Protector - Laurel Dewey [39]
Morning came too quickly. Jane called Mike at 5:30 Wednesday morning so she could catch him before he headed to his job site. “Take a half day. He wants to see us,” she said to him, “and meet me at Duffy’s no later than 1:00.” Jane wasn’t going to go into the tone of the message or exactly what their father said. Mike would have a hard enough time knowing that in less than nine hours, he’d be face-to-face with his father.
Duffy’s was a bustling restaurant located in Cherry Creek North. It was where locals mixed with businessmen who mixed with the occasional tourist. The red-topped bar greeted one upon entering the establishment. Nine booths lined up against the pea green walls. Tables with the occasional wobbly fourth leg sat crammed together in the center of the place as the jukebox played eclectic selections that ranged from Adam Ant to Randy Travis. Duffy’s was nearly packed to the gills when she walked in at 12:55. She looked around for Mike, not expecting to see him. As usual, he would be late. If the get-together had anything to do with their father, Mike would always drag his heels. The hostess seated Jane at the far corner booth. She sat down, grabbed a menu and kept one eye on the door. Mike wandered in nearly 15 minutes later, looking about as lost as he did the night before at RooBar. He meandered over to Jane and sank into the booth with about as much energy as a slug.
“Glad you could make it,” Jane said eyeing him carefully.
“Sorry,” Mike said under his breath. “Traffic, you know.”
“Yeah, right. I ordered a beer. You want one?”
“No. I’ll just get a Coke.”
“A Coke?”
“Yeah,” Mike said slightly irritated. “A Coke.”
Jane regarded her brother with a raised brow. The waitress delivered Jane’s beer. “He’ll have a Coke,” Jane said in a slight mocking tone as she slid the menu to Mike and took a sip of her beer.
“So, how you doing?” she asked.
“The same, I guess.” Mike scanned the menu quickly and tossed it aside. “I’m not hungry.”
“I know your stomach is in knots, but you have to eat.”
“I’m not hungry, Janie.” Mike’s voice raised a few decibels.
“Fine. Go ahead and starve.”
There was an awkward silence until the waitress arrived. Jane ordered a French Dip. She took a sip of beer and studied her brother. Mike always had a difficult time whenever he had to see his dad but something seemed different about his melancholy mood. He sat staring at the tabletop, rolling the edge of the paper napkin back and forth with his thumb. Jane could sense a boiling tension below the surface. It took several more minutes of silence before he finally spoke up.
“You sleep much last night?”
“No,” Jane replied.
“Me neither. I did a lot of thinking.” Mike looked off to the side in a half daze. “Do you still believe in God?”
Jane was slightly taken aback by the question. “Yeah. Sure. Everything has its opposite and I know for sure there’s a devil so I’m sure there’s a God somewhere.”
“You ever pray to Him?”
“What’s all this about?”
“Do you pray to Him?” Mike repeated with emphasis.
Jane was getting weary of the odd exchange. “No, Mike. I don’t. I used to when we were kids but then I got tired of Him never answering my prayers.”
“Oh...Maybe He did answer and the answer was ‘no.’ ”
Jane leaned forward, speaking quietly but directly. “What