Dave Zeltserman - The Caretaker of Lorne Field

“Please, Mr. Durkin, let go of my suit,” Goldman whispered, grimacing. “And don’t worry about the Aukowies. If they’re what you say they are it will only help our case.”

“Help our case? You don’t understand a thing. If they get too big there ain’t nothin’ anyone can do about them.”

“I’ll be checking on them everyday, Mr. Durkin, don’t worry. Please, let go of my suit.”

Durkin noticed people in the courtroom staring at him. He let go of Goldman’s suit jacket, his face flushing a deep red. As he was wheeled out, he caught sight of Lydia sitting in the courtroom watching him. Lester, also. In the back row was Jeanette Thompson looking at him as if he were a bug. He pretended not to see any of them.

A week later Durkin was fitted with a prosthetic foot and, after another two weeks of physical therapy, was brought back to a cell in the County Jail. It was December second when Goldman visited him, telling him he had some good news. Lester had recanted his earlier testimony and was now saying that the Aukowies bit off his thumb.

“So they believe me?” Durkin said, excitement rising cautiously in his eyes. “They goin’ to let me out of here and give me my old Caretaker job back?”

“Well, no. People are looking at this as a son trying to help his father. It won’t have any impact on the manslaughter charges against you for Sheriff Wolcott, but it will force them to drop the aggravated assault charges against you for your son’s injury. As much as they’d like to, they can’t proceed with a trial without your son’s testimony.”

Durkin sat back on his jail cot, his face deflating. “That’s all you got for me?”

“Well, no.” Goldman’s lopsided grin grew large as he took a manila folder out of his briefcase. “I found a copy of your Caretaker’s contract and the Book of Aukowies. Thought you’d like to see it.”

Durkin’s eyes filled with tears as he flipped through each page. When he looked up at Goldman, his leathery face was on the verge of crumbling.

“How’d you get this?” he asked.

“I talked with your wife earlier today. She told me that a lawyer she saw a while back made this copy, so I saw him and he gave it to me. Hope you don’t mind, but I made a copy for myself. Fascinating reading, by the way. I’m planning to use it for our case.”

Durkin shook his head while rubbing a hand across his eyes. He wiped his hand off on his shirt and held it out to his attorney, who only hesitated for a moment before taking it.

“I don’t know why this means so much to me anymore, but it does,” Jack Durkin said. “Thanks.”

Goldman nodded solemnly and left the Caretaker alone with his contract and book.

Lydia visited the next day. Both of them stared stonily at each other until Lydia broke the ice, telling Durkin that she couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing him until Lester told the truth about him not cutting off his son’s thumb.

“Don’t think for a second I believe any of that Aukowie nonsense,” she said. “But I accept that it happened because of an accident.”

“How are you, Lydia?”

“I-I’m good,” she stammered, surprised at the question. “I got a nice apartment. Lester’s with me now. If you can believe it, some idiot publisher from New York is paying me a ton of money to write a book. Guess what it’s going to be called?”

“I don’t know.”

“The Caretaker’s Wife.” She took a heavy breath and added, “This business with Daniel is getting me invitations on all these shows to promote it. I’m on Oprah next week, and Letterman the week after, if you can believe it.”

“Hard to picture.”

“Ain’t it?” She sniffed, dry-eyed, and tried to smile, but it broke. “Jack, why don’t you tell them what you did to Daniel’s body? Your lawyer told me if you do you’ll only have to serve ten years.”

“I wish I could,” Durkin said, showing only a bare trace of a smile. “The problem is I’m telling it the way I remember it. What do you think of my lawyer?”

“He seems smart.”

“You think so? To me, he’s just a kid who can’t even look me in the eye. I think he’s afraid of me.” Durkin laughed at that. “I only got one foot and he’s afraid of me. Thinks I’m crazy. He’s having me see a psychiatrist now who’s trying to convince me I’m crazy, too. According to him I killed Dan and hid his body without knowing it, that I did it so I could ‘continue living in my fantasy-world concerning the Aukowies’. Maybe he’s right.”

“All those years alone in that field were bound to drive you crazy,” she said. “Ain’t entirely your fault. I guess I could’ve been better to you.”

“No, you couldn’t’ve. I’m sorry I married you, Lydia.”

She stared hotly at him, her jaw dropping open. “Why, you old fool! Here I am trying to be nice to you-”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I mean because I married you only because of the contract. I needed to marry someone. But I didn’t love you. And I know you didn’t love me. I stole that from you. Because of me you never had a chance to marry someone out of love, and I’m sorry. But I did grow to care about you, even though we could barely tolerate each other.”

Tears leaked from Lydia’s eyes. She turned away trying to hide it. “No doubt about it,” she said. “You have gone completely crazy.”

“God, I hope so. I’m praying every day that I’m insane. It’s the only chance the world has.”

“Don’t worry, you’re crazy,” she said. She paused to wipe a thin hand across her eyes. “Is it okay if Lester visits you? He’d really like to.”

“I’d like that, too. And Lydia, I’m so sorry about Bert.”

She bit her lip and nodded, fighting back her tears.

“Lester’s waiting in the car,” she said. “I’ll send him in here to see you. You take care, you old fool.”

Hiding her face from him, she rushed out of the visitor’s area.

Lester wore a despondent look as he entered the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He nodded towards his father, kicking at the floor as he walked over to his chair.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he said.

“I know, son.”

“I’m sorry for throwing those tomatoes at you.”

“Were you the one who hit me square in the nose?”

Lester nodded solemnly.

“You have a good arm. You almost knocked me to the ground.”

“I’m sorry, dad.”

“No more sorries, okay?”

Lester shook his head. “I still got to say how sorry I am for telling people you cut off my thumb.”

“It’s over, Lester.”

“I’m still so sorry. You lost our house because of that. And everything else that happened… to you… to Bert… It was all my fault. I just couldn’t remember anything about what happened to me, and when they asked me to say those things I went along because I didn’t want to be Caretaker. I’m so sorry, dad.”

“So you don’t remember Aukowies biting off your thumb?”

Lester shook his head.

“You just said that to help me out?”

“Yeah.”

“Son, come closer.”

Lester wiped a hand under his nose and hesitantly stepped forward. Jack Durkin grabbed him and hugged his son close to his chest. He let go only when he realized Lester was struggling to maintain his composure and would be bawling soon.

“Okay, son,” he said, “you better go back out with your ma. Take good care of her, okay?”

Lester nodded morosely, his mouth forming a tiny circle on his pale face. Durkin watched him leave and wondered why he was so disappointed. If Lester had truly seen the Aukowies bite off his thumb, then the world was damned. As it was, there was still a glimmer of hope his psychiatrist’s angle on it was right-that the Aukowies existed only in his mind. At least he could hope for the best.