by Beth Wiseman
Owen scratched his head and avoided Brooke’s eyes. He turned to Spencer. “Actually, buddy, I have some plans Friday night. But I promise that you and I will do some looking around again soon—and eat more pizza.”
Brooke instantly wondered who those Friday-night plans were with. Tallie Goodry was as pushy a woman as she’d ever known. And she could picture Judy giving Tallie the go-ahead to pursue Owen “because he’s not interested in Brooke.”
“Can I help you find something?” Brooke sat back down and lifted her eyes to his. Before he answered, they both heard footsteps coming from the back and turned to see who it was. Big Daddy came into view and raised an eyebrow in Brooke’s direction. She nodded, letting him know that everything was fine.
“Uh, I just need some more finishing nails. I know where they are.” Owen glanced at Big Daddy, then hurried away down the second aisle. Spencer followed him, and Brooke could hear them talking, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.
Owen found the nails quickly, paid with cash, and made a dash for the door. Wow, did Big Daddy spook him? Or maybe it was me the other night. She still cringed a little remembering her clumsy attempt to be a little reckless. But hadn’t everything ended on a good note? They’d talked. A lot.
“So . . .” Brooke kept her head in a tool catalog, flipping the pages and trying to sound casual as she addressed Spencer. “I heard you and Mr. Saunders talking. Did he mention what his plans were for Friday night?”
“You like him.” Spencer narrowed his eyes.
Brooke looked up. Tread carefully. “Of course I like him. I thought you did too.”
“No. I mean you like him, like him.” Spencer lifted himself onto the stool beside Brooke and hung his head. “I like him too.”
Brooke closed the catalog and twisted on her stool to face him. “Spence.” She lifted his chin until he was looking at her, glad he didn’t pull away. “It’s okay to like Mr. Saunders. You don’t have to feel bad about that. He’s a nice man.” She paused. “But I don’t like him the way you’re thinking. Mr. Saunders and I are friends, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I know.” Spencer dragged the words out. Brooke could tell that he was disappointed, which was both good and bad. She waited to see if he would say what Owen’s plans were for Friday night. When he didn’t, she decided to push a little.
“I’m sure you’ll get another chance to scope out Mr. Saunders’s house.” She waited, but Spencer said nothing. “Maybe . . . maybe another Friday.”
“Maybe.” Spencer picked up a pencil and started doodling on a scrap piece of paper. “This Friday he said he’s taking someone to a baseball game in Houston.”
Brooke took a deep breath.
“He’s taking some other kid to the baseball game.” Spencer stood up, crammed his hands in his pockets, and mumbled, “I’ve never been to a baseball game in Houston.” Then he walked toward the back of the store.
Hmm. Both Brooke and her son were jealous over a man that neither one of them wanted.
Brooke felt bad for Spencer, but she was incredibly relieved that Owen didn’t have a date with Tallie Goodry on Friday night.
Whatever that meant.
Patsy refilled Harold’s coffee cup, then sat down at the kitchen table across from him. He hadn’t said a word in almost an hour, but he’d been writing steadily. They’d both agreed that a letter might be the best way for him to approach Brooke. Maybe if their daughter knew the truth, she could find it in her to give Harold another chance. Patsy was praying about that constantly these days. It was the only way she could bear her separation from Brooke and the kids.
“How’s it coming?” She held her breath and bit her bottom lip.
Harold took off his reading glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put the pen down. He tore one page from the yellow pad and pushed it toward her but didn’t look up.
Patsy pushed her glasses up on her nose.
Dear Brooke,
I can still see the look on your precious face when I walked out the door all those years ago, and it’s an image that has haunted me. I wish I could have seen you grow into the beautiful young woman that you are today, and I deeply regret the choices I made back then. Your mother has shown me pictures of you from the time I left until you were married. You were a beautiful bride, and I will always regret that I never got to know Travis. Your mother says he was a wonderful husband and father. And now you are a mother yourself. How I long to be a part of your life and Spencer’s and Meghan’s.
As I write this, I can feel your anger and hurt, and I know that no words will give you comfort. But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it all up to you. My heart is filled with love for you and your mother. It always has been, despite the mistakes I have made.
I suppose I could tell you that I’ve punished myself enough, but I doubt you’d understand or believe that. And you’re probably right. What is ample punishment for a man who has done what I’ve done? But the Lord is giving me a second chance, and I will continue to pray that you will too.
Brooke, I love you very much. I always have and I always will.
With my love always,
Daddy
Patsy pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, then put the glasses back on and shook her head. She reached across the table and put her hand on Harold’s.
“That’s only a partial version of the truth. You omitted two important things.” She swallowed back a lump in her throat, knowing that one of those things involved her own actions. “Why didn’t you tell her everything?”
Her beloved husband swiped at a tear that rolled down his cheek. “Because I just can’t.”
Then he reached for the letter and tore it into pieces.
Fourteen
Hunter handed his grandma half of what he’d made this week so she could get her medicines and some food. She’d been up and about more the past couple of days, and she seemed to not be coughing so much.
“Why’s your boss man taking you to a baseball game? Them tickets cost an arm an’ a leg. Ain’t like you been working for him very long.” Grandma groaned as she got off the couch and started toward the kitchen. Hunter followed.
“I dunno. He asked me if I’d ever been to a game in Houston, and I told him no. Then he asked me if I wanted to go.” Hunter glanced down at his green T-shirt, blue jeans with a hole in the knee, and tennis shoes and hoped Owen wouldn’t be embarrassed. Getting some new clothes was first on his list this weekend. He was hoping Jenny could drive to Smithville tomorrow night like they’d talked about. But so far, any plans they’d tried to make hadn’t worked out. Jenny’s car was on the blink a lot, and her parents didn’t want her going by herself to meet a guy she’d only talked to on the Internet.
“Well, I reckon he’s done you right so far, giving you a job and all for fair wages.” Grandma pulled a soda from the refrigerator, and Hunter swallowed hard. He’d only told her that he was making seven dollars an hour. Three empty vodka bottles on the counter was one of the reasons.
“I’m going now. I told him I’d walk over there.” Hunter waited for her to take a swig of Coke and wondered what it would be like if she hugged him good-bye. His family didn’t do that, but sometimes he thought it would be nice.
“You embarrassed about our home?” Grandma leaned against the counter in her robe and crossed her ankles.
“No.” It was another lie. No way he wanted Owen Saunders to see this place. “I gotta go.”
“Be quiet when you come in this evening,” she yelled from the kitchen as Hunter made his way through the living room, sidestepping a stack of dirty towels on the floor and several pairs of his grandma’s shoes.
By the time he got to Owen’s house, he was dripping in sweat. He was sure there wasn’t a place in the world as hot as Texas. He ran his short sleeve against his face, then pushed his hair back. Now that he had some money, he was planning to get a haircut too.
“You should have let me pick you up.” Owen met him at
the car. It was a black BMW with 552 horsepower, super-high performance. I bet this baby flies. He’d never been in anything like it.
“It’s no big deal.” Owen opened the passenger door, and it was as nice inside as it was outside. Black leather, digital dashboard, and it didn’t smell anything like the old Chevy his grandma used to drive before she got sick and sold it. He was buckling his seat belt when Owen turned the key. Nothing but a clicking noise. He tried to start the car about six more times before he slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
“I just had this car fixed!” He leaned his head back against the headrest, and Hunter waited for him to start cursing or something, but he just took a deep breath and got out of the car. “I’m going to assume there aren’t any taxi services near Smithville.”
Hunter had never been in a cab, but he doubted it. “Aren’t you gonna look under the hood? Maybe it’s something we can fix real easy.”
Owen made this weird sound. Not really like a laugh, more of a snort. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about cars.” He paused, shook his head. “Actually, I don’t know anything about cars.”
Hunter had been tinkering and fixing things for as long as he could remember. They never had money to take things to repair shops. He was doing brakes on his grandma’s car by the time he was eleven, and he’d overhauled the motor a couple of years ago.
“I can look if you want. Might just be a loose battery cable or something like that.” Hunter walked to the front of the car and started looking for a hood release.
“Hood release is in the car.” Owen opened the door and reached in, and the hood popped up. Hunter couldn’t believe how cool this engine was. He hoped he could find everything.
It took him a minute to figure out that the battery was actually in the trunk. That freaked him out at first—when he didn’t see it under the hood. Then he remembered he’d seen something on TV about that. He had Owen pop the trunk and even checked the little diagrams in the manual. After that it was pretty easy to locate the battery cables and the generator belt. Sweat was running down his face, but he sure did want to go to that baseball game. He smiled when he saw the cable to the back of the generator hanging loose. He knew then that the generator wasn’t charging the battery. He snapped it into place.
“Go give it a try now,” he said to Owen, his head still under the hood. Owen got in the car, but the motor wouldn’t turn over, just kept clicking. “We need jumper cables to help boost the battery.”
Owen climbed out of the car and slammed the door. “I’ve got jumper cables, but who is going to jump—” He stopped and pointed a few houses down. “Do you know that man in the front yard?”
Hunter squinted to see. “Yeah. That’s Bart Murphy.”
“I’ll go see if he’ll give us a jump.” Owen took off jogging in that direction and returned a couple of minutes later riding alongside Mr. Murphy in his Ford Explorer.
Once Hunter had the cables connected, Owen hurried into the driver’s seat, and the car started on the first crank. Hunter avoided Mr. Murphy’s stare as he handed the jumper cables back to him. Hunter was sure Mr. Murphy was wondering what Owen was doing with someone like Hunter. He slammed the hood and got in on the passenger side. Owen thanked Mr. Murphy, got in the car, then turned to Hunter and smiled as they both buckled up.
“Wow. You know your cars. Thank goodness you got it fixed. I just had it in the shop.”
“They just didn’t tighten a cable, that’s all. No big deal.” Hunter shrugged, glad to be on the road and away from Mr. Murphy’s peering eyes.
“It’s a big deal if you don’t know anything about cars.” Owen shifted the gears, and once they were on the freeway, he really opened it up.
“How fast does this car go?” Hunter watched Owen passing the cars around them.
“Fast enough,” Owen answered as he switched lanes. “You can drive it home if you want.”
Hunter jerked his head toward Owen and blinked a couple of times. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.” He turned to face Hunter. “You do have a driver’s license, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He’d taken driver’s ed in school before he dropped out. It was the only class he’d ever really wanted to pass. But he’d only had his license a week before Grandma sold her car so she’d have money for doctors and medicines.
“You know how to drive a standard?” Owen flipped through stations on the radio.
“Yeah. My grandma’s car was a standard.”
“What does she drive?”
Hunter looked out the window. “Nothing now. She had to sell it when she got sick. We don’t have a car now.”
“So it’s just you and your grandma?” Owen whipped around another car, and Hunter wasn’t sure what he was more excited about—the baseball game or getting to drive this car back home.
“Yeah. Just the two of us.” Hunter didn’t really want to talk about his messed-up life.
“What’s wrong with your grandma?”
He shifted in his seat. He didn’t like to talk about Grandma being sick either. “She’s got some kind of cancer, some rare kind, but I can’t ever remember the name of it.” He paused as he recalled something his grandmother had said once. “She said God struck her down with the cancer because she’d lived such a bad life.”
“I don’t think that’s how God works. Lots of people who have lived very good lives get cancer.”
Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I believe in God.”
Owen came close to saying, “Neither do I,” but he knew that wasn’t true. He believed in God. He just didn’t have anything to say to Him. And he found it disturbing to hear a kid Hunter’s age say that he didn’t believe at all.
“Oh, there is a God.” Owen glanced at Hunter.
Hunter was quiet for a while before he spoke up. “You a churchgoer?”
Owen pushed the knob to turn up the air conditioner. “I used to be.”
“I ain’t never been to church.”
Owen pressed hard on the brakes as he edged too close to a car in front of him. He turned to Hunter. “Never? Really?”
Hunter shook his head. “My folks aren’t much for it.” He paused, shifting his weight beneath the seat belt. “And Grandma don’t go either.”
Owen had grown up in the church. He’d even had a pretty strong faith—until recently. But shouldn’t everyone have an opportunity to know about God before they decide whether or not to dismiss Him?
There was probably more to be said about a relationship with the Lord, but Owen wasn’t sure he was the one to say it. So he changed the subject to cars. And Hunter talked more on that subject than he had since Owen met him, rattling on about engines, horsepower, and things Owen didn’t know about, but it was nice to see the kid excited about something.
“Is that Minute Maid Park?” Hunter pointed to his left.
Owen nodded as he took the next exit and smiled at the excitement etched across Hunter’s face, as if Hunter were a young boy untarnished by life—not a teenage hoodlum with crackhead parents.
If Hunter could have handpicked a father, it would have been someone just like Owen. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would hit you or make you feel worthless. He drove a fancy car, had a big house, and must have tons of money. Owen Saunders was the luckiest man on earth, and Hunter felt lucky just knowing him—and being able to work for him. When Owen asked him if he wanted to get a bite to eat after the game, Hunter was glad the day wasn’t over yet. He wanted to tell Owen that this had been the best day of his life, but he knew that would sound real dumb, so he didn’t.
“I’m glad the Astros won,” Owen said as they got in the car. “Although I thought they were going to blow it in that last inning.”
Hunter closed the door. “Yeah, that was a great catch.” He paused, looked out the window, and could feel his face reddening. “Uh, thanks for taking me.”
“Sure. You’re welcome. Where do you want to eat?”
Hun
ter thought about the best meal he’d ever had. When he was thirteen, Brooke and Travis Holloway had taken him out to eat with them and their kids. They’d gone to a real fancy seafood restaurant called Pappadeaux. That was back when he was mowing yards for money, and he’d just finished mowing their yard when Mrs. Holloway came out and asked him if he wanted to go to Houston with them. He’d showered, had a great meal, and gone shopping with them. They’d bought him a shirt. Hunter cringed and tried not to think about the Holloways—and what he’d done to Mrs. Holloway a few years later. He didn’t want to ever go back to that restaurant. Or think about the Holloways. He even avoided walking by their hardware store.
“It don’t matter. Whatever you want to eat is okay with me.”
Owen pulled into a Mexican restaurant, and Hunter had the best enchiladas ever. They talked about all sorts of stuff. Owen was an only child, like Hunter, but other than that they didn’t have much in common. Owen had gone to a big fancy college, owned his own business, and already been married and divorced. He didn’t want to talk about that part too much, but Hunter figured that Owen wasn’t over it yet.
The best part of the day for Hunter was when they left the restaurant and Owen handed him the keys. Hunter felt like an upscale type of person behind the wheel of the BMW. Owen made some phone calls and didn’t even seem worried about Hunter wrecking his car.
When they stopped to get gas, they were already in Smithville, so Hunter gave Owen the keys back. “Thanks, man. Great car.”
“You’re welcome.” Owen finished pumping the gas, then got in the driver’s seat. “Where’s your house? I’ll just drop you off.”
Crud. “Just go on to your house. I can walk from there.”
Owen frowned. “Don’t be silly. It can’t be too far from mine. Where do I turn?” He slowed down on Main Street.
