A Brother's Duty

A Brother’s Duty

By

Bill Sanderson

First Smashwords Edition

Copyright (c) 2012

3rd Version

Copyright Notices

Copyright (c) 2012, William A. Sanderson, all rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Also available at Smashwords by Bill Sanderson

Running Home

Getting His Attention

Choosing Hope

A May-September Wedding

The Vicar’s Daughter

Table of Contents

Copyright Notices

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

The End

About the Author

Other Books

Coming Soon

Prologue

How ya doin’, Sickie? Sergeant Rob MacLeish stared down at the broken body of Master Corporal Nicolas Osiecki before he pulled up a chair.

Been better, Dog. They say I have a ways to go before I’m stable enough to transport to Germany. His eyes brightened. I finally remembered her, Dog.

Who?

Elaine’s neighbour, Cindi.

Rob pulled up a chair. I remember Cindi. Tall brunette with about a million earrings and that lady bug tattoo on her right boob?

Nick tried a smile. Yeah. That’s her. She wrote me to say there’d been a screw up with the protection. She’s pregnant. I wrote back to say I didn’t know who she was ‘cause she signed it Lucinda. But I remember her now. I wish to hell I hadn’t blown her off. Nick had another wracking cough. Shit, this hurts like hell, Dog. Frickin’ Taliban sniper. Chewed me up real good.

Rob nodded his sympathy. Nick continued. I never thought I’d be a father. Hell, I never wanted to be one.

But now you are.

Nick fixed Rob with a serious expression. Dog? I don’t think the doctors are being straight with me. I got pneumonia real bad and it doesn’t look like I’ll make it. Mom was a basket case when she called. Nick shot out his hand in a burst of strength and grabbed Rob’s arm. Look, Dog. You gotta ask Elaine to track Cindi down and you gotta find a way to help her. My cousin Emma doesn’t have anyone to help her with Trey and it’s so damned hard on her. Cindi needs someone to help her out. Nick had a racking coughing fit.

When the coughing fit was over, Nick said, Promise me, Dog. Promise me you’ll find her and help her. Nick’s eyes were wild. I need to know someone good is gonna help take care of my kid.

Rob took a deep breath and said, Okay, Sickie. I promise. They shook hands on the bargain.

Nick settled back down on the bed and asked, So, Dog, how’re the rest of the guys doin’?

Rob started telling Nick about the rest of the guys in the unit, trying to be strong for his buddy and wondering if this would be their last conversation.

Chapter 1

John MacLeish dropped down from the cab of his black Ford F-250 pickup onto the pot holed packed earth of the lane and examined the travel trailer in front of him. He looked at the directions again to reassure himself that he’d come to the right place.

Taking a look around the shaded clearing he spotted the front end of a faded red Hyundai Excel poking out from behind a copse of sumac.

Older red Hyundai, just like Dr. Zelenko said, he muttered to himself. This must be the place. He felt a wave of disgust expecting that Lucinda was one of his brother’s usual trailer trash women. Although, he reminded himself, Rob’s last girlfriend Elaine had been a pleasant surprise.

He heard a dog bark. A big dog if the deep tone meant anything. He squared his shoulders and began to walk around his truck. His foot reached the bottom step of the dilapidated roofed porch along the side of the trailer when the door creaked open and out stepped a tall fit brunette. She wore a bright yellow sundress with large print red and blue flowers that came to mid-thigh, exposing a long expanse of slender leg that ended in bare feet with bright pink toenails and a Celtic knotwork tattoo ringing her left ankle. He continued looking upward and noticed a brown tattoo on her right thigh that disappeared under her skirt. Continuing his upward examination he saw another tattoo of what seemed to be a ladybug peeking out of the very low neckline of her dress. Her medium length frizzy brown hair was caught up in a rainbow hair clip. Once he was able to get past the lip ring, nose stud, multiple earrings and eyebrow piercing he found a wounded and hostile expression waiting for him. He caught himself shaking his head as he wondered why such a beautiful woman would choose to deface that beauty with tattoos and piercings. Then he wondered why his brother would associate with a Jezebel like her.

Lucinda Wilkinson crossed her arms and asked, curtly, Who are you? Her blue eyes glittered with an ice cold glare at the self-righteous judgmental expression on his face.

John took off his MacLeish Construction ball cap and said, John MacLeish. Are you Lucinda Wilkinson?

Why do you want to know? There was the sound of muted scratching and a whimper. Without taking her eyes off John, Lucy reached back to open the door and a huge Great Dane-wolfhound cross emerged from the trailer. The dog sat down next to Lucy at her hand signal and eyed John suspiciously.

Did you know Master Corporal Nicolas Osiecki?

She paused with suspicion showing clearly on her face before grudgingly admitting, Yes.

John saw that the front of the sundress was pushed forward slightly as she shifted. He allowed himself a small amount of relief at her response.

John took a deep breath then asked, Do you need any help with anything?

Lucy felt her temper snap. In a sarcastic tone she replied, Let’s see. The bastard who got me pregnant won’t acknowledge me, my mother disowned me, my thesis advisor stole my research, the university cancelled my scholarship, I ache all over because the only job I could find is waiting tables and the only place I can afford to live in is a ten year old trailer in the sticks that my late grandfather left me. Of course I don’t need any help, Mr.? What was your name again?

MacLeish.

She felt a twinge in her back as she took a step forward. Mr. MacLeish, the only person in this world who seems to care anything for me is four and a half months away from being born.

John stepped back a pace and took a deep breath. He muttered, A promise is a promise.

What was that, Mr. MacLeish?

John was tempted to curse. I said, ‘A promise is a promise.’

What do you mean?

I promised my brother I’d look after you.

Who? That bastard Nick?

No. My brother was Rob. Rob MacLeish. Nick’s sergeant.

Why would he make you promise to help me? Lucy looked somewhat longingly at a chair on the porch as she massaged the small of her back again. The dog sat but was obviously on guard.

Because Rob promised Nick he would help you. John caught the confusion and fatigue that crossed her face. Please sit, if you need to.

Lucy turned and lowered herself carefully onto an ancient lawn chair with one of the nylon straps missing from the back. So why would your brother make that kind of promise?

Because Nick asked him to look after you.

So you’ve come here to tell me that Nick had a change of heart.

Facing death does that to some people.

Well, when I finally found out that ‘Sickie’ was Nick Osiecki and wrote him care of his unit he wrote back and said he didn’t remember who I was. I wrote right back to tell him where and when we’d met but I never heard a word back.

Nick was shot by a Taliban sniper while on patrol. He hung on for a week or so but the doctors couldn’t save him from the lung infection and the internal damage.

So your brother asked you to look me up? She gave him a skeptical look.

He said that he and Nick closed down a bar in St. Albert two nights before they left for Kandahar. They had to wait for you to get off work. He said he’d been seeing a girl named Elaine and everyone was going back to Elaine’s to party. An evident expression of disgust appeared on his face.

Lucy got a distant look then asked, Is your brother also called ‘Dog’?

Another look of distaste crossed John’s face. He was. A couple of guys here called him Dog, but mostly it was his army buddies who called him that.

She gave a reluctant nod. Dog was a good guy. He helped me find my car. Too bad his buddy Sickie Nickie wasn’t.

Rob asked me to look you up when Nick died. It took me almost a month to track you down.

Nick could have given him my return address from the letter. Zara would have let him know where I was.

Maybe he did.

You don’t know?

Miss Wilkinson, all I had to go on was the name of the bar you worked at, the name you used on your name tag which was Cindi and that you were Elaine’s friend. There was nothing useful in either Nick’s or Rob’s personal effects. Nick’s parents let me look through his stuff when I flew out to Kelowna, but they didn’t want to believe that Nick would leave a girl alone and pregnant. Eventually I got one of the other waitresses to give me your full name and she got your old roommate to put me in touch with Elaine who had your Ottawa address. And I got this address from Dr. Zelenko after convincing her that I wasn’t a stalker. But I am glad you moved back to the Valley because it’s close enough for me to actually help you and keep my promise to Rob.

‘Personal effects’ registered through her anger. She calmed down enough to really look at the big man standing at the bottom of the steps for the first time. He was bigger and wider than either Nick or Dog, at least six foot two and solidly built. He had a strong resemblance to Dog, at least the cell phone pictures she’d had Elaine email her during that ill-considered party.

He was dressed in a tradesman’s uniform: industrial strength ugly green trousers, steel toed boots, long sleeved heavy-duty ugly green shirt with ‘John’ embroidered above the pocket, the collar of a white undershirt showing despite the summer heat, and a ball cap in his hand. There were no rings on either hand, but that wasn’t unusual for men who worked with their hands. The tanned face showed little emotion but his blue eyes were perusing her with a mixture of fascination and disgust but mostly disgust. The same looks she’d gotten from her mother when she’d gotten her lip pierced. The same looks that had led to her decision to move back here from Edmonton.

If he dropped the scowl he’d be handsome, she thought. She realized that an awkward pause was building. Personal effects? she finally asked.

John’s face briefly showed the depth of his grief before shuttering. Rob was killed by a roadside bomb while on patrol. You may have heard about the woman reporter who was killed last month in Afghanistan?

She nodded. The CBC was all over that story.

Rob was her driver.

Oh.

The awkward pause returned. John tried once more. Do you need any help?

Lucy stood. Thank you for offering but no thanks.

John looked confused. Why not?

She looked fiercely in his direction. Because I refuse to be anyone’s obligation ever again, Mr. MacLeish. I’ve had enough of that from my mother. Now, get off my property.

John dug into his shirt pocket and left a card on the railing. If you change your mind…

I won’t, she interrupted. She turned her attention to the dog, "Bruno!’ She made a hand signal and the dog stood at alert then moved to the top of the stairs and bared his fangs.

All right. I’m going. He walked back to his truck and climbed into the cab.

He paused for a moment to watch as she went into the trailer without a backward glance with Bruno following devotedly at her heels. He started the truck and began the hour long drive back to his restored stone farmhouse near Kemptville. Well, Rob, she made it clear that she doesn’t want my help. I tried. But he felt a twinge of guilt because he knew he hadn’t tried hard enough.

Lucy made herself a cup of tea and replayed the conversation. Maybe Nick did have a change of heart but she was not going to accept help from someone who begrudged it. That was a bitter fruit indeed. She reached down to pat Bruno’s bony head and thought about going into Smiths Falls to get a paper. She was going to need day care before too long and to afford that she’d need a better paying job than waiting tables at the diner.

She hung her head and let the tears flow. She was so tired of being lonely. So tired. Then she saw her rumpled bed beckon invitingly and her back and feet overruled her plan to go out.

Chapter 2

John woke up when the sun hit his face at 5:37. He roused himself and grumbled about remembering to keep the blinds closed but then he’d have to run the central air and he preferred the evening breezes. Maybe some good wooden Venetian blinds would work. He made a mental note to take a look next time he went into the building supply store. Or he could move back to the original master suite on the northwest corner of the house. If he could bring himself to sort through Rob’s things.

A tiny tortoiseshell cat jumped onto the bed and began to chatter at him.

So, Smudge, what do you want?

Smudge responded with a polite meow then marched up his chest and began to rub her muzzle over his chin.

Did I forget to leave the cat flap unlocked again?

Smudge curled up on his chest and began to purr.

Oh, you heard me wake up and wanted some loves.

Smudge bent her head toward the scratching hand to nudge it down toward her neck. A blissful expression came over her face and she started to knead the quilt covering John’s chest.

If only human women were so easy to figure out. He lifted his head and put a second pillow under it with his free hand.

He’d tried most of the evening to put the memory of Lucinda Wilkinson out of his head. She was as prickly as a porcupine but anyone with eyes could tell she needed some help. That trailer needed to be raised a bit on one corner and that porch looked as though the right half was about to collapse. And surely she needed something more reliable than a sixteen year old hatchback.

He shook his head. She didn’t want his help. No, that wasn’t what she’d said. She said she didn’t want to be anyone’s obligation.

He would have to spend some time praying about what to do. It was the only thing Rob had ever actually asked from him since their father died. That last conversation via Skype was pretty serious. Almost as if he knew his number was about to come up. A wave of sadness for his lost big brother threatened to overwhelm him and he wiped at the moisture welling in his eyes.

John lifted Smudge off his chest and got up to start his day. Maybe if he kept busy he wouldn’t have to think about his deceased party animal brother or a pierced and tattooed pregnant brunette. Maybe.

Lucy woke to the sound of light rain drumming on the thin metal roof of the trailer. She eyed the clock balefully. 5:45. Tempted as she was to pull the covers back over her head for the fifteen minutes extra sleep before the alarm went off, her baby-constricted bladder was not going to let her.

She turned off the alarm and lurched the five steps to the toilet cursing the necessity to get up before the alarm. Fortunately it was only a fifteen minute drive to the restaurant in Smiths Falls and her shift didn’t start until the diner opened its doors at seven.

She let Bruno out onto the deck and ordered the reluctant dog to go into the wet yard to do his business. Turning a baleful eye at the rain and then at his mistress he decided that the rain was less threatening and ran to the shelter of a spreading oak tree. Lucy smirked and went back in to take a shower in the tiny bathroom.

She dressed quickly in her pink and white polyester uniform then walked the few feet to the front of the trailer. As she took out a small pot from the cupboard, she heard the telltale thud of water slowly dripping onto the sofa. Suppressing her annoyance she quickly threw a towel onto the sofa, put on her raingear and stepped out into the drizzle to see what she’d expected.

The tarp had come loose in the night. She sighed and quickly set up the rickety old ladder to climb up to get the corner of the roof covered before the sofa got soaked. Carrying a hefty rock up the ladder she smoothed the blue plastic tarp in place before weighing it down. She made a mental note to buy some rope to tie the tarp down properly.

Carefully returning to the ground she saw Bruno watching her from his dry spot under the oak tree with a ‘you must be crazy’ look on his face.

Some help you are.

Bruno thumped his tail against the ground but made no move to leave his dry haven.

She climbed onto the porch and called, Are you hungry? in a tone that Bruno correctly interpreted as having something to do with food.

Lucy held open the door to let Bruno in then opened the dog food barrel next to the kitchen sink. Remind me to pick up some more dog food, will you?

Bruno sat patiently in front of the refrigerator as she scooped two cups of dry dog food into his bowl then waited for her to fill his water. She moved aside and made a hand motion that released Bruno from his waiting pose.

The radio news was the usual nonsense about politics and rumours of wars and overpaid athletes but she kept it on until the forecast was read. A mix of sun and rain with a high of 33 Celsius and a Humidex of 41. She sagged when she heard the temperature. Then she remembered it was payday and she’d get her first cheque today, even if it was for only eight days work. Tips weren’t that good at breakfast and lunch, not like working nights in a bar, but the owners knew that and paid a premium for the early shift. Maybe the Giant Tiger would have a cheap fan she could pick up. And maybe there would be a good chair at one of the thrift stores. A nice Muskoka chair or maybe a decent rocker for the porch. If there was enough room on the solid part.

She wouldn’t let herself worry about the future too much. The trailer would be fine to live in until at least October but she’d have to get something before the snow came. Apartment hunting needed to be higher on her priority list. Maybe a customer would leave a paper behind that she could peruse but word of mouth would work better in Smiths Falls. Maybe one of the old guys who came for breakfast every day would have a lead for her.

She put the kettle on for some herbal tea while she fished out the oatmeal to make herself breakfast. At least she got a good brunch at ten thirty when the kitchen shifted from breakfast to the lunch menu. These days she couldn’t face anything with fat until she was up for a few hours. No fast food egg muffins for a while.

Briefly she wondered what Dr. Drake was doing now that she didn’t have anyone she could steal research from. She hoped that someone else would get the tenured job that just opened up. Lucy shook her head and tried not to think of that.

ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man started playing on the radio. Usually she got a flash of her ex-boyfriend from Queen’s when she heard it but this time the vision was of the nattily dressed John MacLeish.

What was she doing thinking about Mr. Clean? She wanted nothing to do with someone like him. He was light years away from her usual type and he seemed to be one of those narrow-minded judgemental types. But his work clothes had been clean and ironed and she could tell that he’d shaved before he paid her that visit yesterday evening.

Then she remembered that she’d forgotten to give him even token condolences on the death of his brother. She winced. She had better manners than that. And Dog had seemed like one of the good guys, even if Nick had been a grade A jerk. Then she remembered how lovingly Elaine had looked at Dog and felt even worse. She’d have to drop Elaine an email with her condolences.

She finished her tea and shooed Bruno onto the porch where he found a dry corner to curl up in. A flash of gold lettering from under her rickety lawn chair caught her eye. It was the business card that John MacLeish had left. Printed in black on a background of a golden yellow brick wall was:

MacLeish Construction

Actons Corners Road

Kemptville, ON

John Allan MacLeish

Master Mason

Heritage Stonework and Custom Bricklaying

There was a phone number and email address at the bottom. On the back there was a half transparent photo of a beautiful old stone farmhouse shaded by a majestic maple tree with the words restoration, renovation, and new construction printed on the right side. She remembered the big man and thought that he seemed very young to be a master craftsman.

She thought about tearing the card in half but instead she tucked it into her purse and went quickly to her old Excel for the short drive to work.

John heaved the last bag of masonry sand from the truck into the shed beside the church with a sigh of relief and a brief prayer of thanksgiving that the threatening clouds had not let loose.

Well, Jack, that’s the lot.

Pastor Jack Sutherland smiled and said, Good stuff. When can we begin the repointing?

John looked up at the wall with its network of hairline cracks. When does the engineer give us his report about the foundations?

Jack looked sheepish and said, He gave it to me last week. Sorry, I forgot that you needed to see it.

John took two deep breaths as he suppressed his irritation. Help me, Lord. I’m supposed to be cheerful when I’m giving back to you. Can you give me the summary?

It’s all good. The foundations have settled about a half centimeter since the 2001 inspection but there hasn’t been any measurable movement in almost three years. It should be good until the municipality tears up the road again in thirty years.

John examined the wall. About one brick in a hundred needed replacing and the diagonal crack that looked so ominous before now looked less troublesome. The jobs my company is working on right now don’t need my active supervision. So until I line up another contract, I can work close to full time here. I’d like three to six helpers, if you can find them. But the more the merrier.

What kind of people are you looking for?

At least two need to be strong young backs to mix and carry mortar. The rest only need to be able to climb a scaffold and handle a mallet and chisel while they’re working. John thought again.

Jack nodded. There are a couple of bored teenagers that are looking for something different to do. Their parents will thank us, even if they don’t.

John grinned, remembering his father’s cures for boredom. There was a reason he’d gone into general contracting and masonry rather than mucking out milking barns. Thank heaven his sister and her husband loved being dairy farmers. They’ll still get bored quickly. Repointing isn’t like building a new wall. But I’d guess they’ll enjoy it for the first little while. He paused, looking around the south garden. If you can sweet talk Canada Brick into giving us the materials, I could build a wind fence to replace the chain link around the yard on the side. That’s less boring for the young guys because every hour you see some progress.

The pastor imagined a brick walled courtyard around the space they were standing in. We could let the guys play road hockey if we put good gates in the corners. One of the elders is trying to hit up the Sens Foundation to put in an outdoor rink in town. He’s supposed to hear back by tomorrow. Jack looked at the space. This would be as good a spot as any. Warm change rooms in the basement, good parking, and an opportunity for evangelism. I’ll let Archie know he can volunteer the space. Maybe we should see if we can put in a basketball court, too. I’ll see what the brickworks and our other donors have to say. And on nice days we could let the Sunday school classes meet out here. Then Jack got a wry look. If we can attract some more young families back to church.

The mention of children caused a flash of guilt over Lucinda Wilkinson’s situation. He needed to do more to help her. If she let him. John rolled his shoulders to relieve his tension.

Jack caught the look. Is something troubling you?

Too quickly, John said, No. Not at all.

Jack raised an eyebrow. Okay. You don’t have to tell me. He pointed heavenward. But I’d strongly suggest that you tell Him. He listens pretty well.

John had a surge of anger. I’m not so sure about that, Jack. Rob should be on his way home to Edmonton this month with his unit. He pointed across the lawns to the church graveyard. Not be a tin of ashes in the ground over there.

Jack’s voice softened. The Bible doesn’t promise that God will do what we want Him to do. It only promises that He listens and that he will help us cope.

John gave a nod then changed the subject. How does Thursday evening sound for a gathering of the volunteers?

That gives me two days to work the phones. Might be all right, especially since we’ve been talking about it for three months now. But it might have to wait until Sunday after service to get everyone together. Jack asked, How long should all this take?

Assuming we get a crew of five… He paused to think and calculate the number of bricks that needed to be replaced. "I think we should be done with the repointing on the south wall by the end of August unless we need