Date: Mon, 20 Jun 2016 09:08:59 -0500
From: Paul Knoke <paulkdoctor@gmail.com>
Subject: The Father Contract Part 51

Chapter Ninety-Four: A New Beginning

After glancing at his watch, Jack Canon peered out at the dense woods
behind the chain-link fence they were passing. "That's part of the School
property, isn't it, Jim?"

Mr. Williamson nodded. "Yes. We're almost there."

The housemaster kept the car moving ten miles an hour over the speed limit
on the deserted county road. He didn't normally do that but he was anxious
to get to the School as soon as possible and reassure himself that PJ was
all right. He was reasonably certain his wife would have taken care of the
situation, yet until they got there he couldn't be sure . . . . "I just
hope Mrs. Williamson has everything under control," he muttered, voicing
his fears for at least the dozenth time. "I wish I could've gotten through
to her." He'd tried calling repeatedly during the day, but all he'd gotten
was the answering machine.

"I hope we're in time to make the Dinner," Jack said, checking his watch
again. They'd expected to reach Gordonsville much sooner, by mid-afternoon
if their connections had worked out, but they'd been held up by delay after
frustrating delay. Because it was the weekend, their connecting flight from
Orlando to Atlanta had been late. At Philadelphia there'd been more delays,
an accident had stacked up traffic on the Interstate, and by the time
they'd made the long drive north to the School, it was getting dark.

"They never start those Dinners on time anyway," Mr. Williamson assured
him. He brought the car around a curve and slowed for an intersection
marked by a single flashing yellow light. "Just about there," he said. He
turned right. The fence Jack had been looking at changed from chain-link to
an impressive stone wall covered with ivy. On the other side of the road,
houses followed by store buildings appeared. "I see where we are now," Jack
commented. "You were coming in on the road from the county airport, weren't
you."

Mr. Williamson nodded and pointed. "There's the gate."

They turned into the School, with Jack shaking his head as they passed
through the massive stone portals.  "What a place," he murmured.

Mr. Williamson maneuvered around the narrow lane that led to his House and
parked as close as he could instead of in his reserved spot at the rear.

As the two men were getting out, two cars pulled up beside them. "When
their doors opened, a group of excited boys jumped out. "Jack!" one of them
called. A moment later the ballplayer was surrounded.

"Hi, Erik!" Jack gave PJ's roommate a quick hug around the shoulders, at
the same time smiling at the lanky boy behind him. "Hey, isn't that Travis?
Man, are you getting taller. How's your swimming going?" He reached out to
shake Travis's hand.

"It's going great, Jack!" Travis was beaming up at him. "Better'n our
football team, which PJ an' Erik just whipped today. But hey,
congratulations on the World Series!  We were all rooting for you!"

"Thanks, sport," Jack said, ruffling the boy's hair. "I appreciate it." he
eyed Brain and Phil, who were hanging back shyly. "What have we got here?"
he asked Erik.

"These are the two kids that have the room across from us," Erik told
him. "They're on the football team with me and PJ. We're really good
friends." He introduced Jack to Phil, Brian, and their fathers. "Phil's a
swimmer like PJ, and he plays baseball, too," Erik said. "He's a pitcher."

"A pitcher!" Jack picked Phil up and grinned at him. "Righty or lefty?"

The young boy was nearly overwhelmed. "L -L -Lefty," he stammered.

"Ha, a southpaw!" Jack said. "Hey, I bet you're good." He gave Phil a
friendly wink.

"Mr-Mr.-Mr. C-Canon--Jack," Phil said, emboldened. "C-Could you- -Could you
sign this shirt I've got? It's a Red Sox shirt. Please?"

"Phil," Jack said, putting him down gently, "if you're a friend of PJ's,
I'll sign anything you want."

Bill came up holding out his hand. "Jack, it's good to see you
again. Congratulations on a great Series!"

"Hi, Bill," Jack said warmly, shaking with him. "Thanks." He looked
around. "Say, where is PJ? Are you guys hiding him or something?"

Mr. Williamson had been wondering the same thing. "Where is he, Erik?" he
asked anxiously.

Erik looked at Jack in surprise. "Isn't he with you?"

Mr. Williamson's heart began to thud. He put his hand on Erik's shoulder
and leaned down. "What do you mean, Erik?"

Erik looked bewildered. "He told me he was going to spend the afternoon
with Jack," he replied. "When I asked him go out with us to celebrate
beating Franklyn, he said he couldn't because he was meeting you and you
guys were going somewhere together."

Mr. Williamson straightened up, struggling to keep his features
composed. Jack looked at him.

"We better go check his room," Mr. Williamson said. He turned and strode
toward the House with Jack following closely. The boys and their fathers
exchanged puzzled glances. "Something's wrong here," Bill said, sounding
very worried. He went off after the two men. The rest followed.

Yet as they approached the House, a small figure burst out of the front
door and came running toward them. "Billy!" Mr. Williamson exclaimed.

The little boy stopped and stared. He looked frightened! Tears were running
down his cheeks. He turned his head frantically from one man to the other
and then threw himself at Jack, tugging at his hands. "Jack! Jack! You've
got to come! Come right now!"

Mr. Williamson reached down and spun him around. "Billy, what is it? What's
wrong?"

The boy ignored him. He pulled away and turned back to Jack. "Please,
Jack!" He was sobbing, tugging desperately again and again at the man's
hands. "Come now! It's PJ! He's crying. He's hurt. Someone hurt him. Please
Jack. Hurry!"

Billy's father came out of the House and strode quickly over to them.

What happened?" Mr. Williamson asked.

"I don't know," Mr. Thatcher said, confused. "He went up to see PJ to give
him something, and all of a sudden he came running down the stairs
hysterical, saying something about having to find Jack."

Erik, his father, and the others had come running up. "What is it, Billy?"
Erik asked the little boy.  Billy shook his head and pulled at Jack's
hands.

"Everything's all right," Jack assured him. He turned to Erik. "He's
worried about PJ. I'm going to take care of it. Billy, stay with
Erik. Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine." He gave the crying boy
to Erik, who put his arms around him.

"PJ got hurt in the game today," Erik said with concern. "Maybe that's it."

"Everything's going to be fine," Jack told him. "You folks all stay here."
He quickly strode toward the House with Mr. Williamson following. The two
men rushed in and climbed rapidly to the top floor, Jack taking the stairs
three at a time. He was already at PJ's door knocking and trying to open it
when Mr. Williamson arrived out of breath.

"Wait, Jack," he panted, pulling on the big man's arm as he was getting
ready to kick in the door. "I have a key." He fitted one of his master keys
into the lock, turned it, and the two men burst in. The room was cold and
the window was open.

"PJ!" Jack called. He went to the open window and looked down. There was
nothing to see. He pulled his head in. "Where the heck is he, Jim?"

Mr. Williamson was looking under the beds. He went to the closet and looked
inside. The poster of Jack on the back of the closet door caught his
eye. "Look at this," he told Jack, pointing to where the poster had been
torn in two and carefully repaired. Jack studied it while Mr. Williamson
kept searching the room. "These are the cards I told you about," he said,
handing Jack one from PJ's bookshelf. Jack took it. It was the one with the
little football player on it that read, "To a Wonderful Son." He stared at
it and closed his eyes in pain.

"Oh God, no!" Mr. Williamson exclaimed.

Jack looked up. The housemaster was standing, rigid, by Erik's desk. Jack
took a quick step and pushed him aside. "He's left a note for Erik,"
Mr. Williamson whispered.

Jack scanned the first few sentences. "Damn!  Damn it, PJ!"  He stared
around, muttering, "Why is that window open?" Then he snapped his
fingers. "Of course!"

He strode again to the window. Pushing his head out, he twisted around and
looked up. "Shit!"

He pulled his head back in. "He's on the roof," he told Mr. Williamson and
drew the housemaster back as the man lunged for the window. "No! I'll
handle this. You stay right here. Keep that door locked! We don't need
everybody in here."

Pulling off his sport jacket, Jack flung it away and climbed awkwardly
through the window out onto the slanting surface. Holding on to the
windowsill for balance, he looked up above to where the pale shape of PJ's
slender form was standing, poised at the far edge of the rooftop. At first,
he thought the boy was naked, but as he climbed carefully up the slope,
using the grit of the shingles to keep from sliding, he got close enough to
see that PJ was wearing a tight Speedo.

Just as he reached the ridge top, Jack saw PJ crouch down as if he were
getting ready to do a racing start off the blocks in the pool.

He wanted to yell out something to the boy, but he was terrified that if he
did, PJ would be startled and fall. Instead, he willed himself to keep his
voice calm. "Hey, Little Champ," he said, as normally as he could. "What
are you doin' up here? I thought you guys promised me you weren't gonna
roam around out here anymore."

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Jack listened to the sound of his
heart pounding in his chest. Then, to his immense relief, PJ slowly
straightened up. He took a step back from the edge and turned.

Jack moved toward him along the roof peak, saying, "Hi, PJ. It's
Jack. What's goin' on? Are you OK? Talk to me a little here."

PJ put a hand out and moved near the edge again. "Don't come any closer!"

The boy's shrill tone stopped Jack in his tracks. "Sure, Tiger, I won't,"
he soothed. "Look, PJ, it's me, Jack. What's wrong? Tell me what's going
on."

The boy stared at him. Jack couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness.

"You're not Jack," PJ said.

"Yeah I am, kid." Jack made a gesture of appeal. "It's me. You asked me to
come today, remember? Well, here I am. I'm sorry I missed your game, but
I'm all set to go to your Dinner. I've even got my speech ready. Come on,
Little Champ. Let's go. You've gotta get ready."

"You're a liar." PJ shook his head.

"PJ, I really am Jack. It's me!" There was a note of desperation in his
voice.

But the boy kept shaking his head. "You're not the real Jack! I know where
the real Jack is. He's waiting for me. I'm gonna find him." He started to
turn back toward the edge.

"Wait, PJ!" Jack called. "Wait a second! Please wait, Tiger. Look, I'm
right here. You don't have to go anywhere to find me. Here I am. See, I've
got my tie on, the one you gave me. And the tie clip that you made. I've
got them both on. I knew you wanted me to come today. I came to find you!"

Those last words made PJ hesitate. Very slowly the boy turned around to
face him again. Jack could see the glitter of tears on the boy's cheeks.

"You sent me away," PJ whispered. "You told me never to see you again."

The stab of pain that went through Jack's heart made him bow his
head. "Yeah, I know, Little Champ," he said in a broken voice. "I know I
did that." Then he lifted his head to look at PJ. "But, I swear to you PJ,
I thought I was doing the right thing. I swear it. I didn't want you
hanging around with some bum baseball player who wasn't even a good father
to his own son. You're such a wonderful kid, PJ. I didn't want that for
you. I figured there were so many better guys who could take care of you
. . ."

"That's not what you told me." PJ was shaking his head. "I don't believe
you."

Jack groaned. "Aw geez, kid. . . Look, I was a jerk, OK? I thought I didn't
want to be a father. I thought I had better things to do. More important
things. Well, I was wrong. I know that now. I was so wrong. . . . The
single most important thing any man can do is be a father. If he isn't
that, then he isn't a man at all. All the other things don't matter a
bit. I know that now."

He put his hands out, appealing to the boy. "I made a mistake, PJ. I was
selfish. I told myself I was getting rid of you because it was the best
thing for you. But I was trying to fool myself. I was really doing it for
me. Well, I was wrong. I was very wrong. I ended up hurting you, and me,
too. Come on, Little Champ. Give me a break. Haven't you ever done anything
wrong? Don't run out on me, kid. Give me another chance!"

PJ just stared at him. "I have to go now," he said, finally. He turned away
and put his feet on the edge of the roof. Then he crouched over in that
stance.

"PJ, please!" Jack begged. "Please wait! Please listen. Give me another
chance! Look! Look! I'll tell you something. It's something I've never told
anyone. No one! When my son Chip and his mom were killed . . . oh . . ."
Jack's voice broke in half a sob as he struggled to go on. "Chipper
. . . my little boy. . . when they were killed, they were on their way to
see me, PJ! That was all my little Chip wanted, to see his daddy
. . . . 'When are you coming home, Daddy?' he always asked on the
phone. And I never came, PJ. I was always too busy. It was always another
game, or appearance--or something I thought was more important. Oh, God, PJ
. . . I hear it in my dreams. His voice. 'When can I see you, Daddy?' I was
so young when he was born, PJ. Just a kid. I didn't even marry his mother
until he was two. And I was in the Majors. It was all going so well. And
then came the injuries. . . . There was always something, PJ. Something I
thought was more important than my own little boy. Oh, God! I'd say I was
coming and never do it. I'd forget his birthday. His mom would call and I'd
tell her to buy a present and say it came from me. . . . After the funeral,
I got down on my knees before his little tombstone when everyone was
gone. On my knees to beg my son's forgiveness. . . . I've never told
anyone. You're the only person who's ever heard that.

 "Well take a look, PJ! Look! I'm on my knees again. Please look at me!
It's just the second time in my life that I've done it! I'm on my knees,
Son. Please, please forgive me! Chipper Canon couldn't. It was too
late. But you can! I'm begging you, PJ. On my knees I'm begging you. Give
me another chance! Please Son, believe in me! Believe! I'll never let you
down again. I love you, PJ. I don't know why you picked a worthless guy
like me to be your dad. But you did and I love you more than my life and
I'll do the very best I can to be your father. Don't leave me. Please, Son!
I was a coward. I was scared to be a father again. Please forgive me, Son,
and don't give on me! You're my Little Champ. You've never given up in your
life! Don't do it now. Stand up, Son! Please! Stand up! Make me proud of
you! You're my Son!"

Very slowly, PJ straightened up. Jack saw that his shoulders were shaking.

"PJ," Jack called softly. "Come to me."

The boy turned. Tears were streaming down his face. He took a step toward
Jack and staggered. The man lunged forward and caught the boy before he
could fall. With a sob of relief, he hugged the slender little body
close. Trembling in reaction, PJ wrapped his arms around him and hugged
back just as tightly.

"All right, Son," Jack whispered. "All right. Everything's all right
now. You're all right. I've got you."

He started to carry PJ along the ridge. "My books!" PJ sobbed.

Jack turned and reached down to collect the three books. He looked at the
titles before handing them to PJ to hold. "Safe at Home" Jack tenderly
said. "I gave you that. Well, you're safe now, Son. You're safe. Safe with
me for good!."

Gripping the boy securely, he made his way step-by-step back to the window
where he passed him to Mr. Williamson before he scrambled in himself. As
soon as he'd shut the window, he took PJ back, unwilling to be separated
from him for even a few seconds. Almost lost him! Almost lost him! he kept
thinking. Lost one. I'm not losin' another! Not happenin'! PJ wound his
arms around his neck and clung there, shivering.

"Damn it! He's freezing!," Jack said aloud. "Where's a blanket?" But then
he noticed something worse. "Look at all the bruises on this kid! What the
hell?"

"The football game," Mr. Williamson replied. He was already stripping a
blanket off Erik's bed." Erik said he'd been injured."

Jack couldn't believe the size of the ugly-looking bruise on PJ's right
side. Another was between his shoulder blades, both of them a sickening
purplish-red. He took his finger and brushed the white tip of PJ's nipple,
hardened to a sharp point from the cold, and traced a line down his bare,
chilled side to his narrow waist. Even as gentle as he tried to be, PJ
winced and uttered a little chirp of pain. Jack shook his head in dismay as
he helped Mr. Williamson wrap the blanket around the boy.

"I'm getting this kid in a hot shower right now," Jack said. "Then I'm
getting him dressed and we're going to a Father-Son Dinner. I'm supposed to
give a speech tonight, and I want my son right next to me when I do it." He
turned PJ around to face him and held him with his big hands. "PJ
. . ."--Jack stared into the boy's eyes,"--now that I'm your dad, you gotta
listen to me, right?"

PJ nodded solemnly. But there was a ghost of a smile playing around his
lips. Did he hear that right?

"First things first. If I ever find out you've been out that window up on
the roof again, it won't just be another heart-to-heart talk. I'm gonna
whip your butt. Got it?"

PJ nodded again. "Yes, Jack," he whispered.

"Forget that 'Jack' stuff. It's 'Yes, Dad.' Right?"

"Yes, Dad," PJ told him.

"Now the second thing," his new father went on. "What I've been saying all
along, still goes. Hanging around Major League baseball teams on the road,
in strange hotel rooms, all that stuff--It' s no place for a youngster! Not
any son of mine! You're staying right here at Gordonsville to get the best
education they can give you! And remember, you're doing it for both our
sakes. Once your old man can't play baseball anymore, he's not gonna be
good for much, so one of us better be able to make a living! You may have
to support me in my old age! Got it?"

"Yes, Dad!" Now there was an actual, real, honest-to goodness smile on PJ's
mouth. I heard right, all right!

"I'll visit you all I can," Jack said. "Hell, if I hang around Erik long
enough, I may finally learn how to keep score at a swim meet. And you
better believe you're coming to visit me on your vacations. I can tell you
for a fact, there's a whole Red Sox team that would be pretty disappointed
if you didn't spend Spring Break at Fenway again! And Charlie's gonna wanna
see you down in Florida! And there's that sports camp down there I want you
at, so you get a decent tan at least part of the year instead looking pasty
white all the time. You gettin' all this?"

PJ's smile was getting bigger and bigger. He jumped into Jack's arms and
wiggled happily in his tight grasp. "Yes, Dad!"

"Yes, Dad," Jack imitated, nodding in approval. He winked at
Mr. Williamson. "Isn't it nice these days to hear a young man being so
polite and obedient to his elders?"

Mr. Williamson winked back.

"Now, what's with all those bruises, Son?" Jack was now frowning.

"The game, Dad. We won the Championship today! I scored a touchdown for
you!"

"You won that big game, Little Champ?" Jack pulled the boy even closer and
PJ wrapped arms and legs around him. "Oh, God I love you so much!" He
looked at Mr. Williamson. "Did you hear that? So of course he's all banged
up. Whatever this kid does, he does with all his heart and soul! But
wait'll I see his coach! What's he doin' lettin' my kid get all knocked
around? Who is his coach, anyway?"

"Uh, it's Al Lewis," Mr. Williamson said, "But I'm sure . . ."

"Lewis?" Jack seemed pleased

. "The young kid that was helpin' coach PJ's baseball team? Well, he didn't
seem like a bad guy."

"He's very good with the boys," the housemaster assured him.

"He goddamned well better be," said Jack good-naturedly. "Only the best for
my kid!" He stroked PJ's back and hugged him. "OK, Little Champ. Into the
hot shower with you. There's a bunch of other kids downstairs who I happen
to think are just the finest boys in the world, except for you. The best
friends my son could possibly have. Let's not keep 'em waiting. We got a
public appearance to make. PJ, I hope you haven't forgotten your father's
advice on how to handle public appearances."

PJ smirked and shook his head up and down. "Keep smiling and don't give
anyone the finger."

"That's my son!" Jack patted him on the back and started toward the
door. "God, you're a great kid! Hey, what do 'ya think Walter's will say
why tell him I'm gonna adopt you?"

This brought forth a sputter from PJ as he started laughing. "He's gonna
have a cow!"

"That's pretty much what I was figuring," Jack said. "I think I'll let you
tell him!" He looked back at Mr. Williamson. "Go down and tell those guys
that PJ's all right, Jim. And tell Billy and his dad and Travis and that
coach of his that they're comin' to that Dinner. They're gonna be my
guests. I'll have my Little Champ ready. Hey, PJ--you got your Red Sox tie,
right? You gotta wear it with me tonight!"

As they went down the hallway, PJ, safe in his father's arms, heading not
only toward a hot shower but also a wonderful new beginning, lifted his
head to look adoringly at Jack--and the words he said were words he'd never
spoken out loud before, at least so Jack Canon could hear them, and this
time he spoke them right in his face, loudly and clearly:

"I love you!"

* * * The End * * *