Fiske knelt down and ran his hand along the grass, so smooth and fine in this shaded spot. Damn, they had loved that dog so much. Why did the past have to recede so quickly? Why did one always recall the good times as being so brief? He shook his head, and then the voice startled him.
“I remember that old dog like it was yesterday.”
He looked up at Ida German, who stood on the other side of the fence staring at him. He rose, looking a little embarrassed. “It was a long time ago, Ms. German.”
The woman smelled perpetually of beef and onions, as did her house, Fiske knew. A widow for nearly thirty years now, she moved slowly, her body shrunken, squat and thick. Her long housecoat covered veiny, splotched legs and bloated ankles. But at nearly ninety years old, her mind was still clear, her words crisp.
“Everything’s a long time ago with me. Not with you. Not just yet. How’s your momma?”
“Holding her own.”
“I’ve been meaning to get over there to see her soon, but this old body just doesn’t have the get up and go it used to.”
“I’m sure she’d love seeing you.”
“Your daddy went out a while ago. American Legion or VFW, I think.”
“Good, I’m glad to see he’s getting out. And I appreciate you keeping him company.”
“Isn’t any fun being alone. I’ve outlived three of my own children. Hardest thing in the world for a parent to do is bury their babies. Ain’t natural. How’s Mike? Don’t see him much.”
“He keeps pretty busy.”
“Who would’ve thought that chubby-cheeked little tow-head would’ve gone on to do what he’s done? Mind-boggling, if you ask me.”
“He’s earned it.” Fiske stopped for a moment. That had just slipped out. But his brother had earned it.
“You both have.”
“I think Mike hit it a little higher than I did.”
“Huh. Don’t you go believing that. Your daddy brags about you a mile a minute. I mean, he talks about Mike too, but you’re the king of the hill with him.”
“Well, he and Mom brought us up right. Sacrificed everything for us. You don’t forget that.” Maybe Mike had, but he never would, Fiske told himself.
“Well, Mike had three fine examples to follow.” Fiske looked at her curiously. “That boy worshiped the ground you walked on.”
“People change.”
“You think so, do you?”
A few drops of rain started to fall. “You better get back inside, Ms. German, it looks like it might pour.”
“You know you can call me Ida if you want.”
Fiske smiled. “Some things don’t change, Ms. German.”
He watched her until she made it inside. The neighborhood wasn’t nearly as safe as it had once been. He and his father had installed deadbolts on her doors, sash locks on her windows and a peephole in her front door. The elderly carried a bull’s-eye on them when it came to crime.
Fiske looked down once more at Bo’s grave, the vision of his brother crying his eyes out over a dead dog cemented in his mind.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
How are you, Mom?” Michael Fiske touched his mother’s face. It was early in the morning and Gladys was not in a good mood. Her face darkened and she pulled back from his touch. He looked at her a moment, deep sadness in his eyes as he saw the open hostility in hers.
“I brought you something.” He opened the bag he carried and pulled out a gift-wrapped box. When she made no move to open it, he did so for her. He showed her the blouse, her favorite shade of lavender. He held it out to her, but she wouldn’t take it. It was like this every time he came to visit. She would rarely talk to him, her mood always foul. And his gifts were never accepted. He repeatedly tried to draw her out in conversation, but she refused.
He sat back and sighed. He had told his father about this, that his mother absolutely refused to have anything to do with him. But his old man was powerless to change things. No one could control who Gladys was nice to. Michael’s visits had grown less and less frequent because of it. He had tried to talk to his brother about it, but John had refused to discuss it with him. His mother would never treat John that way, Michael knew. To her, he was the golden child. Michael Fiske could be elected the president of the United States or win the Nobel Prize, and in her eyes he would still always be second to his older brother. He left the blouse on the table, gave his mother a quick kiss and left.