This Place: Holmes Crossing Book 3 Page 13

  Now this.

  "I don't see how I can help. My parents can't, and Esther is still in school."

  Between his parents and Esther pressuring him to get involved with Celia, he felt like he was getting shoved into a place he had been fighting tooth and nail to stay far away from. He thought he would have been done after the birthday party, but apparently, it had only given Miriam a taste of what she might be able to expect from him.

  "I understand that you're busy and you have work," she continued. "And I'm truly sorry, but I can't do this on my own anymore. This is too much for me." The desperation in her voice created another surge of guilt. How could he be too busy to take care of his own niece?

  He dragged one hand over his face, trying to shut down the chattering in his brain.

  "Can you give me a day or two to figure something out?" Maybe he could talk to Esther. Have a family meeting. If they wanted him to take on the responsibility of Celia, they would have to help.

  "Of course. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have called you right away, but I needed to talk to someone." Was it his imagination or did he hear a break in her voice?

  He heard Celia calling in the background, and a flicker of pain licked at his soul.

  "It's okay,” he said. “I'll…I'll figure something out to get you some help."

  "Thanks. I should go. Jane is hungry." She released a light, wry laugh, which made him smile, but also raised other concerns about his niece's mental well being.

  "We’ll talk later," was all he could say, and then she ended the call.

  He slipped his cell phone in his pocket, looking once again at the map and all the work it represented. He thought of the sacrifices he'd made so Kimberly could have the life she wanted and so his father's legacy could carry on.

  And what was the point? His father was in a wheelchair because of this business, and his wife and daughter were gone.

  Stop clinging to what you don't need to carry.

  The door of the trailer opened, letting in another gust of chilly wind.

  "Problem solved," Les was saying. "It was a hydraulic fitting that blew loose."

  Duncan pulled himself into the present and the difficulties he had just been dealing with. "Thank goodness for small miracles," he said. "I thought we'd need to run in for parts, the way he was driving that thing."

  "So, what’s your problem?" Les asked, peeling his gloves off and tossing them aside as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “You’re grumpier than usual.”

  "I know. I'm sorry. I'll apologize to Anton in a minute." Duncan dropped into a chair and eased the kink in his neck.

  "No need. Guy needed a bit of an attitude adjustment, anyway. Doesn't hurt to put some fear into him. So, what was your important phone call about? Did our part for the generator come in?"

  "No. That was Miriam. She needed help with Celia."

  "So you're going, right?"

  "Are you kidding? There's no way I can go."

  "You should. She's seriously hot."

  "Stop talking like that."

  "Well, she is, and you should spend more time with her. You liked her once before, why not see where it goes this time? Besides, when's the last time you were on a date?" Then he snapped his fingers. "Wait, I know the answer to this one. Never."

  Duncan turned back to the map. "Near as I can figure, we'll be done this block by the end of the week. Maybe we'll get caught up by Christmas, if we can keep the guys motivated."

  "I don't know why you're pushing to get more production."

  "Skyline is talking about issuing a few more blocks. If we get done these, we can get first dibs on them." But even as he spoke he felt a clutch of futility.

  "And why would we want to do that? We're on tap to make more than we did last year, which is more than we made the year before." Les sat down across from Duncan, tilting the chair back on two legs. "What's your deal?"

  "You know what my deal is. I want to get the company debt paid down."

  "And then what?"

  "Just keep going." He had never thought too much past that. When he partnered with his father he discovered that his father wasn’t a very good manager and the company owed way too much money. But now that Duncan had taken over the operation, paying down the debt was a real possibility.

  If they could keep up the production at the levels Duncan had expected.

  Les rocked his chair back and forth, his gaze holding Duncan's.

  "You sound beat, man. What's going on?"

  Duncan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he swirled his coffee around the stained mug that held the words Sawdust is Man Glitter. He had gotten the mug from Les when he started working because, according to Les, everyone needed their own mug at coffee time.

  "Drank a lot of coffee out of this mug," he murmured, taking another sip of the lukewarm brew as he sidestepped the question.

  "Swapped a lot of stories, too."

  Duncan set the mug aside then he sighed, reality dropping on his shoulders like a stone. "You asked what's going on. Trouble is, I don't know. I'm tired. I don't know why I'm doing half of the things I do. I feel like I'm on some kind of hamster wheel. Working to keep my dad's business going, and I don't know why. I don't have a wife. I don't have a kid—" he stopped himself from going down that dark hole in time. "Seems pointless."

  For a moment, the only sound was the muted growl of equipment outside the trailer.

  "You know it’s only been a couple of weeks since your sister died," Les said, his voice quiet. "You haven't taken any time off. Not really."

  "I did on Friday."

  "Hardly a day off. Packing around a bunch of kids on a sleigh. That can't have been fun."

  Duncan thought of the few moments he had shared with Miriam that day. "I wouldn't say that," he muttered, setting his mug aside.

  "I think you need a break. Take a week. Just kick back. Things are going fine in spite of that fake deadline you've got us under. Maybe if you take some time off you won't be such a grouch." Though Les was smiling as he said the words, Duncan heard a veiled warning in his partner's voice.

  "I'm sorry. I know I've been touchy. I shouldn't have blown up at Anton like that."

  "You already apologized, and it's not that big a deal, but it's not you. You're not the cranky partner. That's my job. Look, you lost your sister and your brother-in-law, and I know there's a bunch of crap to deal with because of that. Take some time off. I’ve got things under control here."

  "I suppose I should catch up on the books," he said, pushing himself up from his chair.

  "And see if you can give this Miriam chick a hand," he said. "How hard can that be?"

  Harder than you think.

  “I’ll think on that.”

  Then Les got up and dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Just go. For Anton's sake, for Will's sake. For mine."

  Duncan chuckled at that, then nodded. "You're right. I need to give everyone else a break, too."

  He grabbed his mug and rinsed it out in the sink, setting it on the wooden shelf with the other mugs. And as he stepped out of the trailer he saw Anton's skidder driving out to the block. A bit slower than usual, so that was a plus.

  It would be okay, he told himself as he got into his truck. Everyone could manage without him for an afternoon. He’d talk to Miriam, but first he was stopping at the café.

  Then, as he drove away, he was surprised at the feeling of relief he felt. And, even more surprising, that the guilt he also felt wasn't even enough to stifle it.

  Chapter 10

  The smell of fresh Saskatoon pie wafted through the café as Duncan dropped into a chair by the window. The café was almost empty this time of the day, a fact that Duncan had been counting on. The only other customers were a couple of older women sitting in one of the far corners.

  Helen the other waitress was chatting them up, her hands planted on her ample hips, her grey bobbed hair swinging as she laughed at something one of them said.

  "Well, well, what br
ings you to town today?" Terra stopped by his table, dropping a laminated menu in front of him. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and with her black turtleneck and black pants, she looked more like an undertaker than a waitress.

  He didn't need to feel guilty at her question. Les had told him to take a breather, but old habits were hard to break.

  "I'm taking the afternoon off."

  Terra dropped her hand on her chest, her eyes going wide with fake shock. "What? Duncan Tiemstra is slacking off?"

  "I'll be doing books," he protested. "Later. I didn't have lunch, so I thought I'd come here."

  She gave him a patronizing nod. "Of course. Good choice. What will you have?"

  "Soup, grilled-cheese sandwich, and some of that pie for dessert."

  "We'll start with the soup and sandwich, and if you eat all your crusts, you can have some pie," she said with a smirk.

  "Thanks, Mom," he returned, cupping his chilled fingers around the mug of coffee, inhaling the comfort that floated through this café. It was like another home to him. He released his breath, as if shedding his edginess.

  The bells above the door jangled, and two older men came in, stamping snow off their boots and shedding their coats. One man wore fluorescent-orange suspenders, straining over a green shirt tucked into faded khakis. He looked like an escapee from a construction crew. His companion wore a priest's collar and dark slacks.

  Father Sam and Cor DeWindt. Jack’s father.

  Cor saw him, waved a greeting and headed directly toward him.

  "Hey, Duncan. How are you doing?" he asked.

  "I'm good."

  Cor looked directly at him, his expression one of disbelief. "Aren't you usually in the bush right about now?" Cor asked.

  Again, he had to push down the self-reproach. "I'm taking the afternoon off."

  "That's great. Good idea," Cor said, pulling the chair beside Duncan away from the table and dropping into it. "You work too hard."

  "Are you sure Duncan wants company?" Father Sam asked, hesitating.

  "Of course he does," Cor said. "Sit down. Maybe you can squeeze a confession out of him."

  "That's not how it works," Father Sam said with a wry note, as he did exactly what Cor suggested.

  "So, this has been a hard time for you," Cor said, folding his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. "Now, tell me how you are really doing."

  Duncan shrugged, weariness washing over him, and suddenly, he was tired of hiding and faking it. "I'm exhausted," was all he said.

  The door of the café opened again and Cor, with his indefatigable curiosity, turned to see who it was.

  Perfect, Duncan thought taking another sip of his coffee as Jack paused in the entrance, looking around. The gang was all here.

  "Over here," Cor called out, and with a quick nod of acknowledgment, Jack ambled over. His twill shirt and blue jeans showed that he was off-duty today. As he sat in a chair beside Duncan, Terra arrived with Duncan's lunch.

  "Hey, my dearest man," Terra said, dropping a quick kiss on Jack's lips before delivering Duncan's food. "Miss me already?"

  "Helen texted me that the Saskatoon pie was almost ready," he said, grinning up at her.

  "So it's all about the pie."

  "Only reason I married you."

  She flicked her hand over the back of his head, then turned to Father Sam and Cor. "The usual?"

  "Not if you're making Saskatoon pie. I'll have some of that, instead," Father Sam replied.

  "I'm sticking with lemon pie."

  "You old Calvinist you," Father Sam mumbled. "Torturing yourself with tartness."

  "What about your sugar levels?" Jack asked.

  "Stop fussing, you old hens." Cor shot them each a sharp look.

  Duncan grinned at the give-and-take, suddenly not minding the company.

  "You here because you had an equipment breakdown?" Jack asked, resting his elbows on the table, looking sideways at his friend.

  "Taking a break."

  Jack looked as surprised as Terra did.

  "What? A guy can't take a break from work?" Duncan asked.

  "A guy can, but that guy isn't often you," Jack returned. "But hey, this is a good thing. You should do this more often."

  "I did on Friday." Duncan shook some salt in his soup. "Took Celia and her friends for a ride in the sleigh. For her birthday."

  "That's good, too. You work too hard."

  "I don't work any harder than anyone else." Duncan didn't feel like rehashing the conversation he'd had with Les. He bent his head and started eating.

  "Actually, not true," Jack said. "You work in the bush all winter and then you hustle all summer with the cows and the haying."

  "I like the cows and the haying," Duncan muttered.

  "There's something idyllic about that," Father Sam put in. "I can understand."

  "Not much idyllic about logging," Cor added.

  "And you know this, how?" Father Sam asked.

  "I did it for one season. Noisy and busy, and too much equipment to break down. And you only have a few months to get everything done. No, thanks." Cor pointed to the fat, heavy flakes of snow gathering on the vehicles parked in front of the café and the sidewalk. "Plus, you have to deal with all of that. Every time it snows. And the cold and the hassles."

  "I sense you didn't enjoy your stint working in the bush," Father Sam said with a grin.

  "Not as much as I liked working for the VandeKeeres in the summer."

  Duncan finished his soup, while Father Sam and Cor discussed the merits of running cattle vs. logging and how hard it could be to do both. The casual dissection of his life sounded depressing.

  "What do you have planned for the rest of the day?" Jack asked as Duncan started in on his sandwich.

  Duncan thought of Miriam and her plea for help and pushed the thought aside. Later. He told her he would deal with it later.

  "I've some paperwork to do."

  "I thought you hired an accountant to do your books?"

  "I have to actually bring in the books for her to do them and I haven't had time to get the receipts and bills together."

  "So do that today."

  "I don't need more advice," he snapped then immediately felt bad. What was wrong with him?

  Cor and Father Sam stopped talking, glancing over at Jack and Duncan.

  "Sorry," he said, feeling really low. That was twice in one day. "Too much going on."

  "Of course there is," Cor said. "You've been pushing yourself way too hard the past few years."

  "I've just been working."

  "You've been going like a banshee ever since Kimberly died. It's like you've been trying to fill the emptiness in your life."

  "I don't think Duncan needs a psychoanalysis of his life, Dad," Jack warned.

  "Probably not," Cor said with a shrug. "But sometimes the truth needs to be told."

  "Maybe not in a coffee shop," Father Sam said. "With other people present."

  "You sound like you agree with him." Duncan turned to Father Sam.

  "You don't need my advice." Father Sam gave him a gentle smile. "But I can offer you my prayers. I think you've had some difficult things fall on your shoulders, the past while."

  Somehow his words hit him harder than Cor's admonitions did.

  "I'm thankful for the prayers," was all Duncan could say.

  "It's a small thing, but God knows what you need."

  "And speaking of what you need, now you've got your niece to take care of," Cor put in. "And I think that could be a good thing. Maybe help you get over the loss of your own little girl."

  "Dad. Seriously. Stop. Now." Jack's voice held a slight edge.

  "What? That's some big secret?"

  Jack gave Duncan an apologetic look and a shrug, as if telling Duncan that he had tried his best but it was out of his hands.

  "It's no big secret," Duncan agreed. "But I don't think taking care of Celia will help with…getting over what I lost."

  "Mayb
e not, but it could give you some purpose."

  "I have a purpose. I'm currently taking a break from it."

  "That's not a purpose," Cor snorted. "That's a burden, and I'm pretty sure you would agree, if you thought about it long enough."

  Jack sighed his frustration with his father, but a small part of Duncan, the part that slithered into his mind whenever work stress felt overwhelming, did have to agree. His work was a burden that grew with each loss in his life. And now, with his sister and brother-in-law gone, futility dug its relentless claws even deeper.

  "It keeps me busy," he muttered feeling like he had to make a last-ditch defense.

  Cor lowered his voice and leaned forward. "Trust me, my boy. You can't out-busy sorrow. Sometimes you need to face it."

  His words seeped into his soul, and the sorrow Cor accused him of outrunning crawled up his throat.

  Thankfully, Terra came at that moment with Cor and Father Sam's pie, and he had a momentary reprieve.

  "So Duncan, enjoying the company and the advice?" Terra asked, clearly not missing a beat, as Cor picked up a fork, thankfully now occupied.

  "It's…stimulating," was all he said, as he handed her his empty bowl and plate.

  "I'm sure it is. And I see you ate your crusts, so you get pie." She turned to her husband. "More coffee?"

  "Sounds good."

  "Coming up."

  The easy smiles they exchanged made Duncan envious of their easy relationship. He knew Terra had a hard past. But thankfully, she and Jack had found each other, and as Terra's hand gently and unobtrusively stroked Jack's arm, he wondered if he would ever find the same.

  "Boy, it's sure coming down out there," Terra said, glancing past them through the large, plate-glass window. Duncan glanced outside just as a woman and young girl hurried past.

  Then, the bells of the café jangled again, and he felt a mixture of guilt mingled with happiness when Miriam and Celia stepped inside.

  Miriam brushed the snow off her coat, flakes sticking to her thick, wavy hair. Her cheeks were an attractive pink, and her eyes bright. As she tugged Celia's toque off, the little girl's blonde curls bounced on her shoulder, her rosy cheeks enhanced by her red sweater. Celia held up Jane and Miriam removed her toque and coat as well, handing the doll back to Celia and stroking down the girl's mussed hair. She made it all look so easy and so natural, and when she gave Celia a warm smile, his heart constricted.