Feigning surprise at this point would be ridiculous. Justin deserved the truth.
“I know,” I said. “Your biological father came to see me this morning.”
“You know him? I suppose you would, you and him both being from Athena.” Justin tried to appear nonchalant, but his curiosity was obvious.
“We grew up together. Same class in school and at the college, too.”
“That’s cool.” Justin ate in silence for a couple of minutes.
I could have volunteered information, but I thought it was better to let Justin ask me what he wanted to know. I’d have to be diplomatic, though. I didn’t want to tell the boy his biological dad was a jerk, in my opinion.
Finished with my first sandwich, I started on the second one after a sip of my drink. By this time Diesel had come back. He crawled into the chair opposite mine and sat, looking back and forth between Justin and me.
“It’s so funny how he does that.” Justin laughed. “Do you ever let him eat at the table?”
“No, because he doesn’t get people food very often.” I arched an eyebrow at my boarder. “Remember?”
Justin nodded, a guilty expression flashing across his face. “Yes, sir, I promise I won’t do it again unless you say I can.”
“Thank you.”
Diesel trilled a few times.
“Yes, we’re talking about you,” I said. “And don’t think you can con any ham or potato chips out of me or Justin.”
If cats could frown, I’d swear Diesel frowned at me then.
Justin snickered. After drinking some of his Coke, he set the can down and looked at me. “What’s he like? Godfrey Priest, I mean. I’ve, like, seen him on TV, and I even read some of his books. But I don’t know much about him.”
Definitely the time for tact. “We always knew Godfrey would do something big.” I sat back in my chair and regarded Justin. “Even as a boy, he made plans. Talked about traveling all over the world. At first he was going to be a reporter, and by the time he was a teenager, he decided he was going to be a famous writer.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” Justin said. His eyes glowed with the beginnings of hero worship. Godfrey might have a lot to live up to with Justin.
“When Godfrey set his mind to do something, he did it.” No matter what it cost anyone else, I added silently. “He always had the drive and the ambition. I don’t think anyone who knew him doubted he’d succeed.”
“Were you friends?”
“Not really. I was pretty competitive too, and we were always vying for the same honors in school.” With a rueful laugh I admitted, “Godfrey usually won. The only thing I ever beat him in was math.”
“Yeah, I know what that’s like.” Justin shook his head. “This girl in my class was always beating me for things. I hated coming in second.”
“I did, too,” I said. Odd how the memories of those many defeats still rankled on occasion. “But I had plenty of other accomplishments to be proud of. You will, too.”
Justin nodded his thanks. I could see he was burning to ask another question but was probably afraid to.
I wanted to set his mind at ease. “He’s looking forward to meeting you. I know he wanted to talk to your mother first, but I’m sure he’ll come to see you as soon as he can.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Justin said. “But he’s this rich, famous writer, and I’m a hick from a little town in Mississippi.”
I suppressed a smile. “He’s from this same little town. He knows he has a son now, and that’s the only thing that matters. You could be purple with seven eyes, and he wouldn’t care.”
Justin laughed at that, and Diesel joined in, chirping. The sound of a ringing phone interrupted their merriment.
“Excuse me,” Justin said. He stood and pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. “It’s my mom,” he said after glancing at the display. “Be right back.”
Justin walked out of the kitchen as he answered the call. “Hi, Mom.”
That was the last Diesel and I heard. Diesel stared hopefully at the potato chips left on Justin’s plate.
“No, siree,” I said. I picked up the plate and took it over to the sink. “That’s not Diesel food.”
I walked back to the table where Diesel sat. As I scratched his head, his rumbling purr started.
“Mr. Charlie.”
Justin stood in the kitchen doorway, a stricken look on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“My father—Ezra, I mean—is in the hospital. He got in a fight, and now he’s in bad shape.” He paused, his body trembling. “Can you take me to the hospital?”
FIVE
I hate hospitals. I have spent far too much time in them, first with my parents and then with my wife. As I parked my car in a visitors’ lot at Athena Regional Medical Center, I remembered the last time I was here—when Aunt Dottie succumbed to pancreatic cancer. I was at her side, trying to see not her ravaged face and body, but the happy, healthy woman I adored.
Beside me, Justin unbuckled his seat belt, the sound breaking into my reverie. “I don’t like hospitals,” he said. “But I guess I have to go in.” He made no move to open his door, but he touched his bruised cheek a couple of times.
“I don’t like them either,” I said. “But your mother wants you to be here. She needs your support.” I opened my door. “Come on, let’s go in.”
Justin sighed heavily, but he did as I instructed.
He followed me, lagging a little behind, to the emergency room entrance. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go inside, not after what Ezra had done to him earlier.
I had no idea how serious Ezra’s condition might be. “Bad shape” could mean any number of things. Julia hadn’t given her son any details, but I doubted Ezra was in critical condition.
And if Ezra had been fighting, who was his opponent? The logical answer was Godfrey Priest. Was he injured as well?
Inside the ER, we paused at the desk to inquire about Ezra, but before I finished speaking, Julia appeared beside us.
She was better dressed than I remembered seeing her for a long time. Her usual shapeless cotton or polyester frock was gone, replaced by a serviceable black dress. Probably the one she wore to funerals, I decided. It gave her a certain dignity, offering a sharp contrast to her gray hair, pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck.
“Thank you for bringing him, Charlie,” Julia said. She touched Justin’s arm. Then she gasped as she saw the bruise on his cheek. She touched it gingerly, and Justin shied away. “Sweetie, what happened?”
“He hit me.” Justin glared at his mother.
Julia whirled to face me. “What on earth do you mean, striking him like that?” By the fire in her eyes I could see she was about ready to strike out at me.
“Not me,” I said, holding up a hand. “Calm down, Julia.”
“Then who?” Julia asked, turning back to Justin.
“Ezra.” He said the word with such loathing, even Julia flinched. “A little while ago. He came to try to make me go back home with him. But I told him I wouldn’t go, Mama. I said he wasn’t my father, and he couldn’t make me. That’s when he hit me.”
Julia threw her arms around him and hugged him close. “My poor little lamb. I don’t know what’s gotten into the man, I swear to the Lord. He was very upset this morning, honey. It’s my fault. I should have handled him better.”
Justin pulled away from his mother. “I don’t want to see him ever again.”
“Honey, that’s foolish,” Julia said. “He is your father, in all the ways that count. Even if he struck you like that. You have to give him the chance to apologize to you. By now he must be very upset with himself for doing it.”
Justin had a mulish expression on his face. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”
“Just do what I tell you.” Julia’s sharp tone surprised both Justin and me.