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Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Liam removed his hard hat, and with a heavy hand, ran his fingers through his damp brown hair. As he sat back, an electric pain coursed up his right leg. He frowned, puffing a bit, trying to keep his attention on Ted’s inaudible mutters.

That darn sciatic nerve is gonna do me in.

Liam leaned in to the table, trying to understand what Ted was mumbling about.

Ted McCormick was a terrific project manager. The man had been doing commercial construction before Montreal had a stadium, or a subway. Liam looked up to him with unmeasured admiration, but lately, Ted, who’d always been renowned for his thoroughness, seemed more and more lax. Confused even. Liam found himself double checking everything, adding to his already insane workload. Liam and his brother Rye, who also worked for Ted, were concerned about Ted’s recent fogginess. The Stokes brothers couldn’t help comparing Ted’s symptoms to those of their father’s.

But of course, it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like Ted didn’t know what day it was or his own son’s name.

No, it’s not like Dad at all.

Ted was getting older, and besides, as Rye had put it, if Ted wasn’t fit for the job anymore, Liam was the next man up in the chain of command. That was the logical step. But what Liam’s brother didn’t know, was that he wasn’t sure he was suited for the job anymore.

“So, over here then?” Liam asked, pointing to the confusing plans. “And what about this main support beam?”

“This is how the big guns want it done.”

Liam knew the business all too well. “All they want is to cheap out and hope the building stands.”

“I know.” A smile turned up on Ted’s weathered face. “Your dad hated that part, too. How is the old dog by the way?”

Liam hadn’t seen his father in over a week. He felt horribly guilty about it. There wasn’t much time left. Every minute he spent on something else was lost forever. His dad was sixty-nine years old, much too young for Alzheimer, but already giving up. The Stokes brothers had been trying to keep on top of the sickness, but no matter what they did, no matter how much precious information they exchanged, the disease was gaining momentum every single day.

Their dad was losing the battle. Slipping into a stupor.

“He’s all right I guess,” Liam said. “He’s a fighter.”

“Sure is. But Rye told me Pat fell last week.”

“Right. Yeah. In the bath, but I installed a whole new system for him, so he’s gonna be all right from now on.”

“He’s lucky to have you three boys. And your mom?”

Liam cleared his throat, glancing at his watch. “She’s upset. But Will is there with her. He’s moved in with our parents. Went back to school. Wants to be an ethnologist.”

“A what now?”

Liam chuckled. Will, his twenty-seven-year old baby brother, had finished his thesis on The Winnowing Basket, a medieval farm tool, but was now back in school. Will probably suffered from an unidentified addiction to the cleaning products used at McGill University. He couldn’t stay away.

“Trust me, Ted,” Liam said, grimacing a little from the pain. “You don’t wanna know.”

Ted’s keen eyes flickered. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, pointing to Liam’s right leg.

“Oh, that? A nerve or something. It’s pretty bad.”

“You should take care of it, before it takes care of you. You’re no young man anymore. What are you, forty-six?”

“Forty-four.”

“You’re too tense,” Ted added. “You know what you need?” He whistled and then winked. “That Netty. Oh boy. She’s something else. No?”

“She’s okay.”

Ted jumped up in his chair. “Okay? Your head is further up your ass than I thought. Rye told me you and Netty were having drinks last week, and that she practically stuck her hand down your—”

“Not true.”

“I’m just saying…Netty could use her tits to give directions.”

Liam pointed to the door. “I gotta look at these plans, if you don’t mind.”

His boss smirked and got out of his chair.

After Ted had stepped out of the trailer, Liam also stood and went around the desk to get himself more coffee, but as he turned, the pain exploded inside his lower back. “Damn it,” he grunted through clenched teeth. He leaned on the cheap, wobbly melamine table, taking short breathes, trying to work through it. Completely focused, he didn’t heard Netty coming. “I’m bringing my truck around.” She stood in the doorway, shaking her head. “I’ll drive you home. You can’t drive the way you are.”

She looked like she meant business and Liam had to agree with her. Besides, he was in no shape to argue. She pulled out a chair for him, then helped him into it.


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