Heart in the Field by Jillian Dagg Page A

windows, or the highly polished towering pieces of antique
furniture. He definitely saw his parents in something more modern and brighter,
without the stair-climb.
                Stephen Fraser was sitting upright
on a leather armchair in the living room. Despite his most recent heart attack,
Stephen was still a big man with an authoritative presence. His suits were
always an immaculate dark navy blue. He wore a red kerchief in the breast pocket.
Nick remembered his mother ironing the selection of different colored silk
handkerchiefs.
                From his position by the window
Stephen could look down to the sidewalk and see who entered his store. Rarely
did anyone enter the store these days. Nick had discovered the advertisements
his father used to run in the local newspapers had stopped a year ago.
                “Look who’s visiting,” Nick’s mother
said, and went over to her husband. She touched the high back of the chair and
his father smiled at his wife. Nick was surprised that he still felt completely
left out. They’d been a twosome when he was born, and they’d always wanted to
stay that way. Possibly one night of unbridled passion had made Maria pregnant
with Nick.
                Nick chose a chintz armchair and sat
down opposite his father.      Nick met
his father’s pale blue eyes. “How are you, Dad?”
                Stephen patted his chest. “No pains
any more. Your mother takes care of me.”
                Nick forced a smile. “She sure
does.”
                Maria sat down on a footstool near
his father so the two of them faced him, appearing like a portrait. The
left-out feeling persisted. He was an intruder here, always had been. But they
needed him now. He wasn’t sure if he was using the excuse of help to hide his
own deeper feelings. Did he want to show them he was worthwhile having after
all, even if it was for help in their old age? Or to make them realize that
they loved him after all? Maybe they did love him in their way. Who knew? In
some ways he wished they’d died long ago, so he didn’t have to face this
uncertainty.
                “I want to take care of you as
well.” Their silence made his words ring out into the room and sound as if he
were begging to do something for them. Which he was. He wanted their acceptance. He wanted to know that they thought he’d done well
in life. He wanted to be thought important to them. And he wanted to help them.
He really did. It was more than duty it was something he needed to do.
                “We appreciate that,” his father
said after a while.
                The pause had been long enough for
Nick to make the decision. He was going to plunge right in and tell them about
the changes he felt they should make to their lives to improve the quality,
financially and physically. “I was thinking that maybe you should sell the
store and move somewhere else. Somewhere more convenient,
maybe with a bit of a flower garden to sit outside in. I can help with
the money, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
                They both stared at him.
                “I’m not selling the store,” Stephen
said. “It’s doing well today.”
                Nick knew that was his father’s
pride talking. “That’s not true, Dad. Last time I was here I saw the books, and
it’s doing abysmally. There isn’t the foot traffic along this street there used
to be, and you let the advertising slip. Besides, you lose out to big specialty
stores these days. If you were in a different area it might be of some help,
but trendy tourist traffic areas are expensive and, well, frankly, it’s not
worth a move at your age.” He held his breath, but nothing was said about his
reference to age. They knew where they were in their lives.
                Maria moved forward. “Your father
can’t sell the store, Nick.