Cruel Justice

23

“YOU’RE TRYING TO POISON him against me, that’s what you’re doing!”

“You’re a paranoid fool !”

“I know what I know. What I can see!”

“You’re four martinis past being able to see anything clearly.”

“Stupid ungrateful cow.”

“Pig.”

Harold Rutherford pressed his hand against his throbbing temples. He could feel his pulse quickening, his blood pressure rising. Why did he allow himself to be drawn into these shameless displays? All he’d done was ask Rachel to stop telling their son that his father didn’t like him. Was that so very much to ask?

“It’s hard enough to keep this family together without you telling Abie I hate him.”

“I never said any such thing.” Rachel folded herself into a furry white overstuffed couch. “He figured it out for himself.”

“See?” Rutherford shouted, pointing a finger at her. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. That kind of smart remark is doing Abie a lot of harm. And it doesn’t do anyone any good.”

“It does me a world of good,” Rachel said. She walked to the wet bar and poured herself a drink. “I always feel better for having spoken the truth.”

“You’re destroying this family, that’s what you’re doing!”

“Spare me the Father Knows Best routine, Hal. You never wanted a family, as we both well know. Family is something you condescended to for me.”

Rutherford’s neck stiffened. “Maybe I didn’t particularly want children, in the abstract. But once I saw that precious little bundle of—”

Her drink spurted out from between her lips. “Give me a break. You? Sentimental about Abie? You’ve spent more time holding a golf club than you ever spent holding our child.”

Rutherford checked his watch. “I don’t have time for this. I’m late.”

“For what? Tee time?”

“For an appointment with our son, for your information. You remember, the one I never spend any time with!”

Rutherford stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him with gusto. He just didn’t understand Rachel anymore. After all the agony they had gone through to adopt, all the false hopes and disappointments, he would have thought that when they finally did get a child, and a beautiful one at that, they would never again have another problem. He had staked so much on this. He had assumed that once they had a baby, their marriage would cure itself.

He should have known better. Nothing cures itself. Nothing ever improves unless you take it into your hands and force it to do what you want.

He slid into the front seat of his cream-colored Mercedes and turned the key. To his surprise, nothing happened.

Now that was strange. The car drove just fine this morning.

He tried the ignition again. Still no response. No impotent revving, no sputtering noises under the hood. Nothing.

Damn these foreign cars, anyway. He should’ve bought a Saturn, and to hell with what the neighbors would think.

He checked his watch again. He was already running late, and now he was going to be a good deal later.

Abie would never forgive him.

Rutherford slumped down in the car seat. Everything seemed to hit him all at once, like a wall. He loved his son, he really did. But he didn’t know how to … show it. Everything was so different now. Jesus, his own father never once said “I love you” in his entire life. Did that mean he didn’t? Of course not. People understood those things back then. But not any more. Now everyone was expected to babble on about their feelings all the time. Fathers were supposed to be mothers. Everything was different. And not particularly better.

He tried the ignition again, but there was still no response. Abie would be so upset. The rift between them would be even deeper than before. Perhaps irreparable.

Rutherford pressed his hand against his face and, to his surprise, wiped away a tear.

Abie sat on the corner of Twenty-sixth Street, his arms wrapped around his knees, hugging them tightly. It was one-forty, and no Dad.

It would take his father only a few minutes to get here from home or the country club. Abie had to face facts. He wasn’t coming.

He had broken his promise.

Abie pushed himself to his feet. So what, anyway? He didn’t really want to go to some stupid ball game, at least not with his dad. He jerked the Drillers cap off his head and threw it to the ground.

He looked at it there, lying in the mud, and then, with a sudden burst of energy, smashed it down with his foot till the colors were entirely obliterated.

A gray sedan with smoked-glass windows eased up to the corner. The window rolled down and inside, Abie saw—that man. Sam. The one who had fought off the bullies and then walked him home.

“How’s it going, Abie?”

Abie thrust his hands into his pockets. “I dunno.” He realized suddenly that his face was streaked with tears. He wiped them away furiously. “I’m fine. How’d you find me?”

“Well, it was pure accident. I just happened to be driving by when I saw you standing there on the corner. I’m on my way to the Drillers game.”

Abie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. I go to all the games.” The man smiled warmly. “What about you?”

Abie shrugged. “I was supposed to go, but … well, it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Today’s game is supposed to be the best all year. They’re playing Shreveport for a place in the playoffs.”

“I know.”

“Look, I don’t want to push my luck or anything, but—” The man stopped abruptly. “Oh, never mind.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It isn’t right. You barely know me.”

Abie looked at the man and his kind, friendly face. It was true he had just met the man, but he felt as though he had known him for years. He liked him. What’s more, he trusted him.

“My dad was supposed to take me to the game,” Abie said quietly. He could feel tears welling up again inside. “But he didn’t show up.” Abie paused. “He forgot about me.”

“Aw, I can’t believe that.” The man leaned out the car window. “You know, if you were my kid, I’d never leave you standing around on a street corner all by yourself. And we’d go to all the games.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Heck, I’ve got season tickets.” He hesitated. “You know, Abie, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I like you so much I’m going to do it anyway. If you want, I’ll take you to the game.”

Abie swallowed. “You will?”

“I’d consider it an honor. Just hop in, and away we’ll go.”

Abie pondered. His brain was a mishmash of confusion and indecision. “I’m not supposed to get into cars with—you know. People I don’t know so well.”

The man smiled. “Of course not. That’s a smart rule. I understand entirely. Well, say hi to your father for me, if he ever shows up.” The man began rolling up the window.

“Wait!” Abie bit down on his lower lip. What could it hurt, anyway? He’d be a lot safer with Sam than he’d ever be with his stupid father. And this was the biggest game of the season—

“Okay. I’ll come.” He tossed his blue book bag into the backseat.

A broad smile spread across the man’s face. He popped open the passenger-side door. “That’s great, Abie. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

Abie reached for the door and, at just that moment, noticed a green sports car pulling up behind Sam. “That’s Mom’s car!”

The tall man glanced into his rearview mirror. “What?”

“It’s my mom’s Jaguar—and Dad is driving it!” Abie beamed. “I guess he didn’t forget after all. I wonder why he’s driving her car?”

“Yes,” the man said evenly. “I wonder why.”

Abie stepped away from the man’s car. “Gosh, Sam, I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s all right. You run along.” His disappointment was evident, but he was being nice about it. What a good sport he is, Abie thought. A really good guy. “We’ll go some other day.”

“Sure. See ya.” Abie scampered to the green Jaguar and crawled into the front seat beside his father. As he buckled his seat belt he saw Sam pull away from the corner and drive on toward Twenty-first. He was going awfully fast, like he was in a big hurry to get away. Well, he probably didn’t want to miss the first pitch.

“Are you up for a hot dog?” Abie’s father asked.

“That sounds great. Can I?”

“Of course. It’s not really a ball game unless you get a few stale hot dogs.”

Abie looked up at his father, eyes bright. “And … if it’s not too much, could I maybe get a new ball cap, too?”