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I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Okay.”
“We’d love to have you over for dinner someday,” he tried again.
I nodded. “Sure.”
“How’s Thursday?” Porter pushed the issue, giving me no room to maneuver.
“Sounds good,” I agreed. I wouldn’t mind seeing my sister again, and it didn’t seem like I had a choice.
“Don’t you want to know how she is?” Porter sat at his desk, fixing me with an accusatory stare.
“How is she?” I responded, meeting his gaze.
Now it was Porter’s turn to freeze up. He had chased me into a corner, and I hadn’t backed down. “Good,” he answered, turning away. “I want you to know, I’m taking good care of your sister.”
“Okay,” I responded. Gina could take care of herself. She always had. I didn’t feel any of the typical brother responsibility toward her and her life. I especially didn’t care who she took to bed. That was none of my business.
“Don’t you care?” Porter snapped, losing patience.
“Congratulations on the baby.” Now it was my turn to throw out an overused platitude.
Porter considered that and finally accepted it for what it was, an olive branch. “Okay, let’s talk about the job.”
He ran through a couple things that they were looking for and decided to start me as a driver. Being the boss’s kid and having a bum leg had its perks. They weren’t going to ask me to do any of the typical loading and unloading of lumber. I could make deliveries with the help of another guy, doing what I could and taking a break if I needed it. They offered me fifteen bucks an hour, which was better than most guys were making.
Beggars couldn’t be choosers. I wasn’t going to find anywhere else that would be so flexible. I thanked Porter and shook his hand again. If he thought I would warm up and submit to small talk, that was one thing I would never do. Still, the idea of seeing Aly again filled me with hope. Maybe I could think of something to say to her, and we could reminisce about old times. It was a longshot, but it gave me something to dream about.
6
ALY
Linc came downstairs alone. He paused at my desk, his eyes familiar and yet mysterious. There seemed to be a lot going on inside his head, but he said nothing. I watched him curiously, waiting for whatever dialog was going to erupt between us. It never came.
“Good to see you again,” he said and walked out the door.
I tried to go back to work, making a lame attempt to finish the email I was working on. It wasn’t helping. The words just sat there on the screen no matter how many times I tried to read them. Finally, I gave up and went upstairs to knock on Porter’s door.
“Come in,” he said.
I pushed the door open tentatively, about to cross all boundaries of professional behavior. “Tell me to go away or that it’s none of my business,” I began.
He waved me in, pointing to a chair. “He didn’t say much.”
“Is he going to take the job?”
Porter nodded. “He’s going to be a driver.”
“We have two drivers,” I objected.
“He’s gonna do what he can and take it easy until he heals completely.”
That was interesting. “Did he say anything about Gina?”
Porter sighed. “Not much. I can’t tell if he doesn’t care or if he’s got PTSD.”
“He was always that way,” I reminded him.
“I didn’t really know him,” Porter admitted.
