listening? Besides, I think it'll do you good too."
"Ugh! Men! What is it with men and machines? Why do they compare cars with women?" Callie asked and looked annoyed.
"Men?" Biff's chest puffed out.
"Machines strengthen our masculinity. You see, we can control the machines… unlike the women…" Joe explained to her.
"That is so chauvinistic!" she exclaimed offended.
"But it's true. Now, I was gonna ask you both to come but I assume you wanna be spending some time with your girl, huh Frank?" Biff looked at him.
Frank looked into Callie's face. "Yeah, I suppose…"
-"Well, we can all go," Callie said and then looked uncertainly at Frank, "If you don't mind me tagging along, I mean," she snorted and rolled her eyes, "I'm sure me and Iola would have a blast grumbling over men and machines' relationships."
Frank looked at his brother and Biff. "Well, the more the merrier."
"Are we going to sneak out without finishing here?" Joe asked, "Aunt Gertrude's gonna be really pissed off."
"Oh, don't worry. She was leaving the house when we came," Biff waved him off.
"Ok, I'll go get the car keys," Frank said.
"I'll wait outside. I suddenly feel really awkward around your dad," Callie said and started towards the door.
-"Yeah, me too," Biff said and hurried after her.
The Hardy brothers went inside the house. Frank wrote a note to their aunt and put it on the telephone table in the hallway.
"Dad! We're going to Chet's. Isn't it ok to take the car?" Joe shouted up the stairs.
"Maybe we should go check on him," Frank said quietly.
They went upstairs and knocked on the door to their father's office.
"Hey, dad?" Frank pushed the door open.
Fenton looked up from the photograph in his hands. "Hm? Yeah, what is it son?"
-"Um, we're going to Chet's if we can have the car."
Fenton nodded absent-minded and looked back at the photo. "Yeah, sure. No problem."
"Yeah…ok. Bye, we'll be back for dinner," Frank said hesitantly.
Fenton nodded again.
Frank closed the door and exhaled loudly. "He's seriously starting to freak me out."
"I know… Hey, Frank…" Joe trailed off and shook his head.
-"What, Joe?"
-"I'm just thinking maybe he needs, you know… professional help, or something," Joe shrugged and seemed uncomfortable.
Frank sighed. "He's grieving; we've got to give him the time he needs."
-"I know. But I dislike this feeling; wanting to avoid my own father as much as possible."
-"Maybe it's us. Maybe we should try and talk to him… Get him to, I don't know, open up? Cheer him up?"
-"How? What could we possibly say to make him feel better?"
-"He still has us."
XOXOXOX
"I'll drive!" Joe volunteered.
"But of course you will," Frank rolled his eyes. "Hey, Biff, you mind sitting in the front and watch him? I am weary of it."
"Lousy excuse, Frank," Biff said grinning as he opened the door and got into the car.
"What do you mean?" Frank asked innocently, letting Callie first in.
-"You just wanna sit in the back so you two can smooch," Biff stated.
-"Oh, let 'em!" Joe said and started the car.
The Morton farm was located about fifteen minutes' drive north of Bayport city. Once they passed the city limits, there was hardly any traffic and Joe shifted to fourth gear and drove the accelerator to the floor.
Although it was sunny it was still frost. A thin layer of snow covered the ground but fortunately the roads were clear.
They passed the place were Laura died and all the teenagers were silent.
Joe took a turn to the left and drove up the unpaved sideroad that led to the farm. Soon the rural smell caught their noses and they heard dogs barking.
Joe parked the car in front of the house and as soon as they got out of it, two dogs came running and fawned upon them; one German Shepard dog and an old mongrel with brown fur and upright ears.
"Bert!" A female voice shouted from within the house. The teens looked towards it and smiled.
The old dog puffed its ears and ran towards the voice.
"Boom!" The voice thundered again and the sheepdog followed suit.
Kimberly Morton, a short woman with brown long hair and dark sparkling eyes, came out on the veranda.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dears! Down Boom! Bad dog!" she pointed her finger sternly at the dog that lowered its head and became submissive.
Mrs. Morton turned back to the youngsters and gave all four of them a motherly hug, ending with Joe.
"How is your father?" she asked, her hands resting on Joe's shoulders while she looked into his eyes. "I've been meaning to come and see if he was all right but I kept getting busy…" she said embarrassingly.
"He's…uh, well, he has been better," Joe avoided her eyes; it felt strange to have somebody looking at him in that… motherly way. It felt like she was trying to draw out his sorrows somehow. -Made him want to weep.
When he was about to break down under her gaze, she finally looked away and smiled at them. "Well, I guess you're looking for the kids, huh? Well, Chet's in the old barn, doing something with his car. He's obsessed by the darn thing. I think Iola went somewhere with Peter, either to the silo or the cowshed, I'm not sure…"
-"That's fine, Mrs. Morton, I'll find her," Callie said.
Mrs. Morton smiled and went back into the house but the teens zipped their coats up to their necks and walked to the old barn.
The door, which was like a garage door, was open and the chubby boy was standing in front of the open hood of a bright, yellow Buick Skylark.
The smiles spread over the other boys' faces when they saw the car.
"Chet buddy! I had expectations, but wow!" Biff said, clearly impressed, when they came closer.
Chet turned around and smiled proudly. "Yeah, purrs like a kitten," he frowned slightly. "If the kitten has a bad flu or has smoked for 30 years, that is."
The boys laughed while Callie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
Frank came to stand beside Chet, looking at the engine. "What'cha got?"
Chet sighed. "Oh, man, what haven't I? Let me see, a whole new cooling system, change of oil, new timing belt, muffler…. And I probably have to do something about the air filter too. But the battery was in a remarkably good condition compared to everything else."
"Are you still talking English?" Callie asked.
"No, Cal! Their speaking Carcian, of course. –And personally I think Carcian is a code language which they use to talk behind our backs, only right in front of us."
Everyone looked towards the gleeful voice of Iola who was standing in the doorway, grinning mischievously.
She was wearing a thick wool sweater and large dark green rubber boots, her dark hair was in a ponytail. She had obviously been working because beside the state of her, she was supporting herself with a dirty shovel.
"That's neat theory, sis. You cracked the code yet?" Chet sneered.
"I'm working on it," she answered confidently.
"Sure," Chet turned back to the car and shut the hood of it.
Iola shook her head and went to one corner of the barn where there were all kinds of agricultural tools: shovels, hay forks, rakes, motor scythe-handles, a small tractor and hay rake that could be attached to it and a good deal of other equipment.
She put the shovel in its place and walked back on the right side of the car. There was only a narrow space between the car and the doorframe and she squeezed through it and slid past Joe who was standing outside, leaning against the doorframe. For a split second her arm touched his stomach and their eyes met. Joe couldn't help the warm sensation that spread from the spot and through his body until he noticed how accusingly she was looking at him and then he looked away.
"Hey, Callie, you wanna come in and hang? Let those machine-maniacs moon over the car?" Iola nodded her head towards her brother.
"Yeah, might as well," Callie answered, reached up and kissed Frank and then followed her friend.
Chet, Biff and Joe waited until the girls were out of earshot before they allowed the evil smirks to spread over their faces and turned on Frank.
"Aaaw! Gimme a smoochy, lover-boy!" Chet said, smacking his lips to make kissing sounds.
"Yes, and then let's go watch Bold and the Beautiful!" Biff added with a high-pitched voice.
"Come on, guys, what's wrong with you?" Frank said chuckling.
"You're such a great item! Have you set the date yet? Will you be naming your child after me?" Joe put his hand over his heart and the other hand on the top of it and blinked seductively.
"Oh, don't think I won't remember that!" Frank warned.
-"What are you talking about?" Joe gave him an innocent look.
-"You'll see," Frank grinned wisely.
"Howdy, boys!" Peter Morton, a burly built man with hands large as a bear's paws, came strolling to the barn with a shovel over his shoulder.
"Hey, dad," Chet greeted.
"Hello, Mr. Morton," the other boys said in unison.
"Did you manage to make that heap of junk run?" Mr. Morton pointed at the car with his chin.
"Dad, it's not a heap of junk and it runs just fine. It just needs a little fix-up, that's all," Chet defended his vehicle.
"Well, the cost of this fix-up is starting to bother me. You could have gotten a newer car for that amount of money," Mr. Morton pointed out.
"It's all getting there," Chet said patiently, "I just need to clean the filters and then I'm gonna get a catcon."
His father shook his head. He went and returned the shovel and turned back to the boys. "Well, don't you want to come in, now? My KiVi must have some snacks ready," he said and smiled broadly. Then he strode back to the house, humming loudly.
Biff nearly choked on his saliva, trying to hold back the laughter and croaked something inaudible. He faked a coughing fit to hide it. "What's KiVi?" he asked Chet in a low voice as the four of them followed Mr. Morton.
"It's mom: Kimberly Virginia," Chet answered, smiling, "He calls her that when he's in a really good mood."
"I need to get a girlfriend before everyone around me, drown me in mush," Biff said and laughed, "Is Iola available?"
"You stay away from my sister, you schmuck!" Chet said as if he thought the idea was preposterous.
-"What, you're gonna let her get all lonely and man-less because no one's good enough?"
-"I never said no one was good enough. I just said you weren't good enough."
-"Now, what's that supposed to mean?"
They kept on arguing good-naturedly and neither one of them noticed Joe's stiff expression.
They were welcomed by the two dogs as they entered the house and then the smell of new muffins.
Callie and Iola were already seated at the kitchen table. Mrs. Morton made the boys sit down and then she poured milk into glasses for all of them and then she went into the pantry and retrieved a tray, full of chocolate chip muffins.
"There you go, now dig in," she ordered smiling, showing the dimples in her cheeks –the family's trademark.
"Oh, Mrs. Morton, I couldn't possibly…! –Oh, well, if I must…" Biff said with a mock submission tone to his voice and eagerly sank his teeth into the soft muffin.
Joe and Iola both reached for a muffin at the same time. Their fingers touched and they pulled back like they had been burned. Joe smiled politely and motioned for her to get her cupcake first and then he got his and they ate silently, trying not to look at each other.
XOXOXOX
The ringing tone sounded hollow in the empty house. Fenton made no haste, carefully taking the stairs step by step from his bedroom where he had been lying, bored out of his mind, to the hall downstairs were the phone was.
He picked up the handset. "Hello?"
No one replied. All he heard was the heavy, snuffling noise of someone breathing.
Fenton sighed, untouched; having had many threat calls in his life and thinking this was no different. Almost automatically he turned on the recording and tracing device that was attached to the phone.
"Look, I'm really not in the mood for this but who are you, what do you want and how fast can we get it over with?" he asked tiredly.
Then the voice spoke. "I am nobody really…except I thought you might want to meet the man who killed your wife."
XOXOXOX
…
This chapter is an excellent example of what a great editor I am. And that was sarcasm by the way…but, um… whatcha think:D