Free Eagle River by Isabelle Kane Page A

Galen responded awkwardly. “I’m really sorry to bother you so early in the morning.”
    Solheim waited for Galen to continue, then said, “I was already up. Is there something that I can do for you this morning?”
    “I... I wanted to speak with Kjersten. Is she around?”
    Mr. Solheim’s face shifted, was troubled for a moment. “She’s already gone back to school. She left early this morning.”
    “Oh.” His heart sank. “I thought maybe she’d come home for the weekend.”
    “So did we. Apparently, she had to return earlier than she had originally planned. I’m sure that her mother will speak with her this evening, would you like her to deliver a message for you?”
    “No. That’s all right. Maybe I’ll give her a call or something.”
    Mr. Solheim retreated back over the threshold to the door. “It was good to see you, Galen. I understand that your college prospects are looking good.”
    “Thanks, sir. Well, yeah. I gotta get back. Thanks again.”
    “Good bye now.”
    Galen turned and walked back to his truck, opened the door and climbed in. Kjersten was already gone and I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. I was too late, again.
     
    * * * *
     
    The Court’n House bar and restaurant opened at noon on every Sunday. By twelve thirty, when the obligations of church and family breakfast had been satisfied, a decent crowd invariably formed to watch the afternoon’s sporting events.
    Sal moved slowly, decorously, like a reigning monarch through his hazy, smoke-filled domain. He greeted everyone assembled at the round tables by name, as he gracefully navigated his bulk around in such a way as to avoid blocking any view of the big screen.
    Ben shouldered his way to the end of the bar. “Sal?”
    “What can I do for you, Benny?”
    “Could I please use your phone for just a minute?”
    Sal went over and rummaged behind the bar again. He set a black touch tone out in front of Ben. “Here you go. You didn’t forget the rules, did ya, college boy?”
    “No long distance and under two minutes,” Ben recited. “I remember. Thanks.” He picked up the receiver and dialed the Odgers’ number.
    “Odgers.”
    “Hello?” Ben asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “Galen, it’s me. The Twins game starts in half an hour. Get over here.”
    “You’re shouting in my ear.”
    “Sorry. They have the pregame show blasting here.” Ben pressed his hand against his ear not pressed against the receiver.
    “I don’t know if I’m up for it today, Ben.”
    “Come on, Galen. Everyone’s here. You should stop by. I’m only going to be in town for a couple days.”
    There was silence for a long moment. “Okay. I gotta couple of chores to finish up then I’ll be over.”
    It was early in the third inning when Galen finally showed up at Sal’s. His buzz cut blond-brown hair was still damp from the shower. He wore a faded blue t-shirt on which the Copenhagen tobacco emblem had faded to almost a memory. His neatly pressed but washed out and patched Wranglers defined his long, muscled legs.
    “Glad you made it, Galen,” Ben commented when his friend appeared at the bar.
    “You could have saved me a seat.”
    “You know how it works.” Ben gestured to the men sitting on both sides of him. Both had pitchers of beer on the bar before them. “A root beer drinker doesn’t have much say here.”
    “Gotcha.” Galen leaned up against the bar.
    “Galen boy, we haven’t seen much of you lately,” Sal commented. “The only way I hear about what you’re doings is by talking to that brother of yours, or to one of his lady friends. What can I get you?” Sal’s ears and bald head were red and glowing from frequent trips to the kitchen and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal his hairy, black forearms.
    Galen’s face eased into the familiar crooked, wide, one dimpled grin that Ben remembered from their childhood but that had been scarce in recent months. “I could really use one of your Sunday specials with the