by Randy Alcorn
Victoria reached out her hand. “Hey, Javier, nice to meet you. I’ll go get you a water bottle.”
Adam pointed at the table. “Okay, I’ve got the plans for the shed right here. My old one’s falling apart. I figure it should take both of us a week or so. Wait. You didn’t bring any tools?”
“Uh, no.”
“All right, we’ll just have to share. Have you ever built a shed before?”
Javier gazed at the plans. “Yes.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but do you have a work permit?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good. Let me show you what we’re doing. But first, so there’s no misunderstanding, I want a solid eight hours of work, not counting breaks for water or looking up at the sky or talking to yourself. You’re good with $150 a day, right? Because if you’re looking for more, I need to know right now.”
“$150 a day . . . would be very good!”
“Okay. Good. Let’s get going!”
Adam and Javier leveled the ground and set concrete blocks for the foundation. After four hours of nonstop work, they had the rim joists leveled and the floor joists nailed to the hangers. Adam sat down to eat the lunch that Victoria brought for them. His shoulders ached. Javier walked over, put an apple in his mouth, and went back to work. Adam rolled his eyes. This is the guy who was goofing off in the alley this morning?
Taking a big bite of his apple, Adam got up to join Javier.
Javier insisted on finishing the studs after Adam went in to get cleaned up. So at 6:30 that evening, when Javy was finally ready to go, Adam wrote him a check for $150.
Javier sang during most of his thirty-minute walk home. Hardly able to contain himself, he opened the door softly and peered in to see Carmen sitting with Isabel and Marcos, reading a book.
“Javy, is that you?”
Isabel and Marcos got up and ran to him. “Papi! Papi!”
His children hugged his legs. He knelt and embraced them, unmindful of his sweat-drenched shirt.
“Cómo están mis niños preciosos? Have you been good for your mother?”
“Sí, Papá!” Isabel said. “Come tell us a story!”
“I will, Isabel. Let me get cleaned up and eat. I have a special story to tell you. A true story that happened to your papá. Hoy mismo!”
“All right, get ready for bed and give Daddy a chance to eat.”
Isabel and Marcos ran down the hall toward their room. Javier sat at the kitchen table as Carmen opened the refrigerator and pulled out his dinner.
“How did the job go?”
“Terrible . . . then wonderful!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I went to that job this morning, and they said they did not need me.”
Carmen stopped, plate in her hand. “You didn’t get the job? Where have you been all day?”
“That’s the thing. I was walking home asking God what He wanted me to do. I was hurt and confused. I didn’t understand why God didn’t help me when I try so hard to provide for my family. I asked Him to show Himself. Then, out of nowhere, this guy I had never seen before calls me by name and asks me to help him build a shed.”
“How could a stranger call you by name?” Carmen asked.
Instead of answering, Javier reached in his pocket and pulled out a check, then placed it on the table.
“You made $150 today?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t understand. How did he know you? Why would he hire you off the street?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“I was scared. At first I thought he might be an angel, but he got angry when he hit his finger with his hammer. Plus, he is married and has children. I think this is not like angels.”
“Are you going back tomorrow?”
“Eight o’clock. He says he wants me to work all week. But I think we can finish in four days.”
“Four days at $150 a day? Javy, $600?”
Javier sat quietly, moisture gathering in his eyes. “Carmen, there have only been a few times in my life when I felt like God was helping my faith . . . and today was one of them. It felt so good to work hard, knowing He had answered my prayer.”
Carmen reached over and took his hand. “I think it is a miracle. But I know God loves you, Javy. He listens to you because you honor Him.”
Javier bowed his head.
“And all I want to do right now,” Carmen said, “is to hug you and to kiss you.”
Javier smiled and moved toward her, but she put up her hand. “But you smell so bad that I can’t bring myself to do it.”
Javier grinned at Carmen’s revenge for his comment about her breath. He wagged his finger and jumped up. “Give me fifteen minutes! Then I will tell the children my story, and I will see you when I am finished!”
“I will heat up your dinner, mi amor!”
The Mitchell family sat at a Mexican restaurant two miles away. Adam, tired and sore, praised Javier’s work. “Javy’s a machine.”
Victoria smiled. “I can’t believe how much you got done.”
“The teacher liked my artwork, Daddy,” Emily said, unfolding a piece of paper. “I drew a picture of you and Mommy and Dylan and me and Maggie.”
Victoria reached for the drawing to get a closer look. Dylan’s eyes never left his plate of nachos.
“Good for you, Emily,” Adam said. He noticed that in the picture, Maggie was on the couch. His daughter’s campaign to gain Maggie’s entrance to the house was relentless!
Emily spoke, but Victoria had to lean forward to hear her as the wandering mariachi band drew nearer, complete with trumpet, violin, guitar, bass guitar, and accordion.
“Can we choose a song for them to sing?” Emily repeated.
Victoria nodded. “Sure.”
They performed something called “El Rey,” and Emily said, “Sing another one!” She added the fateful words: “Last week was Daddy’s birthday.”
“His fortieth birthday,” Victoria said.
Now they put the birthday sombrero on his head. He pictured himself pulling his Glock 23 from his shorts pocket. That would make them stand down. But it might spoil the festive mood.
While they sang “Happy Birthday” in Spanish, the lead vocalist placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder. Adam bristled, nearly coming up out of his chair. He felt a sharp kick to his ankle. Victoria glared at him.
Adam restrained himself as the man’s hand went back to his guitar. But he kept his eye on the man and on Emily.
Before the song ended, Adam removed the sombrero and gave it to the band. Victoria tipped them.
After the fourth bite of his meal, Adam got a call from Sergeant Murphy. He stepped away for three minutes, then returned. Five minutes later the phone rang again; this time it was Shane.
Victoria shook her head at Adam the moment the phone rang. Just turn it off, her eyes pleaded.
“It could be important,” he said as he stepped away. Shane had a possible breakthrough in an arrest they’d made two weeks earlier. Fifteen minutes later—though Adam imagined it was five—he returned to a table where all the plates but his had been cleared. Victoria’s gaze was colder than Adam’s chicken burrito.
“Where’s Dylan?” Adam asked.
“Jeremy, one of the boys on the track team, saw him, and they went to Best Buy. Jeremy’s taking him home.”
“He couldn’t finish dinner with his family?”
“He did finish dinner with his family. We all did. I mean, three of us did. The fourth was doing something more important.”
The drive was silent. At home, while Emily took her bath, Adam approached Victoria in the bedroom. “Did you have to scold me in front of Emily?”
“Which do you think hurt our daughter, you choosing your cop friends over your family and then blaming your son, or me simply pointing out to you what Emily already knew?”
“It’s not that big of a deal. Emily got over it by th
e time we left the parking lot.”
“She’s quick to forgive, but the time is still lost. I’m so glad you love your little girl, Adam. But remember, she has a brother, who happens to be your son.”
“Think it’s too late for us to place him for adoption?”
“That’s not funny, Adam!” Her eyes went from ice to fire in an instant.
“It’s just that Emily is so low maintenance.”
“Is that what makes you love someone? That they’re low maintenance?”
“It sure doesn’t hurt.”
“Emily doesn’t demand much from you. Maybe that’s because I’m the one who’s raising her.”
Why did she have to twist the knife? Nobody understands cops. Not even their families.
Victoria put up her hands. “You know those fatherless boys you talk about, the ones causing all the problems? Maybe you’d better do something to keep your son from becoming one of them!”
Adam sat in his black leather recliner. Feeling guilty, angry, misunderstood, disrespected, and just plain exhausted, he began his evening ritual of flipping through channels. Here Adam Mitchell could be in control.
After Victoria helped Emily with her homework, the two sat together on the back porch, next to Maggie. The beautiful golden retriever licked Emily’s face gratefully.
Maggie’s despondent expression as they shut the door made her seem almost human. Victoria told Emily to wash her hands, then took a lint brush to her daughter to get off Maggie’s hairs. Adam wasn’t a fan of dog hair. Still, Victoria didn’t like feeling that she was hiding evidence from a cop.
Emily, in her pajamas, walked down the hall toward her father. She crawled onto Adam’s lap and lay against his shoulder. He enjoyed having her nearby but wasn’t in the mood for chatter, so he continued to watch the news. It didn’t occur to him that some of the subject matter wouldn’t make sense to a nine-year-old and some of it might scare her.
A few minutes later, Dylan walked in the front door in his running gear, sweating from another humid Georgia evening. He stepped quietly behind his dad.
Barely turning his head, Adam called to him, “Dylan, you need to run earlier. Ten thirty is too late to be out.”
Dylan stared at his sister, snuggled up with her dad, and set his jaw. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a couple of granola bars and a glass of milk, then disappeared into his room.
Once in his room, Dylan picked up his newest Batman graphic novel. He lost himself in a world where good was good and bad was bad. Where men of courage, and in Robin’s case, a boy of courage, stood up and made a difference. After reading for fifteen minutes, he deliberated for ten seconds whether to do homework or play video games. It was an easy choice.
In the living room, Victoria saw the clock and realized how late it was. “Emily, sweetie, come on. Let’s go to bed.”
Emily crawled off Adam’s lap, watched his eyes remain locked on the television, and walked down the hallway. The bounce in her step was gone. She walked through her doorway, then looked one last time down the hallway. She saw only the back of the recliner . . . and the back of her father’s head.
Chapter Eleven
“Promise not to tell on me?” Nathan asked.
Kayla eyed him. “Depends on what you did.”
“I ran a background check on Derrick.”
“You’re not supposed to do that, are you?”
“Well, not usually.”
“Then you were a bad boy,” Kayla said, sitting on the bed. “Now I want you to tell me everything you found out.”
“No police record.”
“That’s great news!”
“I called the school and talked to a cooperative vice principal. Derrick doesn’t dress like a gangbanger or wannabe. He’s a very good student.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, it’s good he’s not a convicted felon. But it doesn’t change the fact Jade’s not old enough to date. I won’t let her go with him in a car. I want to make sure you and I are still on the same page.”
“After all your detective work, you don’t trust him?”
“At night? In a car? With a teenage girl? Why should I trust him?”
“Come on, Nathan. I came down hard on Jade about Derrick too. But let’s not be overprotective. At some point we’ll have to trust our children.”
“I trust Jade to be a fifteen-year-old girl. I do not trust her to use a shotgun or pilot the space shuttle. And I don’t trust her to know what to do when—notice I said when, not if—this two-legged mixture of oozing hormones makes the move on her.”
“Like you made the move on me?”
“My point exactly! I shouldn’t have made that move, and you were right to stop me. But I don’t want it all to fall on Jade’s shoulders. You were eighteen; she’s fifteen. You and I both made mistakes before we met each other. My mother and your parents could have done a lot to help prevent them. Isn’t that what we’ve said?”
“The kid’s an honor student. Isn’t he the kind of young man we want our daughter to be attracted to?”
“We don’t want her to be attracted to any guy . . . yet. Seen the T-shirt that says D.A.D.D. Dads Against Daughters Dating? I think I’ll get one. Anyway, a guy can be both an honor student and a jerk! We don’t know anything about his spiritual life.”
“I know, but there aren’t many boys at church. And Jade says most of them are nerds.”
“Hey, if she has to be interested in a boy . . . a nerd would have advantages.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
Nathan stopped the conversation there because he needed to think. Something inside him said that as wonderful as his wife was, and as important as her opinion was, and even though in many areas she was smarter than he was . . . weren’t husbands and fathers supposed to lead? Wasn’t that what the Bible said?
He realized Kayla might understand Jade better than he did. But he knew he understood young men in a way his wife and daughter couldn’t. Nathan believed, deep inside, that he needed to step up to the plate. But starting that uphill climb seemed a daunting proposition his life hadn’t prepared him to handle. Maybe he should just settle for being a better-than-average dad and hope for the best with his daughter.
Nathan and David were sent to a domestic disturbance where a husband had slapped his wife around, but she refused to press charges. The children were still crying when they left. Nathan’s insides churned. They were overdue for a break on their way back to the sheriff’s office to file paperwork.
“Do you think about your dad?” David asked Nathan.
“Why?”
“Just wondered. Sometimes I think about mine.”
“Your parents split, you said. Well, at least until then you had a dad.”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
David stared out the window. “Where we going for break?”
“Wherever you want. How about Elements Coffee Company? Or we can stop at a 7-Eleven for a cheappuccino.”
David paused and thought about his dwindling checking account. “7-Eleven sounds good.”
“I’ll buy.”
“Okay, Elements.”
Ten minutes later they sat in the progressive coffee shop.
David stared into his coffee as if searching for himself in it. Nathan was determined to wait for him to talk when he was ready.
David didn’t know how else to put it. He set down the cup. “You know what artificial insemination is?”
“Um . . . yeah, I think so.”
“That’s where I came from. I didn’t know until I was ten, and even then I didn’t understand it. But my big sister knew, and she told somebody; then it spread. I was in seventh grade by then, but kids teased me about it.”
“Was your sister . . . ?”
“They adopted her. But then my mother wanted a biological child, and my father, or whatever I should call him, had dead sperm.”
“He was infertile?”
“W
hatever. Anyway, I thought he was my real dad. Then when I had stomach problems, my mom pulled out some medical records from the safe. I read them. I saw the name of my real father.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, his first and last name: ‘Anonymous Donor.’”
“That was all?”
“Kind of funny, isn’t it? I read up on it. It got started in the seventies, and by the eighties they had sperm banks all over the country. I’m one of the products. Lots of TLC goes into that, huh?”
“Have you searched for your biological father?”
“No. It just seems too . . . weird. It’s one thing to search for a woman who gave birth to you. But hunting for a sperm donor?”
Nathan turned up his hands. “I don’t know much about this, man. Sorry.”
“I wouldn’t either if it wasn’t who I am.”
“It’s not who you are, David. A person is a person, regardless.”
“Yeah, I’ve read Horton Hears a Who! It’s easy to tell myself it doesn’t matter. But the fact is, it does.”
“But you still had a dad, a steak-grillin’ dad. You said that.”
“My mom had a husband, and yeah, I usually call him Dad to fit in. But that’s not how I think of him anymore. When my parents split, my sister’s the one my father asked custody for! Maybe I was just a reminder that some anonymous donor gave my mom something he couldn’t.”
“Have you kept in touch with him?”
“Nope. He said he was sorry he left for the other woman, but it’s not like he came back. He married her. Then I found out there’d been others. My mom says there have been others since then, too, so his second wife is ‘getting some payback,’ as Mom puts it.”
“Has he made contact with you?”
“He got custody of my sister, who had major issues with Mom. I’ve only seen him once and Wendy twice since then. No reason to get together. My family’s split right down the middle.”
Nathan sighed. “I guess my dad wasn’t much more than a sperm donor himself. I know his name, and that’s about it.”
David’s eyes twitched. “Look, Nathan, I really don’t want the other guys to find out what I told you. I’m not up to the ‘your daddy was a sperm donor’ jokes. They already beat up on me for being a rookie. Nobody takes me seriously.”
