1 Chapter 1

Though his mother told him evening would be the most polite option, Jim McCutcheon chose right after breakfast to make his visit to the Mayer home. The sun already burned bright as he aimed his ‘61 Ford Fairlane through Clearview’s wide streets, signaling another scorcher of an August day. He’d just washed the car, so the light glinted off the gleaming gold hood, forcing him to squint to see clearly. He couldn’t miss the parade of cars packed with teenagers that passed him, however. Their laughter floated through the open windows as they headed out of town to wile the hot hours away at nearby Big Blue River.

None of them noticed him. They were too wrapped up in their joyous freedom, glad to be too young to worry about the draft or a job or anything else determined to steal their innocence away.

As he idled at a stop sign, he watched the third car disappear in his rearview mirror. Enjoy it while it lasts

The Mayer driveway was empty when he pulled up in front of the white bungalow, another reason he’d opted for a morning visit. For as long as he could remember, Mr. Mayer always left for work at eight ten sharp to get to his maintenance job at the Clearview Municipal building by eight thirty. He never came home before six thirty and often much later, thus ensuring Jim wouldn’t have to see him at all. If Ronnie was as bad off as Mom claimed, he’d have better luck without Mr. Mayer’s strict shadow casting a pall over everything.

Climbing the steps to the porch that ran the full front of the house, Jim ignored the tightening in his chest. He hadn’t been in the Mayer home in six years, not since the fall of ‘62 when he moved to Omaha to launch what he was convinced would be an illustrious education at the University of Nebraska. Ronnie had come to the McCutcheon homestead when Jim came home a few months later for Christmas, but by the time summer rolled around, Ronnie had already been drafted. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Jim about it, letting him find out from Mrs. Mayer when Jim came around the morning of his first day of break. Jim hadn’t seen him since.

His hand shook as he knocked on the screen door. Would Ronnie answer? Probably not. Mom said he didn’t go out anymore, which didn’t sound like the Ronnie he’d grown up with at all. Jim might’ve been the athlete, but it was scrawny, wide-eyed Ronnie who’d insisted on hiking out to the river or offering their gardening services to the neighbors or racing to the top of Devil’s Hill on their bikes. For all the reputation he had for being a candyass, Ronnie was one of the most fearless people Jim had ever known.

The inner door opened before he could dwell too long on the way things used to be, and Mrs. Mayer stepped forward to smile out at him. She had been tiny while they were growing up and was even tinier now that he was full-grown. Gray hair threaded thickly through her short black cut, while the shadows beneath her eyes darkened their normal bright blue. In a lot of ways, Ronnie looked just like her, except taller. Jim had loved her like a second mother for the better part of a decade, but the fact that he hadn’t seen her since he’d returned to Clearview for good pricked his conscience more than a little.

“Well, Jim McCutcheon,” she said, her smile genuine as she pushed open the screen. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Stepping into the familiar living room was like stepping back in time. The Mayers didn’t have much money, and it showed in the shabby couch and scuffed wooden floors. The drapes that closed off the sun from the worst of the summer heat were the same blue floral they’d always owned, while Mr. Mayer’s chair was shiny from years of his sitting in it after he got home from work. But everything was spotless, the cushions Mrs. Mayer made every Christmas to swap out on the sofa huge and soft, the pictures that lined the walls evidence of how much she truly loved her son. This had been more of a home to Jim throughout high school than his own, even if Mr. Mayer and his quicksilver temper scared the crap out of him.

He turned his head and blinked away the sudden tears so she wouldn’t notice. “I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by sooner.” He meant it, too, though he wasn’t sure he would’ve done anything differently. He hated the looks of pity he got from everybody around town as it was. If Mrs. Mayer had ever looked at him the same way, he was pretty sure it would’ve been his breaking point.