Autumn Blue (33 page)

“When’s he coming home?” Tyson asked.

“They want to keep him overnight.”

Sidney stood staring out the window as Alex began to question Ty about the specific events of the afternoon for his report.
She cringed hearing her son repeat his father’s lethal remarks and the graphic details of the fight. The day had started out
like any other. Now looking at Ty’s face was like gazing at an open wound. One she didn’t have the power to heal. Millard—dear,
wonderful Millard who lived a sane, serene life before getting involved with her—lay in a hospital bed, broken and beaten
by her ex-husband. Sidney felt the weight of a ship’s anchor lodged in her soul.

“Okay,” Alex said, “we’re just about done here. But we have one more issue to discuss, Tyson. You’re still on house arrest.
Technically, you broke the stipulations of the court by leaving Mr. Bradbury’s custody, even just to run across the street
to your own home. You know the rules. Also, according to all three statements, you were the one to initiate the physical attack.
You took the law into your own hands instead of letting me and the other deputies do our jobs. Your probation officer will
be notified of the incident and the court will have to decide—”

“Screw the court!” Tyson flew from his chair, knocking it backward; it crashed to the floor. “Screw you! Screw everybody!”
His brown eyes almost bulged from his battered face. He charged for the door. “I’m not jumping through anybody’s hoops anymore.
I’m out of here! Shoot me in the back if you want. I don’t give a crap!” He flung the door open.

In an instant Alex had Tyson pinned against the outside wall, Tyson’s arms pulled tautly behind his back. Alex snapped metal
cuffs onto his wrists and shoved him back into the room, holding up a hand to signal to another deputy who had come running
that he had things under control. He closed the door behind him and pushed Ty roughly into a hard-backed wooden chair. He
leaned into Ty’s face. “You’d better start giving a crap!”

Sidney backed against the far wall, knowing she shouldn’t interfere.

Alex paced, saying nothing for a few moments. Tyson watched him, his eyes ablaze. Finally Alex turned back to him. “You and
I have something in common. A major problem. We’re both trying to live life with wounds that won’t heal up and we’re so bitter
that we’re self-destructing.”

This apparently was not what Ty expected to hear. His narrowed eyes showed signs of interest.

“Your father was supposed to love you. That’s what fathers are for. He should have been there for you, taken you places, told
you he was proud. But he didn’t, did he? He should have kept his promises. He should have been a man of his word. Someone
you could be proud of.”

Ty seemed to follow every word.

“I’m sorry he lied to you. I’m sorry he turned out to be a loser. I wish I could change that. I know your mom does, too, in
the worst way.” He stared pensively at the floor. “I guess all our anger is never going to change another person’s character.”

Alex went quiet.

“So what happened to you?” Ty finally asked.

Alex shook his head. “It’s pretty hard to talk about.” He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, letting his head drop,
then glanced up as if he had a revelation. “Do you ever feel ashamed to talk about it—like it’s your fault or something?”

Ty’s eyes began to flood. He looked away.

“My big brother screwed me over.” There was a long pause. “He seduced my wife. The thing went on for months right under my
nose, and my brother was shining it on and lying to me the whole time.” Sidney noticed that Alex made no eye contact while
divulging his secret. “She divorced me and married him.” He glanced up at Ty. “This is just between us, by the way.”

Ty nodded.

“I’ve been a jerk to you, haven’t I?”

Ty shrugged.

“I guess when you hate someone so much it comes out of you one way or another. It wasn’t fair for me to take it out on you.
I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

Alex stood, pulling Ty gently to his feet, unlocking the metal cuffs, and sitting him down again. He placed them on the table
and then sat facing the boy, leaning forward and studying his hands as he rubbed them together. “You ever lie in bed at night
with your gut twisting so bad you want to get up and break something?”

Tyson scoffed. “Or drink a case or two of beer?”

Alex chuckled. “Yeah. Tried that. Believe me, it didn’t help.” He looked at the airborne dust particles illuminated in a stream
of light pouring through the window. “Some people say I need to forgive my brother. It was the last thing my pop said to me.
How’s that for a guilt trip?” He directed his gaze to Ty’s swollen face. “I don’t know how to do that. It would be one thing
if my brother were sorry, but he’s not. He’s moved on and I’m still walking around bleeding.”

“Yeah. It’s not fair.”

Alex stood again and began pacing. “You don’t go to church, do you, Ty?”

Ty shook his head; Sidney looked down at her feet.

“I take Amilia every Sunday, but I haven’t enjoyed it in a long time. I kept hearing things I didn’t want to hear. Like you
have to forgive others if you want God to forgive you.” He stopped at the window, his eyes searching the sky. “’Milia says
God won’t ask us to do something we can’t do—with his help.” His eyes shot back to Tyson where he sat attentively, face upturned.
“Do you believe in God?”

“Yeah. I’m not stupid.”

Sidney’s heart grew warmer by the second.

“I don’t know how to fix us, Ty. But I’m suggesting we start by going to church together. Are you game?”

“Will I get credit toward my community service hours?”

Alex stepped back to the table. Ty’s chair had been scooted away from it, and Alex pulled his up and sat where their knees
almost touched. “Yep. That’s what the program says. And maybe sometimes your mother and sisters will join us.” He glanced
at Sidney, and she nodded, smiling softly.

“Okay, I guess I’ll go,” Ty said.

“I know you’re hurting,” Alex said. “Your dad has been beating you up for years, even if it hasn’t been physical before now.
Those bruises go a lot deeper than the ones he gave you today. No one but you knows that pain. But you need to let it go somehow.
What do you say we do whatever it takes to get free of the bitterness before it eats us alive?” Alex extended his hand.

Ty sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the deputy’s. Then he lifted his hand, gripping Alex’s as if finally being rescued from
certain drowning. They held their steady gaze.

Sidney couldn’t move. The scene would be etched in her mind forever.

Man and boy stood. “Why don’t you let me talk to your mom for a minute? You can wait outside.”

Ty hesitated, glancing at the handcuffs on the table before stepping out.

When the door closed behind him, Alex turned to Sidney. “Are you okay with all that?”

She stared into his humble eyes. He wore the same stiff uniform, but it seemed to be filled with a different man—one that
was soft and touchable. The wall at her back was the only thing holding her up. She nodded, blinking away tears. “Alex.” She
inhaled deeply, hoping words would come. “You are a wonderful man.”

“I didn’t mean to say all that. It just happened.” He gazed up toward the window. The afternoon light warmed his dark complexion,
lit up the long fringe of lashes that shaded his brown eyes. He shrugged. “Funny. I suddenly saw myself in him. I didn’t want
him to shut down like I have. He’s so young.”

“You don’t sound shut down.” She smiled. “I see definite signs of life.”

The tough, confident deputy sheriff stood awkwardly in front of her, his hands smoothing the sides of his pants as if he didn’t
know what else to do with them. The vulnerability made him irresistible. “Yeah. I feel it,” he said. “Like something is about
to change.”

Their eyes held a long gaze, one that made Sidney suspect his heart might be pounding as loudly as hers. The silence was charged
with unspoken words. Finally, he slipped his hand around her back and guided her gently to the door.

M
ILLARD OPENED ONE EYE
. Rita was still there, gazing out the long window of his hospital room, her arms locked across her chest. He thought of feigning
sleep again, but last time he had actually dozed off. For how long? He glanced at the clock: 6:30 P.M. “Shouldn’t you be home,
cooking dinner for your family?” he asked.

His daughter turned. “Not until we’ve had a little talk.” She pulled a chair up to his bedside, frowning at the goose egg
that he could feel without touching the side of his head.

He grimaced involuntarily as he tried to push himself up. The doctor had bound his rib cage tightly but the two cracked bones
felt like broken spokes on a bicycle wheel jabbing his insides. A little talk? What had all that been preceding his nap? What
more could she possibly have to say? Rita helped him up, propping pillows behind him. She sighed loudly, shaking her head.
“Didn’t I tell you those people were nothing but trouble, Dad? I’m not trying to rub it in, honestly. I just hope you can
see now that they’re not our kind. That man was crazy on drugs. You could have been killed!”

Millard looked beyond her, remembering the events of that morning. Dodge Walker had been more than crazed. He had thrust a
heavy oak chair above his head like it was cardboard with a savage, inhuman glare—pure evil, and it was fastened on Tyson.
The man’s own son. No doubt, he could have killed the boy. He wondered what could possess a man to do that and then answered
his own question. The devil himself. Rita rambled on, still in the process of
not
rubbing it in. He barely heard her. Tyson had seen the detachment on his father’s face, heard the snarl of twisted pleasure
as he lay helplessly beneath the man. The boy’s tear-filled eyes had widened in disbelief as one mortally speared in the chest
by someone who was supposed to love him. And that pained Millard more than the knot on his head or the bruises and broken
bones.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

He swiped at the tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye. “I’m fine. They must have me on some kind of medication.”

She shook her head. “Just Tylenol. Do you need something stronger?”

“Why? Are you packing a bottle of bourbon in that big bag of yours?”

She scoffed. “You don’t drink.”

“Well, I’m thinking about taking it up.”

There was a tap on the door and it opened slightly. Sidney Walker poked her head in tentatively. “Excuse me.”

“Sidney. Come on in.” He gestured with his hand.

“We don’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Ty followed his mother into the room. Rita squared her shoulders, scowling at them as if they had conspired together to inflict
the damages on her father that had put him in the hospital.

“Hello, Rita.” Sidney dropped her eyes uncomfortably at Rita’s grim-lipped nod and stepped to the opposite side of the bed.
She reached for his hand. “Oh, Millard. I’m so sorry about this.” She stared at the bump on his head, the gash that he could
feel running from his lower lip to his chin, shaking her head sadly. She tried to speak but the words seemed to catch in her
throat.

Tyson planted himself midway between the door and Millard’s bed, probably frozen in Rita’s icy glare.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” Millard said. “I’m not dying. I’ll be out of here by this time tomorrow. Sooner if I can
find my pants.”

“We’ll see about that, Dad,” Rita interjected. She glanced at Sidney. “He has broken bones and a grade-two concussion. I just
hope there isn’t more serious damage that hasn’t shown up yet.” She raised her chin, fingering the loose skin at her throat.
“These injuries would be serious for anyone, let alone a seventy-three-year-old man. This involvement with your family has
been nothing but—”

Millard reached for her hand, squeezing it hard. She defied his not-so-subtle signal to close her mouth, pulling her hand
away. “No, Dad. It’s time I speak my mind. He’s too stubborn to admit it, but he’s too old for all this. I realize your family
has . . . issues, but it’s time you work them out on your own. I’m sure there are social agencies—”

“That’s enough!” A pain shot through his ribs. “My torso may be bound up but my mouth works just fine. I can speak for myself.”

Rita recoiled.

“She’s right, Millard.” Sidney’s head was dropped, her fingers kneading the turned-down edge of his sheet. “We’ve put you
through a nightmare. You’ve given us so much.” She dabbed at her eyes. “And this time it could have cost you everything.”
She lifted her head and ran her hand through the top of her shiny, sun-touched hair, which fell immediately back to drape
on her shoulders. “Tyson said you saved his life. You’re our hero.”

Millard scoffed but he knew it was true. At least he had saved the boy from certain maiming. He hadn’t meant to be a hero.
It was merely reflex that made him dive into Dodge Walker before he could bring the weighty captain’s chair down on Ty’s body
with what appeared to be superhuman drug-enhanced force. There hadn’t been time to talk himself out of it.

Rita rolled her eyes and began stuffing her gloves and a small box of hospital tissues into her oversize bag. “I’ll call you
later, Dad.” She nodded curtly at Sidney, ignoring Ty, and headed for the door with her coat over one arm.

“All right, then,” he said.

“Rita.” Sidney’s voice trembled. “Can we go get a cup of tea?”

“Good idea.” Millard gave his daughter a look that he hoped she would interpret as a command. “Tyson and I could stand some
time to talk, too, man to man.” He saw Rita’s chest rise and fall in one of her infamous sighs as she and Sidney left the
room.

As soon as the door closed, Ty was at the bedside, his face pinched with what appeared to be genuine concern. Millard patted
the edge of the bed and the boy sat facing him, staring at the side of his head. “Man, I’ve never seen a bump that huge. What
did he hit you with?”

“I believe it was his foot.” Millard chuckled. “Everything happened so fast; I don’t remember the exact order of events. Maybe
I clubbed myself with that confounded rolling pin.”