Courageous (32 page)

“When he mentioned how good your beef stew is, I dropped a few hints, but he doesn’t always get it; you know what I mean?”

“I know
exactly
what you mean.”

Tom smiled broadly. “What a blessed man you are, Adam Mitchell! To have such a beautiful and charming wife and a strong and intelligent son. And how blessed they are to have a man who loves God and loves them. Now, if the rest of this beef stew lives up to the first bite, I’ll have to request deliveries to the retirement center!”

Dylan and Victoria seemed delighted to answer Tom’s many questions, and Adam was stunned at how much he’d learned about both when Tom finished.

“Now, I have a little bit of beef stew left and half a muffin. I understand there is a family member named Maggie. I would like to meet her.”

“Can I let her in, Adam?” Victoria asked.

“Sure, why not?”

Maggie ran in the back door and trotted straight to the stranger who held a bowl for her. She polished it off it in ten seconds as everyone laughed.

The family retired to the living room, where Maggie sat at Tom’s feet; her head rested on one of his knees.

“I know it’s been difficult for you all since Emily died.”

“It has,” Victoria said. “But God is faithful.”

“Yes. He’s not always easy to understand, but always faithful. When I took a bad fall six years ago, I told myself I would never walk again. I was miserable. Then one day I read about Christ’s resurrection, and God turned on a light.”

Adam watched Victoria and Dylan as they listened carefully to Tom’s words.

“I realized, ‘Well, of course I
will
walk again.’”

He turned to Dylan. “After the resurrection, I’ll race you, young man, and it will take everything you have to keep up with me!”

“Yes, sir!”

Suddenly Tom teared up. “Victoria, I look forward to introducing you to Marianne. She will really like you. And I look forward to meeting Emily too.”

Victoria couldn’t talk, but she smiled. She went to the kitchen and five minutes later brought back warm peach pie with French vanilla ice cream. Tom ceremoniously offered Maggie the remains from his dessert plate.

Victoria looked down at Maggie, head resting on Tom’s ankle. “I’m pretty sure Maggie thinks she’s in heaven right now!”

After Adam and Dylan returned from the retirement center, Adam told Victoria, “Tom was a huge hit tonight. And not just with Maggie. Dylan told me how much he liked him.”

“He’s quite a guy, isn’t he?”

“I told Tom about my tendency to believe the worst about people.”

“Like Frank Tyson.”

“Yeah. For starters. Well, it dawned on me that at the one drug bust when we had that brawl with the big guy and the couch got turned on its side, how hard would it be for a few bags to fall down one of the open air vents?”

“It’s possible.”

“On the other hand, I have to be sure I don’t ignore the evidence. One of the guys may be stealing drugs. But this could cost my relationships with other cops.”

“Why?”

“Because cops who snitch on other cops aren’t popular.”

“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

“Neither would I.”

Chapter Thirty-six

Adam arrived at Pearly’s fifteen minutes early.

The guys’ preferred table was taken, and while drawing his weapon would have cleared it, he looked for an alternative. He was headed for an empty table when he heard a woman’s throaty voice say, “Corporal Mitchell!”

He turned to see the perfectly made-up face of Diane Koos.

“Ms. Koos. Hello. What brings—?” He stopped in midsentence. His peripheral vision sent a message too bizarre to comprehend. Namely that Diane Koos shared a table—a comparatively small fraction of it—with none other than the human planetoid.

“Mitchell,” the cement mixer rumbled.

“Sergeant,” Adam said weakly. He made contact with Bronson’s bloodshot eyes. “What are you two . . . doing here?”

“That’s our business,” he growled.

Koos laughed and swatted Bronson’s arm. “Oh, Brad. Don’t be a cave troll!” She looked at Adam. “I told Brad breakfast was on me. When I asked where he wanted to go, you know what he said?”

“Pearly’s?”

“He said, ‘When I’m at Pearly’s, I’m happier than a pig in slop.’ Isn’t that hilarious?”

“Uh . . . yeah.”

“Go ahead, Brad; show him what’s in the bag.”

Bronson reluctantly pulled out a heavy gold-plated plaque. It said, “Albany Award for Courageous Community Service.” Diane Koos’s name was crossed out. Right beneath, in bold engraved lettering, it said, “Brad Bronson.”

“I had that done for him because of what he did for me.”

“See the corner of the plaque, how it’s banged up?” Bronson said with a hangman’s grin. “That’s where Diane whacked the punk in the face.”

“Yeah, I heard the story.”

Koos smiled. “Have you met Brad’s rottie, Marciano? I brought him a pound of ground round and a bag of Cheetos. We’re friends for life.”

Brad said brightly, “The peanut butter cookies didn’t hurt your cause either.” He looked at Adam. “And guess what Diane named her Jack Russell?”

He assumed it wasn’t Toto.

“Otis Spunkmeyer!” Bronson laughed so hard it went into a cough.

The phrase
Now I’ve seen everything
took on new meaning for Adam.

Uncomfortable in this no-man’s-land between the twilight zone and the outer limits, Adam said, “Listen, I need to find a table for the guys. Uh . . . have a nice day.”

From where he now sat, Adam could still hear Bronson’s voice: “. . . he charged at me, and my forehead met him halfway. He dropped like a rock. I went in and cleaned house, threw his punk buddies out on their keisters. I left that drug boat so clean you could lick mashed banana off the deck.”

Koos giggled and leaned close to murmur something to Bronson. Adam got up and found a table in the far corner, beyond earshot.

Today’s
Albany Herald
in front of him, he bypassed the front page and sports and turned to section C, the classified ads. To keep his fingers on Albany’s pulse, he looked at 596, legal notices, which went on for eight pages. The first notice was from Dougherty County Juvenile Court. It began with the initials of two children, their birth dates, and it was addressed to three males, first names Ronnie, Ernest, and Willie, followed by “and other individuals who might be the biological father of said children born to Gail Edwards.”

A petition had been filed by a named caseworker—“Petition of deprivation of the above referenced children.”

Adam saw another similar notice, and still another and another. He shook his head.

Javy and Nathan arrived and pulled out chairs, sitting down at the same time.

“Who won?” Shane sat next to Adam.

“I’m reading legal notices. Children’s services is asking possible fathers of children taken into custody to claim their kids in court.”

“Like I always say,” Shane said, “Rome is falling.”

“We can’t give up. I won’t give up.” Adam looked up to see David arrive with coffee and plop down in the remaining chair.

“It’s gettin’ bad,” David said. “Last night I dreamt about Pearly’s.”

Shane said, “Yeah, I heard they’ve named you employee of the month. Pretty good since you don’t even work here.”

“Should make it easier to find a parking spot.”

David sipped coffee to find his voice. “I found out something about Amanda that’s pretty hard to take.”

“What’s up?” Nathan asked.

“I really don’t know how to say it.”

They all waited.

“Well . . . she’s a vegetarian.”

Silence.

Adam finally spoke. “Does that make Olivia a vegetarian, too?”

“I’d think so,” Shane said, “unless she has a cash source and transportation to Burger King.”

Adam leaned in. “When did you find out?”

“When I brought her and Olivia some dinner.”

“From where?”

“Jimmie’s Hot Dogs.”

The group emitted simultaneous groans of empathy. Shane asked, “Did you let her know you’re a baconatarian?”

“She told me she had a bumper sticker that said, ‘Meat is murder.’”

“If meat is murder, David, you’re a serial killer. What would Amanda think if she knew how many steers have given their lives to make you happy?”

“Quite a few pigs, too,” David added.

Shane nodded. “I’m not sayin’ it would be grounds for divorce, but it’d be a compatibility issue if you considered marriage.”

“Under most circumstances that might be true,” Nathan said.

“What do you mean?” David asked.

“Well, the two of you had a child together. That means unless there are overwhelming reasons not to, you should be married.”

David cleared his throat. “And her being a vegetarian doesn’t qualify?”

“No.”

“Even if it means I could never barbecue a steak for her?”

“Even if you could never barbecue a steak for
you
,” Nathan said.

David winced. “Commitment can be tough, can’t it?”

“Believe it or not, David, sometimes it’s even tougher.”

“Seriously, guys, I’ve spent some time with Amanda. I respect how she’s raised Olivia. I couldn’t have done what she’s done. Amanda’s . . . amazing.”

Adam asked, “David, if you had to choose between eating meat the rest of your life or being with Amanda and Olivia, which would you choose?”

David thought long and hard. “Honestly? I think I’d choose Amanda.”

Javy became the group spokesman: “He’s in love.”

After the combination of congratulations and wisecracks that followed, Adam got serious. “Here’s what I think—” he tapped the newspaper in front of him—“nobody talks about the plague of motherless children. Just fatherless children. Yeah, moms struggle, but it’s dads who don’t step up to the plate. I’m really proud of you, David, for the choices you’re making. It’s not too late to make things right.”

“Reminds me of what I’ve been reading in the Word,” Nathan said. “In Ephesians, there’s a command given specifically to men: ‘Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.’”

Adam grew more animated. “In my case, that was exactly the problem. Ever since Dylan became a teenager, I’ve sent him negative messages. He’s only heard me say no or tell him to get home sooner or do his homework or stop playing video games. I made him angry because I never encouraged him.”

“That’s something I need to watch with Marcos,” Javy said. “I constantly tell him to stop it or to slow down. I need to find a way to say yes to him.”

“I track with the need to be more positive,” Nathan said. “I talk with Jade about getting off the phone, not texting so much, staying away from the wrong kids. But I don’t ask her to share her favorite music with me or tell me what she’s reading. If I need to tell her I don’t approve of something, I will, but I don’t want to discourage her. Like you said, Javy, I don’t want to say no to her without finding a way to say yes about something God likes.”

“When Dylan was growing up, I put him in baseball and basketball camps. It’s like I resented that he had his own dreams instead of mine. I became just like my father, and Dylan got angry at me like I did at my dad! He loved running, and since I didn’t, it meant I didn’t approve of him. Why did I try to make him another me instead of helping him become the man God wants him to be?”

“So you go to all his track meets now?” David asked.

“Three in a row. I’m a Westover High track dad now. Go Patriots! I’m in his world. We invite his track buddies over to our house. What better way to know what goes on? Last night one of Dylan’s friends said, ‘Mr. Mitchell, what’s it like being a cop?’ So I asked if any of them wanted to go on a ride-along. Then Dylan looks at me and says, ‘Can I come?’”

“You’d never invited him before?” Shane asked.

“He’d never shown any interest. I should have asked him years ago, but he had his world and I had mine, and the house was just a hotel where we spent the night, then returned to our separate worlds. It’s like I had blinders on.”

“I think a lot of us do,” Nathan said.

“The home is supposed to be the base of operations,” Adam said. “Deuteronomy 6 says to post Scripture on the walls, tell your children about God, and talk with them about spiritual stuff in the evening and the morning and as you walk around. Or in my case, as we run.”

Adam pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “I brought a list of questions Caleb Holt uses in a men’s accountability group so no one slips through the cracks.”

Adam unfolded the paper and pointed at it. “They share at least one memory verse they’ve learned that week, like we do. But then they ask some questions, like: How are you doing with God? How are you doing as a husband? As a father? What temptations are you facing, and how are you dealing with them? How has your thought life been this week? Have you been spending time in God’s Word and prayer? How can we pray for you and help you?”

“Good questions,” Nathan affirmed. “It’s been fun for me to talk with you guys about something more than sports and cars.”

“That relates to a verse I memorized this week,” Javy added. “Proverbs 27:17—‘As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.’”

Adam nodded. “We have to say ‘My life is your business, and I want it to be.’ We can’t be afraid to ask each other tough questions.”

“William Barrett used to say to me, ‘Nathan, my job isn’t to help you
feel
good. It’s to help you
be
good.’”

David jotted that down.

“But by helping me
be
good, Mr. Barrett showed me the way to
feel
good.”

When the meeting ended, as Adam went out the door, he heard laughter over in a corner. He watched as Bronson bid a fond farewell to the woman formerly known as the Koos.

Just when you think you’ve got life figured out . . .