Gin Palace 02 - The Bone Orchard

I knew for her that maybe this meant things were different now.
    As I looked at her I noticed that she didn’t really look any different from last summer, except for what she wore and maybe her hair, which was longer now and thicker and maybe even darker; it was hard to tell in the dim light of that room. She had traded in her half-shirts and cut-off shorts for a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. I was a little relieved to see so little of her now. She had fallen into the habit last summer of forgetting to close the door when she dressed or showered.
    I looked away from her and saw a wool pea coat on the chair by the door to my apartment. There was a comfort in knowing that it was there, in knowing that the only thing she needed to grab on her way out was already right there beside the door.
    “Who just left, Tina?”
    “Lizzie.”
    “Do you know what time it is?”
    “Almost two. How do you feel?”
    “Like shit all over.”
    “I’m making you tea. It should be ready soon.”
    “Thanks.” I opened my mouth to tell her that she should really leave now, but she cut me off fast.
    “Mac, what’s going on,” she said. “What were you and my father doing out there in that field tonight? Is he in trouble again?”
    “He’s not in trouble. There was an accident. We stopped to help, that’s all.”
    There were times back when she was staying with me that I would forget that she was a kid, times when I would think that her looks would easily unclose me, when I would forget in the middle of a conversation that I was twice her age or that the apartment we were in was mine. She was almost my height now, with lanky arms and legs, and gray eyes that shone even in the dimmest light. It was hard to get away from her stare, and when she folded her long arms across her stomach, you knew something was troubling her, you knew something was on her mind, and she had come to talk. There wasn’t as far as I knew a question she was afraid to ask. Augie joked that she had probably been an interrogator of some skill in one past life or another. I could see that. But I really think it came from her having to pull every little thing out of her work-obsessed father that she could get.
    Her arms now were folded tight across her flat stomach, and her eyes held mine decisively. I just stared back. I could see the worry behind her eyes.
    “Is my father working again?”
    I nodded. “Yeah.” There was no point that I could see in keeping the truth from her.
    “For that Frank Gannon guy?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Are you working for him again?”
    “No.”
    “Why were you there? I mean, if you’re not working for Frank Gannon, why were you there?”
    I shrugged. “Keeping your father company, I guess.”
    “He pushes himself too far, you know that. He shouldn’t be working.”
    “Cane or no cane, he can take care of himself, Tina. I don’t doubt that now.”
    “I’m not so convinced.”
    “Give him time to prove himself.”
    “I want you to talk him out of working again, Mac.”
    “I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. You know how he is.”
    She turned her head then, breaking the stare, and looked toward the row of windows at the front of my living room.
    “It’s not fair,” she said, “that I have to sit around and worry about him when he’s out doing things he should be smart enough not to do. I’m his daughter, not his wife. It’s not fair that he does this to me. I’m not sure I can take it much longer.”
    “He’s only doing surveillance work. It’s not dangerous. Frank is concerned about him, too. He won’t give your father anything your father can’t handle.”
    “You don’t get it, Mac. I’m afraid.”
    “Of what?”
    “I’m afraid that there’s going to be trouble, like last time.”
    “Last time was different, you know that.”
    She shrugged once. “Maybe it was, but you said it yourself, you go around poking your nose in other people’s lives long enough and you get trouble. I don’t want my father bringing it home again. I don’t want it finding me in my bed one night. The only good night’s sleep I get now is when I’m over at Lizzie’s house. You don’t know how many times I wanted to just come over here and sleep on your couch. You don’t know how many times I ran through in my mind your reaction to coming home and finding me here. Sometimes you were happy to see me, but most of the time I knew the reaction I’d really get is pretty much the reaction I’m getting from