Back to McGuffey's by Liz Flaherty Page B

shop. Lucy collapsed at her feet. “She’s tired.” Kate leaned forward to ruffle the golden retriever’s fur. Ben thought if dogs could purr, that’s what Lucy would be doing.
    Without looking up, Kate said, “I thought maybe if we sat here for a little while, you’d want to talk about whatever’s really bothering you. We’ve already broken up, so it can’t be that. We’re doing pretty well with the friendship thing, so I don’t think it’s that, either. But something’s wrong.” She continued to stroke Lucy, her hands gentle on the old dog.
    He sat beside her, thinking if they weren’t looking at each other, he could stop himself from telling her. But he hadn’t reckoned on the feel of her arm against his, the warmth of her skin through her sweatpants where their thighs touched or the remembered certainty that anything he said or did was safe with her. But a promise was a promise. He couldn’t tell her what was on his mind, hurting his heart, making his knuckles white. He couldn’t—
    “It’s Pop.”
    “Tim?” She laid her free hand on Ben’s where he clutched the edge of the bench between them. “I noticed he looked tired. Is there more to it?”
    He chuckled, though there wasn’t any humor in the situation that he could see. “He’s had heart disease for years. There’ve been a few surgeries and he’s been on the transplant list. Mom’s taken great care of him when he hasn’t been well and they’ve chosen how they were going to live with the disease. Actually,
he’s
chosen and she’s made it possible. Patrick and I wanted him to retire five years ago. I’m sure you can imagine how that conversation went.”
    She laughed, and her fingers squeezed his. “I’ll bet it made the ones about your ponytail seem mild in comparison.”
    “Oh, heck, yes. There were even a few ‘don’t darken me doors’ tossed in there.”
    Her fingers, nervous now, squeezed his again. “Go on. Tell me about your dad.”
    “His heart disease has followed its natural course. He was on the transplant list, but the older he got and the worse his general health became, the less likely he was to receive a heart. He is at the point now that he probably wouldn’t survive the surgery. As he puts it, ‘me ticker’s winding down and the stem’s broken off the clock.’” Ben shook his head, finding relief in talking about his father.
    “Oh, no.” Horror flickered across Kate’s features. “What does Maeve have to say to that?”
    “She smacks him upside the head and starts singing to him. He sleeps a lot more than he used to, though, and every now and then, one of us will catch her just watching him and crying. You know Mom—she never lets anyone see her cry.” He fell silent for a minute, searching for equilibrium amongst all the thoughts of losing his father. “It’s hard.”
    Kate secured Lucy’s leash under her foot and turned to face Ben, putting her arms around him. Her cheek, damp with tears he hadn’t seen there, rested against his. She didn’t give him “buck up” pats or whisper soft shushes into his ear, but just held him.
    When she did speak, her words were brisk. “So, what can I do to help?”
    It never occurred to him to give her the standard answer:
Thanks anyway—we’ve got it covered.
She’d know he was lying, for one thing, and would be insulted for another. Her offer came without strings or drama. The least he could do was accept it. “Work at McGuffey’s sometimes if you’ve got the time? Morgan’s helping out on weekends. I’ve taken a partial leave—I’ll work in Boston one or two days a week. Dylan’s taking some kind of sabbatical to come and cook for the summer. Patrick’s contributing some vacation days here and there when he can and so is Morgan’s fiancé, Jon. Mandy’s been with them for years, but the other waitress finally retired. She’d probably be willing to help out, but her feet and her back can’t take it anymore.”
    “Yes.” Kate drew back,