Free A Dead Issue by John Evans Page A

him.”
    Again I was stunned. “Have you been spying on him?” I tried to keep my tone friendly, but the accusation was unmistakable.
    He grinned, mildly amused at that suggestion. “No, I hear things. One of the girls in human resources recognized him at the drive-thru.”
    â€œIf he looked like me, would you have hired him?” I asked. It was a deliberate probe. I wanted to see how deeply my father resented his wife’s son by another man. He deflected it.
    â€œI doubt it,” he said. “Dusty barely managed to stumble through high school.” He paused, possibly weighing the risk of his next comment. “I’d hire you if you came in.”
    Well, there it was. The elephant had joined us at the table and there was no way either of us could ignore it. My resolve to be independent was crumbling under the weight of problems so vast I could barely comprehend them. Freedom had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning.
    There was an uneasy moment as my father stared at me. I saw concern in his eyes as if he shared my discomfort.
    â€œThis isn’t going well,” he said almost to himself. “I’m sorry.” He paused. “I didn’t want to go down that road.” He swirled the olive in his martini and stared into the glass. “You want your own life. I’m OK with that. It’s a dead issue. It’s done.”
    I thought of Jonah. Some dead issues were never done.
    My father sipped at his drink and looked up from the glass.
    â€œI didn’t invite you here to rehash all that.” He shifted forward in his chair. “I wanted to share some good news, and to ask a favor.” He smiled and we were silent as the tension ebbed. I thought of a new Mrs. Cameron, a best man, and a ring bearer.
    â€œI’m this close to landing a considerable contract with Caterpillar,” he began, holding an inch of air between thumb and forefinger. “They want Cameron Industries to cast parts for them. It means millions.” He paused to allow that to sink in. “It also means that I’m going to have to spend a lot of time in Chicago hammering out some details.” The waiter brought our food and my father waited until he left before continuing. “I need help,” he said and looked directly at me, letting me know that the help he needed was mine to give.
    â€œI’m offering you a job,” and he paused, searching my face, gauging my reaction before continuing. I tried not to show any emotion. “I’m not talking about working at Cameron Industries,” he said. “I’m talking about outdoor work like you did for Jonah—lawn work, general maintenance, security.”
    I held my poker face.
    â€œI want you to care for the house while I’m away—outdoors, no time clock. You can keep your apartment, but I’d like you to stay there at night. You can have your old room in the Crow’s Nest or move into the Farmhouse. I don’t care. Any way you’d like it. I’ll even pay your rent for your apartment so you can move back when I return.”
    He stopped and looked at me. “Have I rambled enough?”
    I nodded and gave him a smile.
    â€œI’ll pay you a good salary—with an advance. You can use any car you want—treat it as your own.”
    He stopped and folded his hands on the table and leaned forward, pleading for a reaction.
    â€œWhat’s the catch?” I asked.
    â€œNo catch, no strings. Look,” he said, trying to be as earnest as possible. “I need you. I trust you. You are my son. Someone else watches the house, they’ll rip me off. All I need is someone to oversee the place. You really won’t have that much to do. The cleaning service and lawn service are all taken care of. All you have to do is be a presence there. Let them know you’re watching. You have the Cameron name. People will respect that.”
    He paused and renewed his smile.