Double Concerto - 19. Libera Me

“So tell me again when you want to borrow my car?”

Rick stood at Caroline Lee’s door. He shivered. The morning sun on the far side of the house cast a deep shade where he stood. It would warm up plenty later on, but for now the air remained crisp and cool. The hour wasn’t too early for Rick’s neighbor. He knew she often rose with the sun. At the moment, Mrs. Lee smiled, but had not yet agreed to Rick’s request.

“If you can spare it, I need it this coming weekend. Saturday,” Rick replied.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe. This is the second time in just a few weeks.” Mrs. Lee frowned.

“I understand if you can’t.”

“You said you’ll be gone all day?”

“I think so. I don’t really know.”

“When is this concert?”

“Um, I think it’s kind of an all-day event. It’s not an actual concert. At least that’s what I was told.”

Mrs. Lee pressed her lips together. A robin sang in the yard, chirrup, cheerily, chirrup, cheerily, cheerily…

“And where are you going?” She asked at length.

“To a music festival in Daffodil. It’s over in La Grande County, about an hour away.”

“That’s quite a haul. I never knew you went to concerts and events like that, Rick.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to a concert or a play. For a while, he hadn’t been sure the invitation was still open; he’d left Gus in such a hurry at the bank. Rick was beset with worry. He feared his cowardly retreat from the appearance of Willy Kohler had ruined their budding friendship. But fortune, for reasons best left unquestioned, smiled on him, and he was still driving to the festival. Gus had called the shop, leaving a message to confirm their weekend expedition. Now Rick wanted to be prepared with a roomier vehicle than his truck, and a better plan.

“Well, um, this festival seems interesting.”

“More interesting than the concert at the Episcopal Church I asked you about last April, at least.” The old woman’s mouth wore the beginnings of a pout.

“I guess so.”

“I have to say, I can’t imagine Heinrich and Trudy wanting to go on this excursion. Doesn’t sound like their kind of thing. Or is it all because of Rita that you need the car?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Rick recoiled. The idea of taking Rita to an all-day affair like this made his stomach churn. “This is a trip with someone else completely. I’m going with different friends. They don’t have a car. Maybe you remember them? You met them on the Fourth. Gus Morales and the brother and sister he teaches.”

“Oh, Gus and Marta and my friend Joey!” Caroline’s face broke into a wide smile. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Yes. Them. Gus wants to go, and he asked if I –” Rick paused, trying not to say more than he should. On the phone, Gus seemed more worried than ever about imminent hostilities breaking out between the Takács siblings. “And I volunteered to drive, seeing as I know my way around. Anyway, I just thought it would be a tight fit in my truck.”

“Of course. If you want to borrow my car, that’s fine. I can do my errands on Friday, mostly. Could I ask you to make a stop for me in town today or tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Lee. Anything you like.” Rick made no attempt to hide the relief he felt. “And I’ll make sure the gas tank is full when I return it.”

“You always do, dear. I hope you have a wonderful time.”

He smiled and made to go. “I sure will. Thanks again, Mrs. Lee. I’d better be on my way.”

“You don’t want to keep Irene waiting,” she laughed.

 

There weren’t too many jobs on Irene’s calendar when Rick arrived.

“The day’s young, Rick. I’m sure there’ll be more calls.” Irene told him.

“Oh, let’s hope not. I was thinking about going fishing.” This was a complete lie. Rick was thinking about Gus and their upcoming day trip.

“Don’t tell your father that. He’s got other plans.”

Rick groaned. “So what’s the first item on the agenda?”

“There’s a cottage on Spruce Lake that needs the well pump serviced, and the water turned on. Then back to town for a pressure problem at…” Irene squinted at the page. “… four eighteen Crescent Street.”

“Okay. Don’t like the sound of that pressure problem.”

“Here’s a weird one – no name, no job – just some guy asking when you’re available for an appointment.”

Rick narrowed his eyes. A shadow seemed cast over the room. “He leave a number to call back?”

“Nope. Says he’s just an old acquaintance in town. Wants to catch up.”

Could it be Gus? No. He wouldn’t ask for an appointment. It’s got to be…SexyHunk. Willy Kohler.

“You know this guy?” Irene interrupted his thoughts.

“No. No clue who he is.” Rick resolved to get out of the shop as soon as he could, and stay gone for the remainder of the day.

“Well, before you get too involved in anything, you have to call what’s-her-name. She left you a message to call.”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “You mean Rita?”

“Of course, I do. What other customer’s name would I rather forget?”

“What does she want?”

“How should I know? She asked you to call as soon as you got in.”

Rick sighed and grabbed the phone. It seemed best just to get it over with.

Rita answered on the first ring. “Ricky! How are you?”

“Hiya, Rita. I’m fine. How about you?”

“Oh, just insanely busy, Ricky. I called because I had a teensy little question for you. If someone wanted some bulldozing and clearing work done, who would you call?”

Rick chewed this one over. Rita occasionally asked him questions on practical matters; this was a new one. “Just clearing a building lot, or doing some digging?”

“Probably both.”

“What kind of job is this?”

“I’m not ready to say yet. But it’s not a small one.” Rita’s voice took on the clipped, controlled tone he’d heard her use in business calls.

Rick ran his fingers through his hair. “There’s a couple of contractors you could call. Marv Rosberger right here in town does good work, and he’s fair. Carl Neurath can be kinda pricey, but he always leaves a site in perfect shape. When he’s done, the place is immaculate. Tomczak Brothers over in Meridian will tackle anything.”

“Are they cheaper?”

“Yes, usually. But you have to watch them, because they’ll take shortcuts and leave a mess behind.”

“Okay. Cheaper.” There was a pause on the other end of the line. Rita was taking notes. “Now, can they handle a big excavation job?”

“I think so. They bid on the high school project a few years back, but didn’t get it.”

“Who had the paving contract for that job?”

“Um, let me think a second.” Rick searched his memory. “I think it was Patternitti, out of Milwaukee. I remember there was a big stink because the contract wasn’t local. The School Board went with the cheapest bid, and they took a lot of heat for it.”

“Right. Patternitti. Cheapest bid.”

As she wrote, Rick wondered what she could be planning. When she resumed speaking, her voice had changed again. Rita was no longer the ruthless real estate queen of the North Country; instead she exuded charm. “Now, Ricky, I also called because although it was lovely of Heinrich to invite me to lunch with the two of you today, I’m going to have to beg off. I’m so sorry.” Her tone wasn’t entirely apologetic.

“Wait, lunch with me and Dad? Today?” Rick felt a slow burn beginning.

“Of course, silly. Really, you should put things on your calendar. Doesn’t that awful Irene woman do that for you?”

“And you can’t make it because –”

“I’ve had a really important client meeting come up today. I really have to be somewhere else at lunch. Work gets in the way. You understand.”

“Oh, yes, yes. I get it. No problem.” Missing out on lunch with Rita and his father was no skin off his nose.

“You can tell Heinrich I’ll have to take a rain check. Or maybe you and I can just have lunch together on our own, hmmm?” Rita’s throaty contralto dripped with suggestion.

“Hey Rita, I’ve got to run. Work gets in the way, like you said. I’ll be sure to tell Dad.” Boy, would he.

Rick put the phone down.

“What happened now?” Irene studied his face.

“She called to cancel a lunch date.”

“Didn’t know you had one.”

“Neither did I. Seems like Dad made one on my behalf.” Rick made a sour face.

“You want me to tell Heinrich for you?”

Rick sighed. “No, I ‘ll do it. I’ll call him over at Shunke’s later.” He took out his little, spiral notepad and added that call to his list.

 

Rick was happy to slide into his usual booth at Jahnke’s for lunch. Jerry Guttmacher was already there to greet him.

“Hey, Rico. Long morning?”

“Hoo, boy. You said it. How about you?”

“Can’t complain. The world of automotive service is a fast-paced, ever changing vista. What happened to you?”

“Took up most of the morning on a wild goose chase over on Crescent. Low pressure. I looked all over for leaks, wet spots, anything. Nothing. I was getting ready to start digging up the incoming water line.”

“Whoa, get ready to spend a couple of days on that.”

Rick grinned sheepishly. “Well, it’s a good thing I thought of something else first. Turns out the problem was in the valve in the basement.”

“What made you think of that?”

“I didn’t want to dig.”

“I always said you were a lazy bastard.” Jerry grinned.

“Speaking of bastards …” Rick brought himself up short.

“What? Which bastard?”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Come on, Rico. You know I won’t tell your secrets.”

Rick made a face. “It’s my Dad. He told me something yesterday, and it really bothered me.”

Jerry nodded but said nothing. The chatter and clatter of lunching diners filled the space between them.

“He said my Mom had wanted a vacation; had asked for it without actually coming out and begging.”

“And?”

“And Dad said once he figured out what Mom wanted, he strung her along, kept her talking; but all the while he knew he was going to put his foot down and tell her ‘no.’ Because he didn’t want to be bothered or spend the damn money.” Rick spat bitterly.

“That’s bad.” Jerry shook his head.

“I mean, you and Cheryl are going off to Hawaii this fall. Does the money matter that much?”

“You know I don’t give a crap about that. I’m just so glad to have her whole and getting healthy.”

“Exactly. You love your wife, and you want to celebrate what you two have while you have it. And my Dad …” Rick pressed his lips together.

“I remember your mom. She was a great lady.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was.” Rick blinked back a tear. “And my Dad is a cheap, controlling bastard.”

“Well, at least we know whose genes you got.”

Rick allowed himself a small smile as Wanda Jahnke arrived to take their orders. “Hiya boys, nice to see ya, what’ll you have for lunch?”

“Reuben special, with the fries, and a root beer,” replied Jerry.

“Same, but with the salad, no fries, and water,” added Rick.

“Coming right up.”

“No fries? A salad? Water?” Jerry expressed disbelief.

Rick looked away. “Just trying to eat a little better, okay?”

A knowing smile grew on Jerry’s face. This was more familiar territory. “Oh, I get it. Rita Baby told you to lose weight, huh?”

“No. I just… oh, I don’t know. Not sure I like what I see in the mirror.”

“Oh, come off it, Rico. You’ve got nothing to worry about there.”

Rick flushed. “Sorry I mentioned anything.”

“Remember, it’s Rita who’s chasing you, buddy. Don’t tell me it’s for your personality.”

“Very funny.”

“No, I’m serious. She’s the one who seems to want you. Doesn’t seem like the other way around to me. She must see something, even if you don’t. Not that you’ve ever been a guy to put yourself forward.”

Rick shrugged and inspected the advertisements on his paper placemat. He made no outward reply. It’s not Rita I’m worried about. Not that I can say anything about the real reason. No way.

“Hey, listen to me, buddy.” Jerry appealed softly. “I know Rita McKee isn’t your idea of perfect wife material, and, hell, I don’t blame you. I know your old man is being a pain in the ass about it. Sounds like he’s had lots of practice. Look, we’ve been friends a long, long time. I’m sorry if I’ve kidded you too much –”

“No, that’s not it,” Rick interrupted.

“Let me finish,” Jerry insisted. “I just want you to know I think you’d make a helluva husband. Someone’s gonna be damn lucky whenever they get around to finding you. You’re too good a man to stay on the shelf forever.”

“Quit your joking.”

“I’m not. Really. But if it isn’t going to be Rita, that’s fine by me.”

Rick wiped at his eye; something must have found its way in. He tried to chuckle. “Fine by me too.”

Their meals arrived. “Need anything else?” Wanda asked.

“Nope, thanks,” said Jerry.

Wanda turned to go.

Rick spoke up. “Um, Wanda? Could I get some house dressing?

The woman hesitated and frowned. “Oh, yeah, right. Sorry, I forgot.” She moved off.

“Hey, Jer, there was something I wanted to ask.”

His friend had his sandwich halfway to his mouth, but paused. “What?”

“I was wondering if you could spare Jared this Saturday.”

“You promise you’re not gonna stiff him again?” Jerry warned.

“Hey, that was my Dad’s doing, not mine.”

“I know the kid is counting on what he earns this summer for school. And Jared is a good guy.”

“I get that. I promise. Dad cancelled completely without my knowledge last week.”

“Okay, fine. You can borrow Jared. Whatever job it is you have to do, just make sure he’s back in one piece.”

“Thanks.” Rick took a bite of his sandwich. The rich taste of corned beef and cheese flooded his mouth, followed by the tang of sauerkraut.

“I’ll tell him to call you about it this afternoon,” Jerry said between mouthfuls.

“Okay.” He made no mention of what he had in mind.

“And tell Heinrich Senior that he doesn’t have to control absolutely everything.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Jeez. Tell me about it. Just today, I learned he’d made a lunch date for him and Rita and me.”

“Really? I’m honored you stood them up for me.” Jerry laughed.

“Sorry. I didn’t stand anyone up. Rita left a message this morning cancelling, thank God. She had some important client meeting.”

“Oh, is that what I saw?”

“What are you talking about?” Rick asked, confused.

“On my way over here, I passed her downtown, going into the Lorelei Restaurant. She had some guy in a suit on her arm.”

Rick frowned. Who’s her new beau?

“Beats me. You know someone tall, heavyset, with a bad comb-over?”

A chill ran up his spine. Willy Kohler. “Just half the Chamber of Commerce.” He tried to ward off he shiver with a joke.

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

“Could be anyone.”

“You don’t know the guy?” Jerry asked.

“I doubt it. Anyhow, business is business, and I’m not going to complain.” What does Rita want with Willy Kohler? And why should I care?

“I didn’t think so.” Jerry smirked.

 

Later that day, Rick stood under the shower, letting the water’s heat wash away his weariness. There was plenty of hot water, and multilevel jets delivered it with a vigor and authority not many other homeowners experienced.

Rita could probably point out where his house needed updating, but the bathrooms wouldn’t make that list.

Rick felt drained by his day’s labors and demands. It wouldn’t be too long before his brain simply yielded to exhaustion.

As the water cascaded over him, Rick pondered the power of memory and fantasy.

Willy Kohler was back in Eagle Lake. Or, at least, he had been for the last couple of days. Willy Kohler, who called himself ‘SexyHunk,’ and who somehow remembered him.

He felt sure in his identification of the man at the bank. It was his eyes – that fleeting, momentary connection across the lobby floor – which confirmed it for Rick. Those eyes belonged to the boy whose memory seared and cursed his soul, casting his darkness in a lurid glare of if only, if only, if only.

If only he’d been able to swim or waterski; if only he’d known how to drink whiskey or play pool; if only he could have made Willy smile at him. Those eyes had captivated, then discarded him.

If only he’d learned to be competent like Heinrich Senior. If only he had grown into the kind of son the old man wanted. If only he’d been good enough.

But he never had been good enough – not for Willy, not for his father, not for anyone.

At every critical point in his life, he’d chosen badly: to stay in Eagle Lake, to work in his father’s business, and to push his desires as far back into the darkest recesses of his mind as he could. Rick figured if the old-time farmers he’d heard stories about could handle it, he could too. Who knows, maybe he could have held his nose and dated Rita McKee in earnest.

That was ridiculous now.

Once upon a time, Rick would have endured any humiliation for the chance at a smile from Willy Kohler. Now, the man seemed to be pursuing him, and he couldn’t run away fast enough.

With just one smile, Gustavo Morales had broken open the long-locked cellars in his mind. Once again, yearning and fear stalked each other. He knew instinctively that fear would eventually tear his hopes apart.

Rick faced the spray and tried in vain to clear his mind. He knew that path in his brain led nowhere but down, down into a gulf of self-hatred. There wasn’t any sense dwelling on his own mistakes and cowardice.

His internal gaze shifted. He still had a hard time believing his own eyes. How could that worn-out husk of a man he’d seen at the bank really be the boy for whom he’d harbored a thousand fantasies? What had happened to the bronzed, blond-haired god of his youth? How much of his life had he wasted on Willy Kohler?

Rick’s right hand strayed down his body, handling his flaccid manhood.

Pictures from a summer long ago flashed through his mind.

Nothing.

Damn you, Willy Kohler.

His mind recalled a scene; he was on his knees on hard tile; the stench of urine in a seedy tavern’s bathroom permeating everything; an older guy in jeans and woodcutter’s boots fucking his face. He could hear “I Got Friends in Low Places” blaring through the cheap door. And all he could focus on were the words American Standard etched into fixtures behind the man he was blowing.

Damn you, Willy Kohler.

Again, his inner eye changed focus to a snug bungalow in Milwaukee; he was completely undressed and lying on a massage table. The voice of Marshall rang in his ears. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, honey, ask. We both know what you want, but you have to ask. Don’t you know that?”

Damn you, Willy Kohler.

He’d never had the courage to ask, or to be unafraid of who he really was, or what he really wanted. He could blame it all on bad luck or bad choices, but in the end, it boiled down to his own inadequacy.

But did it have to end that way? Would he soon be as used-up as Willy Kohler looked?

A memory of Gus, holding him as they descended Prospect Rock on College Hill entered his mind; one beautiful moment he could hold onto forever.

His cock stirred.

No, don’t ruin it by making it into something impossible.

His hand moved up and down his shaft.

He could still remember what Gus felt like, his scent compounded of spice and sun. What if he’d just picked Gus up and carried him down the path? What if he’d tried to kiss the man? What if Gus had kissed him back?

Rick closed his eyes and stroked himself, falling headlong into the fantasy.

He could feel Gus’s lithe frame in his embrace, and the muscles in his back and flanks. He could feel Gus’ hands pulling them together, those long fingers slipping under the hem of his old shirt. Gus would be enjoying this as much as he was; sinews tensed in pleasure.

He was hard now, and he jacked himself quickly, enthusiastically.

Rick imagined running his fingers through fine black hair and feeling the answering swell of desire as Gus ground into him.

Already, he was close.

In the vision, he felt Gus cling to him, kissing him hard.

“Please, Gus…” he whispered to the steam and hiss of the water falling.

What was he asking of the vision? Don’t let go? Love me? Rick’s brain failed at self-analysis; it hardly mattered.

His release was upon him, making him groan as he painted the shower wall four, five, six times.

Rick stood there, recovering as he panted, chest heaving. The vision had been vivid, and his orgasm as intense as he’d experienced in a long time.

If only.

Later, as he cleaned up the shower, Rick recalled something else. Gus had held his hand. Even if they hadn’t actually had a passionate encounter in the woods, that was something real. There had been no fantasy, and that small thing still warmed him.

What was it Jerry had said? Someone’s gonna be damn lucky whenever they get around to finding you. Rick didn’t know about anyone else, but he felt fortunate to stumble across Gus. Incredibly so.

He hung up his towel and washcloth.

Rick recalled the day before at the bank: Gus had smiled at him, making his day.

The memory of that moment nearly made him forget about his call to the shop. Even through the tinny speaker phone, the other man’s anxiety was plain to hear.

“Hello, Rick? Sorry to call you at work, but I didn’t know how else to get in touch. We’re still on for tomorrow, right? The way Marta and Joey fight, I’m going to have to hide the sharp knives if we’re not. . Can you pick us up early? You can call me at this number….”

Rick had returned the call right away, all relief and reassurance. He wondered what the event would be like. A bunch of orchestra concerts? Kids playing their strings badly? It hardly mattered. As long as Gus brought his smile, he could take any amount of screechy violins.

Rick discarded thoughts about Willy Kohler, about Rita, and whatever plans his father seemed intent on making for him.

All he remembered was Gus laughing about being a chaperone.

His face wore a wide grin. In that moment, he cared nothing for the past, neither his own mistakes, nor the hurts he’d had to bear. He wanted something better – to be someone better – than he ever imagined.

The hell with Willy Kohler.