I walked into the school, smiled at the receptionist, and joined the other parents there to pick up kids. I waited until Oliver’s teacher had a free moment and approached her. I liked to check in with her at least once a week if time allowed.
“Hello,” I greeted.
“Ah, Mr. Whittle,” she said with a smile.
“Damion, please,” I insisted. “How’s he doing?” It was the same question I asked every time I saw her.
The start to my five-year-old’s school career had been rocky. I was assured kindergarten was hard on a lot of kids. It was a big change, and some struggled a bit more than others. My son wasn’t struggling with the learning but with being in a new environment with kids he didn’t know.
“He is a bright young man and a pleasure to have in class,” she answered.
“But?” I asked, knowing there was something she wasn’t saying.
She smiled. “He’s had a difficult week. The class has been doing group projects, and Oliver is so far advanced, he either does all the work or doesn’t do any of it. He would much prefer to work alone. Because he’s so much more advanced, he gets done early, and instead of using the time to play a game with the other kids, he reads.”
I chuckled. “That can’t really be a bad thing, right?”
“Absolutely not, but I think it would be easier for Oliver if he could make a couple of friends. He’s a very quiet boy.”
I nodded, looking over to the corner of the room that was set up as a reading nook. He was only in kindergarten but was reading books meant for second and third graders. I was proud as hell.
“He takes a while to warm up, but he’ll get there,” I told her.
“I’m sure he will. With the school year over in another month, I’m not sure he’ll have time to make friends this year. Hopefully, next year will be easier for him.”
“I’m confident he will find a friend,” I told her.
I waved my hand, getting his attention. He put the book he’d been reading back on the shelf, grabbed his backpack from the hook, and made his way to me. “Can we go now?” he asked.
“Yep. Say goodbye to your teacher.”
I ushered him out the door after saying his goodbye, got him tucked into the backseat of my small Nissan, and pulled out of the school parking area. He was staring out the window, a pensive look on his face. He was a thinker. I couldn’t see anything wrong with being a thinker. He was going to be a well-read adult. Reading broadened the mind. I was an avid reader myself and liked to believe he inherited the habit from me.
I could not get myself to care nearly as much as his teacher did about his lack of being a social butterfly. He wasn’t completely withdrawn—he was selective about who he talked to. I was the same way.
“Did you have a good day?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “It was all right.”
“What did you do today?”
“We worked on the letter Z and wrote sentences. I already know Z. It’s an easy one, but there are not a lot of words that start with Z.”
I laughed. “No, there aren’t. Did you play with anyone at recess?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
I took another approach. “Do you like the other kids in your class?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you tell me the names of some of the kids?” I asked, hoping to get him to open up.
He looked thoughtful. “There are a lot of kids, Dad. I don’t know them. I sometimes play with Jason, but he likes to play basketball a lot. I don’t like basketball.”
“Maybe you can play on the playground or play tag,” I suggested.
“He doesn’t like to do that.”
“Maybe one of the other kids does.”
“I like to read my book. Sometimes, I like to look for bugs.”
I grinned. “That sounds like fun to me. Maybe I’ll call Timmy’s parents and see if we can have a playdate.”
I glanced in the mirror to gauge his reaction. He looked less than thrilled. “Do we have to?”
“Timmy is a good kid. You guys live in the same building. It’s good for you to have friends close by.”
“Timmy likes to pick his nose,” he complained. “It’s gross.”
I cringed at the thought of boogers running amuck. “It is a bad habit, but other than that, I think you two had fun the last time you played together.”
“I’d rather not,” he said, sounding like an adult version of himself.
I chuckled. “All right, we’ll talk about it again later. What should we do this weekend? Do you want to go see a movie? Maybe go to a museum?”
The moment I made the suggestions, I thought about what my grandfather had said. He was right. Oliver and I spent very little time outdoors. We didn’t go fishing or hunting like I had done with my own father at his age. We did go to the park now and again, but we never really got out and really dirty. I looked at him in the mirror again. He was my spitting image but softer.
DamionI had grown up on a farm. I had a tan that started in spring and carried over until late fall from all my time outside. I had worked hard on the farm, helping feed the horses and chickens. When I had gotten older, I used to ride alongside my grandpa in the front seat of his old beat-up truck to fix fences. The fences always needed fixing, it seemed.“I want to go to the museum,” he answered after carefully thinking it over.“Sounds like a plan. We’ll do the museum, have lunch, and then go to the park for some playtime.”“Okay,” he said, turning to look back out the window.I drove to our apartment, tucked the car into the cramped parking area, and headed inside. We lived in a nice building with a doorman. I felt relatively safe on the eighth floor. Our two-bedroom was modest, but a lot bigger than most.“I’m going to get dinner started. You can watch TV for a bit if you’d like.”“I’m going to play on my iPad,” he answered.I put his backpack next to the door and went into the s
AlexI stared out the window of the hospital room. It was a dreary spring day, which was common, but I suspected the rain was God weeping. Not really. The weather suited the mood. I was trying to keep my emotions in check. I refused to show weakness. I hated showing weakness.“You’re still here?” Oliver’s weak voice came from behind me.I slowly turned and looked at the man lying in bed. He looked tired. I didn’t think he looked like a man on death’s door, but the doctors and nurses assured me that was the case. I was in awe of his strength. I had no idea he was sick. Yesterday when I had shown up to the house, he was still in bed. He politely asked me to drive him the twenty miles to the hospital.Initially, I thought maybe he had the flu. He had just been on an airplane. Airplanes were nasty, germ-laden boxes. When he’d quickly been admitted with almost no questions asked, I realized something was wrong. It was all prearranged. It was like he was checking in at a hotel.“I’m here, O
AlexI walked out of the room. “I’m leaving,” I said to the nurse, not stopping to hear what she was about to say. I couldn’t stay there another minute. I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to turn into a blubbery mess with an audience.I got back in my truck and drove. I felt numb. When I got within five minutes of town, I called Sadie, hoping she was off work.“Hey,” I said when she answered. “You free? I could really use a drink.”“Alex, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon. Since when do you day-drink?”“I need a drink. You don’t have to drink.”“I’ll meet you at Bob’s,” she said, naming the one bar in town. Bob’s also served as a diner and all-around hangout for the over twenty-one crowd, but it wasn’t all that surprising to see a toddler in the bar with a mom or dad on occasion.I drove to the bar, parking in the paved lot that had more potholes than solid blacktop. When I walked inside, I immediately spotted sleek black hair. It was easy to find her anywhere. She liked flash
DamionI sat at my desk, reviewing a new piece from one of my seasoned journalists when my assistant buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Whittle?”“Yes?”“There’s someone here to see you. He says he’s a lawyer.”I didn’t think I was being sued, but one never knew in the current climate. We weren’t in the business of celebrity news, which protected us from some suits but not all. I adjusted my tie, wanting to present a professional appearance.“I’ll be right out.”I got to my feet and opened the office door. The lawyer was nothing like the other lawyers I dealt with. The guy was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and a bolo tie. He looked to be in his late sixties. I didn’t have to ask where he was from.“I’m Damion Whittle,” I said, extending my hand.“Good to meet you, Damion. I’m Harvey Larson. I’m your grandfather’s attorney.”I nodded, gesturing for him to go inside. “Hold my calls,” I said, not looking forward to the conversation I knew to be coming.Harvey had taken a seat already
DamionHe slowly nodded. “You heard me. Like I said, your grandpa, he was one smart son of a bitch. I tried to do what he did and lost money. He just had a knack for knowing what was a good bet and what wasn’t.”“Wow,” I breathed. “I never knew. He never mentioned investing. You knew him. There was nothing about him that said he knew the first thing about investing.”“He liked to keep his cards close to the vest.”“Shit,” I said, my mind still trying to process everything. “He left it to me?” Harvey waved the stack of papers. “It’s all right here.”I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say. Do I thank you? I feel like a shithead. I didn’t go to the man’s funeral. I don’t feel worthy.”“Honestly, I don’t think he expected you to go to the funeral. He planned it all to keep you from having to relive that experience.”I gulped down the lump in my throat. When Ann had died, I had been a wreck. My grandfather had flown out to be with me. I didn’t even remember the first few days after he
AlexI took a bite of my crispy bacon before sipping the black coffee. I had been starving when I walked into the only restaurant in town. People in town were used to me eating a lot. I burned a lot of calories doing what I did, and for now, I didn’t have to worry too much about putting on a ton of weight. I wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder, but I was stronger than most women.Correction, stronger than most normal women. Women that ranched and farmed were tough. I was proud to be what I considered one of the elite class of females across the country that could rein in a scared horse, load a bale of hay, and then cook up a hot meal for the menfolk. What I really loved was working my ass off on a farm and then sitting down to enjoy a meal someone else prepared. Like my breakfast. Any meal prepared by someone else always tasted a little better in my opinion.“Did you get those new boots you were looking at?” Sadie asked casually.I stuffed a buttery piece of pancake in my mouth, shaking my h
Alex“I’ll give it until the end of the week. If no one shows up, I’ll call the lawyer and let him know I need a body there or he needs to give me the power to hire a body.”“Good plan. I need to scoot. I’ve got an eleven o’clock.”“See ya later,” I said, not getting up. I had already been to the farm, taken care of morning chores, and was going to enjoy a lazy, late breakfast.With the initial shock of Oliver’s death easing, I was able to focus on what came next. I had a couple of calls from potential clients. The easy thing to do would be to walk away, take a new job, and put Oliver and his farm behind me. It was how I lived my life. I didn’t get attached to people or places. I kept everyone at arm’s length.I checked the time. I wanted to be rebellious and ignore the farm. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what I believed about the afterlife, but I wasn’t interested in pissing off any ghosts. I had made a promise and I intended to keep that promise.I left the diner and drove out to the fa
DamionI knew my grandfather had someone minding the farm, but no one had said anything about that someone being a beautiful young woman. I had seen the truck pull up and watched through the dining room window where I had just sat down to enjoy a sandwich with Oliver. When I saw the truck, I assumed it was the hand Harvey told me about. Then she got out of the truck and I was less sure about my assumption. He had told me someone named Alex was running things. That didn’t look like an Alex to me.I waited and watched as she disappeared into the barn. I wondered if she worked for Alex. Before I ventured out to introduce myself, I got Oliver situated in the bedroom that used to be mine growing up. I walked outside, inhaling the fresh air with the scent of freshly tilled dirt lingering. It was strange how a scent could stir up memories. I took a few more deep breaths, closing my eyes and letting myself be transported to another time.When I opened my eyes again, I found her staring at me.