The Far End of Happy by Kathryn Craft Read Free Book Online Page A

who wanted in on any project Jeff undertook. Jeff had given him a small tool belt, complete with junior-size tools. When Will donned his work goggles, he was a mini version of his dad.
    “Did he ever hit you?” the policeman asked Will.
    “Oh no, he’s a great dad,” Will said. “He’d make up soccer games with me in the side yard.” Tucked up against the ceiling, above his head, was an old mirror ball. So many ways of looking at any one thing. Will spun this singular moment of connection as if he and Jeff had played together all the time. She wasn’t sure if Jeff had ever done anything one-on-one with Andrew.
    The admiration in Will’s voice clawed at Ronnie. Once— once —he had made up a soccer game with Will. Jeff should have spent much more time with his sons. He’d have to, once the divorce went through and he was granted visitation rights. That was one of the reasons why, six weeks ago, Ronnie had chanced leaving the boys alone with him one weekend. Jeff had to see that he’d need his own relationship with the boys; Ronnie fostering one on his behalf could no longer work.
    She wanted Jeff to benefit from relationships with their children the same way she had. At least that’s what she told herself to try to ease her distress over the fact that she had left her precious children alone with a man who just weeks later would arm himself and stand off against local and state police. Thank god, thank god they’d been all right when she got home.
    And this morning she had almost sent her children out to him, again. What the hell had she been thinking?
    When Ronnie sat back down, Mr. Eshbach, waddling with his bowlegged gait, wound his way between tables and chairs to join her. His compact stature had suited him well for tucking into the tight spaces required of a plumber. Although retired, he still dressed each day in the navy short-sleeved shirt and navy pants that he would have worn to work. His clothesline suggested he owned seven sets. Jeff’s closet was filled with the black pants and white short-sleeved shirts required of his work too. What clothes would fill his closet once the farm store took off and his life at the hotel ended?
    If he lived beyond life at the hotel.
    Mr. Eshbach pulled out a chair and sat with a long sigh, more emotional expression than she’d ever before heard from the man. Their interactions were mostly limited to waves from the car and incidental meetings at the mailbox, although now that they had the farm store, she did know he had a weakness for beets. His features seemed carved into stone, as if a smile would require heavy lifting.
    “I gave my statement,” he said. “I could leave, but they won’t let me go back to my home just now, and I have nowhere else to go.”
    “I am so sorry you got caught up in this.”
    Mr. Eshbach let silence stretch between them. She’d heard he’d lost his wife years ago, before Ronnie moved in. She wondered what the two of them might have talked about.
    “What can you do,” he concluded, as if they had worked something through. His voice dropped at the end, shutting out all possibility for companionable exchange.
    His silence was an empty bowl Ronnie longed to fill. “We’re getting a divorce,” she blurted. He nodded. After a moment, she added, “The boys and I will be the ones moving out, as soon as we find a place, but for now it’ll be Jeff. So you’ll know. If you don’t see him.” He nodded. “Thing is, I love so many things about my life. It’s the drinking. If he’d just quit.” The words marched out of her mouth until their complete inappropriateness formed a clump in the air.
    Ronnie would make a terrible secret agent. Even sixty seconds of silence was enough torture to get her to spill secrets.
    It was the same way eight weeks ago, when years of questions, months of waffling, and weeks of hand-wringing resulted in Ronnie’s decision to file for divorce. She expected an emotional scene, and Jeff had provided one,