forward to. Won’t be scoring any touchdowns, that’s for sure.”
“Or roping any calves?”
Gil glanced at his dad and wondered if the jibe was intentional. “The doctors aren’t giving him much hope to walk again.” He shook his head, sickened by what the boy and his family had to deal with, besides the legal repercussions of drunk driving.
“Do you ever think about Frank?” Gil knew the answer already. How could his father not, when surrounded by the memories? Everywhere Gil looked, Frank or his mama appeared . . . in photographs, china plates, or even a smell. In the last few hours, he’d detected his mother’s scent three or four times, as though it hid in the wallpaper or upholstery and refused to leave.
His dad nodded, his wrinkles more apparent than before. “Mostly when I sit around with nothing to do. That’s when the mind works the hardest.”
Gil understood his father’s dilemma. He’d felt the same when he’d been unable to play ball after he had knee surgery three years ago. There were few things worse than being laid up in bed.
He studied the room and noticed the heavy drapes with their sheer panels, the stained glass lamps, and the dainty doilies his mother made for the furniture. Nothing seemed to have changed since he was a boy, except for his dad’s big screen television complete with an outside satellite dish. Then he noticed the chess set next to his mother’s curio cabinet. “Do you still play?”
Not waiting for a reply, Gil strode across the wool area rug to grab the marble board and pieces. He placed them on the coffee table and began lining up the pawns. “Feel like getting beat in a game of chess — for old time’s sake?”
His father lowered the television volume and tucked the remote inside his flannel shirt pocket. “Don’t suppose there’s much chance of that, but I’m willing if you are.”
Gil grinned, ready to show his dad he’d learned a thing or two in the years he’d been away. He was no longer the dumb teenager who didn’t have a clue about the rules of the king and his lady.
His dad made the first move, the queen’s knight to her right.
As Gil inched one of his black pawns forward, a knock sounded on the front door.
“May I come in?” Dr. Evans peeked inside, and Gil noted her hair hung loose, not braided, this time. Pretty.
“Make yourself at home.” His father waved her in from his recliner. “Gil’s challenged me to a game of chess. Thinks he’s going to whip my butt.”
A huge smile formed on Mattie’s face, and her eyes danced with laughter. “Maybe you’d like a snack while you play. I brought your favorite cookies.” She laid a foil-covered plate on the coffee table and sat beside Gil on the couch.
Gil watched as she removed the silver wrapper to reveal little white cookies sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Picture-perfect in size and form, like their maker. He caught the trail of fresh air as Mattie slipped out of her coat and laid it on her lap.
His dad moved his pawn, then reached over and snatched two cookies from the plate. He offered one to Gil. “She makes them the way your mama used to. Chewy and good by themselves, but best with a cup of cold milk.”
Mattie laughed. “Is that a hint?”
“Naw.” His father’s smile revealed even more wrinkles in his tough skin. “What brings you out this way?”
The woman fidgeted with her hands, small hands that looked cold. Gil advanced another pawn.
“I went to visit the Thornton family and took them some cookies. Pretty sad over there.” Her face sobered as she stared at the chessboard.
“I imagine so.” His dad broke his queen out of the line and captured Gil’s bishop.
Gil swore under his breath. Dumb move on his part, he’d left his bishop wide open. How could he concentrate with the two of them gabbing? “I think I’ll get us some milk.”
“Ha, didn’t think I was paying attention, did ya?” His father chuckled and slapped his hand on his knee. The laughter soon turned into a fit of coughing.
Mattie went to his side and patted his back. “You should take it easy. All this excitement will wear you out.” She exchanged a look of caution with Gil before he headed to the kitchen.
What did the doc think — that he was trying to make his old man sick? Gil poured himself a cup of milk and downed it in four