A Gift of Time

by Beth Flynn

  “Do you have anything diet?”

  “Hell, no. And why do you need to be drinking anything diet?”

  She ignored the question and tried not to stare at his butt as he walked past her and headed for the open kitchen area. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he actually looked like he was in better shape now than before he went to prison. He was in his fifties now, and had been in prison for fifteen years. He wasn’t supposed to look better. He was supposed to look old and beaten down. Darn him.

  He handed her a bottled water. Twisting off the cap of his own, he downed the entire thing in one long swig, then watched as she took a delicate sip of hers and screwed the cap back in place.

  “You here to tell me why you think Tommy isn’t my son?”

  “I’m here to tell you why I know he isn’t your son.”

  “Can I have ten minutes to shower?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He showered in record time and came out of the bathroom wearing only his jeans and still towel-drying his hair. He thought he smelled food and noticed her on the other side of the kitchen island with her back to him. She was standing at the stove.

  “What smells so good?” he asked.

  Without turning around, she said, “Figured you might not feel like cooking after working all day. I dug through your fridge and pulled out what I could use. Hope you don’t mind chicken stir-fry.”

  The truth was, she needed to keep her hands and mind busy. She’d allowed one quick thought into her brain about Grizz being in that shower, naked. Yeah, she wouldn’t go there.

  “Don’t mind at all,” he said truthfully. “You’ll stay and eat with me, won’t you?”

  She turned around to answer him and was instantly tongue-tied. Grizz stood before her shirtless. Both hands casually gripped a white towel that was draped around his neck. His long wet hair was tousled. She was staring at his chest when he interrupted her thoughts.

  “Will you? Stay and eat with me?” he asked sincerely, a sweet and pleading look in his eyes.

  She wondered about the last time he may have sat down to a home-cooked meal and had somebody to share it with. She could, she realized. The kids had plans for this evening, so she had time.

  “Yes, I’ll stay,” she answered a little breathlessly as he returned to the bedroom to throw his towel in the hamper and put on a shirt.

  As if fifteen years hadn’t come between them, he sat silently and respectfully like he used to do when she said her meal blessing. And then she wasted no time telling him about Tommy’s revelations concerning his and Mimi’s DNA.

  “After Tommy told me he was your son, I convinced myself I saw a resemblance, but now that I think about it, Tommy almost had your height, but not your width. His brown eyes took on a hazel sheen in certain light, but I guess that was it. I didn’t want to believe he was your son, but because he actually did believe it, I guess I did, too.”

  Grizz stared at her, taking it all in. He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “I know all about his mother, Candy. I know what you told Tommy while you were in prison. How that guy Red made you and Anthony stay with her.” Her voice held no accusations.

  She then told him about Tommy’s visit to his paternal grandmother’s house.

  “Red.” Grizz tightened his jaw. “He really was a rotten piece of shit. Using me and Anthony to keep Candy prisoner under the guise that ‘it was for her own good.’ She must’ve been scared to death of him because she never once told me or Anthony what Red was doing to her.”

  They’d finished their meal and were sitting at the table. Grizz took a sip of his drink and set the glass back down.

  “And you’re sure Red was Tommy’s father?” he asked.

  Without answering him, she got up from the small kitchen table and walked to the living room to retrieve her purse. He followed her as she sat on a chair that faced the couch. Taking a seat on the sofa in front of her, he watched as she pulled an envelope from her bag.

  “This is Red’s brother, David Enman.” She handed him a picture. “What do you think?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Grizz said under his breath. “Strange how Tommy doesn’t look like Red, but like Red’s brother instead. You said David Enman was dead years before Candy got pregnant, right?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “And I’ve never understood something. Well, there’s a lot I haven’t understood, but one thing after learning this is why you never really did anything to confirm paternity. You assumed you were Tommy’s father based on the same blood type and based on the mistaken notion that you and Anthony were the only ones having sex with Candy during the time. Big assumption for someone like you. Why?”

  “It was a different world. They didn’t do paternity tests. I saw a picture of him when he was younger that I thought looked like me. We both have a rare blood type. His birthday lined up with when I’d been banging Candy. It was good enough back then.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Not good enough for someone like you though, Grizz,” she said softly. “I think you wanted to believe it. You wanted him to be your son, didn’t you?”

  He snorted. “Why would I want something like that? Why would I want to bring a kid into that lifestyle? Don’t be ridiculous, Kit.”

  She cocked her head. “Because, other than having Mavis look after me, maybe fathering a child as bright as Tommy was the only good thing you’d ever done. The only decent legacy you might’ve left in the world.”

  He didn’t answer her, and she used the opportunity to segue into the next conversation she wanted to have with him. She didn’t know what he was expecting from her. She didn’t even know what she was expecting from him. The one thing she did know was that she wanted to hear some things from his own mouth. She wanted to hear the truths behind his past. She wasn’t interested in his criminal involvement and shady dealings with the people he’d blackmailed, the ones responsible for his fake execution. She'd already asked him the one question that had aroused her curiosity concerning how he'd pulled it off. She didn't need or want to know more.

  No, she wanted the truth from Grizz about his personal past. She was testing him now. And she didn’t know why, but she desperately wanted him to pass the test.

  “So, how old were you when you supposedly got Candy pregnant? She obviously believed you were fourteen because I heard her say it to you that night at the motel.”

  He looked hard at her. She could see by the expression on his face that he was carefully thinking. He was either calculating the math or trying to figure out whether he could or should lie to her.

  “You know what, let’s not start there,” she said before he could answer. “Let’s start with the basics. Your childhood. I don’t know why it’s important to me, but bear with me here, Grizz. Let’s see if you can be honest with me. It’s no longer necessary to hide things or protect me, right?”

  “I don’t like to talk about my childhood, Kit, so if you’re going there, forget it.”

  She let the second slip of her nickname pass, but she wouldn’t let the comment go.

  “I know about your childhood. I know about your sister. Tommy told me everything.”

  He stared. She couldn’t read his expression.

  “But I don’t know her name. Tell me her name, Grizz. Tell me your little sister’s name.”

  “I don’t see why it’s importa—”

  “Tell me!” she screamed.

  She had jumped up and now stood, looking down at him.

  “Tell me one thing. One truth from your past. Telling me her name isn’t putting anyone in danger. She’s been gone for years. You have no excuses to keep anything from me anymore.”

  Her voice echoed through the house. She watched him swallow. He was still sitting on the sofa, but on the edge of it now. His face was even with her waist. Without looking up, he whispered, “Ruth. Her name was Ruth Ann. I called her Ruthie.”

  Ginny’s sigh was easy to hear. She slowly closed the gap and he reached for her, pullin
g her close and burying his face in her stomach. She let him hold her and found herself running her hands through his still damp hair. He wasn’t crying, she realized, but just holding her, taking in her warmth. Taking in her light.

  “So, Mimi’s middle name that you suggested. It was in memory of Ruthie.”

  Gently, she took his face in her hand and turned it up to look at her. His eyes were filled with pain, but slowly changing into something else. Something heated.

  “Yes, that’s why I suggested it,” he murmured. “I’m glad you now know why.”

  She swallowed thickly. She needed to disengage. She saw the need in his eyes, wondered if he saw the same need in hers. No. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  Back to business. She calmly removed herself from his embrace and sat back down in the chair.

  “What’s your real name?” she asked next, crossing her legs.

  “Awww, honey, don’t go there. It’s not important.”

  “It’s important to me.”

  She saw the familiar clench of his jaw when he was upset or agitated. He stood up and started to head for his bedroom. She didn’t follow. He came back out with his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was stalling.

  “Why is my real name important to you?”

  “Grizz, are you here in South Florida because you see a future with me? Not that I’m sure how that could be accomplished, but you know I’m not in danger. Tommy’s shooting was random. You don’t need to watch over me and my kids. I’m self-sufficient. I can raise my children alone. I don’t need you, so why are you still here?”

  He didn’t answer but just stood in front of her, hands clenched into tight fists. She was making him mad. Good. Let him feel some anger. It was a feeling she disliked, but at least it was an emotion.

  “I guess you’re battling your old demons, aren’t you? Nobody tells Grizz what to do or gives him an ultimatum? Well, I’m giving you one. If you want to stay remotely connected to my life, even if it’s peripherally, I suggest you tell me the truth. You tell me your real name, or I will walk out of that door.” She nodded toward the front door. “And I will never look back.”

  Nothing. They stared. Neither one broke their gaze.

  “Your decision,” she said firmly.

  Still nothing.

  Minutes passed.

  “Fine,” she said, standing up quickly. She dug in her purse for her keys, but he came to her, grabbed her by both arms.

  “No, Kit. It’s not what you think.” His voice carried a desperate edge.

  “Then what is it, Grizz?”

  “I’ll tell you my real name, but I’m afraid you won’t believe me because it’s similar to my new alias. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m making it up, but I’m not. You’ll have no way to verify the truth, so I can only hope you’ll believe me. I’ve not given you any reason to trust me with these things, but I can’t stand the thought of you thinking I was lying about something that I’m actually being honest about.”

  She sat back down.

  He looked down. “The only people who ever called me by my real name were teachers and some kids from the school. The couple that raised me called me Boy, and Ruthie called me Brother. I saw my birth certificate only once before I destroyed it by sinking it in the family car in a canal. The last name was my stepfather’s, so I don’t know my real last name. You understand I’m going to tell you only what I know based on a memory that’s more than forty years old?”

  She nodded.

  Without taking his eyes away from hers, he said, “My real first name is Jamison. It’s similar to my alias James, so I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to trick you or make it sound close on purpose. Some people called me Jamison. Some Jamie, Some James.”

  He waited for her reaction. He hadn’t expected the wide smile.

  “I believe you.”

  He blew out a long breath.

  “So, you don’t think I’m making it up to sound close to the new alias?”

  “I know you’re not making it up.” She stood, walked toward him.

  “How do you know that, honey?”

  “Because I know your real name, Grizz. I probably know more than you do about your past.”

  “How? How could you know anything about me? I don’t even know my real last name.”

  She clasped his hands. “Your mother’s name was Frances Fowler. Her mother’s maiden name was Jamison. And I know it’s true because I’ve met your father.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Ginny

  2001, Fort Lauderdale

  The expression on Grizz’s face was one I’d never seen. He was dumbfounded. He was shocked. And more importantly, he looked hopeful.

  I went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee as he sat on the couch and stared at the blank television screen. When it was done, I handed him the steaming mug of strong, black coffee, just like he liked. He sat there and listened as I told him about my visit with Sister Mary Katherine several months ago, right before Tommy’s death.

  “No.” He shook his head, the coffee untouched. “Things like that, coincidences like that, don’t just happen.”

  I took a sip of my coffee and sat it on the small glass coffee table. I had the strangest thought as I took Grizz’s untouched mug from his big hands and sat it next to mine. This coffee table is too delicate to be in Grizz’s home. I wonder if it will ever get shattered. Like hearts. Hearts get shattered.

  I shook off the morbid thoughts. “Those were my exact words to Sister Mary Katherine. I just couldn’t believe it. Sister smiled at me and told me she didn’t believe in coincidences, either. She liked to call them ‘Godincidences.’”

  I reached for my purse and retrieved the envelope that contained David Enman’s picture. I pulled out another one.

  “Sister let me have this.” I handed it to Grizz. “Is this Ruthie? Is this your little sister?”

  He stared down at the picture, his expression unreadable.

  “Grizz?”

  When he finally spoke, his voice was thick.

  “I never thought I’d see her face again. I just can’t believe it.” A slow smile spread across his face. “And Razor. He was the best damn dog a man could ever ask for. Lucifer and Damien were smart dogs, but Razor had more brains than some people I know.”

  I told him about my visit to a sleepy little North Carolina town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and gave him every detail of the afternoon I spent with his father.

  “Your father’s name is Micah Hunter. Both of your parents’ last names, Fowler and Hunter, can be traced back to families that settled there before the Civil War. Your roots run deep.”

  He listened without interrupting.

  “He returned from the war and spent almost eight years tracking down every lead he could find on your mother’s disappearance. The rumor had gotten around that she’d left with a man who’d been working for a logging crew just passing through. She had confided to a friend she was pregnant, and that only made your father more desperate to find her. He made it a point to talk to hundreds of men over the years. He visited logging camps all over the state. He even had a few false leads that he traced to Tennessee and Virginia, but he never found her. He said the despair finally took its toll, and he turned to alcohol. He almost drank himself to death and found himself inconsolable until he met a lady. He said Margaret Mae gave him a reason to clean up his act. With her help, he was able to replace the alcohol with something better.”

  Grizz looked over at me then. “With what? What did he replace it with?”

  “He replaced it with God. Your father is a preacher.”

  “A preacher?”

  “Yes, a preacher. And he’s been widowed for years. He lost Margaret Mae to lung cancer. The poor thing never smoked a day in her life and died of lung cancer. They never had children, but your father has eight brothers and sisters. All but two are still alive. You have a ton of cousins.”

  Grizz didn’t say anything but reached to his right to t
urn on a light. The sun was setting, and the living room was getting dark. He stared straight ahead, and I studied his profile. I almost reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had come loose behind his ear and caught myself. What do you think you’re doing, Ginny?

  “Well, it’s too bad I’ll never get to meet them.” His voice was low.

  “Why not? Why can’t you meet them?”

  “Are you serious, Kit? And before you give me shit about calling you Kit,” he paused and cast me a knowing glance, “or my cussing, you’ll have to get over it. I promise never to call you Kit in public, but when we’re alone, you’re Kit. And I’ll try and tone down the language, but that’s easier said than done.”

  I shook off the explanation. I wanted to hear why he didn’t think he’d get to meet his family.

  “Why can’t you meet your family?”

  “After the things I’ve done, you think I’m going to drive up to the top of some mountain and be the welcomed son? He’s a preacher, for fuck’s sake, Kit. It’s too late for people like me.”

  I took a deep breath, my heart thumping. “I tell you I visited a nun I hadn’t seen in twenty-five years. She just happens to be caring for a nun who was there the day you were born. That nun remembers every single detail about your birth, and then I track down and find not only your original birth certificate in Florida, but the man who fathered you in North Carolina, and you think it’s too late?” I barked out a laugh. “Grizz, it’s just the opposite. It’s all about God’s timing. He’s never early and He’s most definitely never late. His timing is perfect, and it’s time for you to meet your father and your family. He’s wonderful, Grizz. I think you’ll love him. I know he loves you. He didn’t even know if his child survived. He didn’t know if his child was a boy or a girl, but he never once stopped loving you.”

  Grizz shook his head.

  “I could never meet him and tell him the things I’ve done, Kit. Never. You said he was a preacher. C’mon, honey. This isn’t a good idea.” He stood and walked his cold coffee to the kitchen. His back was to me as he robotically cleared our dinner dishes away.

  I followed him and stood next to the island. He still had his back to me and was scraping food into the sink. Before he could switch the disposal on, I said, “You don’t have to tell him the things you’ve done. I already told him.”