The Secret

= 4 =

Debbie’s face lit up when she saw who was coming into the diner. “Hey, Sweetie,” she squealed from behind the counter. Several customers looked up from their food then went right back to eating when they saw the detective. Carl had finally gotten to where he was comfortable in the Liberty Diner. He even nodded to a couple of the regulars he knew by sight.  He took a seat atthe counter and Deb brought him a cup of coffee. “What’s wrong, Honey? You look worried. Is it something to do with Brian?”

“Sort of, but not about his nephew. Claire and John are coming in at 9:30. All of that should be cleared up then.”

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?”

Carl nodded. “I can’t talk about it now.” Before Debbie could comment, Carl added, “It’s not anything bad. Just something I found out and have to verify. You’re off at four today, right?”

“You better believe it, Honey.”

“I’ll pick you up and we can talk. Sound okay to you?” When she nodded, Carl took a sip of the hot coffee and looked at his watch. “I need to go.” He leaned over the counter and kissed Debbie on the mouth as the bell over the door rang again.

“I told you I hear bells when you kiss me,” Debbie mused.

“Me, too,” laughed Carl, for the first time in several days.

When Carl got back to the station, he told the Desk Sargent to let him know as soon as Claire and her son arrived, but that he was not to be disturbed before that. He went into his office and shut the door, a clear indication to all that he wanted to be left alone except for matters of the utmost urgency. Brian’s file was on his desk where he had left it the day before. He opened it and started reading the information again. There was nothing new. He knew there wouldn’t be. Finally he just sat staring at the papers and let his mind wander.

It was 1970. Carl still remembered how hot that August was. He was a young police officer, fresh from his tour in Nam as an MP. One afternoon he clocked a Chevy Nova doing 55 in a 45 zone and pulled the car over. To his surprise, the driver was a young, good looking, in an elegant sort of way, woman in her 20's. She wore a light blue sun dress and he could see her long bare legs when he looked into the car. He still gave her the ticket she deserved, but with apologies. Several days later he saw her in a coffee shop and started talking to her. Two weeks later she spent the first of many afternoons in his apartment. He was so different from the bully that she married, or rather, had to marry, that for a few hours a week she could forget what her real life was like.

She told him about her marriage and her young daughter. At first Carl felt uncomfortable because she was married, but he knew he could easily fall in love with her if he let himself. He lived for the few hours with his Joanie. Then one day, it all fell apart for reasons he never knew until a few days ago.

“Carl, please. I have to go.” Joan said as she buttoned her blouse, ignoring the persistent pleading from her lover. When he realized she was actually leaving for good, he grabbed her arms and pulled her to him.

“Joanie, Honey. Why? Everything’s perfect. I love you. Why now?”

Joan closed her eyes and leaned her head against the strong chest, her hand absentmindedly combing through the rough curly hair on the chest next to her face.

“I think Jack knows or maybe he’s just suspicious. I want to stay with you, you know that, but I can’t. I have a husband and daughter to think about.” She hoped she sounded sincere. He would never know the real reason she was leaving. This was her secret. Forever. The visit to the doctor the day before confirmed her suspicions. She was pregnant, and Carl was the father. Of that she was sure. Jack had been out of town for over a month, working on a special project in Scranton when she got pregnant.

Joan grabbed her handbag and car keys and left the small apartment without looking back. Carl watched as she drove off, taillights disappearing across the parking lot and onto the busy street.  He sighed and headed to the shower, but stopped when he saw the blue scarf on the dresser. She was beautiful with that scarf around her long neck. He picked it up and let the silky material fal through his fingers as he caught the scent of Tabu. He remembered thinking how old fashioned that particular fragrance was, and how fitting for Joan. Finally, he stuffed the scarf in the bottom drawer. Stepping into the shower, he welcomed the isolation the little shower stall afforded him with nothing but the sound of the water to invade his thoughts. He just stood there, letting the hot water pour over his body. When he finished dressing, he sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on. He ended up staring at a picture on the wall for several minutes, without actually registering the scene. What had happened so suddenly to make Joan leave, he wondered. They were happy together. He had even asked her to leave Jack Kinney. He could make a good life for her and her little daughter. He didn’t know why she stayed with someone like Kinney to begin with. Once dressed, he undid the lock box in his closet, took out his service revolver and placed it in the holster on his utility belt and left for work. He prayed it was a busy night. He needed to forget.

Forgetting was hard for him. He called her a couple of times, but she just repeated he words from that last night. “I have to stay with my husband. Divorce is against everything I believe. Please, leave it at that, Carl.” So, as much as he hated to, he left it at that.

But life had a funny way of not leaving things be. He saw Joan’s picture in the paper with other members of the church guild when they raised money for a young mother who was critically injured in a car accident. A seventeen year old Brian Kinney posed for the camera when he made the All-State soccer team in his senior year. The name in the headline accompanying the story caught his attention. As he read, he found what he was looking for. “The son of Jack and Joan Kinney...”. He stumbled onto Jack’s obituary by accident when a folded newspaper was left in the coffee room. He thought about calling Joan after he read it, but figured there was no use. Too many years had passed by then.

A not so gentle knock on the office door brought Carl out of his thoughts. He stood as an officer showed Brian’s sister and her son into the small room. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he started asking questions. An hour later, Claire and her son were gone and the complaint had been withdrawn.

“Now what?” he asked himself. His mind worked out the possibilities. He could call Joan and...what? Accuse her of keeping her son from him all these years? Finally get the explanation he was denied all those years ago?

He had to talk to Brian and tell him the complaint had been formally dropped. “Brian.” Any other time, it would have been “Kinney”. Not Brian. Don’t get personally involved. But he was personally involved. He reached for the phone and dialed the number in the folder.

Brian was busily cleaning out a dresser drawer for some of Justin’s clothes when the phone rang. “Kinney,” he said, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he moved some more clothes around.

“It’s Carl. Can I see you this evening? Some time around six?”

“Yeah, six is fine. Did something happen with my nephew? You’re not going to arrest me, are you? Justin told me that the DA was going to drop the case.”

“No arrest. Justin told you correctly. I’ll explain when I see you.”

Brian hung up as Justin and Michael came through the loft door carrying boxes and bags containing the rest of Justin’s clothes and other belongings.

“Who was that on the phone?” Justin asked.

“My six o’clock.” Brian said without thinking. When he saw the hurt look on Justin’s face, he quickly added that Carl was coming over at six to talk to him. He didn’t think he’d ever want to see that look again and made a conscious decision to watch what he said. He took the box from Justin and handed it to Michael who had already put his bags in the bedroom. He drew Justin into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against the blond hair. Brian knew it was okay when Justin put his arms around Brian’s slim waist and gave him a squeeze.

Michael took the box into the bedroom and dropped it on the floor next to the other stuff. He looked around at the changes Brian was making and thought about what it meant. He smiled, shaking his head at the thought of Brian Kinney, in love with a teenager. He thought he would still be upset, but he wasn’t. He knew how much Brian hurt when Justin left with Ethan. He sat with Brian in the hallway of the hospital the night of the prom. No matter how much he denied it, Brian loved Justin and was better off for it.  Deciding he had given the couple enough time to set things straight, he walked down the steps to the living room.

“I don’t know about you two, but I want a beer,” he said pointedly as he walked past his best friend. Brian gave Justin a quick kiss and they both joined Michael in the kitchen. Nothing else needed to be said.

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