Page 91 of Reckoning

Tate laughed. “Dad, that was nothing, and his moment of being nice when I was in the hospital has long since come and gone. What was funny to me was that he was doing the same thing for Briar and didn’t realize what a dumbass comment that was coming out of his mouth.”

Abel grinned. “You remind me of Joseph at this age. He never let shit bother him for long.”

“Well, it’s because we already know the losers from the doers, and the lack of truth when we hear it. After that, there’s nothing to stress about. The lie is on them. Their attempted deception is right in front of us.”

Abel shook his head. “I know you haven’t been on this earth quite twenty years, but I swear to glory, son, your soul must be at least a thousand years old.”

Tate threw back his head and laughed. “Get in the car, Dad. I’m gonna buy Mama some flowers. I think maybe an azalea bush, so she can plant it at your new home, and every time she sees it blooming, she’ll think of me.”

Abel had tears in his eyes as they drove toward the florist. All the way there, he kept thinking… Just when I think my son can’t get any better, something like that comes out of his mouth. Take care of him, Lord, when we can’t.

Lilith cried when Tate gave it to her, then hugged him fiercely. “Well, I’ll say, Tate Bandy, pink azaleas are my favorite, and you know it. This is the sweetest gift ever, and I am so proud of you. I’ll carry this in my lap all the way to Tennessee, and plant it in the front yard for the world to see.”

Then she carried it to the kitchen and set it in the sink to water it, while Tate went back to his room with the laptop and began scrolling through messages again.

Three wedding proposals and an offer to model western wear later, he was beginning to think this was not the day for serious inquiries, and then one popped up in his email.

Mr. Bandy,

My name is Evan Springer. I’m fifteen years old, and I live on a farm outside of Porum, Oklahoma. That’s close to Lake Eufaula. My PawPaw lives with us, and he has dementia. We’ve been camping out by the lake and fishing for two days. This morning, PawPaw wandered off right after breakfast and we didn’t see which way he went. The police and all the people we know are out looking for him. I can’t help search because I have a cast on my foot. Broke it playing soccer. This is a picture of PawPaw. Do you think you could tell us where to look? That lake is huge. Over 800 acres, and I’m so scared he’s gonna fall in and can’t get out. I don’t have any money, but I will say prayers for you for the rest of my life if you can help. My phone number is at the top of this message.

Evan Springer

There was a lump in Tate’s throat by the time he got through reading the letter. One look at the old man’s picture was all it took for him to call. It rang twice, and then the call was picked up by a boy with a shaky voice.

“Hello?”

“Evan, this is Tate Bandy. I just read your letter. Are you at the camp by yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You need to get a pen and paper and write down everything I’m about to tell you, and then call your parents to let them know. Can you do that?”

The kid was crying. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes. Do you have that pen and paper handy now?” Tate asked.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Okay…tell the searchers that I see a sign that says Grandview Drive. He went north there. And I see another sign. Bigfoot Treehouse. Does that make sense to you?”

Evan’s hands were shaking as he wrote. “Yes! Yes! All of that, which means he went farther north than where they’re searching.”

“Tell them I can see him inside what looks like a big treehouse. There’s a ramp leading up to get into it. He’s asleep on a bed. I don’t think he’s hurt. Just tired and lost.”

Now Evan was crying. “I’m sorry I can’t pay you, but thank you so much.”

“It’s okay, kid,” Tate said. “Our elders are precious and full of wisdom. Even if your PawPaw doesn’t remember anymore, it’s all still stored inside his head. He thought he needed to go to work. That’s why he walked off. Now call your people.”

The line went dead. Tate sighed. The knowing was exhausting, and sometimes depressing. He needed to let go of other people’s misery for a while. He got up, grabbed a cold drink from the refrigerator, and went outside. When he left here, he wasn’t just saying goodbye to people. He was leaving everything familiar.

The porch swing squeaked in protest as he sat down. That shady spot beneath the trees at the end of the yard was where he and Briar played when they were little. He’d mowed grass here since he was ten years old. The house had sheltered him and protected him. He’d been sick here, and got well here. The imprint of the Bandy family’s presence within the walls of the house would soon mingle with the others, who’d been here before them. But it was time to leave, and he’d made peace with that, but not yet. He still needed to tell Briar goodbye. That one was going to hurt.

* * *

Evan Springer made the call, and when he heard his daddy’s voice, his own rose in pitch and tenor.

“Daddy! Daddy! Did you find PawPaw yet?” he asked.