Mercy (Buchanan-Renard #2)
Page 17“Yes,” Daryl said. “I won’t say a word to anybody.”
“What about Big Daddy Jake?” Cherry asked. “He already knows we’re talking to you.”
“He won’t tell anyone,” Daryl said to his wife.
A child shouted for his mother, disrupting the conversation. “Mama, Mr. Freeland’s waiting on the porch. Can he come on in?”
Then another little boy around the age of five or six came running into the kitchen. His face was covered with freckles and he had his mother’s curly hair.
“John Patrick, bring Mr. Freeland into the kitchen.”
The little boy wasn’t paying his mother any attention. He had squeezed up next to Michelle and had latched onto her arm.
“We should get out of your way,” Theo said as he pushed his chair back. “I’ve read through these papers, Daryl. You can keep them here.”
“You can’t leave,” Cherry said. “Mr. Freeland came all this way to meet . . . I mean, it wouldn’t be right for you to leave without meeting him.”
“Since he just happened to be in the neighborhood,” Daryl said. His gaze was directed at the tabletop, but Theo didn’t have to look him in the eyes to know he was lying.
“Does Mr. Freeland happen to have a legal problem?” he asked Michelle.
She smiled, then promptly changed the subject. “John Patrick,” she said to the hovering child. “This is my friend, Theo Buchanan. He came all the way from Boston just to go fishing.”
John Patrick nodded. “I know who he is already. Everybody knows. Dr. Mike, can you tell your brother he’s got to come around again? And will you tell John Paul to hurry ’cause I left my kickball in the backyard and I need it. Okay?”
“Is Lois back?” she asked.
“The boy seems to think she is,” Daryl said. “He’s going to get an ulcer fretting about her.”
“We haven’t seen Lois in over a month now, but John Patrick’s still worried about her showing up unexpectedly. He won’t get his ball out of the yard until your brother comes by again, and he won’t let any of us go out there and fetch the ball for him either. I have to hang my clothes out to dry in the side yard just to calm him. Our John Patrick’s a worrier,” Cherry added for Theo’s benefit, as if that would explain the child’s bizarre behavior.
“John Patrick’s named after Dr. Mike’s brother, John Paul,” Daryl interjected.
“So will you tell him?” the boy pleaded.
Michelle put her arm around the child. “Just as soon as I see him, I’ll tell him you’d like him to come back over. Now, you’ve got to stop worrying, John Patrick.”
“Okay,” the child whispered. “The man sitting here . . .”
“Theo?”
John Patrick nodded.
“What about him?” Michelle asked.
“Could I ask him something?”
“You can ask me anything you want,” Theo said.
John Patrick straightened and turned to Theo. Though Theo didn’t have much experience dealing with children, he thought he could hold his own with a six-year-old.
“What do you want to know?”
The boy wasn’t shy. He leaned into Theo’s leg, stared him right in the eye, and said, “My daddy says Big Daddy Jake says you’ve got a gun. Do you?”
The question surprised him. “Yes, I do have a gun, but I’m not going to be keeping it much longer. I’m going to give the gun back,” he told the child. “I don’t like guns.”
“But you’ve got it now?”
“Yes, I do.”
The kid’s fascination was a concern, and Theo thought he should probably give a short lecture about the dangers and how guns weren’t playthings. He was trying to figure out how to put it all on a six-year-old’s level, but apparently John Patrick had already moved on.
“You want me to go out into your backyard?”
John Patrick solemnly nodded. Theo glanced at Michelle and caught the twinkle in her eye.
“Okay?” the boy asked.
“Yeah, okay,” Theo agreed. “And what do you want me to do when I get out there?”
“Could you shoot Lois for me?”
He knew the kid was going to ask that question, but it still shocked the hell out of him. He was speechless.
“No, Theo isn’t going to shoot Lois for you,” his father said in exasperation. “You don’t want Dr. Mike’s boyfriend to get into trouble with the law, do you?”
“No, Daddy, I don’t.”
“It’s just as well,” Michelle said. She patted the little boy as though she were consoling him. “If Theo shot Lois, he’d just make her mad.”
“She’s mean when she’s mad,” the kid told Theo.
The screen door banged once, then again and again in the background. “Go and wash up for supper,” Cherry told John Patrick.
The little boy gave Theo a look of disappointment and then went to the sink.
“He’s kind of a bloodthirsty little boy, isn’t he?” he whispered to Michelle.
“He’s a sweetheart,” she replied.
“If I were Lois, I’d run for the woods.”
The screen door banged again, and suddenly the floor under Theo’s feet began to vibrate. It sounded like a herd of buffalo was running through the living room. Then a slew of boys of various ages and sizes came lumbering into the kitchen. Theo lost count after five.
Mr. Freeland was the last to enter the crowded kitchen. Elliott had to squeeze against the refrigerator to let the man in.
Freeland could have been mistaken for one of the boy’s friends, except he was dressed in a shirt and tie. He was just a little over five feet tall and rail thin. He wore thick horn-rimmed glasses that slid down the bridge of his nose. He pushed them up with his index finger.
“Mr. Freeland’s the music teacher over at the high school,” Daryl explained.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Freeland.”
There were two of Daryl’s boys behind Theo’s chair, making it impossible for him to stand. He reached around to shake Freeland’s hand.
“Please call me Conrad,” he insisted. “Cherry, Daryl,” he added with a nod to each of them. Then he turned to Michelle and nodded again. “Mike.”
“Conrad,” Cherry said, nodding back. “How’s Billie doing?”
“Billie’s my wife,” Conrad explained to Theo. “And she’s doing just fine. The baby’s only getting us up once a night now, so we’re both getting more sleep. Billie sends her regards.”
“Boys, move out of the way and let Mr. Freeland sit down beside Theo so they can talk,” Cherry said.
There was a good deal of shuffling in the kitchen as the children took their places at the table. Theo moved closer to Michelle to give Conrad room.
“I can’t stay but a minute,” Conrad said as he pulled the chair out and sat. “Billie’s got supper waiting for me.” Turning his full attention to Theo, he said, “Daryl and Cherry understand the importance of an education for their eight boys. They’d like to see all of them go to college.”
Theo nodded. He wasn’t sure what more he was supposed to say.
“Now, Elliott has a four point in school. He’s going to try to get an academic scholarship, but those are hard to come by,” Conrad said. “He’s a hard worker and a very smart boy.”
“Thank you, Conrad,” Daryl said, as though he and not his son had just been given the compliment.
“We’re thinking Elliott could maybe get a full scholarship . . . with your help.”
“By getting him a football scholarship.”
Theo blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Elliott has what it takes to make the cut,” Conrad said. “He could be good, real good, with the proper . . . guidance.”
Everyone started talking at once then. “The St. Claire team was undefeated last year,” Cherry told Theo just as Daryl remarked, “It sounds like an impossible goal, but you could do it. Big Daddy Jake spoke so highly of you.”
“And your connections,” Conrad supplied.
Theo turned to Michelle. “Why did I know your dad was behind this?”
She shrugged, then smiled. “Daddy likes you.”
“Big Daddy was thinking that if they could see our boy shine on that field, well then, they’d make him an offer and pay his college expenses,” Daryl explained.
Theo put a hand up. “Hold on a minute . . .”
They ignored his protest. “They’re always looking for good linebackers,” Conrad said.
“That’s right, they are,” Daryl agreed. “But Big Daddy thinks that because Elliott is so fast, he could maybe run with the ball too.”
Michelle nudged Theo to get his attention. “The scouts do go to the St. Claire games to see the talent.”
Then Conrad nudged him to get him to turn to him. “Why don’t we get started?”
“Started?” Theo asked as he rubbed his temples. He was developing one hell of a headache. “Doing what?”
Conrad pulled out some folded papers from his back pocket and put them on the table. Then he reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a smaller piece of paper and a stubby yellow pencil, and looked expectantly at Theo.
“Where did you attend college?”
“Excuse me?”
Conrad patiently repeated the question.
“Michigan,” Theo answered. “Why do you want to know . . .”
“That’s a big school, isn’t it?” Cherry asked.
“Yes,” Conrad answered.
“I imagine it’s a fine school too,” Daryl remarked.
Theo glanced around the table and noticed the others, including the children, were staring at him. Everyone seemed to know what was going on. Everyone but him.
“Did Big Daddy suggest that you talk to me about schools?” he asked. Good God, now he was calling the old man Daddy.
No one answered his question. Then Conrad asked, “And you played football, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“And then you went on to law school.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Theo still responded. “That’s right.”
“Did you stay on in Michigan to get the law degree?”
What in thunder was going on? “No,” he answered. “I got my MBA and law back east.”
“What’s an MBA?” Cherry asked.
“And law too. Don’t that beat all.” Daryl sounded in awe.
“Yeah, well, lots of people get —”
Conrad interrupted him. “Where exactly did you get these degrees?”
“Yale.”
“Oh, my, that’s a fine school,” Cherry said.
Conrad nodded. “I imagine your grades were impressive. I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked as he furiously wrote on his paper.
It all clicked, and Theo couldn’t figure out why he’d been so slow on the uptake. The guy was interviewing him for a position at the high school.
Theo decided he was going to have to have a little talk with Jake as soon as possible. Set him straight.
“I bet you’ve still got your old playbooks too, don’t you?” Conrad asked him then.
“‘Playbooks’?”
“Football playbooks,” Michelle explained.
She was smiling sweetly, and she was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort and confusion. He decided he needed to have a private talk with her too.
“Okay, this has gone far enough.” His voice held a firm, no-nonsense tone. “There’s been a misunderstanding that I need to clear up right now. You see, I stopped for gas on my way to Bowen. And this kid —”
It was as far as he got. Michelle wouldn’t let him continue. She put her hand on top of his and said, “You did keep your old playbooks, didn’t you?”
“Why would you think that?”
“It’s a guy thing.”
“Yeah, well, as a matter of fact I did keep a couple of them. But,” he hastily added, “they’re packed away with all my other junk in the attic.”
“Couldn’t you have one of your brothers send them to you? You could ask him to overnight them.”
“And then what?”
“You could go to the next practice with me and look the team over.”
Elliott pressed forward. “We sure would appreciate it.”
Everyone started talking again about the team, everyone but little John Patrick. The boy was trying to get to Theo’s gun. He kept pushing the kid’s hand away. He felt as though he’d just been dropped into the middle of a foreign land where no one understood a word he said.
“I’m not a football coach!” he yelled. When everyone quieted down, he nodded emphatically. “That’s right. You heard me. I’m not a football coach.”
He’d finally taken control, and he felt inordinately pleased with himself as he sat back in his chair and waited for the truth to sink in.
The announcement didn’t faze them. “These boys are mighty eager to learn,” Conrad pressed. “But I’m not going to pressure you, Theo. No, sir, I’m not. We don’t do things like that in Bowen. Do we, Daryl? We’re laid back.”
“Yes, we’re laid back,” he agreed.
Conrad tore off a piece of paper, bent over the table, and wrote something down. Then he folded the paper and looked at Theo again.
“The principal of our school is in Memphis, but I talked to him long distance before I drove over here.” He pushed the folded paper toward Theo. “We both think you’ll be happy with this.”
He stood and nodded to Cherry. “I can’t keep Billie waiting any longer, and I sure thank you for letting me interrupt your supper hour. Theo, I look forward to seeing you at our practice tomorrow. Mike knows the where and when.”
He handed Theo the legal-sized papers he’d placed next to the folded note, shook his hand as he told him it was a pleasure talking with him, and then worked his way through the boys to the door. He paused at the doorway. “You wouldn’t happen to have a teacher’s certificate, would you, Theo?”
“No.”