Wanting Something More. Kathy Love
he know who did it?”
Both Ellie and Abby shook their heads.
“No,” Abby said. “There aren’t even any suspects, as far as I know. And Nate doesn’t remember anything.”
Marty thought about that. “He is a police officer, and the truth is, not a very nice person. Both of those things could result in enemies. He must have some suspicions about who might have done it.”
“I’m sure if he has any enemies they were checked out,” Ellie said, her voice sounding almost indignant.
Marty became annoyed in return. “I don’t get what has come over everyone. You all know the kind of guy he is.” She turned to Abby. “He crashed your wedding, for God’s sake. And look at what he did to me in high school. That prank was not just a simple, impulsive joke. He thought that out. He planned it. He worked hard to win my trust. He convinced me that he liked me. Then he embarrassed me in front of the whole school. And forgive me if I seem callous, but I don’t find it difficult to believe that he did awful things to other people too. It sounds to me like someone else he hurt decided to fight back.”
Abby paled, and this time Marty didn’t think it was a result of her pregnancy. Ellie gaped at her.
“He was in a coma for nearly a week. It was a miracle he survived,” Ellie said, her usual mild tone downright stern.
Guilt tightened Marty’s chest. Marty would bet money he’d hurt lots of other people, but nothing merited that kind of attack. She pictured the angry, red scar that started at his temple and curved onto his cheek. A steel-toed boot, he’d said. Someone kicked him in the face—that was vicious. That was anger.
“Well, I am truly sorry that he was so badly hurt,” Marty said sincerely. “But as for this sudden transformation that he has suddenly undergone, I don’t buy it. People just do not change that much.”
“So are you going ice fishing with us on Saturday?” Sam Peck asked as he reached across the table and speared a large slab of steak from a plate in the middle of the table. Red juices splattered on the speckled Formica as he brought the meat to his own plate.
Nate watched his brother and grimaced slightly. He turned back to his own baked potato. “I don’t think so.”
Sam set down his fork with a noisy clatter. “Why not? You haven’t been out fishing with Dad and me all season.”
Nate sighed. “I just don’t feel like it.”
“Do you hear this?” Sam asked their father as he returned from the kitchen carrying two cans of beer. Wendell Peck, whom everyone called Dell, sat down, handed Sam a beer, and cracked open his own before he said, “Ayuh,” in his slow down-eastern drawl.
Nate watched as both men took a swallow of their beers. “Dad, is there more?” He gestured to the can his dad just set on the table.
His father nodded as he stuck his fork into one of the steaks. “I didn’t think you drank anymore.”
Nate frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“You don’t fish and you don’t eat meat. It only stands to reason you don’t drink beer,” Sam said.
“What?” Nate asked, both confused and annoyed. “Because I decided to become a vegetarian, I can’t have a beer?”
“Beer and steak. They just sort of go together,” his dad said in his very practical Maine drawl. He didn’t look up from sawing into his New York strip.
Nate cast a disbelieving look between his father and his brother.
Sam shrugged as if to say that their father did have a point and began to cut into his own steak.
Nate shook his head, then pushed up from the table and went into the kitchen to get his own beer.
This was exactly why he’d been trying to avoid his family as much as he could. Sam was impossible to avoid, since they worked together at the station, although to Sam’s credit, he did manage to keep things pretty professional there.
Of course, Nate was his boss there. Here at home, Nate was just his brother, and Sam didn’t feel the need to keep his opinions to himself. And though his father was less vocal, Nate knew that he shared Sam’s judgment: Nate had gone mad.
All because, after the attack, he’d decided to go vegetarian and he wasn’t interested in hunting and fishing. He wasn’t into a lot of stuff the old Nathaniel had been. But the changes hadn’t been Nate’s conscious choice, they just happened.
He cracked open his beer and took a drink. Now if he told his brother and father that, they’d really think he was a lunatic.
He took another sip, then sighed and headed back into the dining room.
Sam and his father were discussing where his father’s friend, Joe Miggs, had caught a huge bass just last week.
They stopped talking when he entered, as if Nate couldn’t even bear to hear about fishing.
“Keep talking,” he said and began to eat his baked potato.
Sam did, but the conversation was stilted. Finally, he gave up and turned to Nate. “Did you see Dr. Hall today?”
Nate nodded as he finished chewing his bite of green beans. “He thinks I’m doing too much on my knee, but otherwise I’m fine.”
Sam nodded, but Nate got the distinct feeling that wasn’t the answer he wanted.
There was silence.
“He didn’t say anything else?” Sam finally asked. “You know, about your memory loss.”
Nate knew Sam was curious about more than the memory loss. He wanted to know if Dr. Hall thought he had brain damage. After all, that was the only reason a person would stop eating meat.
“No. He doesn’t think the memory loss is an issue. It’s just a mild form of amnesia. The memories are there, I sometimes just need a cue to remember them.”
“So try the steak. Maybe you’ll remember you like that,” his father said matter-of-factly.
Nate set down his fork and turned toward his father. “Dad, why is the vegetarianism such an issue for you?” He glanced at his brother. “Both of you?”
For a moment Nate thought his father was going to simply continue to eat and ignore his question. Then slowly, he set down his fork and knife and pushed his plate away. He looked at Nate.
“It isn’t that you don’t eat meat.” He sighed, the sound weary. “It’s that when you were in the hospital, I thought I’d lost you. But then, thank God,” he reached over and touched Nate’s hand, “thank God, the doctors brought you back to us.”
Then he said slowly, “But you aren’t the Nathaniel that went into that hospital. You’ve changed, and in some ways, I feel like I still lost you.”
Nate looked at his dad, noticing the deep wrinkles around his eyes. Whiteness peppered his thick hair and bushy eyebrows. His blue eyes, so different than his sons’, looked tired. He appeared far older than his fifty-seven years.
It bothered Nate that he had added to his dad’s premature aging. Not only as an adolescent but now as an adult. His father had had a tough enough life. He didn’t need to be worrying about his adult son.
“Dad, I have changed.” He squeezed his father’s hand, and even that felt old, the skin rough, his fingers gnarled. “But I’d like to think it’s for the better. And that doesn’t mean I think fishing and hunting and eating meat are bad. It’s just not something I’m interested in anymore. I guess, being so close to death, I have a new respect for life.”
That explanation was the closest he’d come to telling his father and brother the truth. He wanted to tell them, but if they were having problems understanding him now…Well, they’d never accept the full story.