In My Father's Eyes (4 page)

Frustrated by Emily’s presumption, Harold looked for the mother and son only to find them exiting the store and sighed heavily. A few minutes later he was about to go looking for the girl and the elderly duo when he spotted them walking toward the counter.

“Mr. Villatieri will ring you up. The luggage will be delivered tomorrow.” Emily stopped and leaned against the glass countertop smiling broadly up at Harold. “Mr. and Mrs. Northcutt have decided on matching sets of the Bernard travel cases.” She flicked the sales ticket in her hand grinning triumphantly.

“Maude, Clyde,” Emily turned back to the happy couple, “I want to see pictures when you get back.” Two silver heads bobbed up and down assuring her that she would be the first one they called when they returned in the fall.

Planting a peck on Clyde’s cheek causing him to blush and giving Maude a gentle hug, Emily threw a victorious smile at Howard and made her way back into the stockroom to celebrate her first sale with Mathew and Roland.

Harold suppressed a chuckle and finished ringing up the substantial purchase for the couple who were obviously quite pleased with the girl.

After the pair left, Harold scooted into the back where an impromptu party was in progress. Mathew, the oldest, a distinguished sixty-three with salt and pepper hair, did a lively reel with Emily around the storeroom as Roland turned up the volume on the classic radio station and the sounds of Bobby Darin singing
Dream Lover
.

Spotting Harold, Roland held out a paper cup of sparkling clear liquid. “Mineral water,” Roland said at Harold’s questioning glance.

“Quite the saleswoman,” Roland continued, nodding at the dancing couple. “Those two geezers have been in here half a dozen times looking over every piece we have. Never thought they’d actually buy anything.”

Emily spun out of Mathew’s arms over to Roland, taking his cup she tossed it back, “That’s because you have no sense of romance, Rollie. They just needed to see the adventure awaiting them, rekindle the fires of passion in the Greek Isles, a shipboard romance to remind them of the way they were when they first started out. All they needed was a gentle nudge.”

Holding out her arms to Harold, “Dance, Bossman?” Emily tilted her head invitingly.

“Ummm. No.” Harold said putting his untouched drink on the table used for breaks and afternoon meals. “Congratulations on the sale. Now get back to work…all of you.” Harold left with stooped shoulders.

“What’s up his craw?” Emily asked.

Mathew and Roland exchanged a look. “Nothing to do with you, young lady,” Mathew assured patting her on the back. “Nothing at all.” Emily frowned as the older men left, leaving her to return to her duties in the stockroom.

In the weeks she’d been employed at the store, she’d become accustomed to Harold’s taciturn manner. He could be silent for hours, speaking only when a customer entered or some store need required his direction. But the look in his eyes as he left wasn’t merely his normal reticence; for an instant she’d seen his eyes darken with pain and sadness. The thought that she’d been the cause of it left her subdued for the remainder of the day.

Chapter Five

The bus was late. Emily hiked her feet up on the bench looking east trying to spy the telltale lights of the bus in the distance. Half past eight, the sun had sunk below the horizon. The streetlight over the bus stop came on and immediately drew a horde of moths flittering and flicking through the space over her head like cometary objects.

A four door sedan darted across the empty inside lane and came to a stop. Emily peered through the passenger window as it rolled down.

“On your way home?” Harold asked. Emily nodded. “Want a lift?”

“Sure.” Grabbing her bag she slid into the passenger seat. “What kind of music is that?” She questioned, buckling her belt.

“The best kind.” Harold said as the sounds of Frank Sinatra singing
The Lady is a Tramp
played at low volume. Harold pulled away from the curb. “I suppose you prefer death metal and alt rock?”

“What do you know about death metal?” Emily laughed.

“Hey,” Harold grinned, “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m clueless.”

“So you say,” Emily grinned at him. Twisting the volume knob, she turned up music. “This is pretty cool.” Her fingers snapping to the beat.

“That, my dear girl, is the definition of cool. Sinatra set the standard for cool before there was cool.”

“Sinatra who?”

“You can’t…you don’t…angghh,” Harold sputtered.

“Relax, Bossman,” Emily teased, “I’m just funning ya’ as you gerries say.”

“Gerries?” Harold said. “What in the world is a gerrie?”

“You know, geriatric.” Emily punched Harold’s shoulder lightly “Turn left here.” She added.”

“I thought you lived in Highland Woods?” Harold said, ignoring her jibe at his age.

“I do,” Emily answered. “But I want coffee.”

“You don’t have coffee at home?”

“Not like this. Besides, it’s early.”

“It’s almost 9:00. I’m usually home by 9:00.” Harold informed her.

“What happens at 9:00?”

“I turn into the exact same person.” Harold said.

“What?” Emily asked turning in her seat. “A joke, Bossman? Was that a joke? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Don’t act so surprised. I have a very well-developed sense of humor.” Harold said. “There are people who are still laughing at jokes I told them in college.”

“Ugh, college.” Emily grunted flopping back in her seat.

“What’s wrong with college? College is good. You should be in college.”

“You sound like my mother.” Emily groaned. “She’s been on me since freshman year. ‘
When are you going to pick a school, Emily?
’” The girl mocked. “
’Have you sent in your application, Emily? You have to work on your essay, Emily.
’ Agghh! It’s infuriating.”

“That’s what mothers are for,” Harold stated.

“Sure. Take her side. Turn here! Turn here!” Emily yelped, smacking Harold’s arm and pointing. Braking hard, Harold dodged into the strip mall, the car bouncing into the parking lot.

Looking around Harold could tell the strip mall had seen better days. A discount store occupied the corner. Next to it was a darkened pet store with a Final Days sign in the window that had been there long enough to begin peeling.

The only signs of life came from a black door at the far end where a trio leaned against the wall underneath a red light smoking cigarettes.

“There’s a coffee shop here?” Harold sounded uncertain.

“Sure. Right there.” Emily pointed. Harold followed her finger hoping in vain that it wasn’t directed toward the tattooed triumvirate only to be disappointed.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Oh, come on,” Emily huffed, opening the car door. “Don’t be such a gerry.”

“I am not a gerry!” Harold said loudly over the clunk of the door closing. “I’m not a gerry,” he muttered to himself killing the engine and following the teenager. His eyes peering into the shadows and dark corners of the lot.

The coffee shop wasn’t as bad as he anticipated, Harold had to admit. The interior was actually quite cozy. Sofas and coffee tables were arranged in the narrow space to provide informal seating areas. A lone waiter wearing black snaked his way around the overstuffed chairs delivering steaming wide-mouthed cups that gave off a rich, fragrant scent.

Sitting next to Emily on the couch, Harold smiled at the waiter.

“Here ya’ go,” The young man said, placing their order on the table. Everyone in the place wore a variety of piercings and tattoos.

Harold lifted his cup carefully and sipped. “This is where you hang out?”

“Yep,” Emily answered cradling her cup in her hands and leaning back into the sofa. Looking over at Harold, she asked, “So…are you planning on sleeping with me?”

Snorting, Harold spewed coffee from his nose. Hot liquid splattered onto his tie and coat. Grabbing a napkin, Harold dabbed at the stains, struggling for words. “That…that…wasn’t funny.” Emily grinned back.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He asked abruptly, standing up. Emily pointed to the rear and Harold stormed off still dabbing his tie.

He returned a minute later a scowl on his face, his tie damp.

“Do you think you can warn me next time you’re going to say something so outrageous?” He took his seat across from Emily.

“What’s so outrageous about it?”

“I’m old.” Harold said, picking up his half-empty cup of coffee. “Not ‘too old’…just old.”

“Don’t you think I’m attractive?” Emily fished, grinning at her boss.

“I think you’re young. Beyond that, I don’t consider the matter.” Harold set his cup back on the table. “Why are you hanging out here with me anyway? Don’t you have friends your own age you could be infuriating?”

Emily frowned and sat back on the couch. “I don’t have any friends.”

Harold paused at the sound of her voice, the unspoken loneliness in her tone. He remembered the times he’d spent alone on the street; nights rolled up in newspapers for warmth and the stony-eyes of passersby ignoring him on the sidewalk.

“Yes. You do.” He assured, patting her knee lightly. “Yes, you do.”

Chapter Six

Colin Connors brushed the dust off his palms, settled the blue tarp over the last of his boxes now piled high in the bed of his pickup, and ratcheted the tie downs holding all his possessions in place.

It was late morning and Colin was eager to be on the road. “Sam!” Colin shouted back at the house. Putting his tongue between his teeth, he let loose a piercing whistle. A moment later a blur of red-blonde fur bolted through the open door, bushy tail wagging furiously as the Golden Retriever raced around the truck and thumped into Colin’s chest.

Colin rubbed the sleek fur vigorously for a moment. Opening the truck door, he patted the bench seat, “In!” Sam vaulted onto the bench racing back and forth along the seat, his head popping out the passenger window before reappearing.

The screen door slapped shut and Colin looked up to see his mother…his aunt…he reminded himself, step out and make her way down the walk. Colin shut the truck door and met his mother at the curb, accepting her hug.

“I wish you weren’t moving so far away,” she said for the tenth time that morning. Colin took her hand from his stubble covered cheek and held it.

“I’m only a phone call away.” He assured. “And I’ll be back for Christmas anyway.” A cloud passed over her grey eyes and Colin hugged her again. “It’ll be fine, Mom.” He whispered into her ear feeling her arms squeeze him harder.

“Are you sure this is what you want,” she held him at arms’ length looking at this boy she raised into a man and still seeing the little knock-kneed kid who needed her to fix a scrape or chase away a nightmare. At twenty-two he’d grown into a tall man, sand colored hair curly like his mother’s, his father’s brown eyes, he was tanned by the California sun despite spending so many late nights in a laboratory.

Colin nodded. “It’s time. And it’s a good offer, a good grad school. I’m lucky to get in.”