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“Nope,” Elmer continued. He tossed a scrap of cardboard into the trash. “I’ll be the last Pearce to have worked this land. Once I’m gone and my ashes are scattered out under my wife’s favorite tree, Michael can do what he wants. Keep it or sell it, won’t matter to me. He’ll have a hell of an auction with all my stuff, believe you me.”
Between the things in the barn, the antiques in the house, and all of Elmer’s art, Josiah didn’t doubt there was money to be made with an estate auction, but he hated to think about such a hypothetical future. Elmer was larger than life, even from his hospital bed, and Josiah couldn’t imagine a world without him and his jigsaw puzzles in it.
“Money is nice,” Josiah said softly, “but I’d bet every dollar I have that Michael would rather have you around than that cash in his pocket. Even if he can’t say so himself.”
Elmer met his gaze then, his deep-set eyes surrounded by wrinkles and laugh lines and other etchings of time and experience. He didn’t speak for a long time, then shrugged. “Even so.” He tossed another hex key into the donate box. “Can’t leave too much of a mess behind. No sir.”
Unsure if he’d been of any use to Elmer this afternoon, Josiah let the subject drop and returned to helping Elmer sort his toolbox.
Josiah woke Saturday morning with squirrels chasing each other around in his stomach, and he lay in bed for a while, staring up at the trailer’s ceiling, willing his racing nerves to calm down. He wasn’t nervous about the picnic itself. He’d attended the last two years (always with Seamus), and he knew most folks in town. Most of his day would be spent assisting Elmer at his welding booth, so he wouldn’t have to walk around and mingle. Their food contributions for the picnic were ready and waiting in the fridge.
No, his mild panic was over possibly seeing Seamus again for the first time since being kicked out of his house. They’d had no contact of any sort, not a phone call, text, or passing by each other on the rare occasion Josiah wandered into town for groceries. In most ways, Josiah was glad for it; he never wanted to see Seamus again if he could help it.
In other ways, it made him nervous. Seamus wasn’t the type to easily forgive a grudge, and Josiah still didn’t know why he’d been kicked out. He was still waiting for that other invisible shoe to drop and scare the piss out of him.
Speaking of piss, his aching bladder roused him from bed. He did his business and took a quick shower in the cramped space, then forced down a piece of toast with peanut butter on it. No coffee, because he was jittery enough this morning. When he left the trailer, Michael was already outside loading Elmer’s requested equipment into the bed of his pickup. His warm smile and cheerful “Good morning” did nothing to quell the squirrels still doing battle in Josiah’s stomach. But he did feel a touch safer, knowing Michael would be around all day.
Despite sharing a beer on the porch last night, Josiah hadn’t brought up Thursday night’s conversation with Elmer about the future of the Pearce land. It wasn’t his place to interfere in the relationship between father and son, and Josiah didn’t want to influence Michael’s decision about his future. Michael had to do what was best for himself, and if what was best took him away from Weston again, then so be it.
It would hurt, but Josiah would survive. He always did. He bent and occasionally broke, but he’d yet to be completely destroyed by the actions of others. He’d survive this misplaced crush on Michael Pearce.
Elmer was sitting on the side of his bed and keeping his balance well. His progress with standing for several seconds and easily transferring from bed to wheelchair to toilet pleased Josiah like crazy. He had a lot of work left before he could take the stairs up to his actual bedroom, but tomorrow’s plan was to convert the downstairs den into a bedroom for Elmer. His queen mattress was too big for the space already somewhat crowded with a desk, two bookcases, and various storage boxes full of stuff that wasn’t Josiah’s business.
Michael had located a new twin-sized mattress and bed frame at a thrift store forty minutes from town, and he was driving out tomorrow to pick it up. Once they were sure the room was set, Josiah would call about having the hospital bed picked up and removed from the house. It would open up the living room again, and also give Elmer more space to maneuver around in the wheelchair. Giving him the independence of a private bedroom again would help his mental state, too, and that was just as important to recovery as the physical.
“Morning,” Josiah said. “You have breakfast yet?”
“Yeah, had oatmeal earlier,” Elmer replied. “Barely slept all night, so I was up early. Michael, too. You?”
“I didn’t sleep much either. Had some toast. I don’t want to eat too much with all the good food that’ll be at the picnic.”
“A man after my own stomach. Say, uh...” Elmer frowned and tilted his head to one side. “They gonna have a handicap port-a-pot at this shindig? Don’t see us both fittin’ into a regular one if I gotta go.”
“I’m not sure, but I called the pastor and he gave us permission to use the church’s bathroom if you have to go.” Thankfully, the Baptist church had a ramp, and Elmer was unlikely to be the day’s only guest in need of handicapped facilities.
“Good thinking, son.”
They did Elmer’s morning exercises while they waited for Michael. Once everyone was ready to go, they got Elmer into the passenger seat of Josiah’s car—it was easier to get him in and out of it—and stowed the wheelchair in the pickup. Josiah packed the two cold salads in a cooler bag for the trip, and he put that in his car’s back seat. After double-checking that he had enough bottles of water and Elmer’s medications, Josiah and Elmer hit the road with Michael following behind.
The Founder’s Day Picnic location was easy to find, and not just because it was the first church on this way into town. A huge banner hung across Main Street, welcoming locals to the celebration, as well as marking it the one-hundred-fifty-seventh anniversary of breaking ground on the first official building, which was the big brick building on the corner of Main and Filbert (their only stoplight intersection) that housed the post office and bank. Streamers and balloons hung off light poles, mailboxes, and other surfaces in a more over-the-top way than even the July Fourth celebration.
A burly man in a yellow vest directed them into a field by the church, where they could park. Michael pulled in right beside them. They weren’t too far from where the booths were ready to be constructed. Some folks went all out with banners and borders, while others just put out a tablecloth and their stuff. They were somewhere in the middle, with a bright red tablecloth and a cardboard sign on an easel Michael had borrowed from the high school art room.
Pushing Elmer over the grass wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, especially with a big cooler strapped to his shoulder, but Josiah managed. At least he wasn’t hauling equipment like Michael. After conferring with an organizer, Josiah left Elmer behind his designated table and dropped off the cold salads with the ladies in charge of the picnic buffet. After a bit of deliberation, Josiah had put together green chili hominy and vinegar-based slaw, hoping his own spin on the flavors set his apart if someone else did a similar dish.
Not that he was all that vain about his cooking, but nobody wanted to look like a copycat. Especially when half the people in town would be gossiping about the food for at least a week after.
They were four tables away from the Woods Ranch display, which was on the end of the row. A good thing, too, since they had erected a pen of rope and steel poles to protect the young cow they’d brought along to show off. Josiah caught Hugo’s eye and waved; Hugo waved back. Townsfolk milled around, already browsing the booths as they were being set up. Quite a few came over simply to see how Elmer was doing, since the only people who’d seen him in the last month-plus were the few who’d bothered to stop by and visit.
A small stage had been erected at the north end of the pavilion, and at ten on the dot, the mayor stepped up to the microphone and welcomed everyone to the Founder’s Day Picnic. His voice boomed across the field, thanks to several speakers on all sides of the pavilion—a weeklong Revival Camp was held there every summer so the place was wired to be heard—and the crowd listened while he droned on about the first settlers in this area, the founding of the town itself, blah, blah.
Same story, different year, but the little kids seemed to eat it up. Or they were just excited the festivities had begun and they’d be able to eat soon. The long tables set up for food were covered with dozens of dishes, and the scent wafting over helped ease Josiah’s stomach away from angry squirrels and closer to hungry hippos.
Elmer’s booth proved popular with the young and preteen kids, boys and girls, probably because of the propane tank and torch. He’d brought one finished ornament, several in progress, and a small tray of various parts as examples of the raw materials he sculpted with. Josiah hung close without crowding him, proud of how engaged Elmer was with the kids, while also aware of his fatigue levels. He didn’t want Elmer too exhausted to enjoy lunch.
The scent of grilling burgers and other meat made Josiah’s mouth water, and he found himself consistently checking the time on his phone, counting down the time to eat. At eleven-fifty, he glanced up from his phone and right into the last face he wanted to see today: Seamus McBride’s.
Seamus stood about twenty feet away in full uniform, with a male stranger by his side. About Josiah’s age, the stranger had jet-black hair and the kind of sharp gaze that reminded Josiah of a hawk. They weren’t touching, but there was an air of possessiveness about the stranger that raised Josiah’s hackles. Not that he had any claim on Seamus now or ever, but it still weirded him out. Seamus watched him, his expression kind of bland, before blinking and looking away.
