Angels Walking (16 page)

“Fill out the application.” The man looked out the office
door at the vast tiled entryway. “If you have time, you can start today. I needed someone last week.”

“Yes. I have time, sir.” A surge of hope flooded Tyler’s veins. The man knew him, knew his past, and still was willing to give him a job? Even with one arm? Tyler took the application and moved to a chair in the lobby. His experience was nonexistent and he had no address. But he filled out what he could.

When he finished, Mr. Myers showed him a closet full of brooms and mops, rags and buckets, and two shelves of cleaners. “Start with the floors. Every hallway, every room. If the residents are sleeping, come back later. Most are out in the common areas.” He stopped short and looked at Tyler. “What’d you say the name of the guy was from Hope Community Church?”

Tyler felt more sober now. “Beck. He was a volunteer.”

“Hmm.” Mr. Myers shrugged. “Never heard of him.” He picked up a bottle of Lysol. “Anyway, use this mixed with warm water.” He looked over the floor again. “I think you get the drill.”

“Yes, sir.” Tyler took the cleaner, stuck it under his good arm, and grabbed a bucket. He was still badly injured, desperately broke, and homeless. But he had something now he didn’t have that morning.

A chance.

14

T
HE NAME ON THE
door was Virginia Hutcheson.

It was Tyler’s third day at Merrill Place and so far he hadn’t been in the woman’s room. She was always in her bed, always sleeping. The male nurse on staff had explained yesterday that she’d been having outbursts of terrified screaming. None of the staff could understand why.

“We keep her pretty medicated.” He shrugged. “Otherwise she tries to escape.”

Tyler had been through the building enough times that he didn’t blame her. The place was clean, the staff was kind. But life was already over for the residents of Merrill Place. With the exception of a few card games, everywhere Tyler looked people were waiting for death. Today might be an exception for Virginia Hutcheson. Her daughter was coming and the nurse had backed off on her medication.

Which was more than Tyler could say for himself. He was
going through the pain pills faster than before. Almost ready for another bottle. They were all he had to look forward to.

He knocked on the door. “Ms. Hutcheson?”

“Leave the milk on the porch!” the woman called out. She sounded pleasant.

Tyler was sober for the moment, his shoulder burning through his body, the pain pills waiting for him in the car. He needed to mop Virginia’s floor before he could finish up. He opened the door and peeked in. Virginia was sitting straight up in bed, her expression slightly confused. She was thin with unruly white hair.

He gave her a nervous smile. “Hello, ma’am.” He pulled the mop into sight. “Is it okay if I clean your floors?”

“What’s this?” Gradually the woman’s expression began to soften. “I can’t believe it!” Her eyes grew soft and shiny and a smile lifted her wrinkled face. “Ben!” She put her hands to her cheeks, clearly shocked in the best possible way. “Ben, come here! I’ve been looking for you!”

Tyler looked behind him into the empty hall. Had someone told her his name was Ben? He entered the room with the mop and bucket. “I wanted to clean your floors the other day, but you were asleep.” He hesitated at the foot of her bed. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Virginia waved off the possibility. “You never have to worry about waking me. You know better than that.” There was an empty chair beside her bed. “Please, sit down. We need to catch up.”

Merrill Place had several patients battling dementia or Alzheimer’s. Tyler knew that. But so far he hadn’t run into anything like this. She didn’t seem to have his name wrong. It
was like she thought he was someone altogether different. Tyler checked the clock on Virginia’s wall. Six p.m. His hands shook. He hadn’t had a pain pill since noon.

“Please, Ben! Have a seat.” She pointed to the chair. “I have so much to tell you.”

Clearly she hadn’t noticed his name badge. Tyler tucked it into his shirt so she wouldn’t be confused. He could spend a few minutes with her. Other than the volunteer at Hope Community Church, Virginia was the first person in weeks who actually wanted to talk to him.

Besides, he was getting paid by the day, not the hour. He set the mop against the floor, removed his Jackson High baseball cap, and tentatively took the seat beside her.

“Ben, my boy.” Virginia shook her head, her smile taking up her whole face. “Look at you, all grown up. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s 1972. Where do the years go?”

Tyler wasn’t sure what to say. Suddenly he felt awkward, sitting there pretending to be someone he wasn’t. But his very presence made the woman so happy, what else could he do?

Virginia leaned back against her headboard, obviously more relaxed than she had been a minute ago. “I was talking to your father the other day, and he couldn’t stop gushing about you.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “You believe that, right?”

“I do, yes, ma’am.” Tyler could play along. For a few minutes anyway.

“Sure, you’ve had some trouble, but who hasn’t?” She tilted her head, the kindest blue eyes he’d ever seen. “You didn’t mean any of the things that happened.”

Tyler shifted in his seat. Maybe she recognized him after all. “No, I didn’t mean them.”

“It was just a car.” She uttered a rusty laugh. “You were distracted. No one was hurt.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Here’s the truth.” She looked intently at him, straight through him. “Your father and I forgave you that same day, Ben.” A few seconds passed and she smiled. “If God can forgive me, then we can forgive you. We love you. Love always forgives.”

“Yes.” Tyler’s heart ached for the woman. Her memory might be shot, but her recollection of times past was whole and complete.

Virginia drew a deep breath. Her increasing peace filled the room. “Don’t forget that. The part about love and forgiveness. No matter what you ever did, we loved you. We forgave you.” Intensity stirred in her tone. “You’re our only son, Ben. You’re a good boy, you always were.” She reached her hand out to him. “The best son any parents ever had.”

The reality hit him like a sucker punch.

Virginia Hutcheson thought he was her son. Her only son, Ben. The woman’s hand trembled as she reached out to him. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“Thank you.” Tyler lifted his good hand and clasped her fingers. Her weathered skin felt foreign against his own. This was too weird. What was he doing? He thought about pulling away, but he couldn’t hurt her.

How long had it been since he’d held his own mother’s hand? Since he’d been told he was loved?

For a long time she watched him, taking in the sight of him. “Your father should be home in an hour. We’re having
meatloaf.” The softness in her smile seemed to come from the center of her soul. “Your favorite, Ben.”

The role-playing was unfamiliar and more than a little awkward. But somehow the conversation was comforting. Again Tyler didn’t know what else to do. “I love your meatloaf.”

Virginia breathed in through her nose. “Smells delicious.” A yawn seemed to catch her off guard. “I think I’ll take a nap. Until your father comes home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tyler still had his fingers around hers. “You do that.”

Already her eyes were closed. Gradually she released her hold on him and her hand fell gently to the bedspread. Tyler sat back in his chair, struck by what had just happened. Who was this sweet woman, and where was Ben? Why wasn’t he here? Whatever the answers, this much was clear: Virginia loved her son.

Loved him unconditionally, whatever mistakes he’d made.

Tyler took quiet steps back to the mop, pushing through the pain. Talking to Virginia, he had forgotten how much he hurt. Now he couldn’t wait to get to the car. Without making a sound he cleaned the elderly woman’s floor, glancing at her every few seconds. When he finished and left the room, she was sound asleep, the smile still on her face.

He returned the mop and bucket to the supply closet and checked out with Mr. Myers. He went to his car and pulled the pain medication from his glove box. Half a bottle left. He had no more refills, but he had a plan for when they ran out.

He would take his first check in a couple days and go to
urgent care. He’d explain about his shoulder and get a refillable prescription for Oxycodone. There were four urgent care centers in Pensacola. That should keep him medicated for a while.

He wanted four pills, but he downed three of them. They needed to last until he got paid. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He desperately needed relief but didn’t want to feel the buzz of the medication just yet. His time with Virginia was still too fresh in his heart, the feelings something he wanted to hold onto. She thought he was her son.

And for a moment he felt like he actually was.

Tyler couldn’t remember the last time his parents told him they loved him.

His father had tried to reach him just once after he left for the minor leagues. It was his third season in Dayton, just after the moped accident. When he saw his father’s name on Caller ID he thought about answering it. But he couldn’t handle the lecture that would certainly follow. How Tyler was an idiot to choose the Reds over college, a fool to drink and drive. On and on and on.

That same week ESPN ran a story—a small story because that’s all he was by then. The headline read:
Tyler Ames Proving Critics Right
. It talked about how he should’ve stayed in school.

After reading the article, Tyler had called his cell phone carrier. “I need to change my number.” It took five minutes before he was officially cut off from his parents.

The memory screamed at him the way it always did when he let himself go back. He hadn’t really thought he’d never
talk to his parents again. Someday he’d call them. On his terms. When things were going well and he could be sure he’d hear approval in his father’s voice.

If Tyler had been able to finish the game that Saturday with the Blue Wahoos, if he hadn’t gotten hurt, his first phone call that night would’ve been to his parents. He had been clean for nearly two years, away from alcohol and bars and fan girls. He’d been doing his best pitching since leaving home. A perfect game and an invitation to Cincinnati to play for the Reds? That would have been just the reason to call. What could his father say except that Tyler had made the right decision? He hadn’t needed UCLA after all.

All before that single freak pitch.

The call to his parents never happened, of course. Tyler could only imagine the things his father thought about him now. The man clearly hadn’t gone to the same school of faith as Virginia Hutcheson. No forgiveness for Tyler Ames—and for good reason. He was a mess. No question.

The job was the break he needed to turn things around.

He would have to work like never before to make things right, to get back on the mound. Back to a chance at the Bigs.

Then—and only then—would he call home.

HARRISON HAD A
problem.

He’d watched Tyler Ames all week, seen him arrive early and stay late, using his one good arm to clean every floor in the
building and sometimes the walls and windows for good measure. He was one of the best workers Harrison had ever hired.

But simply put, the kid reeked like a sewer.

Maybe it was his tired-looking brace or his clothes. Something definitely smelled. Yesterday Harrison could’ve sworn Tyler had worn a Billings Bulldogs T-shirt to work, second day in a row. The shirt had a small ketchup stain near the middle. Something that should’ve easily washed off. This morning when Tyler reported for work he wore the same shirt. The stain hadn’t been touched.

And so while Tyler started working, Harrison sat at his desk and came up with a theory. The young man must’ve been dead broke. He had asked about eating leftover food in the cafeteria, and Harrison wasn’t sure the kid was showering. The reality ripped at Harrison’s heart.

Tyler didn’t seem to have anyone.

He calculated the days the kid had worked and wrote him a check for $200. Then he ripped it up. How could he expect the kid to stay with the job if he only paid him $40 a day? He worked harder than that. Instead he wrote the check for $250. When Tyler walked by the office with the mop, Harrison called him over.