Page 56 of Second Chance

26

Dear Old Dad

[Denton]

Excusing myself from Dolores, I decide to head to town. Her silence speaks volumes. She isn’t going to share information with me, and I’ll need to do some sleuthing myself. I’d love to go to Mati, but the time of day means she’s coaching.

I find myself at the new mayor’s office instead.

The place holds a two-fold memory. The positive one was first meeting Chris. I can’t remember how old we were exactly—maybe nine or ten—but I remember leaving my dad’s office on my bike, a tiff between us set me off too fast. I pedaled down the street with tears in my eyes and a sting in my chest. He hadn’t hit me yet. That would come a year or so later, but his anger was already present. I stood on the pedals, pumping my legs to burn off the energy. When I came to the end of the street, I took the corner too quickly, and narrowly missed another bike. I hit a gravelly patch, and the force swept my bike out from under me. I fell to my side, the bike tangling in my legs.

“Are you okay?” a freckle-faced kid asked. His brown hair stood up in the air.

“I don’t need help,” I snapped, ignoring his offered hand and struggling with the bike. My shoelace wrapped around the pedal.

“You’re bleeding.” My leg was scraped from the small pebbles on the edge of the road, and I gripped my kneecap.

“Here.” Chris handed me a handkerchief—an old-fashioned, honest-to-God handkerchief. “For your face.”

I glanced at my scratched-up leg, burning from the gravel and then touched my face. Tears streamed down my cheek, and I didn’t know if it was the pain of my injury or the ache in my heart from my dad. He didn’t stare at my face but stood still, holding out a hand with the white square.

“Gotta be brave above all things,” he said as I took the handkerchief from him and scrubbed over my face. “A little blood ain’t nothing, but never let them see your tears.” He nodded across the street to my neighbor, Mati. I cupped his offered hand, and he hiked me up to my feet. He reached for my bike and followed me as I hopped a little, getting out of the road, and keeping weight off my bleeding leg. I used the tearstained cloth to wipe off my leg, hissing at the sting. Feeling like I could add pressure to my knee, I stood taller.

“Hey, thanks.” I handed the used handkerchief back to him.

“No problem,” he said, smacking at my hand. Without thinking, we begin a small routine of palm slaps and fist bumps and then a weird wiggling of our fingers at each other thing. “Want some ice cream? My mama says ice cream cures everything.” I snorted as my parents thought alcohol did that. “My treat.”

Who could turn down free ice cream?

“I’m Chris. Chris Rathstone, by the way. I’m new here.”

“Denton Chance. My dad’s the mayor but don’t let that scare you from being my friend.”

His smile grew a little lilt to his lips. “Friends, huh? As long as you like basketball, we can be best friends.” It was as simple as that. We were friends immediately.

My heart races as I step inside the antiquated two-story brick building. I ask the older woman at the reception desk if Charlie might have a moment for me. My heart continues to skip double time in my chest as I look around the outer office. Fresh paint and modern furniture do nothing to disguise the past I remember in these walls.

When I get home…The menace of my father’s voice rings in my memory. I like to think I’m past the threat—the danger of ancient history—but being in this place forces the old anxiety through my veins. How can it be I still hear his voice so clearly? He’s dead, I remind myself. He can’t hurt me. I almost laugh at myself until the receptionist hangs up the landline and Charlie’s office door swings open. His friendly smile is completely opposite any greeting I ever received from my father opening the same door.

“Denton,” he greets me. “To what do I owe the honor?” He nods to signal me to follow him. Inside the official mayor’s office, the old curtains have been removed and replaced with plantation blinds, which Charlie has open, allowing sunlight to stream into the dark place of my memory. The giant desk of my father’s is gone, replaced with something sleek and modern. Charlie’s contribution to the office, I assume.

Charlie formally points to a leather seat across from his desk, and I sink into it, surprised by the comfort. I’ve never been so relaxed in this surrounding. It takes me a moment to reconcile the older Charlie with the younger one. He sits across from me, official in his tie and dress shirt rolled to his elbows. He’s business casual, but the spark in his eyes reminds me of the skinny kid running between yards with me.

“I’m looking for some information,” I begin. “I thought it might be public record, or maybe you would just know something, being the mayor and all.”

“I’m the mayor, Denton, not a wizard.” He smiles at his own joke, and I shake my head. “Okay, so ask me, and if I don’t know I can at least point you in a direction, I think.”

“Not much confidence for a mayor.” I chuckle.

“Why am I suddenly worried this is about Mati?”

His sister. Instantly, a vision of her naked and pressed against a wall fills my thoughts. I cough to stifle my concern that just from looking at me, he knows what I did to his little sister.

“Not Mati. Someone named Calvin. Calvin Chance perhaps. Did Kip have a brother?”

“Aren’t these things you should be asking your family?” Charlie narrows his eyes, and for a moment I think I might be the only one who doesn’t know the secret.

“Seeing as my family is a bunch of women who normally like to gossip, they are rather tight-lipped about this possible, mysterious uncle.”