Part 15 (1/2)

Pete stood on the curb and looked again at the letter Jackson had sent. The words were smudged from being carried in his jacket pocket, but he could make them out. The address on the page matched the one etched into a flat stone on the front of the tall brick building across the street.

Although he'd itched to come straight to his parents' apartment building upon arriving in Clayton yesterday, he'd carefully chosen today's mid-morning arrival. Since his pa worked from noon to eight, he'd be home in the morning. Plus, if he came during school hours, he could avoid subjecting his younger siblings to an altercation. No sense in getting innocent children involved in his differences with their folks.

After depositing Alice-Marie and Libby at Alice-Marie's parents' fine home yesterday afternoon, he and Bennett had rented a room in a cheap, run-down hotel on the riverfront. Bennett had slept soundly, his snore rattling the windows, but Pete lay awake far into the night, too nervous and restless to sleep. Antic.i.p.ation for the moment when he would confront his parents had robbed him of his sleep, but oddly he didn't feel tired this morning. He was ready.

Pete's pulse sped as he imagined his father slumped in a chair, drowsing away the hours prior to leaving for work, unaware that his oldest child planned to step back-albeit briefly-into his life. These last few hours of waiting had been the hardest.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, he stepped off the curb and crossed the street, his eyes traveling from the flat roof of the building to the cracked foundation. A slab of chipped concrete served as a porch. Two little boys with matching mops of blond hair sat on the edge of the slab, poking at a dead beetle with a stick. Frowning, Pete peeked at his pocket watch. Nine thirty. Why weren't these boys in school?

Uncertainty made him pause at the edge of the sidewalk. He'd counted on his parents being alone, no younger siblings underfoot tempting him to soften his words. Hardening his heart, he determined to proceed with his plan. He'd come too far to back out now. He'd ask his parents to send the youngsters outside for a while. If they refused, then he'd just have to shame Gunter and Berta in front of their other children.

Pete pushed the letter back into his pocket, smoothed the front of his suit jacket, and approached the concrete slab. Both boys looked up, fixing him with wary stares. Pete smiled at them. ”h.e.l.lo. Is there a school holiday today?”

For several seconds, neither boy spoke. Then the older one, who appeared to be nine or ten, set his chin at a challenging angle and peered at Pete through a fringe of heavy, unevenly cut bangs. ”You a copper?”

Pete chuckled. ”Me? No. Just a university student.”

”Didn't think so. Never saw a one-legged copper.”

The younger boy licked his chapped lips, his eyes pinned on Pete's peg leg. With his thick shock of blond hair and dirty face, he reminded Pete of himself at that age. The boy pointed at Pete's leg. ”That hurt?”

The phantom pain that never completely disappeared stabbed Pete with its presence, but he forced a smile. ”Not anymore.” The little boy's shoulders heaved in apparent relief, and Pete warmed toward the child. He repeated his earlier question. ”Did your school close for the day?”

The older boy crunched his lips to the side, as if determining whether or not to answer. Finally he gave his s.h.a.ggy head a quick shake. ”No. Just didn't go.”

”How come?”

The boy used the tip of the stick to flip the beetle onto its back. ”Didn't wanna.”

”Don't your folks send you?”

The younger one continued to stare at Pete with round, unblinking eyes. He wrapped his scrawny arms around himself.

Although they were well into autumn, the child was barefoot and had no jacket. Pete swallowed. Memories from the past-of being thrust into the cold without the protection of warm clothes or a full belly or even a tearful good-bye-stung. He rested his hand on his good knee and bent forward, smiling at the little boy.

”You cold?”

The boy nodded wordlessly.

”Why don't you go inside? Get warmed up?”

The child's eyes flitted to his brother. The older one replied. ”Ma told us to get. Pa's fractious today. Too much drinkin' last night. She'll call us when it's safe to come in.” The detached recital pierced Pete deep in his soul. Children shouldn't live like this.

Pete jerked upright. ”Well, your brother here needs a jacket and something on his feet. Don't you think you could go in and-”

”You sure you ain't a copper?” The older boy glared at Pete.

Pete looked directly into the boy's hostile face. ”I'm not a copper. My name is Pete Leidig.”

Both boys jolted, and the younger one's eyes flew wide. He grabbed his brother's arm and the stick went flying. ”Dennis! You hear him? His name's the same as ours. Marta used to say we had a brother named Pete, but I never believed her.” The child bounded to his feet, his hand curled over his brother's shoulder. He stared, awestruck, at Pete. ”Mister, are you really really Pete Leidig?” Pete Leidig?”

The older boy-Dennis-brushed the young one's hand from his shoulder and rose. He pressed protectively in front of the smaller boy, his skinny shoulders squared. ”Stay back, Lorenzo.” He growled the warning, and Lorenzo remained behind his brother, but he tipped sideways and peeked out with curious blue eyes. Dennis crossed his arms over his chest. ”If you're really Pete Leidig, then what's our folks' names?”

”My folks are Gunter and Berta. Who're yours?”

Lorenzo danced in place, tugging at Dennis's s.h.i.+rt. ”That's our folks, too! See? He is our brother, Dennis! He is!”

”Shut up, Lorenzo.” Dennis jabbed Lorenzo in the ribs with his elbow. The smaller boy yelped and fell silent. Dennis's eyes squinted into sullen slits. ”Why're you here? You never come before-not in our whole lives.”

Pete's chest ached. Anger, resentment, and an underlying fear s.h.i.+mmered in Dennis's eyes-emotions Pete understood all too well. A hardscrabble life had ingrained those emotions into the core of the boy's being, but none of those feeling belonged in a child's life. Why hadn't he sought out his siblings sooner? He might have been able to help . . . somehow.

Swallowing the bitter taste of regret, he said, ”I didn't come because I didn't live in Clayton. I lived in a town called Shay's Ford.”

Lorenzo rose up on tiptoe to peer over Dennis's shoulder. ”Why din'cha live with us?”

Dennis didn't hush his brother this time but looked at Pete expectantly.

Should Pete tell these boys how their father had sent him out to fend for himself? Knowing would only add to their insecurity. He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't tell the truth. Instead, he asked a question. ”Are your other brothers and sisters here, too?”

Lorenzo answered. ”Marta ain't-she's married. An' Oscar, he's gone, too. Ma don't know where. But Wendell an' Orel an' Elma live here. They went on to school, though.”

Pete figured Marta must be seventeen now. He only had vague memories of Oscar, Wendell, and Orel as runny-nosed toddlers. Elma had been just a newborn when he'd left. He tried to picture what they might look like now, but no images would form. The thought saddened him. He had siblings-seven of them-and they were all strangers to him. All because of Gunter and Berta Leidig's hardheartedness.

Lord, give me strength. Despite the fury stirring his middle, Pete managed to speak kindly. ”I need to talk to your folks. Can you take me to your apartment?” Despite the fury stirring his middle, Pete managed to speak kindly. ”I need to talk to your folks. Can you take me to your apartment?”

Lorenzo turned and darted for the doors, but Dennis reached out and grabbed for Lorenzo's s.h.i.+rt. ”We have to stay outside!”

A soft rip rip sounded. Lorenzo cried out, ”Oh no!” He examined his s.h.i.+rt, and tears filled his eyes. ”Look what you done, Dennis! sounded. Lorenzo cried out, ”Oh no!” He examined his s.h.i.+rt, and tears filled his eyes. ”Look what you done, Dennis!

Pa's gonna be so mad-he'll give me a whippin'!”

”Stop sniveling,” Dennis ordered, but he bit on the corner of his lips, his eyes reflecting fear.

Pete moved toward the younger boy. ”Let me see that, Lorenzo.” Pete examined the s.h.i.+rt and smiled. ”It's just a tear in the seam. This can be fixed easily. Don't worry.”

But neither boy looked rea.s.sured. One plump tear rolled down Lorenzo's face, leaving a clean track on his dusty cheek. ”Pa'll whip me for sure.”

Pete glanced toward the building. He had to visit his parents today; he needed to return to Chambers tomorrow.

But how could he leave the boys to face their father's wrath? He felt partially responsible for the damage done to Lorenzo's s.h.i.+rt. With a sigh, he curled his hand over Lorenzo's shoulder.

”Tell you what, partner. I know how to fix that s.h.i.+rt.”

Dennis squinted one eye. ”Men don't do st.i.tchin'.”

Pete laughed. ”Haven't you ever seen a tailor?”