A Gift of Time

by Beth Flynn

  He stopped what he was doing, and I saw his back stiffen. He slowly turned around and looked at me.

  “I told him everything. I left no detail out. No detail. You know what I’m saying, right?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Your father wants to meet you, Grizz. He’s been waiting. I’ve spoken with him a few times since Tommy died. He knew about my confusion where you were concerned and that there was a good chance I wouldn’t ever speak to you or see you again. But he never once tried to coerce me. Even when he thought the only link to seeing his only child might’ve been severed if I never came around, he didn’t push. He’s a kind and gentle man. Even if you don’t want to meet him, I’ll make sure Mimi does. He’s a man worth knowing. And like I said, he knows everything—and he still wants to meet you.”

  After a few moments, he said, “I’ll think about it.”

  I knew when not to push. I smiled at him and bumped him aside as I took over at the sink. I could’ve loaded the dishwasher, but just like when I made dinner, I felt like I needed to keep my hands busy. I talked as I washed dishes. My hands welcomed the hot soapy water. He sat down at the table and watched me. I could feel his eyes boring into my back.

  “What was prison like?” I asked casually. Not that it was a casual subject, but I tried to act nonchalant. I didn’t think he’d answer.

  “Shitty.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure it was crummy, but what was it like? I mean you were on death row, so I assume you were confined to a cell maybe twenty-three hours a day, an hour for exercise?”

  “That’s what it should’ve been like, but I had privileges.”

  “I guess I should’ve seen that one coming. Was there like a hierarchy in the prison population?”

  “Yeah. There were several different gangs and they filtered up and were separated by ethnicity. The Hispanics, the blacks, the whites. They each had their own organizations within the prison, and they each had their own leaders. It didn’t take me too long to establish myself over all of them.”

  I shot him a glance. “How did you do that? I can see why you might’ve been able to be in charge of the white guys, but the others?”

  “I just did. I may have been a lot of things, but there was one thing I always made clear. I didn’t care what color a man’s skin was. If he got the job done, he was treated fairly. When everyone realized I would deal with them equally and could get them more privileges, they respected me. In some ways, I helped keep the peace between the different groups. It actually benefited me, too. A prisoner on death row wouldn’t normally be able to eat with the majority of the prison population. Letting me eat in the chow hall or lift weights in the yard whenever I wanted to, well, it helped ease some tensions between the groups.”

  I cocked my hip to one side. “And the name Grizz didn’t have anything to do with them appointing you as their head guy or whatever you call it?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. It probably helped.”

  I turned away from him again and started to dry the dishes I’d just washed. And then I brought up another subject. One I’d dropped earlier.

  “So how old are you?”

  “You know how old I am. You told me you found my original birth certificate.”

  “Oh, right. So, let’s see. You were born in 1947, which means you’re fifty-three now, but you’ll be turning fifty-four at the end of this year.”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  I laid down the plate I’d been drying and turned around to face him again. Using my fingers to tick off the years I said, “And Tommy was born in 1959, which means you must’ve been...let’s see…twelve years old when you had sex with Candy? And for some reason, she thought you were fourteen.”

  “I had assumed Pop’s son’s identity. The real Jason Talbot would have been fourteen.”

  “But you were only twelve years old.”

  “Yeah, again. So what?”

  I snapped him with my dishtowel.

  “Twelve?” I shouted. “Don’t you think twelve is not only too young to be having sex, but to think you actually got her pregnant? You sure have a high opinion of your sperm!”

  I should’ve known the revelation wouldn’t have embarrassed him. He grinned and shrugged.

  “She was a seventeen-year-old hooker. She made the first move. You think I didn’t take advantage of that? Find me a twelve-year-old boy who hasn’t discovered his dick and I’ll show you a girl.”

  I shook my head in exasperation. “I just think it’s horrible!”

  “Just because you think it’s horrible doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. That it doesn’t happen all the time. Even I heard about that schoolteacher who seduced her sixth-grade student. I think she even got some time for it.”

  “Just stop talking, Grizz. I shouldn’t have brought this up when I knew it would get under my skin. I don’t even know if a twelve-year-old can get a woman pregnant. I still can’t see how you thought Tommy could’ve been your son.”

  “Had a lot of time on my hands in prison. Did some reading. A boy has the ability to get a girl pregnant when he reaches puberty. Every kid is different. Youngest-known father on record is—”

  “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. This conversation is over.” I held up a hand.

  “You brought it up.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve lived three minutes long enough to regret bringing it up.”

  I looked at my watch and let out a sigh. I’d stayed long enough.

  “I have to run. Pollyanna will be bringing Jason home in less than an hour. Mimi won’t be home, so I want to make sure I’m there.”

  I started to gather my things when he asked, “Pollyanna?”

  “She's his friend Max’s older sister. She’s a cheerleader for the high school football team, and Max and Jason wanted to go to the game. Their mother, Denise, has to leave right after the game and has an appointment in the opposite direction, so Pollyanna volunteered to drive Jason.”

  He didn’t say anything, and when I looked at him, he was smiling.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said, trying to hide his grin.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking—friend’s older sister. Older sister in a cheerleading uniform.”

  “My son just turned eleven!” I could see by his expression he knew he’d gone too far.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, Kit. I’m sorry, honey.”

  I walked over to him and punched him hard on the chest. It was so out-of-character for me, but it felt good. He didn’t flinch, and it only made me madder. I pulled back to swing again. This time, he caught my fist with one hand. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Let go,” I told him.

  “No. Not until you accept my apology.”

  I hmphed. I doubted any apology from Grizz could be sincere.

  “Let go of my hand,” I said in my most threatening tone.

  “I’m sorry, and I mean it,” he said without loosening his grip on my balled up hand. “I know you and Tommy raised him up right. I wouldn’t want him to lose his childhood like I did, but don’t assume he’s naïve, either.”

  I wouldn’t admit to him that Jason may have only been eleven, but he was in no way naïve about what happened between a man and a woman behind closed doors. I remembered Mimi making a comment last year when Tommy and I returned from our honeymoon about us “doing it,” and Jason had innocently wanted to know what we were doing because he wanted to do it, too. Tommy later told me he took the time to have “the talk” with Jason and was surprised to learn Jason already knew about the birds and the bees, and he only commented because he’d thought there was something else he’d missed out on. No, Jason may have been a sweet and lovable child, but he wasn’t naïve about sex.

  “I was only teasing with you. I’m sorry, honey,” Grizz told me for the third time.

  I saw sincerity in his eyes and relaxed. He slowly raised my hand to his mouth and g
ently kissed the inside of my wrist.

  I pulled back like I’d been burned. And then, gathering up my things, I walked out of the house without saying goodbye or looking back.

  I was upset. The only problem was I couldn’t figure out if I was upset about his crude teasing or the way that kiss made me feel.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Grizz

  2001, Fort Lauderdale

  It had been four days since Ginny had been in his home. She’d not come back or tried to call. He let her have her space as he waited.

  It was now Tuesday morning. Grizz came out of the convenience store, barely paying attention to his surroundings when he heard a loud voice coming from near his work truck. His landscaping crew had finished up an early morning job and decided to make a pit stop for some ice before heading to the next one. Grizz had run into the store to grab some Hershey’s Kisses, his most recent and only vice. Well, his other vice. His first one was and always would be Ginny.

  “You need to take your sorry, Spanish-speaking asses back across the water where you belong. First, you take our jobs, and now you’re trying to turn Fort Lauderdale into Cuba? Isn’t it bad enough you already took over Miami? You gotta come up here, too?”

  Grizz slowed and surveyed the scene. He hadn’t been spotted yet, and he listened as the crew foreman, Carlos, tried to explain in broken English that they didn’t want any trouble and would be leaving as soon as the rest of his men came out of the store. Grizz liked Carlos. He was mild-mannered and worked hard for Anthony, ensuring that his crew did, too. He watched as the source of the accusations stepped closer to Carlos, his spit spraying as he continued his tirade.

  “Well, sorry ain’t good enough, amigo. You think sorry is good enough, Rick?”

  Grizz noticed another man then, leaning up against a beat up truck, arms crossed and a toothpick sticking out of his mouth.

  “Nah, Jesse,” he drawled. “I think they need to do more than apologize for tarnishing the good old U.S. of A. by trying to replace the English language.”

  Grizz didn’t know what Jesse and his ugly friend Rick had in mind, but he’d seen enough. He shoved his bag of Kisses into his back pocket and walked up behind the man who was in Carlos’s face. The one named Jesse. He grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck and, squeezing, said in a low voice, “I think you owe my friend, Carlos, an apology.”

  Jesse’s eyes widened and his posture straightened as the pressure on his neck hardened. He was being held so tightly he couldn’t turn his head to see who had grabbed him, but he could see his friend, Rick, jump to attention and quickly get in the passenger side of their truck.

  Grizz noticed the movement, too, and looked over at the man.

  “Don’t you think he owes Carlos an apology, Rick?” Grizz growled.

  Rick’s response was to nod and roll up the truck’s window.

  “Just having some fun. Didn’t mean anything by it,” Jesse choked out.

  Carlos started telling Grizz he was okay and there was no harm done, that they should be leaving. The other men on the landscape crew had already loaded up. Three of them in the back seat of the truck and three more in the bed of the pickup. They stared in awestruck silence as the big quiet man, who’d joined their crew all those months ago, showed a side they hadn’t seen.

  “You still haven’t apologized,” Grizz told him.

  “Sorry. Sorry, uh, Carlos. Sorry, man,” Jesse said with a squeak.

  Grizz shoved him toward his own truck and watched as he walked around the back of it. Jesse’s dog, a white Pit Bull with brown markings, had been watching from the bed of the pickup. As Jesse passed him, Grizz heard him say, “You useless piece of shit-for-brains dog. Could’ve used some help back there, Rocky.”

  He punched the dog right in the side of the head.

  Before Jesse reached the driver’s door, Grizz had him by the back of the head, this time smashing his face hard into the side view mirror, breaking his nose. The crunch was loud, and Grizz heard the collective gasps from the landscape crew as they watched from their heightened perch in the bed of Carlos’s work truck.

  Jesse collapsed and began to cry as he cradled his broken and bloodied nose. Bullies are the worst crybabies ever, Grizz smirked. He headed to the back of Jesse’s truck and yelled over his shoulder, “I’m taking your dog.”

  On the drive over to their next job, Carlos did his best to explain that he and his men had done nothing wrong. They had just been standing by the truck waiting for Grizz and two other men to come out of the store when Jesse and his friend Rick pulled up. Apparently, Jesse and Rick had been offended because the crew was talking in Spanish. It didn’t happen a lot, but Carlos confided to Grizz that there was definitely some resentment and animosity, especially as South Florida’s Hispanic community grew and expanded farther north from Miami.

  Grizz knew Carlos and his guys hadn’t done anything to incite the two men. They were bullies looking for a fight. Guess they picked the wrong people to taunt that day. Not to mention, there were only two of them and at least four of Carlos’s crew who’d been standing there. They were counting on them not being legal immigrants and therefore submitting to the intimidation.

  Grizz sat in the front passenger seat, his left hand absently stroking the back of Rocky’s neck. The dog sat quietly between the two men.

  “I’ll have to tell Anthony today that I’ll be quitting,” he told Carlos. What he didn't mention was that going into the convenience store had been stupid. He should've stayed in the truck like he'd been doing and let one of the guys buy what he wanted. He was getting too comfortable and familiar and it was dangerous. He needed to reel himself back and stay alert.

  Carlos looked over at him from the driver’s seat, his eyes wide. “No. No, James. It’s okay. We don’t say anything to Mr. Anthony. He won’t know.” His English was broken and his accent was thick, but his voice was laced with sincerity.

  Grizz didn’t say anything. He knew he’d taken his retaliation too far. He hadn’t intended to, but seeing Jesse abuse the dog crawled too far under his skin. He always was a sucker for a helpless animal. Should Jesse report the abuse and the stolen animal, it would bring the authorities to Anthony’s door. The name of his landscaping company was advertised on the sides of the work truck. Stupid fool. He would let Anthony know before the end of the day.

  They had arrived at the next job and were unloading their equipment when his cell phone buzzed. He wasn’t used to getting calls. What if the incident had already been reported and Anthony had been contacted? Shit.

  He squinted in the bright morning sun and immediately recognized the number. Not because he was used to seeing it, but because he’d memorized it in the event it was used to call him.

  It was Ginny.

  He walked away from the other men, Rocky at his heels.

  “What’s up, baby? You okay?”

  “Oh, Grizz,” she cried into the phone. He could tell she was upset.

  He stopped and stiffened as she told him what had happened.

  “I want to get my children,” she cried. “I need to go to their schools and get them. I just want them near me.”

  He understood.

  “Listen,” he replied calmly. “I’ll get a ride back to the yard and get my car. You get the kids and stop by the store. Get some sandwiches and drinks and bring them to my house. I would do it, but I don’t know what they like. It’ll be okay. I’ll be waiting there for you, honey.”

  "Okay," she whispered, her voice shaking.

  "Baby, listen, can you do me a favor?" he asked before she hung up.

  "Yeah. Sure," she replied.

  "Will you bring your guitar?"

  He closed the phone and stared down at Rocky. The dog looked up at him with soulful deep eyes.

  “C’mon, boy. Time to meet your new family. And if there is a God, then maybe one day they’ll be my family, too.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Ginny

  2001, Fort Lauder
dale

  My hands shook as I drove my children first to the grocery store and then to Grizz’s house in Laurel Falls. I had been doing some chores at home and listening to a morning TV program with half an ear when the program had been interrupted.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at the screen as horror unfolded on live television. I cried for the victims in those airplanes and in those buildings. I cried for the families that didn’t know if they’d be seeing their loved ones again. I cried for the country, my country, that I loved so dearly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Here. In the United States. But it had, and it would forever change the course of American history.

  My first thought was for my children. I wanted to be near them. I didn’t believe they were in any danger at their schools, but the need to be close to them was overpowering and definite.

  My second thought was for Grizz. He made me feel safe. I wanted to be near Grizz. I racked my brain as I drove to their schools, trying to figure out if I knew anybody who might’ve been out of town and visiting where the attacks had taken place. I couldn’t think of anyone then, but as the weeks passed, the tragic news of someone’s loss would reach me, and I’d mourn for them. As it would turn out, I didn’t know anybody that hadn’t been affected to some degree by what happened that horrible Tuesday morning.

  I talked with my children as we made our way to Grizz’s house. I had told myself, and truly believed, that I would be keeping them away from him. Yet driving to his home with them somehow felt right. Was it because of the air of authority and protection he exuded? He’d always made me feel safe, and I wanted that for my children, as well. I felt they were especially vulnerable since they had lost their father earlier in the year.

  I had been right. Jason was downright afraid. His voice was shaky as he peppered me with questions on the drive to Grizz’s.

  I saw his eyes widen when Grizz answered the door. I held my breath.