Once he was in the bookstore, he was in no great hurry. He’d choose with care. He took a few books off the shelf and sat in a leather chair, carefully looking at the cover, copy, binding, first pages.
Someone on the other side of the shelf was fanning pages, sighing and grunting a lot. It sounded like a man who couldn’t get comfortable. But there was something a little familiar about the sounds. Cal left his short stack of books on the table beside his chair and walked around the double-wide shelf. Sitting in the corner, a couple of thick, oversize softcover reference books on his lap, Tom Canaday groaned again and rubbed his head.
Cal chuckled. “One of the kids forget to do a report or something?”
Tom looked up. “They’re all out of school, man. Well, Zach’s got some summer school because he won’t pay attention and he gets behind.” He looked down at the books in his lap. One was about lawsuits and the other—Colorado laws. “I got issues.”
“Need a hand?”
Tom had a pained expression on his face. “I can’t talk about it,” he said. “The kids don’t know anything about this and I can’t tell ’em.”
“Okay.”
“My folks don’t know anything about this. No one knows anything. No one can know.”
Cal sat on the thick table in front of Tom and lifted a book. “Legal issues, Tom?”
He sighed heavily. He looked like maybe he was going to cry.
“Maybe I can help?”
“I don’t think so, Cal.”
“Two heads are better than one,” he said. “I know how to keep a confidence.”
“I don’t know.”
“Whatever it is, you think there’s a book on it?”
Tom nodded. “I got a workbook on divorce in here. But what I need... I don’t know...”
“I’m a whiz at the library,” Cal said. “If there’s a book to help you solve your problem, I can find it for you.”
“You won’t say anything to anyone?”
“It’s in the vault. Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”
They walked down the street and around the block off the main drag to a diner the locals favored. While they walked, Tom talked.
“My ex-wife, Becky, she’s in trouble. Bad trouble. I don’t know where to start. I think I should start by telling you about us. Me. Maybe I should tell you about me.
“One of the problems with growing up in a small town, some of us just don’t think big enough. My dad had a small ranch. I played football in high school and helped my dad and the idea of growing into that ranch worked for me. I had a serious crush on Becky, who was a year younger, but I was planning to go to college and we were going to get married after. But being the genius I am, I got her pregnant. My dad’s real old-fashioned, he told me to quit school, get a job or two, marry her and sleep in the bed I made.
“Getting married, even though we were way too young and it was way too hard, that wasn’t so bad. We lived in my folks’ basement for a year or so, then we rented part of a house from a widow and it was pretty awful so I fixed it up until it was pretty darn nice. By the time Jackson was a year old the folks had come around and my dad and brother helped me fix up the house. In fact, I bet they paid for as many materials as I did. So, life was okay—I worked a lot, but I had good jobs. I drove a trash truck for a few years—dirty job but damn, the county pays good and the benefits are great. Then I started driving the plow and that pays great.
“We had Nikki and were a real content little family just barely old enough to vote. Then, after that there were a couple of accidents—Brenda and Zach. I don’t know if it was me or four kids or just the natural order of things, but when Zach was about four, Becky had had enough. She wanted a life. Can’t say I blame her. Four kids and a husband who works all the time—not much of a life.”
Someone on the other side of the shelf was fanning pages, sighing and grunting a lot. It sounded like a man who couldn’t get comfortable. But there was something a little familiar about the sounds. Cal left his short stack of books on the table beside his chair and walked around the double-wide shelf. Sitting in the corner, a couple of thick, oversize softcover reference books on his lap, Tom Canaday groaned again and rubbed his head.
Cal chuckled. “One of the kids forget to do a report or something?”
Tom looked up. “They’re all out of school, man. Well, Zach’s got some summer school because he won’t pay attention and he gets behind.” He looked down at the books in his lap. One was about lawsuits and the other—Colorado laws. “I got issues.”
“Need a hand?”
Tom had a pained expression on his face. “I can’t talk about it,” he said. “The kids don’t know anything about this and I can’t tell ’em.”
“Okay.”
“My folks don’t know anything about this. No one knows anything. No one can know.”
Cal sat on the thick table in front of Tom and lifted a book. “Legal issues, Tom?”
He sighed heavily. He looked like maybe he was going to cry.
“Maybe I can help?”
“I don’t think so, Cal.”
“Two heads are better than one,” he said. “I know how to keep a confidence.”
“I don’t know.”
“Whatever it is, you think there’s a book on it?”
Tom nodded. “I got a workbook on divorce in here. But what I need... I don’t know...”
“I’m a whiz at the library,” Cal said. “If there’s a book to help you solve your problem, I can find it for you.”
“You won’t say anything to anyone?”
“It’s in the vault. Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”
They walked down the street and around the block off the main drag to a diner the locals favored. While they walked, Tom talked.
“My ex-wife, Becky, she’s in trouble. Bad trouble. I don’t know where to start. I think I should start by telling you about us. Me. Maybe I should tell you about me.
“One of the problems with growing up in a small town, some of us just don’t think big enough. My dad had a small ranch. I played football in high school and helped my dad and the idea of growing into that ranch worked for me. I had a serious crush on Becky, who was a year younger, but I was planning to go to college and we were going to get married after. But being the genius I am, I got her pregnant. My dad’s real old-fashioned, he told me to quit school, get a job or two, marry her and sleep in the bed I made.
“Getting married, even though we were way too young and it was way too hard, that wasn’t so bad. We lived in my folks’ basement for a year or so, then we rented part of a house from a widow and it was pretty awful so I fixed it up until it was pretty darn nice. By the time Jackson was a year old the folks had come around and my dad and brother helped me fix up the house. In fact, I bet they paid for as many materials as I did. So, life was okay—I worked a lot, but I had good jobs. I drove a trash truck for a few years—dirty job but damn, the county pays good and the benefits are great. Then I started driving the plow and that pays great.
“We had Nikki and were a real content little family just barely old enough to vote. Then, after that there were a couple of accidents—Brenda and Zach. I don’t know if it was me or four kids or just the natural order of things, but when Zach was about four, Becky had had enough. She wanted a life. Can’t say I blame her. Four kids and a husband who works all the time—not much of a life.”
