Chapter Twenty-nine
Wes prayed. His mother would be home in a few hours. He had been up and down the neighborhood, driving around and around. His body was so tense with worry, Wes thought he would explode. Then he remembered where, a few weeks back, his mother had found Dad. It was worth a shot. He drove a few blocks down to the park. Surely, Pops didn’t really walk this far. Wes drove by the park and at first glance saw no one there.
He parked the car and walked around. From a distance, he could see a figure sitting on a bench. Please let that be him. Wes walked up slowly and said, “Hello.”
Pops turned around and looked at him. “Hello. What are you doing out here, young man?”
Wes exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. “Pops, I have never been so glad to see you. We’ve got to get you back. Mom is going to walk in the door soon, and I already will be toast when I have to tell her I lost you.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Wes, your grandson.”
“I don’t have a grandson.”
Wes nearly lost it, curling his hands into fists. This was a nightmare. Okay, keep your cool. Pops had wandered away because he was confused. Wes needed to be smart to figure out how he was going to get him back home. Wes decided to try a different tactic.
“Why don’t I take you home?” Wes looked down, observing that his grandfather had on shoes, but he was still dressed in pajamas. “We should get you back so you don’t get sick.”
“I can’t. I’m waiting on my friend.”
Wes pleaded. “Well, maybe I can take you to your friend’s house. We can save him the trouble, and I can give you a ride.”
“No, Nick will be here soon. He is always on time.”
“Nick?” Wes asked. “Nick Roberts?”
“Yeah, we are going to practice. Got a gig tonight. How do you know Nick?”
“No, the gig is another night. You mixed up the night.” Wes was trying to think of whatever he could to get his pops out of this park. His phone rang. Wes pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Wes, where are you? Where’s Pops? I have been calling the house. Do I need to leave the hospital?”
He closed his eyes as he heard his mother’s frantic voice. He should have known his mother would try to call to check on Pops. “Don’t panic. Pops and I are at the park. We will be home shortly.”
“Wes! How did he get there? Did you watch him?”
“Mom, I messed up. Let’s not get into that now. I will have him home soon.”
“I’m going to try to get off earlier. I knew this wasn’t a good idea. You don’t know how it is with him.”
Wes pleaded with his mother. “No, Mom, just finish your shift. I will have him home. Please let me do this.” He pressed the button on the phone to end the call.
I can handle this. His broken promise to his mother dangled before him. He could only pray that both the Jesus in her and the fact that he was her son would keep her from wanting to kill him. He sat down on the bench next to Pops.
Pops said, “You sound like you have some trouble, young man.”
Before he knew it, laughter had bubbled up in Wes. His laughter bounced around the park, and then Wes fell silent as tears of gratefulness flooded his eyes. Wes looked over at his granddad. “I’m in pretty big trouble, but I believe God is helping to save me in my foolishness.”
“God is good like that, son. You should come out tonight to hear us play.”
Wes went along with the conversation. He needed his pops to trust him enough to get him out of this park. “I would love to hear you play.” Pops had stopped playing with Southern Soul before Wes was born. Wes asked, “So is there something special about tonight?”
Pops looked at him. “Yes, it will be the last time I play with the band.”
“Why would you stop playing? Don’t you love the band?”
“I do. Love playing with the fellows. Things have changed. I have a family that needs me. Plus, it’s time to move on. When Nick comes, I’m going to tell him.”
Wes realized that Pops had reached way back into his memory bank. Why was Pops focusing on this particular memory? Wes would have to ask his mother, if she would even talk to him, why Pops continued to return to the park.
He said to his grandfather, “Let me get this straight. Tonight is your last night playing with the band, but you haven’t told your friend Nick yet. Won’t he be upset with you springing this on him?”
“Nick? No, he won’t be upset. We talked about it before. I told him I was thinking about it. I warned him that things were changing too fast.”
Wes was totally confused by the conversation. “What was changing? The music?”
Pops stared off into space.
Wes tried to prompt him. “Pops, what was changing?” He touched his grandfather’s shoulder. “Why don’t you let me drive you? Nick wants me to take you to him.”
Pops nodded. Wes stood and took his grandfather by the hand. The conversation had stopped. He didn’t know where Pops was now, but he was able to get him inside the car. Ten minutes later, he drove into the driveway to find his mother’s car was there.
Wes guided Pops into the house. Wanda jumped up from the couch. “I was ready to call the police if you hadn’t gotten back here.”
“I’m sorry. I will get him back in the bed.”
“No, you’ve done enough.”
“Mom.”
“Go home, Wes. I can handle it from here.”
Wes watched his mother take Pops back to his bedroom. He did the only thing he could do. He left, feeling the weight of his choice on his shoulders.