Page 14 of Gideon

It was another couple of minutes before his dad came out, thankfully wearing a pair of baggy jeans but with the same dirty T-shirt. He watched his dad walk down the street in the direction of the bar.

It must be some kind of twisted humor You have,Gideon said to heaven,that I share a limp in the same leg as my dad.

Chapter 5

Gideon droveto Pastor Thomas’s house, thinking about what his dad had said about the mayor. It had to be impossible that anyone could get away with what he suggested Fairfax was doing. What Gideon needed right now more than anything was to speak to someone with a clearer head, and Thomas was the only man he truly trusted in this town. Gideon had never known him to be anything but patient and sturdy. His words were kind but wise, and he never shied away from a difficult subject.

The house was the same. A small cape cod painted a different color than he remembered, but it was faded, so it must have been a while ago. It was in better shape than the houses around it.

An older woman opened the door when he knocked. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Morris?”

“Yes?” She leaned closer, pulling her glasses down her nose to peer over them. “Gideon Stone?”

“You remember me?”

She looked him up and down. “My goodness. You’re not quite the boy I remember, but yes. You made a lasting impression. Thomas liked you a lot. And please, call me Beth. We’re all grownups now.”

“Beth, I was hoping to speak to him if I could.”

“Oh.” She folded in on herself. “You didn’t know. He passed away.”

“No, I hadn’t heard. I’m so sorry.”

She nodded. “Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea?”

“Uh.” He was about to say no, but Beth looked so frail. She couldn’t have been more than sixty-five, but her bent posture aged her. “Sure.” He followed her to the kitchen.

“Have a seat,” she said, pointing at the table, then shuffled to the stove. “Nikki bought me one of those electric kettles, but I don’t think tea tastes the same when it’s not heated on the stove. It’s silly I know.”

He sat, running his hand around the metal edge of the small circular table. He’d sat here a lifetime ago. His tears had wet the laminated surface.

“You’re looking well,” Beth said as she filled up the kettle. “How’s your dad doing? I heard he had a stroke, but I haven’t seen him around town.”

“Thanks, yeah, no, he uh…his right side isn’t working like it used to.”

“He must find that hard.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.”

Beth hummed as she collected things from the fridge. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“How about a piece of cake? Homemade.”

“Okay. Sounds delicious.”

Beth took her time cutting up a small banana cake and arranging it on a plate. “I love to bake. Keeps me busy.”

The front door opened, then closed.

“Hey, Mom, I was thinking—” Nikki’s voice came from the hall, then she entered the kitchen, pulling an earbud from her ear. “Gideon. What are you doing here?”

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