Page 92 of Pucking Fate

“Oh, right. Then I guess we don’t have time to get lunch together?”

Maya shakes her head. “No. Sorry.”

“Let me know when you get home?” I ask her. “No matter how late?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’m thinking about maybe going to see my dad and crashing with him tonight.”

“He lives in Tennessee?” she asks, somehow remembering that from the one time I mentioned it.

“Yeah, near Knoxville.”

“Be safe. Let me know when you get there?” Maya asks with a smile.

“Absolutely. And maybe you two can come with me next time.” Seeing Maya and her mother making amends, I want to do the same for my father once and for all. Oh, and tell him he’s a grandfather.

“Definitely. But for now, Finley, let’s go say goodbye to…Grandma Lawrence.”

“Everything good there?” I ask her.

“As good as it can be,” she replies before she leans over and kisses me on the lips, right in front of our son. “Thank you for coming down here.”

“Anytime, baby,” I tell her, even though having to tell her and Finley goodbye is getting a little harder each time.

39

Christian

“Dad?” The name is heavier than it used to be when I walk into my father’s one-level house built into the side of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the place where I grew up. The only changes are probably the solar panels on the roof to make it even more eco-friendly. The entire front of the house is made of windows, letting natural sunlight into the minimalistic interior that’s all about function over style. “Are you home?” I call out.

A moment later, he strides out of the library, one of the only rooms in the place without sunlight so as to not risk ruining the precious tomes inside. One of which is still in his hand. He looks…less intimidating now that I’m a few inches taller and wider than his lean frame. His once blond hair is now more white, but his eyes are still shrewd as they narrow at me.

“Christian? This is a surprise.”

“Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up. I wasn’t even sure whether I was actually coming by or not until I got on 23 North.”

“It’s fine. If you had told me you were coming, I would’ve cooked up something.” As usual, my dad has a way of turning everything into a complaint.

“You don’t have to cook for me. I’m not even sure how long I’m staying.” I had considered staying tonight, but that depends on how the conversation goes. If he’s in too foul of a mood, I’ll just drive back to Greensboro.

“Well, come have a seat at least,” he says, leading the way to the living room. He gestures for me to sit in one of the red plaid chairs facing the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. There’s still no television to be found in this part of the house. “So, what brings you by?” my father asks when he sits in the identical chair on the other side of a wooden side table. “You haven’t come home to visit in…over a year.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“But you decided to bother me today?” he asks with a single bushy white eyebrow arched.

“I, um, I guess I just wanted to tell you this in person instead of on the phone.”

“Okay?”

Gripping both chair arms as if bracing myself, I tell him the reason I’m here. “I have a son.”

“Youhave a son?”

“Yes. His name is Finley, and he just turned five.” Releasing my grip on the chair arms, I reach into my jean pocket to remove my phone. I then pull up one of the many photos in my camera roll to show my father.

“Wow,” he says. After slipping on the reading glasses hanging around his neck, he takes the phone from my hand for a closer look. “Well, I can certainly see the resemblance.”

---