*Connor
Hard
I make my way back to LuAnn’s place, wondering what I’ll say to Lilah when I get there. Her irritation during the search efforts was obvious. I’m still fluent in her body language, having been an apt pupil.
When I pull into the driveway and Lilah isn’t home, I wander down to the boathouse. Ignoring the empty bottles cluttering up the dock, I rap loudly on the door. Dick Campbell answers, looking like the floor of a taxicab and smelling ten times worse. He squints bloodshot eyes at me and graces me with a bleary smile.
“Connor Garrett! How the hell are ya?” I can smell his rank breath from two feet away.
“Surviving.” I eye the man who fathered both Lilah and Andi Campbell, wondering how he contributed genetic material to either of them. The notion had been at least plausible when we were kids. Dick used to be a cheerful, chummy “good time” guy with a true gift for gab.
Some men thrive with a strong woman at their side. Some men crumble. Dick wasted away in Lu’s shadow, but now, in her absence, he’s dismantling himself entirely.
“Where’s your daughter?”
“Which one?” His knowing barb makes my cheeks ignite.
“Touché.” He may be a drunk, but he’s one observant old bastard. “I meant Delilah.”
“Haven’t seen her, but Andi called ranting and raving about her being in town. My guess is she’s over at the B&B and they’re having it out.” He frowns at me. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
And all these years I thought Lilah got her sharp tongue from her mother.
Dick notices the shame on my face, and his pinched expression slides away, replaced with his usual barfly grin.
“Looks like you could use a drink.” He shuffles inside, opening a grubby cooler beside his ragged La-Z-Boy. Both the cooler and the recliner have been generously patched with duct tape.
My icy feelings toward Dick thaw as I realize how lost he must be without LuAnn. He’s a waste of space, but without Lu to cattle prod him through life, he’ll likely be dead in a few months. He’s the poster child for absent fathers, especially when you consider that he’s always lived on the property. Once when we were in middle school, he famously took Andi and her best friend Sura to the movies in Anchorage, wandered off to a bar, then drove all the way back to True without them.
Though they’d been separated for years, LuAnn kept Dick eating and working semi-regularly. With her gone, there is no one at the helm.
I’m struck by an idea that will keep me out of trouble and make sure Dick gets something in his belly. “Tell you what. I have an errand to run, but I’ll buy you dinner afterward and we’ll throw one back.”
Dick grins, and I notice he’s missing one of his front teeth. I wonder if someone knocked it out for him or if he just fell on his face. Neither would surprise me.
“It’s ladies’ night at the Damn Beaver.” For a moment, Dick looks like the man he used to be. “They make a great elk burger.”
“That’ll be…interesting.” I picture the run-down roadhouse and its sticky floors, but Dick’s gaunt face alarms me. I wonder when he last ingested solids. I’m buying him a meal, regardless of where he chooses to order it. “How about six?”
He claps my back, like he didn’t threaten to cut off my dick and shove it up my ass not long ago. “Don’t be late! The wet T-shirt contest starts at eight, and we want a clear tabletop, if you know what I mean.”
I want to grab him by the collar and scream in his face, “Your wife is missing, you piece of shit.” Instead, I smile and nod. Wet T-shirts in a seedy bar or suppressing the urge to toss Lilah onto her bed and screw her until we both can’t see straight. The decision isn’t as hard as I am thinking about it.
As I crest the incline heading for my Jeep, I notice a tall black man peeking into LuAnn’s windows. He looks out of place in True, which other than a few native families is so white it’s Wonder Bread. He has to be in his late fifties now, graying a touch up top, but I recognize him immediately.
“Mr. Garrett? Is that you?” Dixon’s bright smile hasn’t dulled over the years, but still falls short of his caustic eyes.
“It is.” Memories of this man’s relentless questions after we surrendered Aurora 9 have me slogging forward as if through three feet of snow.
“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m—”
“Marcus Dixon!” I grip his outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. I produce the smile I perfected back when my father paraded me in front of his army cronies. Faking is a way of life when you’re beaten and berated in private and bragged about in mixed company. “Of course I remember you. From Anderson and Hart—the insurance investigators—right?”
“You’ve got a keen memory, son.” Dixon’s laying it on thick, but that was always his strategy.
“Please.” I try to think six steps ahead. “Call me Connor.”
“You’ve certainly grown up, Connor.” He eyes me with caution, and I note that he’s not as large as I remember. Then again, I’m 6’4” and about 240 pounds now… harder to intimidate than your average Joe. I’m nothing like the clean-cut kid he’d encountered all those years ago, when he’d come calling to question Delilah and me about where we found Aurora 9, and whether we’d kept some bars back for ourselves. It’s unlikely that he recognized me from memory.
He’s been watching me…maybe keeping tabs all along.
“It’s been a while.” I stuff my hands into my pockets. “What brings you back to True?”
“I pass through from time to time. I heard LuAnn Campbell’s gone missing.” He’s conversational, but his predatory eyes gauge my response, taking me in all at once. The sensation is unnerving. “I thought I’d drop by and offer Mr. Campbell my condolences.”
His turn of phrase rubs me the wrong way, and I understand why Lie’s so salty about Lu being spoken about in the past tense. Condolences aren’t in order yet, and LuAnn had greeted this guy with a loaded shotgun when he’d come calling on Lie. “This is still a rescue operation, so don’t let Delilah hear you talk like that. If you’re looking for Dick, he’s down in the boathouse.”
“Delilah’s in town? Why don’t I treat you both to lunch tomorrow? The salad bar at the Great Northerner isn’t half bad. Maybe we can exchange some theories on where Mrs. Campbell might be.”
“I do love the Great Northerner.” I force a pleasant smile, but my mind spins like a misbalanced top, grasping for some hint of what his real motives are for being in True. “But I’m helping with the search party. If the weather cooperates, we’ll be in the bush tomorrow.”
“Not out hunting for the last Aurora?” Dixon’s smile seems to have extra teeth.
I grin, genuinely amused that this guy’s singing his same old tune. “I gave that up a long time ago. I hunt bears now. Sometimes moose.”
“Or your girlfriend’s mother when she goes astray.” A flicker of something intangible crosses his features. I don’t respond—I’m not sure how to—and that doesn’t seem to rattle him. “I’m gonna give you my card, son. Just in case you and your lady friend find the time to squeeze me in to your busy schedule.”
As he moves forward, I see the butt of his gun peeking out from under his overcoat. I’m not too concerned by it. Alaskans love their firearms, and if I had Dixon’s occupation or his disposition, I wouldn’t leave home without one.
*
I tend to get into trouble in bars these days, so I take time to properly prepare. I’d stopped by several motels, but even the worst of them were full. Disappointed and defeated, I hurried here to meet Dick, stressing the whole way. Unless I crashed on Dick’s unspeakable couch, I’d be spending another night with Lilah just down the hall.
She’d better have one hell of a dead bolt on her door.
The interior of the Damn Beaver hasn’t been remodeled since it was built, and the worn Naugahyde booths remind me of a Bangkok gay bar my army buddies and I wandered into once by accident.
“Connor!” Dick has showered and shaved since I last saw him, which is to everyone’s benefit. “We get to be judges for the contest!”
“A dream come true,” I mumble dryly as I take a seat across from him.
“I texted Boone to get his ass over here, but that kid doesn’t text any more than he talks.” Dick chugs the rest of his pint.
I nod to his glass. “How many of those have you had?”
“Since I’ve been here?” His eyes go wide like a kid caught in the cookie jar. I nod. “This is my second one.”
“I’d better catch up, then.” I wave the waitress over.
We stick to local gossip, agilely dodging the topic of LuAnn. We’ve just received our burgers when Dick pivots the subject to Lilah.
“You’re a good man, Connor. Looking out for Delilah like this.” He claps me on the arm, ignoring his dinner for his freshly filled glass. “That girl will kill herself out there trying to find Lu.”
“It’s the least I can do. Lu always had my back, so…” I scrunch my face as the past tense slips out. Dick doesn’t seem to notice.
“Lilah should’ve waited for you when you went to basic. Rotten kid. I knew I should have spanked her more when she was little.” He rolls his eyes and makes a sound with the back of his throat. “And Jesus…that snooty shit she winded up married to. Gold cufflinks and fifty-dollar ties… Boy did he pick the wrong girl.”
I empty my glass in one long swallow. If we’re talking about Lie’s husband, I’m gonna need a lot more lubrication.
“You know, the first time he met me, he called me ‘Dad.’ Me! Thank God they split up.” Dick shudders, but I’m too curious to muster a polite laugh.
“When did that happen?” I pick at my coaster casually, gesturing to the waitress for another draft.
“The divorce? A few months back. But he moved out a long time ago.”
My lips are numb, and it’s not from the beer. They were still engaged at Mom’s funeral, and that was only three years ago. Lie wasn’t married for long. I see the light bulb go on over Dick’s head. “Hey! You’re single…she’s single… Lu wants her bac—”
All at once, he seems to remember his wife’s missing. Unable to stand the wretched look on his face, I change the subject.
“I’m pretty sure Lie’s done with me, Dick. Especially after the shit that went down in Mom’s kitchen and…after… You weren’t very happy with me either, as I recall.” That night Dick put his “dad” hat on and swung on me. Not that I can blame him. I hadn’t meant to hurt Lilah, not really, but things went sideways with her like they always do.
I can see him playing the same scene over in his mind. He makes a halfhearted pass at a smile, as the houselights dim around us.
“I don’t care what bullshit she’s feeding you. Lilah won’t ever be done with you.”
As the unfortunate wet T-shirt contest begins, I consider Dick’s words. Mom said something similar about Lilah, just days before she died, and I ride my beer buzz like a wave back to that conversation, and the bedlam that followed.
When Mom’s cancer came back three years ago, she chose hospice over chemo. I was stationed in Germany at the time, but I was immediately granted emergency leave. Still recovering from one of the worst battles of my career, I skipped several follow-ups and got on the first flight home that the army could line up. By the time I landed, my brother Quinn was back from California, and already had Mom down at the place on the Kenai.
While Quinn, a celebrated pastry chef, baked her every sinful concoction she craved, I wasted precious time badgering Mom about seeking treatment rather than throwing in the towel.
“Connor, I’d give anything to see at least one grandbaby from you boys, but I’ve done chemo and it made me sicker than the cancer did. Please, honey. Have a cream puff. Tell me stories. Let’s enjoy this time together. Please.”
Mom wore me down instead of the other way around.
Two days into our sugar coma, Quinn ran into Sterling to stock up on supplies. Mom was in the recliner, watching old camcorder footage, while I fixed her a banana split I knew she’d barely touch.
“Connor, get in here!” Panicked, I hurried out of the kitchen, ice cream scoop in hand, and Mom was sitting forward, rewinding with the remote. Grainy footage of Lilah and me shooting hoops appeared on the screen. Lilah was up on my shoulders so she could dunk a basket. It had been nearly seven years since I had seen Lie or spoken to her, and there she was. Her laughter emanating from the surround sound gave me chills. As I approached Mom’s recliner, I watched as Lilah bent down and kissed my mouth.
“Look at the two of you. You were such a gorgeous couple. The way she looked at you—”
“We were idiots,” I replied mirthlessly, handing Mom her dessert.
“Beautiful idiots.” She patted my arm. I tried to ignore the tremor in her fingers and the predominant appearance of her veins. “I’ve never seen you care about anything like you did that girl.”
“Quit digging up bones, Mom,” I said, and then cringed at my callousness. She was in the act of dying. The least I could do was humor her.
Mom brushed my comment aside. “Life’s so short, Connor. Too short to hold grudges. Especially against someone who looks at you like that.”
Her last few days were intense, but incredible. LuAnn came by every single day and she and Mom ganged up on me, giving me a hard time about my childish exploits. Quinn was an enthusiastic audience for their two-woman comedy act, and they regaled him with tales of my juvenile delinquency, since Dad kicked him out of the house before I was old enough to get up to much. Most stories involved Lilah, since she was typically the mastermind. Quinn’s hysterical laughter egged them on, and the barrage of memories combined with the morbid reason behind our reunion made me an emotional live wire.
Quinn cornered me after Lu left and Mom was fast asleep.
“Are you two still in touch?” I knew right away he meant Delilah.
“I haven’t seen her since I left for basic training.”
He was all attitude instantly. “Why the hell not?”
The thought of getting into that ugly shit made me tired. “It’s a long story.”
He cocked a sardonic eyebrow. “This whole week has been one long story after another.”
“What do you want to know, Quinn? I hurt her. She hurt me.” I sipped my scotch, shaking my head. “The whole thing’s fucking ridiculous. Who falls in love at sixteen, anyway? Stupid kids with zero perspective, that’s who.”
“Sounds like a tough act to follow…” Quinn’s weighty gaze pinned mine over the rim of his wineglass.
I bristled at the idea, because he was right. It was unfair that Lie still meant so much to me, but she was always present, like an out-of-reach itch.
Mom passed away in her sleep that night. I was useless, so Lu called the funeral home and helped Quinn make decisions. I sat by, blankly nodding at random times. We wouldn’t have gotten through it without LuAnn, but thankfully we didn’t have to.
After, LuAnn patted my back reassuringly. “It’ll be a beautiful service, Connor. Lilah just texted me. She’s catching a flight back as we speak.”
This news shocked me from my grief. After watching Mom slowly unwind like a clock, seeing Delilah again after so many years seemed like a gift. I felt like the universe owed me a solid. Obsessing about what I’d say to her allowed me to brush aside the fact that I was about to plant my mother in the ground.
When Delilah showed up at the funeral home, decked out in elegant slacks and a string of pearls, I barely recognized her. Her hair was board straight and she looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. It was her confident strut that gave her away. Some GQ businessman type with a butt chin was at her side, and had his hand permanently glued to her back.
I couldn’t even look in her direction during the service, but I couldn’t focus on anything else either. My anger bubbled until it was a rolling boil. I burned with shame and rage, and it took all of my self-control to keep from storming out and dragging Lilah along with me.
She showed up at the gathering at Mom’s house afterward, and I said things. Terrible things. I’ve blocked most of it out, but I’ll never forget her red-stained cheeks and bruised, angry eyes. Never one to take shit lying down, Lilah fired back with hateful words of her own, and that’s when I hurt her. I hadn’t planned to, hadn’t meant it, but none of that matters. Had I had my gun that night, I’d have put it in my mouth.
*
Cold water ricochets off the latest wet T-shirt contestant, dousing my overwhelming memories. Between my charged flashbacks and all the tits on stage, I drink way more than I should. By the time Dick and I finally pick a winner, I’m long past buzzed.
“We’re gonna need a cab.” My tongue feels oversized.
Dick shakes his head, his eyes still on the contestants. “We’re good. I called Delilah while you were settling the tab. She’s on her way.”
Shit.
Lilah. Here. And me, not operating on all cylinders. Considering the way I’ve been obsessing about her all night, it’s not just a recipe for disaster: it’s the entire fucking cookbook.
“Hey there, big boy.” Our winner strolls over and in an impressive display of flexibility, she straddles my chair.
“Hi.” I scan her spectacular rack, unsure how to remove her from my lap without touching her inappropriately. I’m not entirely sure I want to.
Somewhere nearby, Dick chuckles. The girl’s baby blues lift from my face and grow three sizes like there’s something terrifying behind me. I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Delilah.
“Are you riding with us or are you riding her home?” Lilah sounds like she doesn’t give a shit one way or the other, but I extract myself from the girl like she’s on fire.
“Is that your wife?” Wet T-shirt Champ whispers a lot louder than she probably meant to.
“Not even close,” I slur, and my eyes shift to Lie, hoping to witness the sting of my response. Lilah gives me a sardonic double thumbs-up, and her indifference leaves me reeling. By the time I claim my coat and down my beer, she and Dick are already halfway to the door. I catch up just in time to see Lilah gesture for the bartender. He looks her up and down and saunters in her direction with a slow grin.
Lilah moves in and gestures to him, like she’s going to whisper in his ear. Instead, she grips his hair with vigor, fixing him with a deadly glare.
“Serve my father again and I’ll staple your balls to that tree in town square.”
“Hey!” the bouncer bellows, charging in her direction. I step between him and Lie. Drunk or not, I could dismantle him in seconds. He freezes at the sight of me, clearly rethinking his career choice. I shake my head at the bouncer, confirmation that he doesn’t want to choose the path he’s considering.
“It’s cool,” the bartender calls out. He’s grinning ear to ear, even though Lilah still has a handful of his hair, and seems even more into her than before she turned on him. I can sympathize. Her brutality gets a real rise out of risk-takers, adrenaline junkies, and the criminally insane. Lilah releases him with a disdainful side-glance at the bouncer, which implies he was never a threat, with or without my interference.
I follow her out the door, and the cold air hits me hard, since my jeans are sopping wet from the tipsy contestant’s visit to my lap.
Lilah herds her dad in the direction of her parking spot, which is right next to mine. “Take your jacket off and sit on it. This is a rental.”
“She was on my lap, Lie, not my ass,” I fire back, pulling my laptop case and jump bag from my Jeep.
Lilah turns on her dad. “Do you always go out drinking without a designated driver?”
“God will provide, Delilah Anne,” Dick responds.
“Like he provided you an open tab tonight?” Lilah’s eyes slant in my direction.
“Lie…” I fall into the role of peacemaker out of habit. “He called you. If he hadn’t, I would have called a cab.”
“In True?” She pulls her chin back sharply. Her expression floods me with déjà vu.
“You two make a charming couple,” Dick observes at the top of his lungs, rattling me out of my wet daydream. “You’re perfect for each other. You should really give it another go.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.” Lie’s voice is flat. I feel my jaw buckle. I know Lilah’s sharpest edges, and can tell when she’s spoiling for a fight. I’m mellowed from drink and I’ll be damned if I’m getting pulled into her torrent.
“Don’t have kids, though. Kids ruin everything.”
“Wow, Dad.” Lilah’s affectless as she refuses to look my way. My adrenaline spikes, and I consider sleeping it off in my Jeep. I’m far too sober all of a sudden.
Dick looks serious. “Your mom and I would still be together if we never had you.”
Blanching, Lilah unceremoniously stuffs him into the passenger side, like a cop shoving a perp into her back seat. As she circles the SUV, her eyes flit to me, still standing by the back of the car, debating on whether or not to pull the rip cord. She comes around to open her door, and for a long moment, we wage a silent debate about whether to let what he just said incite a feud or just wave the white flag for the evening. A line appears between her eyebrows, and I realize she’s pleading with me to forget what Dick just said. I’m not sure if it’s the booze mellowing me or Mom’s words haunting me, but I’m in a forgiving mood.
As we pull onto the highway, Dick drones on about how Lu had never given him the time of day until one night when they’d left the bar together and ended up doing it in a lifeboat. I play third wheel during this private exchange, feeling like an involuntary voyeur. Understandably mortified, Lie tries to change the subject, but Dick’s oblivious. He raves about how LuAnn glowed on their wedding day, but they later found out it was because she was knocked up with Delilah.
“…and now she won’t even speak to me. I watch her every night through the bay window. She just sits in the living room staring at that damn map on the wall.”
“That’s not creepy at all,” Lilah blurts, and I laugh before I can stop myself.
“You’ll never find her, Delilah Anne,” Dick slurs, his eyelids heavy as I glimpse him in the rearview mirror. “Your mother…she doesn’t want to be found.”