Page 48 of Clean Sweep
“It’s certainly unexpected.”
She sighed, and I heard a burden of care in it. I didn’t know what to say now. She had a big mystery on her hand that had no clear answers yet. So I said the only thing that seemed pertinent.
“I think this is going to work itself out, Les. I really do. Landon is a good kid with a smart head on his shoulders, impetuous decision notwithstanding. Starla seems to have it together and has no apparent ulterior motives. Right now you have a choice: you can trust Landon or not.”
“I know.”
“And?”
“Of course I trust him. I just . . . I’m sad that the dynamic between him and me is different. There’s a lot to get used to here. I’ve never been usurped before,” she added with a dry chuckle.
I laughed. “Yes, well, that’s certainly one way of looking at it.”
I thought I heard a smile in her voice when she spoke again. “I just mean that I’ve never given one of my boys away, and I’m not ready to do that. I’ve already given away my old plan, my husband, my old life, and now my oldest kid? Blake is months away from me giving him his own life too. It just . . . it sucks.”
“It does suck.”
“Parenting, right?”
The exasperation in her voice set me to laughing again, but this time I schooled it by clearing my throat.
“Right.”
“Listen, thanks. I’m sorry if this isn’t something you really wanted to hear about but . . . I guess I needed a friend. You seemed to see the same things in Landon that I’ve always seen, and I’m grateful to know that I’m not crazy. My son might be,” she added as a witty aside, “but I’m definitely not.”
“No,” I said through a chuckle. “It’s definitely not you.”
“Have a good day, Tanner.”
“You too.”
Reluctantly, I let the call end. For several minutes I stared at the phone, lost in thought. I’d dropped so deep into my internal meanderings about Leslie and teenagers andgiving awayparts of our lives that I almost didn’t recognize that the phone rang in my hand, even though I stared right at it.
When the name registered on the screen, my brow furrowed.
Landon Miller
Now what were the odds of that?
Concerned now, I accepted the call and said, “Hey Landon.”
“Coach. You got a minute? I need some help.”
LANDON WAITEDfor me just outside the Jackson City hospital pick up lane.
I pulled up in my work truck less than twenty minutes later. When I rolled to a stop, he yanked open the door and peered inside. Fatigue lined his eyes, making his expression drawn.
“Thanks, coach.”
“Anytime.”
“Starla’s just in the lobby. I’ll bring her out, just wanted to make sure there was room for both of us to sit together up here.”
I motioned to the empty bench chair between us. “All yours.”
Stuffing my concerns and questions aside required concerted effort. He disappeared inside while I waited. When he returned only a few minutes later, he carried Starla in his arms.
Her face was buried in his neck. I hopped out of the car and opened the passenger door for them. Starla kept her eyes tightly shut, her lips thin and face a pasty shade of not-feeling-so-good.
