The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(22)

“I’m getting by fine, Flora,” he lied. “You have somewhere to go? I can sit with the old boy for a few hours if you need a break.”

“Who you callin’ old?” Oscar called out. The whir of the wheelchair accompanied his voice and he was instantly a presence in the room.

“I got nothing pressing,” she said with a laugh. “But I think I’ll give you boys some lunch and leave just because I can. Can you stay awhile?”

“All day,” Seth said. “You just tell me if there are any chores I can help with while you’re gone.”

“I got no chores, Seth. Except keeping Oscar entertained and that’s a chore in itself.”

They ate grilled cheese and chips. Flora was an outstanding cook and over the years he’d had some great dishes, traditional Southern and otherwise. Occasionally Oscar would insist Flora warm up something for Seth so he could rave. But Oscar always had a sandwich, something he could grip and wouldn’t spill. Seth knew when they were alone, just Oscar and Flora, and he was bibbed to his chin, they had soups and greens and beans with ham and some of her other slippery but delicious items. But Oscar found it damned humiliating to be covered with food at the end of a meal when he had company.

Seth washed up their plates and got out the chess board. Seth and Oscar had this in common—Seth hadn’t grown up with a chess board in the house, either. He had learned during his long rehab. Usually it was Oscar whose moves were slow and thoughtful, not to mention the fact that his one working limb was weak and shaky at best. But today it was Seth who was taking a long time with each move.

“One a’ these days, you gonna get whatever it is outta your gut?” Oscar asked.

Seth took a breath, met those rheumy chocolate eyes and told Oscar about Iris. All about her. All about it. Everything.

“Shew,” Oscar finally said. “I guess you’re feelin’ real bad about that.”

“Real bad,” Seth admitted.

“You sure she wasn’t just trying to make you feel better ’bout yourself, saying she never tried to stop you?”

Seth laughed. “No, Oscar. Iris is a lot of things, but not a liar. Not a woman who plays up to a man. Plus, she had no interest in making me feel better about anything! She clocked me, f’chrissake!”

Oscar laughed. “Gotta admit, I like a woman won’t take no stuff off a man. You see Flora? She’s the sweetest thing ever come at me, but she has a limit. She understands when I get to feeling sorry for myself and she’s kind, but I get a little ungrateful or maybe too ornery and she puts me right in my place. She’s got no problem livin’ with a cripple but she won’t take no attitude. That’s a real woman.”

“Flora is one helluva woman,” Seth said.

“She’s that,” Oscar said. “More woman than I deserve. You got some regrets, son?”

“Oh, boy,” he said, with a hollow laugh. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve got nothing but regrets. Doesn’t just about everyone?”

“I expect so. You think I don’t wish I hadn’t worked that second shift? But it was overtime and we always had more month left at the end of the paycheck. I’d done it a hundred times. I never really thought about what it could cost. How about you?”

He sighed. “Well, of course I regret speeding, even though I’ve made peace with the changes it brought my life. But it kills me to think I lost Iris before I ever knew how much I needed her. I took her for granted, and I’m not just talking about that night. I think I took her for granted her whole life. No wonder she hates me.”

“She don’t hate you, son. Likely she grieves you. When she told you the truth about what you done, did she get upset? Cry a little?”

“Oscar, she decked me. Then she cried a little, yelled a little, stormed away and told me to never bother her again.”

Oscar laughed. “You just another idiot man. A woman doesn’t hurt over someone she doesn’t care about! You were the love of her life and you weren’t smart enough to run with that. You wish you’d been otherwise, just like I wish’t I wasn’t just a workin’ man looking at some overtime. But here’s where we are. Now, we can either work with those regrets and let ’em prove something or we can live in the past and be sorry souls.”

“And how do you suppose we work with our regrets?”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re gonna do, but I ain’t that man anymore, son. I’m gentler now. I used to be ornery and tired all the time. Used to have myself a temper. I can’t run or play or work second shifts so I talk to my wife and my kids. We have the best talks. My grandkids like me, strange as you think that is. Bradley is only ten and he already plays some mean chess. I taught him. And you sure as hell ain’t no tight end anymore. ’Bout time you let that girl know who you are now. I’m not sayin’ that’ll be easy. She might knock you flat again. But you’re smarter and better now. She should know before she gives you up altogether. Show her you’re not that stupid seventeen-year-old boy anymore. That’ll be hard for you since you like feelin’ sorry for yourself.”

“How do you suggest I do that? Show her I’ve changed?”

He gave a slight one-sided shrug. “I don’t know. Lucky you ain’t dead yet. You still have time.”