Courageous (8 page)

Chapter Nine

On Saturday morning, Adam drove to Shane’s house. Emily was singing in the backseat as her father pulled his sterling-gray Ford pickup into the driveway.

Shane held a plastic Walmart bag.

“What’s in the bag?” Adam asked as Shane got in the truck.

“It’s a couple Bulldogs T-shirts for Tyler,” Shane said.

“Let’s see them.”

“Nah, they’re wrapped. How’s my little girl?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Shane!” Emily answered.

The radio was on as they rolled down Westover toward the bank.

“I beat Daddy in Yahtzee last night,” Emily said.

“I’ll bet you did.”

“You were
ahead
in Yahtzee,” Adam said. “We weren’t able to finish, remember?”

“You got a phone call. But I
was
going to beat you!”

Shane smiled. “I appreciate you driving me around on a few errands. My car should be ready in a couple days.”

“Not a problem,” Adam said. “Now your shirt,
that’s
a problem.”

It was a banana-colored Tommy Bahama knockoff littered with white hibiscus.

“You don’t like my shirt?”

“Well, 1985 called. It wants its shirt back.”

Shane turned around. “Emily, what do you think of my shirt?”

“I love it!”

“Your daughter likes my shirt.”

“My daughter’s nine years old.”

“Your daughter got half her genes from her mother. That’s her only hope. Tyler thought this shirt was cool, so I got it.”

“So your twelve-year-old son gives you fashion advice?”

“I see no one gives you fashion advice. Unless it’s Waldo. Where is he, anyway?”

Emily giggled.

Adam couldn’t win. “Hey, how
is
Tyler?”

“I only get him every other weekend, and it’s only after Mia has filled his head with toxic opinions of me. You know, a third of my paycheck goes to alimony.”

Adam gazed at Emily in the mirror. “Shane, let’s talk about this later, okay?”

“What’s alimony?”

“It’s just a bad condition Mr. Shane has—makes him wear ugly clothes.”

Emily laughed. Shane surveyed Adam. “You know what I like about you?”

“What?”

Shane pretended he was trying to remember. “Never mind. I was thinking about somebody else.”

Shane chuckled. Adam did his best not to.

Adam parked his F-150 alongside the curb at the far end of the Flint Community Bank parking lot. Shane got out.

“All right, you got five minutes, cabana boy.”

“Mr. Shane, can you bring me a lollipop?”

“Yes, I will, sweetheart.” Shane pointed at Adam. “I’m not gettin’ you one.”

Just after Shane closed the door, a catchy song came on the radio.

I’d like to sail to lands afar

out on a boat that’s built for two.

“Oh, Daddy, turn it up. I love this song!”

Adam raised the volume. “I’ve heard this before.”

Emily opened the back door and jumped out onto the grass.

“Hold on! What are you doing?”

Emily opened Adam’s door and grabbed his arm. “Oh, Daddy! Come dance with me!”

“Wait, honey. We’re right by the bank! This is not where people dance.”

“Please, Daddy! Just for this song. Come dance with me.”

Emily continued pulling on Adam’s arm. He turned and placed his feet outside the car but stayed seated. “Emily, people can see us.”

“That’s okay. They won’t mind, Daddy. The song won’t last forever. Please.”

“Tell you what. You dance and I’ll watch.”

Emily peered at him and frowned, then began to dance on the grass. “Okay, Daddy,” Emily said. “When you’re ready to dance with me, this is what you do. First, you put your right hand around my waist like this, then hold your other hand out like this. Then we sway back and forth to the music.” Face animated, she gestured gracefully while talking, lost in the moment.

Worries seem to fade away,

they become as distant memories

when we’re together.

Adam watched his daughter with delight. The world was dark, but Emily was sunshine.

“And . . . we can spin.”

Adam smiled as he watched, enjoying the music and the way Emily made it come alive. Her blue sundress flowed around her as she spun. She looked like a princess. For the moment Adam didn’t think of suicides, drug dealers, or fights with Victoria or Dylan. All he thought of was the magical beauty he beheld in his daughter.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna dance with me?” Emily pleaded.

He glanced toward the parking lot, then back at Emily. “I’m dancing with you in my heart.”

As the enchanting song continued, Emily twirled and dipped and held her hands out as if dancing with a partner. Just before the song ended, Shane approached the truck. “Emily, are you trying to teach your dad how to dance?”

“He won’t dance with me.”

“That’s because he’s an old fuddy-duddy.”

“Okay, everybody in. Mr. Fuddy-duddy is leaving.”

As the doors shut, Emily asked, “What’s a fuddy-duddy?”

“A fuddy-duddy,” Adam said, directing his gaze at Shane, “is anyone who still uses the term
fuddy-duddy
.”

Adam pulled out of the parking area and onto the road.

“Who taught you how to dance, Emily? I know it wasn’t your dad.”

“Hey, I dance at home with my wife.” Adam cringed as he said it since he probably had done it twice, the last time before Emily was born.

“I’ve never seen you dance with Mommy.”

“The truth comes out,” Shane said.

“You know, you could be walking right now . . .”

“But I’m not!” Shane grinned.

“So I’m supposed to drop you off to meet Tyler?”

“Yep. We’re going to hang out for a couple of hours.”

“You got a ride to the barbecue?”

“No problem.”

“Bring Tyler.”

“Nah. Mia’s got plans for him later.”

Five miles from the bank, two men leaned against a railing at Albany’s All American Fun Park.

“Isn’t this kinda weird,” the skinny, windblown one said, “two grown men meeting here?”

The slick operator wearing stylish sunglasses said, “Nope. Everybody assumes we brought kids. We’re just two strangers making small talk while the kids have fun. Smile and wave once in a while, to no one in particular.”

The speaker smiled and waved to fifteen kids playing video games. Then, just as a loud bell rang and everyone turned toward the Fascination tables, he reached in his bag, took out a bulging sack, and dropped it into the other man’s open backpack.

The second man reached down and zipped up his bag. “Will there be more, or is this it?”

“I’ll contact you. Don’t try getting in touch with me. That keeps us at a distance. It’s better this way.”

“For you, maybe. What about me?”

“Hey, it’s easy money. I could find someone else to deal with if you’re getting cold feet. Give it back and I will.”

“No. I’ll do it. You want the money now?”

“You wrapped it in foil and put it in a brown paper bag like I told you?”

The skinny man nodded and waved at some middle schoolers on a ride.

“Good. When you see me by that foosball machine, leave the money here at the base of this post and walk away. I’ll just stroll on over and pick it up. No one sees us together again.”

Nathan, Shane, and David gathered in Adam Mitchell’s backyard, on a flat lawn with a scattering of pine trees on the perimeter. Outside Adam’s ranch-style brick house edged with variegated willows, they sat at a dark-gray cast aluminum table with matching chairs. Adam’s gas grill was black and stainless steel with a side table on the left and a spare burner perfect for keeping the baked beans warm.

Shane was still in the same loud yellow shirt Adam had razzed him about. The other guys weighed in on it mercilessly. Everyone had enjoyed the feast—chicken, steak, burgers, and Victoria’s killer potato salad. Now the wives and kids were gathered inside, leaving the men to themselves.

While the guys picked at the last of their meals, Adam gathered his tray of secret ingredients and started toward the house.

Nathan finished off his bottle of water and launched it. The bottle hit the far rim of the trash can and fell in.

“Bet you can’t do that again,” Shane said.

Nathan reached for Shane’s Coke can.

“Hey, I’m not done!” Shane grabbed it from him.

“Okay, when you’re finished, I’m gonna do it again.”

Adam walked back to the table after being interrogated inside by Victoria and Kayla. “They’re in there with the kids dying to know what we’re talking about. I told them we’re debating the Falcons’ roster for this fall.”

“Speaking of which,” Nathan said, “I saw Bartkowski’s photo on your wall. I’m a few years younger than you, but he was still playing when I was in middle school.”

“Well, he’s got a special place in my heart,” Adam said. “Watching the Falcons was one of the few things I ever did with my dad. When he was home, I mean. He was an Army colonel, and he had important friends with contacts in the Falcons’ front office. That’s how he managed to wrangle that photo for me. He missed my high school graduation, so that was his makeup gift.”

“That’s a pretty good makeup gift!” Shane said.

Adam said nothing. But he thought how nice it would have been for his dad to have come to his graduation
and
given him the signed photo.

“Well, this barbecue was great,” David said. “It reminded me of my dad. He used to grill all the time.”

“Mine too,” Adam said. “Speaking of dads . . . that e-mail the sheriff read the other day? You think it was accurate?”

“The one about fathers?” Nathan asked. “And fatherlessness?”

Adam nodded.

“I agree with it. I grew up seeing that kind of stuff all the time. You know how many of my childhood friends went to jail or died before they turned twenty? And how many are still crack addicts? And no, it’s not about being black; it’s about being poor and hopeless. I wondered where all the good fathers went to.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Shane said.

“What?” Adam said. “I remember you talking about your dad, Shane. Wasn’t he an usher or something at your church?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean anything. Soon as the church service began, he’d step out back for a smoke. The problem wasn’t the smoking—but why even go to church if you’re going to just stand outside? One time he says, ‘I’d better not catch you drinkin’.’ He had a beer in his hand when he said it!”

The guys shared knowing glances.

“My mom used to nag him . . . until they got divorced. Look, it’s not like I don’t love the guy, but it’s kind of hard to respect a hypocrite.”

“What about you, David?” Adam asked.

David took a while to answer. “I had a good dad, I guess. I mean, nobody’s perfect. My parents split after he had an affair. I think he regretted it.”

“Did he tell you that?” Adam asked.

“Not in so many words, but I got that impression. I struggled with it for a while. But divorce comes with the territory now.”

“I disagree, man,” Nathan said. “Divorce happens because you make it an option.”

“But you can’t always work stuff out,” David said. “Sometimes you need to part ways.”

“I think I agree with Nathan,” Adam said. “Calling it quits has become too easy. People don’t fight for their marriages anymore.”

“When you get married and have kids,” Nathan said to David, “you’re gonna figure out real quick how much you don’t know. Man, if it wasn’t for my faith in God, I’d be in a tailspin right now.”

“Yeah, me too,” Adam said.

“Guys . . . not everybody believes in that stuff,” David said. “You’re all religious, and that’s fine. But you can’t think religion is the only way to live your life. I mean, didn’t your parents get a divorce, Nathan?”

“That’s the problem. They were never married.”

The other guys appeared surprised.

“Listen, my dad never professed to be a Christian. He had six children from three women. I was the fifth. By the time I was born, he’d already left. I’ll tell you what, man. I’m thirty-seven years old, and I have never met my biological father.”

“No kidding?” Adam said. “That’s rough.”