The Handyman's Dream (17 page)

He opened the passenger door and boosted Josh up to the seat. Then he went around to the other side and got in. Fortunately his own keys were in his pocket. He started the truck and jacked up the heater.

“We’ll just sit here a minute while I figure out what to do.”

“Can we go someplace?” Josh asked, apparently unconcerned about his sister in the house. “I don’t think I’ve ever ridden in a pickup truck before.”

“Maybe later,” Ed said, hoping to shut him up.

He turned the radio on. Barbra Streisand wailed through the speakers, telling them that she was a “Woman in Love.”

“Do tell, Babs,” Ed muttered.

He tried to think. Josh was happily exploring the glove compartment. He pulled out an Indiana highway map and promptly unfolded it. Ed glanced at him, wondering if the kid was any better at map folding than he was. He was pretty sure all the windows in the house would be shut and locked. These big-city types, he thought. No one else in Porterfield ever bothered to lock anything. He knew the storm windows were on, too, because Rick had told him about putting them on several weeks ago. He thought about trying to reason with Jane, but rejected it. He remembered that no amount of reasoning had appealed to Laurie at that age. He could break a window and crawl in, but wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of explaining to Claire why she had a broken window on a cold day. Ed would replace it, of course, but still . . .

He suddenly felt his back pocket to see if his wallet was there. Yes, it was. He opened it and took out his Shell credit card, remembering something he’d once seen on television. He looked over at Josh, who, it turned out, was no better at map folding than Ed was.

“Josh, I want you to wait here for a minute. I’m going to go check on Jane.”

“Okay,” he muttered, messing with the map.

Ed walked over to the front door and looked in. Jane was still on the sofa, but she was ignoring the TV in favor of the purloined comic books. He hurried into the garage, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Josh was still in the truck. He studied the door to the kitchen. Sure enough, it was relatively flimsy, with a simple, inside door lock on it. He squatted so the knob was at eye level. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he slid his credit card between the door and the doorjamb, wiggling it against the lock. It had worked on TV, so maybe it would work for him.

“Are you gonna break the door down?” Josh suddenly asked from behind. Ed, startled, fell over, dropping the credit card.

“I thought I told you to wait in the truck,” he snapped.

“I wanna see what you’re doing.” Josh picked up the credit card. “What’s that?”

Ed looked at the boy for a moment. “It’s a supersecret handyman’s tool,” he finally said. “It’s so supersecret that only handymen are allowed to have them and to use them.” Okay, so someday the kid would find out he lied. He’d worry about that later. “I’m going to use it to open the door.”

“Neat,” said Josh, his eyes open wide.

Ed slid the card back in. It took some work and some silent cursing, but he finally managed to open the door. His Shell card was rather mangled, and he figured he’d catch hell the next time he tried to use it. “Whew,” he sighed, walking into the kitchen, Josh behind him. He sat down on a kitchen chair in relief while Josh ran into the living room.

“Hey, gimme back those comic books.”

“Not until you give me my bear!”

“Ed, make her give me my comic books.”

Ed closed his eyes, suddenly remembering that his truck was still running. Making sure the door was wide open, he ran outside and shut it off. He came back to find Jane hitting Josh with one of the comic books.

“Hey!” Ed clapped his hands. “Who’s up for a game of Candy Land?”

* * * * *

Claire and Rick came home several hours later to find Josh on the sofa reading his comic books, while Ed, Jane, and her bear were sprawled on the floor, involved with their sixth game of Candy Land. Ed was once again stuck in the Molasses Swamp, much to Jane’s delight. Jane, at Ed’s insistence, had given the comic books back to Josh when Josh remembered that he had hidden her bear in the dryer.

“Well,” Rick said, taking in the scene. “Looks like it’s been a quiet afternoon around here.”

Josh ran over to him. “Ed locked us out of the house, and I got to sit in his truck, and then he broke open the kitchen door. Boy, he’s neat!”

“Hmm,” said Rick, “would that have anything to do with this?” He held up Ed’s battered Shell credit card. “I found this on the kitchen floor.”

Ed was about to defend himself when Jane socked him on the arm.

“Your turn.”

Ed drew a card, a yellow one.

“Ha! Still stuck,” she gloated.

“So you like Uncle Ed, huh?” Rick picked Josh up and swung him around. Claire snuck by with several bags she was obviously going to hide. “Teaching my nephew how to break and enter,” Rick said to Ed, grinning mischievously. “Some babysitter you are.”

Ed tried to glare back at him, but ended up grinning as well. “So did you bring the pizza or what? We’re all hungry.”

Judy arrived shortly thereafter with two covered plates of cookies, one for her family and one for Ed, whose plate consisted entirely of heavily iced Christmas trees. At the sight of pizza, the children suspended all earlier fights to happily devour their share of a Gino’s extra pepperoni special.

Watching Rick with the kids, Ed felt his shame from earlier in the week return. Rick was wonderful with them and would make a terrific father, Ed thought rather wistfully. Ed had never given the idea of fatherhood much thought, but seeing Rick gently encourage Jane to finish her pizza slice before she attacked the cookies, he wondered what it would be like to have a little Rick or a little Ed running around. The idea of two men having a child was rather radical, so he reluctantly dismissed it from his mind. Rick caught his eye across the table and grinned. Ed couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing.

“Ed, I hope you’ll take some of the leftovers home with you,” Claire said, carrying plates to the sink.

“Oh, sure,” he said. “I’m the king of leftovers. Just ask my mom.”

“We can have it for lunch tomorrow,” Rick said, smiling at Ed, who was pleased to know Rick planned on returning home with him for the night.

“Are you staying over at Ed’s house again?” Josh asked, wiping away a milk mustache.

“Yeah. I’m trying to think of a way to steal all of his records,” Rick whispered to Josh, mischievous grin in place.

Judy looked up at this information. “Do you have a lot of records?” she asked Ed, bright-eyed.

“I sure do. Some of them are kinda old, but if you want, you can come over sometime and see if there are any you like. We’ll have a record party, like we used to do in school.”

“Cool,” Judy said. “Can I bring mine over, too?”

“Sure. That’s what a record party is all about.” A thought occurred to Ed, and he turned to Josh. “Hey, Josh, does it bother you when Uncle Rick spends the night away from your room?”

“No,” Josh answered, flipping a pepperoni at Jane, who promptly flipped it back. “He snores a lot.”

“Really?” Ed marveled, looking at though he was learning something new.

“Yeah. It’s okay when I fall asleep first, but some nights I have to hit him with my pillow so he’ll stop.”

Ed chuckled as Rick sighed in disgust.

“Well, I’d change it, if I could,” Rick said, looking into Ed’s eyes.

Ed sensed the double meaning behind Rick’s words. “Well,” he said, as Jane crawled into his lap, demanding a Candy Land rematch, “if all we have to worry about is a little snoring, then I guess we’re all pretty lucky.”

As Ed allowed Jane to drag him back to the Candy Land board, he looked back at Rick, who mouthed “I love you” to him. Ed smiled at Rick, thinking he was luckier than any of them knew.

Chapter Eleven

Rick was making his usual early afternoon rest stop at Ed’s house. Unusually, though, they weren’t kissing, fondling, or teasing. They were just standing, arms around each other, listening to the stereo as Ed’s scratchy 45 of “Ticket to Ride” played. It was December 9, 1980, and like millions around the world, Ed and Rick were in shock after hearing the news that John Lennon had been murdered the night before.

“It’s so sad,” Ed said quietly, holding on to Rick. “I mean, I was never a huge Beatles fan or anything, not like some of the kids I knew back then. But I always liked them, always thought John was cool, especially all the peace stuff he did. I just can’t believe some nutcase would shoot him.”

Rick nodded silently. Suddenly he smiled. “Remember seeing them on Ed Sullivan for the first time?”

Ed chuckled. “Oh, yes. You should have heard what my mom had to say that night.”

The record changer clicked and another 45 dropped into place. “Revolution” began to play.

Rick’s smiled dimmed. “All that talk. All that protesting. I don’t think this damned world has changed a bit. It’s still fucked.” He sighed, hugging Ed to him. “Oh, well. At least one thing is going right. I happen to be in love with the cutest handyman in Porterfield, Indiana, and he’s in love with me. Or at least I think he is.” Rick looked at Ed, almost grinning.

Ed kissed him. “He is. Crazy mixed-up in love.”

They both fell silent. The tragedy had taken all the fun out of their daily banter.

“Well,” Rick finally said, sighing. “Back to work. You busy this afternoon?”

“Yeah.” Ed reluctantly let go of Rick. “I’m installing the Rinkenbergers’ new water heater, something I’ve never done before. If you hear an explosion coming from Oak Street, it’s probably me.”

“Be careful. I don’t want you blown to bits now that I have you.” Rick lifted his mailbag from the floor. He groaned, pulling the bag over his shoulder. “Damned Christmas mail. And it’s only the ninth.”

“Well, then, you be careful, too. I may need you for some cheering up later.’

“Okay, okay,” Rick said, adjusting the heavy bag. “I’ll call you later. Maybe we can get together, have a toast to John, play some more Beatles records, and . . .” He trailed off and appeared to think for a moment. “I know. Then we can make love, not war, in honor of John. How do you like that?”

Ed smiled. “I like that very much.”

“Good. It’s a date.” With one last kiss for Ed, Rick was on his way.

* * * * *

That evening, Ed relaxed with a beer on the sofa, while his old Beatles 45s played once again. He congratulated himself on his successful installation of the water heater, and mentally reviewed all the jobs he had lined up before Christmas. He was pleased to realize he’d have enough extra cash to buy something really nice for Rick. He didn’t want to go overboard—it hadn’t been two months yet—but he did want to get something to show how happy he was these days. He was contemplating and rejecting various ideas when the phone rang. He reached for it, assuming it would be Rick.

“Ed? It’s Claire. We’ve got a bit of a problem. Rick threw his back out on his route today. He’s been to my family doctor, who gave him some medication and told him to get several days’ bed rest.”

“Oh, no! Is he in a lot of pain?”

“Well, enough to make him a handful, if you know what I mean. He’s always been a big baby when he’s sick,” she said—rather impatiently, Ed thought. “The thing is, between my job, the kids, and all their Christmas stuff starting, I can’t really do much for him right now. And you know he shares that tiny bedroom with Josh. I was wondering if you would be willing to put him up at your place for a few days. I think”—Ed could hear a smile in her voice—“that he might get the attention he wants with you.”

Wow! A chance to have Rick all to himself. Of course, he wasn’t in very good shape, but still . . .

“Sure, I’ll take care of him. Do you want me to come over and get him?”

“Oh, would you?” Claire said, sounding relieved. “I’ll pack a bag with some of his stuff. Ed, I really appreciate this. First you babysit my kids, now my brother. I’m going to make sure Santa Claus knows about you.”

“It’s no problem, really. I’ll come over after I’ve grabbed something to eat. Has he had his supper yet?”

“Yes. All four of my kids have been fed. Oh, and, Ed, one tip from someone who’s been there. I’d suggest you stop off at the IGA on your way over here for some butter pecan ice cream. He always asks for it when he’s sick in bed. I blame our mother. She always gave it to us when we were kids.”

“Butter pecan ice cream,” Ed repeated. “Hmm. Okay. I can do that. I’ll be over in, say, forty-five minutes.”

He hung up with Claire, excited by the change of events. He and Rick were actually going to be living together. Even though this was only temporary, Ed hoped it might give him an idea of what living with Rick would be like. They hadn’t discussed it very much. Both being rather practical, they had more or less agreed that any talk of cohabitation would wait until they had known each other a good deal longer. Still, Ed thought, there’s nothing wrong with a trial run.

Ed made and ate a sandwich, then inspected his house, imagining that both he and Rick were living in it together. Ed had bought the small forties-era bungalow for a good price several years earlier. He was no decorator, but he’d been able to create a warm, cozy environment with things he’d acquired over the years.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor, remembering his grand plans for running the plumbing upstairs someday and creating a master bedroom suite. He’d pretty much given up on the idea until Rick appeared in his life, but he was beginning to think about it again, along with even grander plans for a bigger house of their own. He stood, hands on hips, looking the place over, letting his imagination run wild. The phone rang, and Ed, shaking himself back to reality, ran down to answer it.

“Ed? It’s your mother.” Norma barked her usual greeting.

“Hey, Mom.” He wondered how his mother always managed to time her calls for when he had something better to do.

“Ed, you’ve got to talk to that sister of yours. She seems to think we should have Christmas dinner at her place this year. She seems to think that the children would have more fun there, with all of their Christmas things. Why, what does she think? That I won’t have presents for them under my tree? And I hate to mention it, but you know she just can’t roast a turkey as good as me. I don’t want to bring up Thanksgiving, but—”

“Mom,” Ed interrupted. “I’d love to talk Christmas, and I promise to talk to Laurie, but I really need to get going. I promised Claire I’d come over and help out with Rick. He hurt his back at work today.”

“What? Hurt his back! After all these years of carrying mail, doesn’t he know how to take care of himself? Honestly.”

“Well, he did. It was probably all that Christmas mail. Anyway, I’m going to bring him over here so he can rest for a few days.”

“Ed Stephens,” Norma hollered over the phone. “Have you lost your mind? You call that sister of his right back and tell her you’ve changed your mind.”

“Mom, why would I want to do that?”

“The very idea, taking care of a man with a bad back. Why, my father had a bad back, and I swear it took five years off your grandmother’s life! Oh, he was just awful, I tell you. Whining. Complaining. Ordering her around. I’m surprised she didn’t go after him with her iron skillet. You know, the one I use for fried chicken? Oh, I could just see her walloping him upside the head with that thing, visions of myself being an orphan when they hauled her off to prison. You just call Claire Romanowski right back and say you realize you’re coming down with the flu and you can’t take care of him.”

“Mom, I can’t lie. And besides, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, I have raised a fool,” Norma moaned. “Here I thought I was going to get you married off so I didn’t have to worry about you anymore, and you do this. After a few days of his carrying on you’ll never want to see him again. Ed, stick him in a nursing home for a week.”

“Mom-m-m-m, I can’t do that. A nursing home? Are you crazy?”

“Not as crazy as you are. You mark my words, young man. A man with a bad back is the devil himself.”

“I can’t imagine Rick being like that.”

“They’re all like that,” Norma said darkly.

“Well, I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

“You certainly will. Don’t come running to me, asking to borrow that skillet either. Get your own.”

“Mom, I really should get going. They’re waiting on me,” Ed said, glancing at his watch.

“Oh, go then. You’ll see. Neither you nor your sister ever listen to me. Honestly, why do I bother? Humph. Well, I’d better be going, too. I might as well go out and return Rick’s Christmas present. I won’t have any use for it after this week is through. You two won’t be speaking to each other.”

Ed hung up the phone, shaking his head. His mother exaggerated everything, he thought. He didn’t expect Rick to be his usual sunny self, of course, but he couldn’t picture Rick being the monster Norma predicted either. He grabbed his coat and keys. First stop, the store, he thought. I hope to hell they have some butter pecan.

* * * * *

Ed entered Claire’s house through the front door, noticing that the doorknob he’d installed that past Saturday was working fine. Rick was stretched out on the sofa under a blanket, while Judy was sitting in front of the TV, engrossed in The Newlywed Game. The rest of the family was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, there,” Ed said softly to Rick.

“Hey,” said Rick, weakly smiling at Ed.

“These people are so dumb,” Judy remarked, glancing up at Ed. “I wouldn’t go on this show until I made sure I knew everything about my husband.”

“That’s the point, Judy,” Rick said impatiently. “They’re newlyweds. They haven’t had time to learn everything about their spouses.”

Judy shrugged. “Well, I still say it’s not worth looking dumb on TV just for a washer and dryer.”

Rick sighed and rolled his eyes at Ed. “I hate this show.”

Ed, who’d always enjoyed it, didn’t respond. Claire appeared from the kitchen, Josh and Jane in tow.

“Hi, Ed,” she said. “The Red Cross has come to the rescue. I’ve got Rick’s bag packed. Now all we have to do is get him into his coat and out to your truck.”

“How long is Uncle Rick going to be at your house?” Josh asked Ed.

“I’m not sure,” Ed said to him. “I guess it depends on how long it takes for his back to feel better. But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I just wondered.” Josh looked up at Ed seriously. “And I just wanted to remind you that he snores. A lot.”

Ed was beginning to wonder if Josh was more insightful than the grown-ups gave him credit for. As Ed reached to pick up the overnight bag, Jane came over and grabbed his arm.

“Let’s play Candy Land again.”

“Not tonight, Jane,” Claire said, helping Rick to a sitting position. “Ed needs to take Uncle Rick over to his nice, quiet house for some rest. And you have to get ready for bed.”

“Humph,” Jane snorted, marching down the hall toward the room she shared with Judy.

With some help from Ed, Claire put Rick’s slippers on his feet, then pulled his coat over an old flannel shirt. Ed looked doubtfully at the pajama bottoms Rick was wearing.

“Don’t you think you might get a little cold?”

“I’ll live,” he grumbled. “We’re just going across town, not to Siberia. Don’t you have the heat on in the truck?”

“Of course,” Ed said, stooping to pick up the overnight bag.

“Well, then, I’ll be fine!”

Claire and Ed led Rick down the front steps and over to the truck in the driveway. Ed stowed the bag next to the toolbox behind his seat, while Claire helped Rick into the truck.

“Now, you behave,” she warned Rick, slamming the door.

With some effort, Rick rolled the window down partway. “Oh, for God’s sake. Okay, I’m a little cranky. You would be, too, if your back hurt this much, but I’m not gonna take it out on Ed.”

“See that you don’t,” she said, giving him a level-eyed stare.

Ed started the truck, leaned over Rick, and called out the window, “I’m sure we’ll be just fine. A little TLC, and we’ll have our boy back handing out Christmas cards again in no time.”

Claire looked rather doubtful, but managed a smile. “Okay. Thanks again, Ed. Call me if you need anything.”

“Bye,” Ed called, as he backed out of the driveway.

Once they were on their way, Rick leaned his head back and heaved a big sigh. “Thanks, baby, for all of this. I love those kids, but they were about to drive me crazy. Claire too. She means well, but she treats me like one of the kids when something like this happens.” He glanced at Ed. “I’d much rather be with you.”

Ed reached for Rick’s hand. “I don’t know how good of a nurse I am, but I’ll do my best.”

Rick squeezed Ed’s hand. “I’m sure your best is probably better than I deserve. But could we make a stop on the way? I’d just about kill for some butter pecan ice cream.”

Ed smiled. “That’s already been taken care of.”