The Unfinished Gift by Dan Walsh Page B

him in,” Collins said, stepping back into the living room. “He’s going to turn up sick he stays out there.”
    She opened the door. “Patrick, you’re doing a wonderful job.” He stopped and looked up, his face all smiles and pride. “Why don’t you take a break? I’ve made your lunch. Would you like some hot cocoa with it?”
    “Sure would,” Patrick said, letting the shovel drop. He walked up into the vestibule, and she helped him out of his wet clothes.
    “We’re going to have to buy you a man’s gloves,” she said as she yanked off his mittens. “These are soaked.”
    Patrick walked over and stood by the radiator. He looked at his grandfather, already back at the table, eating his sandwich, reading the sports page. She noted the discouragement on Patrick’s face. She bent down and whispered in his ear, “He saw it, Patrick.”
    “He did?” Patrick whispered back.
    “And he smiled.”
    “Really?”
    “Saw it myself.”
    Patrick walked toward the dining room at a lively step. “I am so hungry.”
    “You should be after all that work. Right, Mr. Collins?”
    “What?”
    “Hard work makes a man hungry, right?”
    “Hard work never hurt a soul,” he said without looking up.
    Patrick took his seat at the table and began devouring his sandwich.
    “You finish eating, and I’ll start that cocoa,” Mrs. Fortini said.
    “Cocoa,” Collins mumbled. “You wasted my blue stamps on cocoa?”
    “Oh, hush up and finish your sandwich.”
    As she walked past Collins, she looked back at Patrick and winked.

Eighteen
    Her frustration and anxiety was growing by the minute.
    In between a handful of other tasks, Katherine had called Major Jennings four times over the last two hours but was unable to reach him. It didn’t mean anything, she kept telling herself. She should stop calling and trust her message would get through. He’d call back today. He wouldn’t make her wait all night.
    Bernie Krebb walked by her cubicle on his way to his office and glared down at her, making her suddenly aware she was sitting there doing nothing. She picked up the telephone, faking a call. Her eyes scrambled for something to do. She noticed a slip of paper sticking out of her purse. It was Mrs. Fortini’s phone number. As the telephone began to ring on the other end, Krebb turned his attention elsewhere.
    “Hello?”
    “Mrs. Fortini? This is Miss Townsend from Child Services. We met a few hours ago at the grocery store. I was there seeing Patrick.”
    “I remember. How are you?”
    “I’m fine, thanks. And I want to thank you again for looking after Patrick. I didn’t really want to leave him there with his grandfather, but I had no choice. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “No need, Miss Townsend. Our Mr. Collins is . . . well, a very difficult man. This we all know. I’ve lived next door for years. His wife and I were best friends. He wasn’t always this way. Well, not always as much this way.”
    “Do you know what he has against Patrick? I don’t understand why he treats him so coldly. He’s probably the finest little boy I’ve—”
    “It’s not Patrick. Mr. Collins and Patrick’s father had a falling-out years ago. They haven’t said hardly a word to each other since before Patrick was born.”
    “What’s it all about? You don’t have to get into this if you’re uncomfortable—”
    “No, that’s all right. Ida tried to explain it to me, but she was a loyal wife. Whenever I asked questions, her answers were always very guarded. She did say there were some issues that divided them, some harsh words had been said, and now each was waiting for the other to relent and apologize. But both were too stubborn to ever do that, so the stalemate goes on. I thought for sure it would end when Patrick was born, and then Ida passed away, and here we are some years later and it’s still going on.” She paused a moment, then said, “Bitterness is a terrible thing.”
    “Could I ask you about