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CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Tim drove north out of downtown Milwaukee on the I-43 Freeway. He was surprised that by the time they got to suburban Mequon, not even fifteen minutes later, Sean was fast asleep in the passenger seat.
Tim looked over with a smile and shook his head. He felt for a fleeting moment that he was seventeen or eighteen years old again, and he and Sean were devising plays for the Craig Cougars offense and they'd go over them with Coach Slater in that championship year they shared so long ago.
It was a bittersweet memory, and it was, he knew, not true. It was long ago and far away.
Tim silently prayed that he would be able to penetrate the barriers Sean had erected around himself. He didn't know if he could, but he knew that he'd sure at least try his best. That was all he could do.
When he'd spoken to his mother and father about it a few days beforehand, Peggy reassured him. "Timmy, you'll do fine. I remember that time way back when. I was in the kitchen with Sean back when you were in high school. You remember. It's when you beat him out for quarterback, and you thought Sean might not be your friend anymore. He told you to your face your friendship was in his heart. Don't you worry, it's still there. It is..."
"Your mother's right, Timothy," George said.
"How come nobody really noticed? I mean about Wymo..." Tim asked.
"I wish I could answer that question, son," George said. "In the direct dealings I've had with Sean over the years, which haven't been all that often, maybe once, twice a year or so, he seemed pretty normal to me. I mean, all else equal. Maybe it just didn't strike me. Maybe I thought he was just more grown up. I really don't know. The honest truth is that he seemed to have a more even handle on things than Ginny did once he got everything reorganized. And I know he keeps Kevin and Brad busy, so I just didn't give it a second thought. He was always on top of things when he came to see me, I'll say that much..."
"I didn't notice anything either, Timmy," Peggy said. "You know a few times I watched his boys when he asked me to and all, but they weren't any trouble and he didn't seem to be anything other than just Sean. A couple times I stayed with the boys overnight, but by that time the twins I wanna say were like fifteen or sixteen and none of them were little boys anymore. Everything seemed fine. I didn't think I had any reason to think something wasn't right. Oh, Timmy, I woulda letcha know if I had, sweetie. You know your old mom woulda done that..."
"I know," Tim said. "I'm just trying to get a handle on it. Maybe some time I'll talk to his boys and see, but I don't know how appropriate that would be."
"If you do, start with the twins," George said. "They're pretty steady. I've dealt with them some. Not much, but just some stuff they needed advice on that Brett asked about when you were still in DC because he wasn't a hundred percent sure. It dated back to some shit four or five years ago, if I recall."
"Shouldn't Sean have known about it if it affected us?" Tim asked.
"Honestly, son, I didn't even think of that. What they wanted seemed to appropriately follow the chain of command and I didn't give it a second thought. I advised them and that was it."
"And don't you go blaming Brett, either, now..." Peggy admonished. "That poor boy has his hands full being Governor. He's worked awful hard and he's doing a good job, so you just let him be to keep at it."
"I will, mom," Tim said. "I know how hard he's working and I'm proud of him, I mean, you have no idea... He brought that damn legislature to heel and made them actually do some work instead of play games. He'll do fine. I know he will. It's not in him to quit. Or to fail. He's just like he was in football - came out of nowhere and surprised everyone."
"No Brett doesn't quit or fail, now, Timmy," Peggy said. "And Sean doesn't have it in him to quit or fail, either. Even now. You remember that State Championship game when you were a senior at Craig? I sure do... You with your injured arm from when ya got shot, and Sean with his concussion. I'll never forgot that ever, Timmy. You go on ahead now, and you take the friendship you have for Sean in your heart and you put it into his heart. It'll work out. You'll see..."
"I'll try, mom. That's all I can do. I better go now..."
"You're a good man, son." George said, standing up and pulling his youngest son into a hug.
"I must have picked it up from somewhere," Tim smiled. "And I'm glad you reminded me of that day, mom, because I'd kind of forgotten it. It was so long ago..."
"I'm your mom, Timmy. Nothing that happened with my boys is that long ago."
"I know, mom... Anyway... Dad, I got something else to ask you about if we could go to your office..."
"Oh, for Cripe's sake, Timothy!" Peggy said. "I know whatcher gonna ask your father. You're gonna ask him what if you and Sean get it on and what would Brett think and what about this, that, and the other thing. I'm not dead yet don'tcha know, Timmy! I'm gonna tell ya that if ya do then ya do, and Brett doesn't give a shit, and that's all she wrote. Ya don't hafta treacher old mom like she doesn't know how the world works... Criminy!"
"I agree with your mother, Tim." George said.
"Well, that was easy..." Tim laughed. "But that's not what I was gonna ask dad about. I have a husband, and anything like that would have been, well, let's just say that's not what I was gonna ask dad... Besides, we've already talked about that. I just didn't want you getting mad at me, mom, but what I was gonna ask is if there's not some way we can make Wymo take a break for a while. He needs to heal. It's been way too long and it's not healthy."
"Son," George replied, "The way the paperwork's written is that in order to do something like what you're saying, which as you know would be forcible, there has to first be material defect in conduct, or an impairment, resulting in the detriment, or likely detriment, to the assets held by you guys or the likelihood of legal jeopardy resulting in the same. It would be impossible for anyone to make that case, you know that, because it's simply not true. It's my duty as fiduciary to look at the annual reports and ask any questions that I might have if I have concerns. And I'm still your attorney of record. I gotta tell ya, son, that I've never had any concerns. Everything's been done by the book, and it's been done well. And as thorough as I know you to be, I'm sure you know that, too. So, no, there's no case to make from that angle, but what would make you think that would be appropriate?"
"I figured that would be your answer because I know what the papers say, too, dad. I interpret them the same way that you do. And it's not my wish or intention to forcibly remove him, but I just think, well, I think that... Well, dad, I... I just..."
"Ya don't wanna see him hurtin' and you're mad at yourself because you didn't see it `til now, that about right, Timmy?" Peggy asked.
"Um, yeah, mom. I've been a shit friend."
"Timmy, how were ya s'posed to know?" Peggy continued. "You were away for so long. You and Brett had your own stuff to deal with. You saw Sean sometimes when ya were back here so if you thought something was wrong ya woulda noticed it anyway. Unless Sean didn't wantcha to notice and then that's not yer fault. Ya can't kick yerself. The important thing is that if ya think something's not right yer heart's in the right place. Maybe down the road ya can get Sean to pay attention to himself if that's what he needs, butcha can't just shove him out in the cold for a while and expect that to make anything better. You just be there. That's the best thing ya can do. Ya can't take Sean's job away from him. The way he probably looks at it is that's all he's got."
"Once again I think your mother has it right, son," George said. "What does Brett say? He's involved here too, you know..."
"Brett says to do what I need to do."
"Well," George said, "You'd be best to remember that at the end of the day Brett's your husband."
"Oh, c'mon, dad! Brett is my whole life... I'd never do anything to fuck that up. And he knows that. You know that, too... C'mon..."
"Yes I do know that and so does your mother. But whether we know it doesn't matter. It only matters that Brett knows it, and you said he does so you guys are smart. You covered your bases."
"Don't worry..." Tim said. "I'll just see what happens I guess..."
"I'd say that's all anyone can do, son," George said.
"Don't tell anyone I ever said this," Peggy laughed, "but your father's right. You didn't go without when it was time to inherit some common sense. You'll know what's right to do, Timmy."
So, Tim had his answer. He decided as far as it went just to roll with the punches. To Tim, one can of worms at a time was more than enough.
Still on the road, and nearing Green Bay, Sean remained asleep. Tim looked over again, and he could still see the kid he knew in High School. The strong jawline, the high cheekbones, the blonde hair, and he could still see the athlete with whom he shared a football field in his senior year at Craig. Despite everything, looks-wise the years had been kind to Sean. Tim might have woken Sean up to help pass the time, but he decided not to. Tim always thought that people sleep when they need to sleep, so he continued driving.
Although the car was old, Tim was getting a kick out of the old Buick. He had to admit that it was quiet, rode and handled well, and that the old-school pushrod V8 engine provided power of the sort he hadn't experienced in years. For at least ten or fifteen years it had been unusual to see cars offered for sale that weren't either battery-electric, or diesel-electric which were fine, Tim thought. The technology had progressed so that they were acceptable, but still, driving a car with a real engine was a treat and a throw-back to Tim's youth. In another reminder of the good old days, Tim had to stop and fill the gas tank which is something he hadn't done for a long time. In fact, service stations selling gasoline were becoming scarcer and scarcer. Just about the only place one could still reliably find them was along major highways or in towns. Seeing them along the road here and there rarely happened anymore.
When Tim pulled off the freeway that skirted Green Bay to fill up Sean failed to awaken. Tim shrugged, went inside, bought a couple of cokes, used the bathroom and headed back to the car. He looked over at Sean and smiled. Tim thought Sean must be exhausted and that sleep was a probably good sign.
Tim continued out of Green Bay on two-lane State roads through the little towns of Shawano, pronounced `shawn-o,' Andy's nickname for Sean, and then Keshena, a pretty little Native American town, then on to Antigo and through Rhinelander which, with a population of about 10,000 or so, was the only good-sized town for about an hour in any direction. Tim continued northwest out of Rhinelander along the River Road which roughly paralleled the Wisconsin River to the cabin that lay within the property. Tim thought he remembered that his dad had told him at one time that the property was nine entire sections of land in an area three miles square and having an area of 5,760 acres. Why he remembered that exact number which was different than the 5,280 feet that are in a mile Tim couldn't say. It was just one of those useless facts he could pull out of his ass at whim. At any rate, the land had belonged to the Dickson family since the days of Angus. There were rumors of old, abandoned cabins on the property used for rum-running and as hide-outs, but Tim didn't recall ever having seen anything like that even though there were plenty of hiking trails and Tim had been down most of them.
It wasn't yet dark outside, although it was nearing dusk, and for the first time along the drive Tim noticed the unmistakable landscape and flora of the far northern Wisconsin highlands. Here and there with naked rock plateaus and hills, but also with near mountains clothed in their pine and birch forests spreading into near black forests of pine. Narrow, somewhat twisty roads, and the land almost deserted of people. Here and there one might see a sign for a resort of the sort that lower-middle- and middle-class people from Milwaukee or Chicago might rent a cabin in for a few days or a week during the Summer and call that their vacation, or a roadside mom-and-pop tavern advertising Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and Tombstone pizzas that recalled times long gone by. That was all one saw: the magnificent highlands left to their own magnificence and without many people around. It was perfect.
He hoped Sean would like it. Enough to pull the car off on the shoulder and wake Sean.
"Hey, Wymo! Wake up!" Tim said, rustling Sean's shoulder.
Nothing.
Again, he prodded his friend.
Finally, after a third time Sean stirred.
"What?!" Sean said somewhat crossly.
"We're about 10 miles out. You slept the whole way from Milwaukee. I just wanted you to see the scenery before it gets dark!"
"Well thanks..." Sean said somewhat shortly. He then stretched and yawned. "Sorry, Dix. I was like half awake. I guess I'm awake now. I slept that long?"
"Yeah I even stopped for gas and to piss. You never even fuckin' moved..."
"Sorry, just tired I guess..."
"Yeah, but it's so beautiful up here... Won't be long and the trees will start to turn. I love it up here..."
"I don't even know where we are. Guess I shouldn't have slept," Sean said.
"'S alright. Figured you needed it."
"Well, I'm hungry anyway. Now that I think of it, I haven't eaten anything all day..."
"We can make some beans and hot dogs when we get there. We got a shitload of food, but it's kinda too late to prepare a five-star meal, Chef Wyman... And no, I don't want any of that shit on a shingle crap..."
At that, Sean actually laughed. A little. Maybe. Better than nothing, Tim thought.
"Beans and wieners is fine."
Tim looked over and swore that he saw a tear running down Sean's cheek. It cut Tim to the quick to see that. He repeated one of the prayers he said in the Cathedral earlier that day that he might have at least some success in helping his old friend become at least some semblance of what he once was.
Tim knew as well that he would need to fight off his life-long tendency to get tongue-tied and stammer a bit when he had important things to talk about. After all, Sean wasn't Brett and didn't have 25-plus years of completing his sentences for him under his belt. He prayed that he could find the strength.
But then a memory flooded into Tim's mind. Something he hadn't thought about for years. It was the night of their victory over Milwaukee Rufus King at old Monterey Stadium, the game they won to advance them to the State Championship. It was after the game, and it was dark. Tim and Sean were walking out of the locker room together after showering and dressing in their street clothing. Tim heard a man yell in their direction. The man aimed a gun at Sean.
Tim's mind's eye was as clear as a bell. He saw how out of nowhere his instinct took over. He saw himself yelling ""NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"and pushing Sean to the ground just as a shot was fired. Tim tried to dodge, but the bullet grazed his left arm. Yes, he remembered, too, that Sean had probably suffered a concussion when his head hit the curb as Tim's shove was far from gentle, but at least Sean hadn't been hit.
Afterwards, in the hospital, Tim said he did what he did because he was thinking of the twins, unborn but on the way, and how they would need a father. That's what he told Sean at the time anyway, and maybe it was true, but in the end whatever he did was because of instinct. He saved his friend's life that night. And he didn't hesitate. He acted. That was enough.
Tim resolved that acting in the present case would be nowhere near as dire as that night so long ago behind the old stadium by the river, and therefore that he could do it. If, in fact, anyone could do it.
Tim remembered, too, that after all he was the first one to identify Andy and Sean as being guys that they "could do business with" as he told the rest of the football team before Andy and Sean met them for the first time that night in Tim's back yard. He laughed to himself now about those days. About his combination of almost-grown-man grandiosity and naïveté which was now stunningly ridiculous to him. But the opinion he formed back then, even with his inexperience, had proven true. And it was, he hoped, still true now.
And then he figured fuck it, it had to be.
Tim knew that Sean had learned much at Ginny's knee, but then again so had Tim, and for far longer...
And he also knew enough family lore to know that when Ginny had lost everything – as she put it a uterus and a husband pretty much in the same day - that she turned her energy outward, not inward as Sean appeared to have done insofar as Tim could detect any energy in Sean for much of anything other than return on the consortium's investments, his own car collection, and late night highball glasses of brandy.
Sean seemed not only not to know much about what was currently going on his sons' lives but grateful not to know. Maybe it was less of a bother to him that way? They were all adults, right? So what if the twins wanted to adopt an abused teenager? So what that T.J. and Scott were about to be married off to two very different girls?
They were adults and they could do what they wanted to do. So what? That's how it all looked to Tim.
And Tim understood that. That when a child is grown the parent must let go and let them spread their wings. After all, his eldest son, George, at age 19, had elected to take only a partial load of credits at UW-Madison to spare time so he could work in Brett's Governor's office dealing with the press people most of whom were many years his senior. Tim had to admit that George had so far performed flawlessly at the job, having Tim's earnestness with Brett's sense of taking what one learned as an opportunity for self-improvement. Young George was also blessed with his grandfather and namesake George's hail-fellow-well-met demeanor, and it won the hearts of most of the media even when he bested them, and he had only gotten better at that.
Tim thought that before George got the opinion that he was all that good at his job, it might be fruitful to have a little talk. He wanted to see his son succeed, but he also wanted him to understand the world he was dealing in and that there is no substitute for experience. Young George was still a bit green, and if an opportunity presented itself to trip him up Tim had no doubt at all that Brett's political enemies would take it in order to discredit "the Governor's fuckin' brat" as they called him behind his back, but more importantly by extension to discredit Brett.
He couldn't do anything about that right now anyway, so he just resolved that his consideration at the moment should be for Sean. Tim and Sean's kids weren't what was on the table right now.
Once arrived and inside the cabin, Sean looked over at Tim and asked, "I think I remember where everything is, so you want me to cook dinner?"
"That'd be fine. I'll make us some cocktails. Brandy Old Fashioneds."
"Make mine sour. Sweet is too cloying. You got an onion?"
"Look in the freezer. Any food we got here is frozen because we don't come up much... Use the microwave if you need to defrost."
Sean found what he needed. He defrosted and sliced up the hot dogs, which to his approval were Klement's of Milwaukee's all-beef Jumbo Chicago-style dogs. With a bag of frozen chopped onions browned together in about half a stick, of butter the kitchen smelled like heaven to Sean. Once the onions were golden and the hot dog slices a crisp golden-brown Sean added the can of beans along with a little bit of cumin and two ripped up slices of Kraft singles, stirring the whole mess around until everything was piping hot. He toasted some bread, buttered it, although he would have preferred English muffins, and spooned the beans and wieners over the top. Sean garnished the meal with the old standard Heinz ketchup squirted decoratively over the top and presented it just as Tim returned with a giant pitcher of Old Fashioneds.
Tim poured two healthy drinks into highball glasses with ice and handed one to Sean. In exchange, Sean handed Tim a plate of food and a fork. They ate their food; Tim refilled the drink pitcher and then they went outside to sit on the farmer porch in the ancient wooden rockers.
"This is nice," Sean said.
"Yeah, it is," Tim replied. "I haven't been up here in a while. Always loved it up here. It's so quiet. Hey, maybe tomorrow you wanna hike a bit? I mean, we could spend all day at it. We're on the eastern side of the property. It goes about two miles west of here almost to the Wisconsin River."
"I guess so, but first thing can we run into Rhinelander? I wanna pick up a few things..."
"Whadya need?"
"Well, since you fucking kidnapped me I didn't have any time to pack anything. I might need a few clothing items, maybe some shoes, and I wanna buy a few journal books or whatever they have that's like that, and some pens."
"They got a Walmart. Never thought I'd see the day Wymo shops at Wally World..."
"Slumming it, I guess..."
"I'd sure say so. Anyway, I'm glad you like it here. We'll have a good time and see if we can't straighten some shit out. Not tonight, though. It's been a long day."
"You tired?"
"Not really, but I'm just not in the mood for a heavy-duty conversation right now. Hey, this pitcher is empty. Should I make another one?"
"I think so. You bring your bong? I got some weed with me..."
"I got it!"
"OK. Want some help with the drinks?"
"Nah, but you can take the glasses and fill `em with ice if ya want..."
"Fine," Sean replied.
Tim and Sean consumed two more pitchers of drinks that night along with a few bong hits. To Tim, the mood was a lot lighter than he had expected. He was expecting morose. Or silent.
What he got was actually a mostly pleasant evening of reminiscing about their championship football season from so long ago. Tim was even pretty sure he thought he saw the corners of Sean's mouth turn up a time or two, and maybe a snicker.
Tim would take any progress he could get, but he was smart enough to know that it might be two steps forward and one step back. He wouldn't break his promise to Sean. Tim would be in it for as long as it took. Before Tim and Sean set off for Milwaukee to see Archbishop Taylor, Tim had a telephone conversation with the Archbishop who advised him that although he hadn't done anything wrong by not noticing his friend's anguish for so many years, nevertheless it weighed on Tim's soul and in order to unburden himself Tim should do what his heart told him to do. The Archbishop advised Tim that the past was in the past, but that God had put Tim in this situation now because Tim was the only one who could handle it.
Mentally, Tim shrugged and figured he'd deal with the first few following days at the cabin as they came.
"So, ya wanna hike tomorrow?" Tim asked as he loaded a final bong hit for the evening.
"Yeah, I would. I mean it was so long ago when we were up here. It was Winter, remember? We all went snowmobiling and thought it was awesome that none of the bars carded us? So, yeah, I mean it's getting to be Fall now and everything, so it'd be fun to hike the woods. I've never done that before. But, we have to go shopping first..."
"OKOKOKOKOK!" Tim laughed. "That's fine, and maybe we can get a quick breakfast, too if ya want."
"Sure. That way we won't have to cook in the morning. You know any good places?"
"Yeah, there's this really old place in the center of town that dad always took us to as a treat when we were kids. Killer pancakes and bacon."
"Let's do it, then."
"Time for bed then?" Tim asked.
"I guess so. I'm tired and I've had enough alcohol..."
When Tim tried to steer Sean to a separate bedroom Sean demurred a bit. "If it's OK, I don't wanna sleep alone... I... I would just feel... I dunno, better I guess. Is that OK?"
"Works for me. We'll take mom and dad's room then. It's got a King Size bed. I slept on it once and it was unreal. They haven't been up here in like forever, so I'm sure it's fresh and clean."
"I aint't gonna bitch, Dix. I just wanna sleep for now. But I want my friend with me."
Tim and Sean stripped off and got into bed. Tim pulled Sean in just as he had done at the car museum. He was careful with Sean as he didn't want to pull Sean's emotions one way or the other. Tim felt his friend relax, without tense muscles and with breathing regular and unstrained. Sean shifted a bit in the bed, sliding his buttocks back into Tim.
Tim knew what that meant but he had to be sure. He hugged Sean a little bit tighter. Sean murmured lowly, backing his buttocks up just a little more. By now Tim had a full erection and not being kids anymore he knew that Sean knew that, and Tim made no attempt to hide it.
"Dix," Sean said quietly. "I need a friend right now. Please..."
"I'll always be your friend. I told you that a thousand times if I said it once."
"If it was anyone but you..." Sean whispered.
Tim gently turned Sean toward him, parted his hair off his face and softly kissed him. He was a bit surprised when Sean responded by opening his lips as his arms wrapped around Tim's back. By now, their erections were pressing together. Both recalled that time in the same cabin many years ago, the time they said they'd never speak of again. And the same thought went through both of their minds again, although each one knew it was for different reasons.
Tim's mission was to rescue his old friend. He promised himself he would do that and through his life, even as a kid and as a teenager, Tim was a person who didn't break his promises. He was reminded, too, of the friendship he'd had with Eric Trager that was lost for some years due to a misunderstanding. Tim vowed that he would not allow that to happen again.
For his part, Sean knew things couldn't go on as they had been. He always prided himself on being a strong person. A person who did his duty and didn't complain. Someone who enjoyed life. But, as Tim as said, there hadn't been any more pleasure for him. Then flashed a memory into his mind. Why that particular memory he couldn't say, but it was the memory of him in his first huddle as starting quarterback way back as a sophomore at Tremper High School in Kenosha after Steve Gimmel had gone out injured. It was almost an out-of-body experience. It was as if he hovered over that scene so long ago of his sixteen-year-old self looking around at his older teammates and saying, "Believe in me."
Sean looked into Tim's eyes. He studied them. He saw friendship and kindness and love. Sean's heart sunk. He couldn't do this. The black dog of his depression was stirring and gnawing at him and then there came that feeling of being sucked into his other black hole. The black hole of aloneness.
Sean didn't want to feel that way but he felt he didn't have the strength to fight it. So on top of his depression, disappointment crept in. Sean felt without worth.
Suddenly, a voice came to his head. A faraway voice that he hadn't heard for many a year. A voice he wasn't sure he could stand to hear. But there it was...
From beyond the beyond the voice told Sean that enough was enough. That he wasn't even halfway through his life and he had to shake it off. He was to be blessed with long life and it should also be a good one.
Sean wondered why that voice hadn't spoken to him until that night and that place. He was mad about that and at the same time he was relieved.
Sean had one thing he could do at that precise moment. He looked at Tim and said, "Believe in me!"
"Dix, I... It's that so many people have come and gone. Their faces fade..."*
"I think I get it," Tim said, pulling Sean closer and kissing him again. "I've always believed in you, Wymo. Maybe more than I ever believed in myself," Tim said.
"All these years?" Sean asked, astonished.
"All these years..." Tim said. "Every case I argued once I had my own opinion I asked myself how Wymo'd do it. I did. I swear."
"What? Like even in front of the Supreme Court?"
"I did."
"I love you, Dix," Sean whispered.
"I've always loved you, too. You're just not Brett..."
"No, no I'm not," Sean said balefully. "He's way above me."
"Dunno how ya figure that, but OK..."
Tim, noticing that their members were still erect against one another dared the impossible, or so he thought. Tim grabbed hold of Sean's erect penis. Sean replied the same.
An hour later they were both asleep, Sean spooned back into Tim.
In the morning, Tim was the first one up. He rose, went outside and took a piss out in the yard under some majestic old blue spruce trees that he remembered he and his brothers helped their dad plant when they were kids. Tim looked up into the trees, reflecting on life. How tiny and fragile those things were back then as maybe an eight- or nine-year-old he planted one of these giant trees when it was little more than a sapling. He remembered the one he planted and when done pissing he walked over and ran the palm of his hand over some of the needles. "I planted you, ya know," Tim said. "I'm glad you grew straight and strong." Tim then wiped a tear from his eye.
He returned to the cabin going straight to the kitchen to put on the morning coffee. Surprised, there was Sean at the stove cooking two omelets and with the coffee already brewed.
"Coffee?" Sean asked.
"Sorry, man, I was outside taking a piss..." Tim said. "I thought we were gonna grab breakfast in Rhinelander?"
"I know. I just felt like cooking. I saw you grab that tree. What was that for?"
"I planted that tree when I was a boy. Maybe second or third grade."
"This place means a lot to you, doesn't it..."
"Shit, Wymo, we practically grew up here in the Summer when we were kids. Not so much when we got older, but like before we were all middle school age, yeah."
"Well, let's eat and then let's go get the shit we need and maybe we could hike when we get back?"
"Shit, OK, but it'd take maybe three days or so to hike the whole property. It's nine square miles and for a little bit it crosses the Wisconsin River. We'll have to take the long way around and drive to that part because there's no boat here. That's the smaller part of the property that backs up to an old fire lane road. We'll leave that for last..."**
"That's fine. I thought it would give us something to do and these are nice views, Dix..."
"That's one thing I was thinking about..."
"Whadya mean?"
"Well... I mean... It's like... Ya know..."
"Dix, I'm not Brett. I can't guess the rest of your sentence," Sean said as he slung an omelet onto Tim's plate and then in seemingly the same instant throwing down an English muffin and some butter.
"OK! Well... I mean, last night... It was... I mean..."
"Stop it, Dix. It's fine."
"I mean I don't want you to, I mean us to, I mean..."
"OK, I get it now. You don't want us to fall in love. Well, we won't. What love do I have left to give anyone anyway? That's gone. We enjoyed each other's company last night. And we'll probably do it again. And we'll like it. I wouldn't object. Would you?"
"Um, well... No... No, I wouldn't. But that's not the object here. You know that. I can be your friend, shit, I can be whatever you want me to be, or need me to be, while we're up here but when we leave here then there's the real world, Wymo... I dunno..."
"I get that. But please help me beat this black dog. It's all I know and it's not me but it's all I know and I..." with that, Sean burst into tears. And he burnt his omelet on the stove which made him cry harder. "I can't even cook a simple fucking breakfast for two people anymore!"
"Siddown," Tim said. He'd never cooked an omelet, but he'd seen it done and reckoned it was just scrambled eggs poured out onto the plate in a presentation that appeared somewhat vaginal. How hard could that be?
"I'll cook ya a fuckin' omelet..."
Sean laughed a little bit at that. "I'll make my own toast while I wait for that, Dix..."
Sean timed his toast to pretty much the same time Tim finished the omelet.
"Seems like you and me can still deliver the plays," Tim said as he slid the omelet in not disagreeable fashion onto Sean's plate. "Perfect omelet. Fuck you, Wymo!" Tim laughed.
"It does look pretty good..." Sean admitted.
"Welp, let's eat and go get your shit..."
Over the next two days Sean and Tim relaxed and explored the Northwoods spread. Sean reckoned they'd covered most of it on the east side of the Wisconsin River and then they could transition to the west side.
First thing in the morning they set out as they'd done the previous days. Both were dressed in camouflage denim pants, sturdy long-sleeve cotton shirts and leather hiking boots. They checked their backpacks making sure they had full canteens, insect repellant, first aid kit, knives, a hatchet, and a MRE*** for each of them.
"These MREs are an excellent idea, Dix!" Sean said.
"I brought them up here every year while I was in the JAG Corps. A few dozen a year. We use `em when we go snowmobiling, or sometimes if we just don't feel like cooking. I mean, they're not like five-star like one of your meals, but they do the trick."
"Well, it's easy I guess... So, what's on the other side of the river anyway?"
"Couldn't tell ya, Wymo. I don't know if I've ever even been over there. Wait, I was... I guess I mighta been about ten years old. I think it was with my grandpa. Yeah, that's right. He said he wanted to go check to see if the gate was in good shape. Yeah, but my dad, or my brothers and me? We never went across the river. The snowmobile trails don't even go on that land. It's almost like ghost land."
"So there's nuthin' over there?"
"Not that I can remember... I think there's supposed to be a creek or something but that's about it. I think it's also hillier than this side of the river. I think anyway... I don't really remember. There was a trail that went back in there wide enough to get like maybe a Jeep down it, but who knows what kind of shape it'd be in now..."
"Well, let's find out!" Sean said.
"OK, but it's gonna take a while to get there because we gotta drive south to the bridge and then back north again. It's gonna take us like 25 miles just to cross the river a mile away."
"I got more time than money..." Sean said.
"Yeah, I guess we both do..."
Almost an hour later Tim pulled off to the side of the road.
"I think it's supposed to be somewhere around here. I'll drive up and down the road just a little but each way. Keep your eyes peeled for an old steel gate."
After a few minutes, Sean yelled out, "Over there, Dix! There's a gate! And it's on the river side of the road!"
At the end of a short maybe 20-foot-long almost-hidden gravel inlet off the road there indeed stood an old-looking sheet-steel gate. It appeared to be secure and was standing straight.
"Let's have a look," Tim said.
They bounded out, and in a few seconds Tim said, "Yup, this is it alright!"
"How do you know?"
"Look here!" Tim pointed with his index finger.
In the middle of the top crossbar of the gate were stamped letters, obviously done one at a time by hand a long time in the past as they weren't even, that read "AWD."
"Yeah?"
"That's AWD for Angus W. Dickson. The land's been in an LLC for many years, but the original owner was old Angus. The LLC is Angus W. Dickson, LLC. There are no other assets in that LLC so no one can ever attach the land or take it away. My dad and his sister, my Aunt, are the sole shareholders in the LLC but to the best of my knowledge my Aunt hasn't ever come up here since she was a kid."
"So you mean like Danny's never been up here?"
"Don't think so... Dad says my Aunt never liked it up here. She's a city person. The cabin we're staying in was built in 1939. It replaced an older wooden one. But as far as I know, Danny's never been up here..."
"How are they doing, anyway?"
"Well, you should know... Oops, sorry..."
"Don't sweat it, Dix."
"When was the last time you saw them?"
"I dunno, two, three years ago. Ran into them out at the Country Club. Was leaving a board meeting I didn't wanna be at and I saw them on the way in, why?"
"Just wondered. Well, ya know next year Noles is taking over the football program at Craig. He's gonna change from teaching Chemistry to Phy Ed so he'll have the time to do the job. Danny, well, you know he changed jobs about six months ago, right?"
"No, no I didn't know that," Sean said wistfully.
"Yeah, he was the Finance Manager for the City of Milton but when there was the opening he got hired as the Controller for Rock County. Says it's a way easier job. All those years up in Milton, well, let's just put it this way: Danny says it's hard to balance the money when you have to answer to a bunch of yokels who don't know the first thing about it but wanna tell ya how it's all done."
"I don't even know where they live... Well, not since they left the apartment at the Alamo but that was a lotta years ago."
"They live over on Eastwood Avenue. On that twisty part of the street, you know... Nice place, big older custom-built ranch, and it's just the two of them, so..."
"I feel like a real shit," Sean said.
"You shouldn't, but I bet they'd like to hear from you. I mean, ya know..."
"It's just been so... I mean, it's so... No one knows how... I just... There wasn't anyone to..."
Tim reached out and pulled Sean into a hug. Sean did something again that Tim had never seen before being up at the cabin. He cried. Freely. His shoulders heaved uncontrollably. His entire body shook. Tim could feel Sean's tears as they penetrated and dampened the shoulder of his shirt. Tim's heart ached for his old friend.
Tim rubbed Sean's back with an open right hand while he held the back of his head with the left.
"You cry as long as you need to, bud," Tim softly said. "I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to be your friend. A little bit late, I know, but..."
After a time, Sean said, "I think... I'm... done for now. I've wanted... to do that... for so long..."
I figured as much," Tim said.
"Should we go in?" Sean asked, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
"Yeah, lemme look in my pack here. I know there's a chain and a lock and the lock's prolly fucked, so I brought Brett's grandpa's old lock picking kit and some penetrating oil. I got a bolt cutter if that doesn't work. We'll get in. I wanna pull the car in anyway. This is a pretty weird place for an old Buick ya know..."
"Yeah, if I hadda do it again we'd have come up in a different vehicle, but I didn't think of it, so..."
"You mean WE didn't. I pulled a fast one on ya, Wymo. I get to admit it now that I did, but you knew it anyway."
"I had an idea. It's OK, I got a whole shop full of people if the car gets a scratch, or anything, so don't sweat it..."
"I meant to ask you about that. How do you finance that place without spending any of the Consortium's money? I hope you're not spending all of your own on it..."
"Oh hell no. See, there's my collection, but that won't keep an entire shop busy unless I wanted every car spit shined every day. We get restoration work from all around the country. I don't pressure any customers, but they come in and look over the cars in the museum and maybe I let them drive one or two of `em and they're sold. I never put any pressure on anyone. I don't give a fuck what they think. They can sign up, or not. We've always been working at capacity and sometimes I'm told that we've turned work away because we were too full... We're a well- known shop and we get top dollar. The place makes a shit-ton of money and as I understand it, Kevin says it's useful for tax purposes, too. My own tax purposes that is..."
"Hey, I didn't mean..."
"I know... At least that's one thing I can look you in the eye and say. I mighta let a lotta other shit slide, but I never let you guys down. At least I can say that much..."
"No one ever questioned you."
"Ah, I know everyone's been thinking for a long time now about how they might get rid of me for however long and send me away for a little while. I got eyes and ears still. Yeah, I'm aloof, never around, and emotionally checked out. I was and am all those things, but I was also on top of our investments and everything else, and I made crucial decisions when it counted. Maybe a time or two I exceeded my authority, but it was only when there wasn't any time to consult anyone. And I didn't do badly out of those ones either. I did my best. Whadya want? I did my duty. What more did anyone want out of me? That's all I had in me to give, Dix... You're the lucky one here..."
"I guess so... Wanna know something?"
"What..."
"No one knows this except our parents. Not even Kev or David..."
"What is it, Dix?" Sean said with concern.
"OK, well... See... Me and Brett, right? Well... We um... I mean... OK!! Fuck it!! Brett and I had a son before George but he was premature and stillborn... I held him before they took him away... My dead son fit in the palm of my hand!
"We named him Herbert George. Father Taylor was still the Priest back then. He said the funeral Mass. A year later we had another one. That's Georgie. And then Andrew and then Kevin. But we lost the first one. Who knows what kind of a young man he'd be right now? I sure don't... He'd be almost 21. I would've liked to have known him now..."
A tear was seen streaking down Tim's cheek. Sean wiped it off and then looked away. He didn't want to embarrass Tim. Tim took it as Sean being aloof.
"I... I didn't know, Dix... I didn't know..."
"I know you didn't. Like I said almost nobody knows."
"No, I guess not..." Sean said, feeling a bit emotionally pressed between his own black dog and Tim's revelation about his stillborn first son.
"We didn't tell anyone except the immediate family. I mean, we were living in DC at the time and stuff. It was hardest on Brett. It damn near wrecked him..."
"I'm really sorry, Dix..."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure for a little while there he was using morphine. He was a doctor at an Army hospital. He could prescribe anything he wanted and get it from the pharmacy no questions asked. He was a wreck, Wymo. For a couple months he didn't say three words to me, and he hardly ate anything at all. Lost about 30 pounds. I mean, I never saw him do it, but there's signs for drug use and the all signs were there. He hid it from me."
"God!"
"And then he just stopped doing it. It was right when Georgie was born. As soon as we had Georgie, Brett came back to life. I was pretty worried and didn't know what to do... Anyway, after Georgie was born Brett took a month off and didn't let that baby out of his sight."
"I wish I'd have known... I'm sorry, man..."
"It's water under the bridge, Wymo. It was a long time ago now... There wasn't anything anyone could've done..."
"Where... I mean, I dunno how to say this but... Where's he buried?"
"In the family plot at Mount Olivet Cemetery."
Sean took Tim's hand in his own and just looked at it, rubbing his thumb over the palm and saying nothing. There was nothing he could say. Tim noticed Sean's lower lip trembling. Tim didn't say anything, either.
"Anyway," Tim said, "Let's open the gate..."
Tim opened his backpack and started fishing through it.
"Like I said, I brought Brett's grandpa's locksmith tools and some penetrating oil. There's gonna be a lock on here and it's gonna be really old, so... Anyway, it's prolly gonna take a few minutes..."
Sean nodded.
After a time, with several applications of oil, and Tim's prodding with Brett's grandpa's tools, the old lock finally yielded.
"Knew I could do it," Tim said deadpan.
"Never doubted you," Sean smirked.
"I saw you smirk just now," Tim said.
"Maybe... Don't tell anybody, OK?" Sean replied in a smart aleck way.
"I won't. Wanna know something weird?"
"What..."
"These last few days up here, somehow I feel like I'm back in high school again... It's almost like I feel like I did then, but I still know what I know now and stuff..."
"I feel... Well, I feel maybe a little different than I did," Sean said. "I dunno. It's the black dog... But I know whatcha mean..."
"Black dog?"
"My depression. Let's just go in." Sean said, motioning toward the gate. "Anyway, lead on. But let's back the Buick in first. You get in and back it up so we can shut the gate on it, I'll spot."
Tim got the old Buick parked, and the gate shut and relocked.
"We gonna be able to open that lock again?" Sean asked.
"Yeah..." Tim answered. "I mean, it was old, but it was a solid stainless-steel enclosure with brass insides. It was a little crotchety, but it was still good. The penetrating oil will only help it and before we leave I'll take the dipstick out of the Buick's engine and drip some engine oil into it. That should be enough for a while. If not, I'll change it..."
"I reckon that'll be OK, Farmer Tim..." Sean teased.
"Asswipe!"
"We can talk about ass later..."
"OK, well, let's just follow the old Jeep trail as far as we can into this and see where we are. I mean, we got GPS and we know where the car is, so... Butcha gotta know that I got no idea how good the old trail's gonna be for passage, or for how long, though..." Tim said.
"Fine," Sean answered. "I mean, you haven't been over here since you were a kid, and I never have and maybe never will be again, so let's have a look."
Sean and Tim explored until they both figured it was getting close to lunch time. They looked around and spied a fallen tree in the near distance that looked perfect for sitting down on to eat their MREs.
"Hey, these things really aren't THAT bad..." Sean said.
"Nope. Army lives on these things. They even come with a little thing of Tabasco Sauce..."
"Hey, Dix" Sean exclaimed. "Look up there!" Sean said, pointing to the top of a large hill not too far off.
Tim looked but said he didn't see what Sean was pointing at.
"Right THERE, Dix," Sean said pointing again. "See it? It looks like the top of a roof. It goes horizontal. Right across. See it?"
Tim stood up, moved closer to where Sean was sitting and cupped his right hand over his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun.
"Yeah, it does, doesn't it. Well, fuck me..."
"Maybe later. Wanna go check it out?"
"Fuck yeah! Let's finish up quick here!"
Tim and Sean hiked up the hill which was long but not terribly steep. Every so often they'd lose sight of what appeared to them to be a roofline, but they kept going in the same general direction.
After about half an hour they came to the top of the hill. Sure enough, about fifty feet down the other side of the hill and perched by itself on a rock outcropping was an ancient-looking two- story stone cottage.
"Jesus, Dix! Look at THAT! You didn't know THAT was here?"
"Nope..."
"Well, I can see how someone could miss it. Look at the roof! It's copper sheet. That's why it's green. It kinda blends in with the trees... Looks from here to be in decent shape, though... How old you think it is?"
"Couldn't say... Mighta been here when old Angus bought the land. Or maybe he built it. If he built it, it could be a hundred, a hundred-and-twenty years old, something like that. We better be careful, though. Let's put our packs down and unholster our guns."
"You're right. We don't know if there might be squatters or whatever."
The closer they got the more the place appeared to be simply forgotten and undisturbed.
"Let's look in a few of the windows, Dix," Sean said, "but it doesn't look to me that there's anyone living here. Whadya think?"
"I think you're prolly right. I wonder how this place just coulda been forgotten, though..."
"You'd know better than me," Sean laughed.
"Did you just laugh"" Tim teased.
"Yeah, I guess I did..." Sean smirked.
"Well, we've been around the outside. You were right, the place looks pretty solid. Wanna go in? If we do we better be careful because even if there's no people here there might be racoons, or God knows what."
"How we gonna get in?"
"Let's get our packs. Don't forget, I got Brett's grandpa's locksmith shit in there..."
Tim struggled for about ten minutes, but he freed the lock on the front door and managed to get the latch to turn. Once the latch was open, it took Tim's entire body weight to get the hinges to move.
"Guess I better oil those, too..." Tim laughed.
"Jesus Christ! Look at the dust!" Sean said. "But there's nothing here. No furniture, no nuthin'!"
"It's nice, though. Look at these stone walls, and the paneling! And the ceiling beams! Man, this place is built!"
"Hey, look here!" Sean said pointing to the back door. "Look at this paper on the wall here. It's got dates on it and initials next to the dates. Christ! It goes way back. Different initials, but the dates go all the way back to 1952. And there's a date and an initial about a month ago this year. Hey, you know what?"
"Wow! This is weird. Anyway, what..."
"It's someone who came by to check the place. I bet that's why it's in decent shape. Someone's been here to look after it once or twice a year. See, they keep lists like this in foreclosed houses. But I wonder who..."
"Beats the fuck outta me. Maybe my dad would know..."
"Should we see if there's a basement?"
"We can see, but if there is I ain't going in it..."
"Chicken shit. I don't think there's a basement anyway, I mean we didn't see a bulkhead on the outside and the stone work goes all the way to the ground. It was prolly built right on top of the rock outcrop. Let's look at the upstairs."
"OK, you lead!"
"Jesus, man, you're a pussy, Dix!"
Upstairs they found three smallish bedrooms and a bathroom that while mostly intact looked as if it hadn't been used for years. The toilet was so old the tank was high up on the wall near the ceiling.
"OK, well, I guess we've seen it all then, Wymo."
"You guys own this place, Dix?"
"It's on our land..."
"I want it."
"What?"
"I don't mean I want to own it. I mean I want it as a place for me to go. Just look around this place, the land and the forest. Let's go back outside."
"OK, but I'm gonna lock up once we go. We better be heading back soon anyway."
Once outside and with the cabin locked up, Sean walked to the front of the cabin and gasped.
"Jesus! Dix! Look at this!" Sean was standing near the edge of a high bluff overlooking the Wisconsin River. "I want this... This reminds me of Scotland. The Highlands..."
"How you gonna get back here?"
"Not from the road we came in on. Is that your land straight across the river?"
"Yeah, I mean our property is three miles square so it has to be..."
"I'll build a bridge over the river to the other side and we'll extend your road to meet it."
"You can't just have a bridge built!"
"Sure I can... The DNR**** allows these things on private land. Ya just gotta go by their rules. I'll have Saeth build it. Billy Dean runs the Janesville office and even though he's not a road and bridge architect they got those people there. It'd prolly hafta be a suspension or cable-stayed bridge. That way there's no piers sunk into the riverbed and the DNR will have less hurdles to jump through."
"Don'tcha think that would be kinda ugly?"
"No. I'll have them build the piers of stone, or make it look like stone. It'll look like the Brooklyn Bridge. I wouldn't do any ugly metal structure. Then when the road gets to this side it can just come up the side of the bluff, turn and end here by the cottage."
"What about plowing in the Winter? And what about security?"
"We can have it plowed from your place to here. Plowed to a four-inch snow depth and if I come in Winter then I cross on snowmobile. Security? Great Lakes can handle that, and they can work with Saeth on that to design it in. We can also pay the County Sheriff for a daily drive by."
"You think we can have the road swing wide by my place so we don't have snow plow guys driving by it all the time? I mean, if there's a road, and if it's plowed then I can get to my place by snowmobile, too, if I come in Winter but I haven't in years..."
"Sure, we'll have Saeth do the road plan, too. And I'll even have a building built along the road for your snowmobiles so that if you do come in Winter you can park inside the building and then pull out on a snowmobile and get to your place!"
"Jeez, that's gonna cost an assload, bud..."
"I have the money. All the money I've had come in for so many years I never spent. I just reinvested it. It won't cost the consortium a cent. I figure total cost will be less than five million. I got that."
Just then, Tim's cell phone went off...
"It's the Governor," Tim winked.
"Hey, Sweetie!" Tim said.
"Tim, we're not on a secure line here. Are you at the cabin?"
"No, we're hiking, why?"
"OK, well, well, when you gonna be back at the cabin?"
"I dunno, a couple hours maybe, why?"
"Call me from there. I'll pick up."
"OK..."
"What was that all about?" Sean asked.
"Dunno, but he wants me to call him back on the secure line so we gotta go back to the cabin."
"Your cell phone's not secure?"
"It is, but it's not a Great Lakes phone. I didn't get one yet since I got back from DC. Shoot me... Anyway, the line at the cabin is a Great Lakes secure line."
"OK, well, Brett wouldn't call unless it was important. Let's get outta here. And I still want this place."
"I have an idea about that. We'll talk it over once I see what Brett wants."
The two old friends repaired down the hill and on to the incongruous old Buick parked just inside the gate.
"Car looks OK," Tim said.
"Yup. Mind if I drive back? I just like this car is all. Cars had style back then..."
"It's your car, bro..."
The gate locked behind them, Sean piloted the old Gran Sport down the country backroad in sporty fashion.
"Man, these old engineers had it down," Sean said. "This ain't the Fleetwood, Dix, this one's restored back to dead factory stock. I just love the ride and handling of these old cars. Man, they had it down... And a real eight-cylinder gasoline engine? I mean, c'mon, man, this is livin'. I always liked this car..."
"Livin' is getting to know you again, Wymo. I was a shitty friend and that's gonna stay with me for a long time, but anyway, yeah, I love the car. I mean, they don't make `em like this anymore..."
"Dix, man, I dunno, man... I mean... I've been such an ass... I acted like I was the only person who mattered. I think I let my sons down big time. Lemme do this on my own, man... I mean not on my own, but I need some time and space, man... I'll do my best. Believe in me, Dix..."
"Wanna know something?"
"What..."
"I've always believed in you, Wymo. From when we were high school kids on the football team, if there was one person I could believe in, it was you. That's how it always went, bud... Number One and Number Two. Look back on all the games we played that year and how you and I ran that offense. Nobody can ever take that away from us. Ever. Never mind that I got shot and couldn't play, well, Coach put me in for a few downs but that was crap, and then he played Kriegs and damnit the kid kept us alive, but you, you were hurt bad and you forced Coach to put you back in. Why? And then you won the fucking game for us... Yeah, I believe in you, man... You wrecked yourself for us..."
"I was part of us, Dix," Sean said in a more-than-a-little-bit annoyed voice. "I remember it all..."
"I'm sorry, Wymo..." Tim said sadly. "Whatever I try to do doesn't work except when we're alone at night. Not that I mind that, because I don't, you're an incredible lover, but, well, it just seems like maybe I should shut up and butt out..."
"Dix, man, I feel better now than I have for a long time. Maybe there's even a light at the end of the tunnel, I dunno, man... Don't think I'd feel this way if it wasn't for you, though... You helped me turn the clock back to another time and I can see how life used to be. You know, I had a dream the other night and in the dream I was told I wasn't even halfway through my life, so I guess I shouldn't spend any more years the same way I've spent the last few years. That much I know. And as far as what we do at night, it's reminded me what a human touch is. I'd forgotten about that; about how much we all need that."
"So that mean we're good then?"
"We're good," Sean said reaching over and interlacing his fingers in Tim's hand.
The rest of the ride back to the Dickson cabin was in silence. Once back, Tim said, "I'm gonna go into the den and call Brett now and see what's up..."
"OK, I'll get dinner on the table while you guys are talking."
In the den, Tim shut the door and dialed Brett's secure line. "Hey, hun," Tim said into the phone. "Yeah, I'm back at the cabin. On the Great Lakes line."
"Well, I wouldn't have bothered you unless it's important and it is. It's two things. First, my administration is being sued. Now that's the easy one. We're being sued because we withdrew the state charter for the Milwaukee Public Schools and placed it under the control of the legislature. Second one could be a problem..."
"What is it?"
"Remember when I first announced that I was gonna run and there was that threat to put in public that we all do shady dealings like a mafia, or something?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, there was a story in the news today in the Madison paper where the Chairman of the Wisconsin Democrats hinted that I wasn't, and I quote, "the Boy Scout everyone thinks he is. The Governor is a wily millionaire businessman who's involved with shell corporations and has hidden income all over the world."
"Well, except for the hidden income part, the rest is true. You're wily, you're a millionaire and there are shell corporations. None of which are illegal or ever have been. Besides, that could describe a lot of folks. But you and I have never hidden any income. Hell, we've never even been audited except for that once and it was perfunctory due to a material increase in income that one year. Anyway, gimme that Chairman guy's name. I'm gonna have Great Lakes look into him and if I think it's necessary, we'll have a little meeting with him. People like that are rarely clean. Now, one thing that we never did talk about, and I'm sure you remember, is that the day you announced you were running we took our two shares in the consortium and placed them in abeyance. As of that date, we didn't own any of it and we still don't. If this turd burglar thinks he's gonna get us to show out tax returns, well, we ain't gonna do that. We file jointly and the reason will be that your husband doesn't think he hasta share his private information with the rest of the fucking world. And if he doesn't like that, I'll see him in court. Besides, the issue wasn't raised when you were running, so it's a load of bullshit. And I'll tell ya who this State Chairman is taking his orders from, he's taking them from the DNC.***** Some penny-ante douchbag like that isn't gonna pull this kinda shit unless he's told to do it by someone higher up on the food chain. He's not elected so what does he care? Besides, we've got elections in five weeks. They want to injure you any way they can in the legislature here, and maybe try to flip one, or two of Wisconsin's House seats in DC. That's all this is."
"That's what I figured, too, but I can't have any administration people helping me on this. Well, not until we discover for reals what's the Chairman's deal and then make sure that the Attorney General "finds out" about it. Anyway, yeah, I need you to do the investigative work here."
"I might have Wymo do it now that I think of it."
"What?"
"Hear me out..."
"OK."
"He's dealt with Great Lakes for years, and so has his dad. He knows those guys way better than I do. Wymo's your guy. I know I mentioned Great Lakes, but I'll let Wymo handle that and think it was his idea. Besides, better to have him involved than your husband just in case. Nobody in Madison would ever think of Wymo. He's been under the radar for years. It's perfect."
"Well, now that you put it that way, I agree."
"OK, so what's the lawsuit deal?"
"A bill was introduced in the Assembly to put MPS under state control. It's a failing system and it costs about twice as much per kid to the state as the average system does. I didn't have anything to do with the bill, but it passed and with some Democrat support as well as all the Republicans, so I signed the bill. Why would I veto it? When I read the bill there was nothing illegal or unconstitutional in it, and they didn't foist MPS on my office, thank God, so of course I signed it. Why wouldn't I?"
"That's pissant crap. You can have the Attorney General shut that down in five seconds."
"Yeah, I know. I mean, the bill could easily be construed as a money bill and that's the province of the legislature but what concerns me is that it could look bad when you put it together with the Democrat Chairman's bullshit."
"When we hang up, I'll get Wymo on the case. I suppose, though, that I better come back so that if Wymo goes ahead with it then later on we find out someone else documented dates and shit that Wymo was up here and I was in Janesville... I have plausible deniability. I'll see what he says and letcha know. If it's a go, I'll text you an eggplant emoji. If it's not then I'll text you a shit emoji."
"Sounds good, hun. So you guys are making progress?"
"I'm actually surprised, but we are. I really believe that. Just so ya know, yes, we've been having sex. It was a necessary part of this."
"I figured that might be the case. And you are managing your affair?"
"If I wasn't, then I don't deserve to have it."
"I can't wait until you're back."
"Me either. I have another idea, though."
"Uh-oh..."
"Once we get the lawsuit dismissed, and once we get the dirt on the Chairman dude, you're going to make the biggest speech of your life, and you know where you're going to make it from?"
"I'm not sure if I wanna guess..."
"Lambeau Field.******
"What the fuck?"
"Yeah, there's no more of a traditional public venue in Wisconsin than Lambeau. Nowhere. And remember, when they did the last stadium expansion the consortium donated $10 million towards it which was half of what they needed And don't forget that Green Bay and the Fox River Valley really fucking supported you with votes. It's the perfect spot. And before it happens, you and I will sit down and write the biggest barnburner of a speech any Governor ever gave. Your record is what you promised, hun, a hundred percent. If you ask me the opposition are a bunch of shit-ass machine politicians and fucking Communists. They'll be sorry they ever thought of this shit."
"That's what I thought you'd say, Timothy. That's why I love you."
"I love you too, hun. More than you will ever know. Even more than that day you swept me off my feet at the mall when we were just kids..."
"Me, too. OK, well, go talk to Wymo and let me know..."
"Love you, hun."
"You, too. Bye."
Tim walked into the kitchen where Sean was just serving dinner. Tim was aghast. It was Shit-on- a-Shingle.
"Bon apetit, Dix!"
"Fucker..." Tim laughed.
"Hey, you liked it the last time you had it..."
"You mean like 25 years ago?"
"Yeah. So shut your pie hole and eat."
"OK. Anyway, look, Brett needs me back in Janesville for some shit that's come up that's pretty important. And we might need your help with it, too. So, I gotta head back in the morning."
"What's going on..." Sean said, concerned.
Tim told Sean the entire conversation he just had with Brett.
"Dix, man... You need me to help Brett and I'm doing it in a nanosecond. You have your faults and God knows I have mine, but Brett? You write down a list of what you want me to do and I'm doing it. That's it."
"We figured you'd say that. Now, you comin' back to The Burg with me tomorrow?"
"If it's all the same to you, I'll stay. I know that leaves me without a car, but I'm gonna call Joey and Lennie and have them come up. Then I'll have a way back. But I wanna be here for a couple of days, maybe a week. I wanna figure out what to do with that cottage on the other side of the river and I wanna write a few things about, well, you know... If I'm here for a few more days it doesn't matter."
"Thanks, man... I mean..." Tim started sobbing.
"I know what you mean. Let's clean up the dishes and have a cocktail..."
"You mix?"
"I'll mix. Brandy Old Fashioned Sour. Get us a couple of bong hits, too..."
"We're a pair you and I..." Tim said.
"A pair of what..." Sean smirked.
"A pair of heroes, a pair of fools, a pair of whatevers, a pair of believers... Whatever the words to that old song were.
"We always were," Sean said pouring drinks. "I'd like a bong hit."
The next morning, Sean treated Tim to grilled cheese sandwiches for breakfast.
"You pregnant, Wymo?" Tim laughed.
"If I wasn't a man I might be, but I just didn't want eggs, or anything, so this is what we got."
"Smartass. Well, just get whoever ya need to get you a vehicle up here..."
"I already got plans, don't worry..."
"So you don't mind?"
"Mind what..."
"That I'm gonna leave and go help Brett?"
"Fuck off, Dix. He's your husband and he's the Governor. You're an experienced attorney. Of course I don't mind. It's what I would do. It's what anyone would do. I'm gonna put Great Lakes Security on the case."
"OK, but don't call `em until I let you know I'm back in Janesville, OK?"
"Right, and I'll have them put every asshole they got on it. I'll pay for it myself if I have to. Seeing Brett done like this pisses me off, Dix..."
"So, just to be sure, you're OK here by yourself for a little while..."
"It'll be fine, Dix. Maybe I can do some writing... Prolly time you get going here... You got a long drive."
"I guess so, bud," Tim said looking away. He continued looking almost hurt, "I wouldn't have traded these last few days for anything, Wymo. For anything..."
"Me either," Sean said squeezing Tim's hand, "but we'll chalk it up to a fond memory shall we say. It's a memory that'll last the rest of my life anyway... I'm gonna be sorry to see you walk out that door, but it's what it's gotta be, bro..."
"Walk me out?" Tim asked, looking at the floor.
"Of course I will," Sean said, his lower lip slightly uneven.
Once at the old Buick Tim turned around, took Sean into his embrace and hugged him for all he was worth. He leaned in and planted a tender kiss on Sean's lips. "See ya in a few days, or so, bud," Tim said with a tear running down his face.
Sean wiped Tim's tear for him. "Yeah... In a few..."
Sean watched, tears falling down his own face as he saw the back of the Gran Sport growing smaller and smaller as it headed down the little gravel road. Sean dutifully strode back inside, opened one of his journal books and began making phone calls. His first call was to Great Lakes Security. He didn't wait for Tim to get back home. This was too important to lose any time Sean thought.
Sean told his contact at Great Lakes what Tim had told him, gave him Tim's contact information and told the man not to bother Tim or Brett with billing but just to put it on his account. He asked how long it would take to finish the investigation. "Three days," he was told. "This isn't that involved."
"Excellent, Sean said. "But I can anticipate we might need it faster so please plan for that. When we get it could you make sure it's in proper form to submit to a DA?" Sean asked knowing it could be intended for the state's Attorney General.
"You got it, Mr. Wyman!"
Sean's next call was to the Land Rover dealership in Janesville. He ordered a brand-new Defender. In luck, they had such a model on the lot. Unlike most models sold it had diesel power, not electric, and was set up for mild off-roading. Sean asked, and was answered in the affirmative, that the Defender had a stick shift and not an automatic transmission. Sean paid for the vehicle in cash over the phone and asked that it be ready for pick up the next day and delivered on a trailer to be hauled up to the cabin.
The next call was to Joey.
"Joey? It's your father..."
"DAD?! Dad... How are you dad?"
"I'm well, son. Just fine, thanks. I think I'm better than I've been for a long time but that can wait. Listen, I need you and Lennie to help me out for a couple days..."
"When do you need us?"
"Starting tomorrow and then maybe for a day, or two beyond that. I'm up north at Uncle Tim's cabin. I might be here for a little while. Anyway, I need you guys to swing by the Alamo and make sure everything is locked down. Then I want you guys to take the Suburban and go to the Land Rover dealer. They're gonna have a vehicle there on a trailer and I need you to drive it up here..."
"Um, OK... Anything else?"
"Not for now, no... Anyway, I suppose you'll be bringing Tommy. That's fine. Who knows, maybe he'll wanna stay for a while after you leave... How's he doing, anyway? I never really ever talked to him..."
"You haven't really talked to anyone for a long time, dad..."
"I know. I'll talk to you about that when you're here. And I'll talk to T. J. and Scott, too... I um... I've spent the last few days with Uncle Tim and it wasn't something I was expecting, but I guess it was something I needed. I checked out for a lotta years, son, and I'm sorry. I just... I mean..."
"You don't have to say anything, dad. It was hard for all of us. Maybe that's why T.J. and Scott moved away, who knows? Anyway, if that's what you need us to do we'll do it and we'll see you tomorrow. Exactly what time I'm not sure because we'll have to set the office up for secure remote access. I guess we'll bring our work laptops. In our business nothing ever sleeps, you know..."
"You're a good son, Joseph. Thank you."
"And no matter what you might think, dad, you're a good dad. I wouldn't have wanted any other dad. None of us would."
Sean's next call was to Billy Dean at the Saeth Construction office in Janesville.
He told Billy Dean to come up the next day as well and bring what he needed to estimate a large job. Sean knew what he intended to do but he wanted input. To make sure it was done properly.
"I'll see ya t'marrah, cuz," Billie Dean said. "Prolly not gonna bring Eric. He ain't gonna be able to get off work I'm purdy sure..."
Sean understood. Eric Trager and Billie Dean married in Eric's junior year at UW-Madison. Eric ended up, as Sean had long suspected, a teacher. He taught Computer Science and was the head basketball coach at Parker High School. He might have had his own youth basketball career stolen from him by his father, but in this way he could get at least some of it back. That's how Sean figured it...
Next up was Peggy Dickson.
"Hi, mom..." Sean said.
"Well speak of the devil! George and me, we were just talkin' about you!"
"Not sure I wanna hear it..." Sean laughed.
"Well, we love ya anyway, don'tcha know... So what can me and George do for you, hun?"
"Well, Joey and Lennie are gonna be up her for maybe a few days and I just wanted to know if Tommy can do his lessons remote from here, that's all..."
"Of course he can! He's got all the materials and he can go online for his homework. That'll be just fine."
"How's he doing, anyway?"
"Well, Sean, I'll tell ya what I told Joey and Lennie. Little Tommy? He's an average student at best. He's not bright like you, or Timmy were, never mind Brett. He can do the average work that it'll take to graduate, but he'll never be a great student. I'd probably recommend vocational training for him. But he's got a good attitude. He tries. He tries his best. He's still pretty quiet, but he seems a lot less nervous. He's a sweet boy, Sean..."
"That's good. I know he had a terrible childhood. There's only so much Joey and Lennie can do about that, but from what I understand they're doing their best."
"I think so, too, Sean. I seen a lotta kids in my day come from bad homes. A lot of `em never get a break. At least Tommy's getting a break..."
"We all hope so, mom."
Sean then got a cup of coffee, sat down, opened up another of his journal books and began to sketch. Not a great artist, Sean roughly sketched some ideas, sometimes putting a huge X trough the page and starting over again.
He envisioned what he wanted but was having trouble expressing it on paper. He decided to save his sketches and show them to Joey and Lennie. Sean vowed that he would figure it out. He knew what he wanted.
Sean worked so far into the day that he forgot to eat lunch and only began to feel hungry when he noticed the sun was starting to go down. He got up to fix himself a sandwich, came back, and turned on the TV news. Never having been a real news junkie, Sean was nevertheless transfixed at what he heard.
"Two bombshell stories from Madison tonight. Both of them are out of the Attorney General's office. First, the Governor and his administration are being sued over the recent state takeover of the Milwaukee Public Schools system, and second the Attorney General has announced that he will make a statement on this and another case which may involve federal law enforcement. The Attorney General will be making his announcement in his office at the Capitol tomorrow morning at 9:00. The second case, according to our sources, has to do with rumors of the Attorney General ordering an investigation into possible fraud and racketeering in Wisconsin state elections. The Governor's office issued the following statement: "The Governor has no comment at this time and asks everyone to sit tight and wait for the Attorney General's statement." A reporter with the Janesville Gazette caught up with the Governor this afternoon and asked the Governor what he knew. The Governor replied that the Attorney General's statement would be on an important matter but as it was a legal matter it was not one that he should be properly involved with even to make a comment."
"Holy Shit!" Sean thought. This thing was snowballing almost right out of the box. He called Great Lakes back and asked them to shave their three-day time window down to one. There was no time to waste here.
Sean went to mix himself a drink and noticed that Tim had left his bag of weed behind. "Sweet!" Sean thought. He sat back down with a drink and a bong and continues to sketch.
Just then Sean received a call from Tim.
"Hey, Dix..."
"Wymo, this is happening a lot quicker than we thought..."
"I know. I saw the news just now."
"Well, you know it all. Look, I gotta be involved legally now. The AG asked me to be on board as being of counsel. Apparently he got wind of this about a month ago and started his own investigation. Anyway, I agreed to help by advising the legal team as long as my name was left out of it, but of course I agreed. I need you to write Brett's speech. See, we really did get Lambeau Field as a venue and it's gonna be on Friday night. We need a speech, man, and I remember you wrote that thing, well, I remember what you did. Please. Write the speech. We'll need it fast because Brett doesn't want teleprompters so he's gotta memorize it. Don't make the time any longer than 12 minutes, 13 at the most. It's gotta be punchy. Will you do it for us, Wymo?"
"I will but I'm gonna need more info than I have and a hard line of what I can't say. And I'm gonna need it quick. I can do it, yeah, but I gotta know what Brett wants it to say. Don't worry, just let me know that shit and he'll have a speech. And Great Lakes should be back to us at some point tomorrow."
"Excellent."
"And I have something else."
"OK..."
"That old cabin we saw?"
"Yeah..."
"Like I said, I want it. I'd like a life tenancy on it with unlimited improvement rights with respect to the building and on the land within the distance in any direction from the building down to the river. Once I die, the remainderman will be Angus Dickson, LLC. There's local yokels up here and we'll prolly hafta deal with them somehow, but whadya think?"
"I'll draw up the paperwork. I have no issue with any of that at all."
"I want to expand that little old cabin substantially. The setting is too beautiful not too, and someday if it wasn't wanted anymore once I'm gone, the place with that privacy and that view and everything else, could be sold for huge bucks, Dix... There aren't five places like that in the whole country. That view, it speaks to me..."
"I'm glad we found it. I never knew... No one in the family ever really talked about anything on the other side of the river other than to say there were old rumors... It was just land as far as I knew..."
"That's fine. It'll make a nice away place for me..."
"I was hoping you'd be less away if ya know what I mean, Wymo... I want you to be OK"
"I mean as a place, not a permanent home. No, I think I'll be OK, somehow I have to believe that. Don't you get that?"
"I get it, bud. I get it with the time we spent for the last few days. I need, I mean we all need, you to come back. Please come back..."
"I will. I know I will. Just give me a little more time... I'd spend time with you the way we did, too, but we hafta put Brett first. He's the Governor and he doesn't need any distractions..."
"Brett always comes first," Tim softly said.
"I know. How it should be..."
Sean then made his last phone call of the day. It was to Brad.
Brad picked up his phone and didn't recognize the incoming number. He almost didn't answer but at the last minute he decided to pick up the call.
"Yeah..." Brad said.
"Brad, it's Sean."
"Sorry... Hey Boss!"
"I wish you wouldn't call me that..."
"Well, that what I call you. What you want? `N' how come this weird-ass phone number..."
"I'm up at Tim's cabin. Anyway, I want you to come up in three days from now, OK?"
"What for?"
"Never mind right now, Brad. Just tell me if you'll do it..."
"If Kevin says it OK then I'll be there. Don't know how to get there, though..."
"I can text you the address. It's way up by Rhinelander."
"Couldn't pick no place closer, huh..."
"Brad, please don't give me a hard time."
Sean could hear Brad snickering on the other end of the phone.
"That fine, Boss. I'll be there."
"Thank you, Brad..."
END CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
*Paraphrasing the Boston song "More Than a Feeling."
**The Wisconsin River is 430 miles in length. It is the longest river in the State of Wisconsin and to the best of the author's knowledge the longest river in the United States to be entirely contained within the boundaries of a single state. In the area of Tim's cabin, the Wisconsin is a medium-sized river with a meandering course, wider in some areas and narrower in others, but by no means a creek that could be crossed on foot as the depth mid-channel in that area is about six-to-nine feet, and the river is notoriously unpredictable in terms of its depth with sandbars here leading to steep drop-offs. It is a slow-flowing river at this point, far from the mighty river that joins the Mississippi at Prairie du Chien a little more than 250 miles by road to the southwest.
***MRE: Meal Ready to Eat. A United States military food ration that is self-contained, requires no preparation or refrigeration, and provides a complete meal in one package.
****DNR. The Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. Among other things, the department governs private land uses.
*****DNC: Democratic National Committee.
******Lambeau Field. Lambeau Field is in Green Bay, Wisconsin. It has been the home stadium of the Green Bay Packers since 1957. It is perhaps THE iconic NFL field.