challenge.”
Cory digested that for a moment before asking, “Does he like what you do?”
“My dad’s dead. He was shot when I was ten.”
That stopped Cory in his tracks. His voice shook when he finally found the courage to ask, “Did you get a chance to say goodbye to him?”
“No.” Even now, after all these years, the shadow of pain was still there. “That was the worst thing for me. Not getting a chance to tell him what he meant to me.”
“Yeah.” Cory dug his hands in his pockets and stared hard at the ground. “My dad…” He sucked in a breath. “My dad left for the airport while I was still asleep. Later, my teacher called me out of class to tell me my uncle was on his way to pick me up. I thought maybe Dad had changed his mind and had decided to let me fly with him to Chicago. I could hardly wait for Uncle Champ to get there. Then, when he did, he gave me the news that Dad’s plane…”
In the silence Donovan closed a hand over the boy’s shoulder. Squeezed.
Cory looked up, his eyes dry. “Some people are saying bad things about my dad.” The boy’s tone lowered. “There were reporters standing all over our driveway, in our yard, peeking into windows, snapping pictures. One even stuck a microphone in my little sister’s face.”
Donovan thought about the very public funeral of his own father. He’d blinked back tears until his eyes had burned like fire. But he’d managed to hold it all inside until he was alone.
“And then the kids at school started.” A look of fire came into Cory’s eyes. “The first time I came home with a bloody lip, I couldn’t tell Mom why. I could have told my dad. He’d have understood. But moms just don’t get it.”
“Yeah.” Donovan could think of nothing comforting to say. His own father had been heralded as a hero. How could he possibly offer comfort to a boy whose father was being accused of stealing millions from helpless victims? What was worse, Donovan was halfway convinced of it himself. The district attorney had made a very strong case against Adam Brady. “Is that the reason you dropped off the soccer team?”
Cory kicked at a log. “Who needs it?”
“Didn’t any of your friends stick by you?”
“One. Billy Watson. But after he went home with a black eye, his mom said he couldn’t hang around with me anymore. She told him I was a bad influence.”
“That’s tough.”
Cory shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad Uncle Champ found this place. Nobody here knows our name.”
“You can’t hide out forever.”
The boy turned bleak eyes to Donovan. “Who says?”
“The world’s too small, Cory. Sooner or later you’ll run into someone who recognizes you. Someone who knows about your father. Then what will you do?”
The fire was back. The small hands fisted at his sides. “Just let somebody try to say something about my dad. I’ll make them sorry.”
Donovan chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I just realized that you remind me of somebody.”
“Who?”
Donovan sighed. “A kid I knew. He was so mad at the world after his father died, he wanted to strike out at anybody and everybody. Even his own family.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. Way too often.”
“What was his name?”
“Donovan Lassiter.”
Cory stood perfectly still, watching as Donovan moved ahead. Then he started running until he’d caught up with him.
They walked in silence until Donovan handed the boy his camera. “Take a look through the viewfinder at the top of that tree. What do you see?”
Cory did as he was told and gave a gasp. “It looks like a hawk.”
“Yeah. That’s what I figure. When he’s ready to fly, snap off a couple of shots.”
The two remained silent for several minutes until the bird spread its wings. Cory took picture after picture as the hawk began to fly, then to soar.
When it disappeared from sight, the boy handed back the camera. “You’ve reached the end of that film.”
“I’ll have this developed
Cory digested that for a moment before asking, “Does he like what you do?”
“My dad’s dead. He was shot when I was ten.”
That stopped Cory in his tracks. His voice shook when he finally found the courage to ask, “Did you get a chance to say goodbye to him?”
“No.” Even now, after all these years, the shadow of pain was still there. “That was the worst thing for me. Not getting a chance to tell him what he meant to me.”
“Yeah.” Cory dug his hands in his pockets and stared hard at the ground. “My dad…” He sucked in a breath. “My dad left for the airport while I was still asleep. Later, my teacher called me out of class to tell me my uncle was on his way to pick me up. I thought maybe Dad had changed his mind and had decided to let me fly with him to Chicago. I could hardly wait for Uncle Champ to get there. Then, when he did, he gave me the news that Dad’s plane…”
In the silence Donovan closed a hand over the boy’s shoulder. Squeezed.
Cory looked up, his eyes dry. “Some people are saying bad things about my dad.” The boy’s tone lowered. “There were reporters standing all over our driveway, in our yard, peeking into windows, snapping pictures. One even stuck a microphone in my little sister’s face.”
Donovan thought about the very public funeral of his own father. He’d blinked back tears until his eyes had burned like fire. But he’d managed to hold it all inside until he was alone.
“And then the kids at school started.” A look of fire came into Cory’s eyes. “The first time I came home with a bloody lip, I couldn’t tell Mom why. I could have told my dad. He’d have understood. But moms just don’t get it.”
“Yeah.” Donovan could think of nothing comforting to say. His own father had been heralded as a hero. How could he possibly offer comfort to a boy whose father was being accused of stealing millions from helpless victims? What was worse, Donovan was halfway convinced of it himself. The district attorney had made a very strong case against Adam Brady. “Is that the reason you dropped off the soccer team?”
Cory kicked at a log. “Who needs it?”
“Didn’t any of your friends stick by you?”
“One. Billy Watson. But after he went home with a black eye, his mom said he couldn’t hang around with me anymore. She told him I was a bad influence.”
“That’s tough.”
Cory shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad Uncle Champ found this place. Nobody here knows our name.”
“You can’t hide out forever.”
The boy turned bleak eyes to Donovan. “Who says?”
“The world’s too small, Cory. Sooner or later you’ll run into someone who recognizes you. Someone who knows about your father. Then what will you do?”
The fire was back. The small hands fisted at his sides. “Just let somebody try to say something about my dad. I’ll make them sorry.”
Donovan chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I just realized that you remind me of somebody.”
“Who?”
Donovan sighed. “A kid I knew. He was so mad at the world after his father died, he wanted to strike out at anybody and everybody. Even his own family.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. Way too often.”
“What was his name?”
“Donovan Lassiter.”
Cory stood perfectly still, watching as Donovan moved ahead. Then he started running until he’d caught up with him.
They walked in silence until Donovan handed the boy his camera. “Take a look through the viewfinder at the top of that tree. What do you see?”
Cory did as he was told and gave a gasp. “It looks like a hawk.”
“Yeah. That’s what I figure. When he’s ready to fly, snap off a couple of shots.”
The two remained silent for several minutes until the bird spread its wings. Cory took picture after picture as the hawk began to fly, then to soar.
When it disappeared from sight, the boy handed back the camera. “You’ve reached the end of that film.”
“I’ll have this developed
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