Читать книгу By Her Side - Kathryn Springer - Страница 11

Ten Years Earlier

“Hamilton, maybe you should just throw a cot in the corner over there.”

Chris Hamilton opened his eyes and saw his coach grinning at him.

“Are you leaving already?” he muttered, feeling his muscles tremble under the punishing weights he was balancing over his head.

He must have lost track of the hour. The last time he’d looked, three guys on the other side of the gym had been having a good-natured bench-press competition while the custodian mopped the floor. Now the lights were dimmed and someone had turned off the country and western music that had been blaring from the radio.

“Already?” One of Coach Swanson’s ragged eyebrows kicked up a notch. “It’s almost ten o’clock. And I know for a fact that you have a big English test tomorrow first period.”

Chris grimaced, but not from pain. The only reason Coach knew about the exam was because he happened to be married to Chris’s English teacher. That was a bummer. He couldn’t get away with anything. For all he knew, they traded notes about their students over their bran flakes every morning.

“I studied.” Not that it would do much good. For some reason, when God had gifted the Hamilton family, He’d somehow overlooked Chris completely. Or maybe He’d just given Chris’s twin, Heather, a double dose. Whatever had happened, he sweated over diagramming sentences more than he did bench-pressing three hundred pounds.

“Go home, Hamilton,” Coach Swanson ordered, “and instead of dreaming about the next game, you better be conjugating verbs in your sleep.”

Chris never ignored a direct order from his coach. He lowered the weighted bar into place and reached for the towel hanging over the end of the bench, swiping it across his face with one quick movement.

“Wish I had half your energy,” Coach grumbled, then looked at Chris speculatively. “Had a talk with your old man the other day. He’s pretty pumped up that you and Heather are graduating next month. Said he can’t wait to get some more family members into the business.”

Chris shrugged. “I guess so.”

A familiar restlessness coursed through him. A mixture of confusion and frustration that churned in his stomach the minute someone inquired about his future plans. Maybe it was because it usually wasn’t an inquiry at all. People assumed that just because he was a Hamilton he’d naturally follow in his siblings’ footsteps and stay in Davis Landing, becoming another efficient cog in the powerhouse that was Hamilton Media.

His dad, the incredible Wallace Hamilton, expected it, too. Instead of the usual bedtime stories most kids heard growing up, the stories Chris had been told were about the early Hamiltons and how they’d brought a small weekly newspaper through the Depression and World War II. When Wallace eventually took control, he’d turned the Davis Landing Dispatch into the successful media corporation it was now, which included not only the newspaper, now a daily, but also Nashville Living magazine.

So far his older brothers, Jeremy and Tim, and his sister, Amy, had already begun carving out their niches in the company. Even Heather was counting the days until she would be there full-time, planning to attend a local college and work at the magazine when she wasn’t in class. Not him. The closer he got to graduation, the more pressure he felt. Pressure to take his rightful and expected place at Hamilton Media. The only trouble was, he had a sinking feeling there wasn’t a place for him there. He had no desire to sit in an office and tally numbers all day and no one with an ounce of concern about the future of the company would want him writing for the Dispatch or Nashville Living.

Maybe that was why he was still in the school gym lifting weights instead of going home. The tension between him and Wallace had been escalating lately. Not a day went by that his dad didn’t casually mention him “coming on board.”

And not a day went by that everything inside Chris didn’t tell him that Hamilton Media wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Maybe if he had a Plan B, something he could present to his parents, they’d be willing to listen. He knew his mom would. A lot of his friends complained about their moms. That they were overprotective. Worried too much. Not Nora Hamilton. She was a quiet but steady force in their family who’d taught her children that God had a unique plan for their lives.

So what was the unique plan for Chris Hamilton?

A heavy hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder and Chris met Coach Swanson’s knowing gaze. Had his coach seen a glimpse of the conflict raging inside him?

“Your dad will be proud of you no matter what you decide to do with your life,” he said.

But Chris wasn’t so sure. He turned down the coach’s offer for a ride home and once outside, hit the sidewalk at an easy lope to work the kinks out of his muscles.

God, if You have something in mind for me, I hate to rush You, but You better move fast. Dad has his mind made up and I don’t know how to tell him that I’d rather ask people if they want to upgrade their order of fries than balance accounts or write articles.

He took a shortcut through the back of the parking lot and that’s when he heard it. A faint yelp. He eased his pace and then stopped when he heard it again. Only now he heard words. Shrill with fear.

“Just leave me alone! I have to get home.”

“Did you hear that? He has to get home. Maybe his mommy will ground him if he’s late.”

Chris didn’t hesitate. He followed the voices and when he stepped around the corner, two guys who looked to be in their late teens had backed a boy he recognized from study hall up against the building.

“Everybody knows kids from your side of town got money,” Chris heard one of the guys growl. “Give it up or we’ll have to beat it out of you.”

“Two against one.” Chris took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. “Doesn’t look like a fair fight to me.”

Not to mention that the kid pressed against the brick wall was a freshman and probably wouldn’t tip the scale at a hundred pounds.

“Think you’re going to even things up?” one of the guys sneered, lifting his fist. Which just happened to be wrapped around a baseball bat.

For a split second, fear skittered up Chris’s spine. The boy they’d lined up as a target took advantage of the distraction Chris had offered and sidled up behind him.

What have you gotten yourself into, Hamilton? The thought raced through Chris’s mind but he held his ground.

The guy with the bat took a menacing step closer. “This isn’t your business, man.”

“It is now,” Chris said, forcing his voice to sound calm. Guys like this could probably smell fear. He had his doubts he was going to be able to talk his way out of this. Bat Boy didn’t look like he’d be big on negotiations.

“Thanks, Chris.” The boy hovering in his shadow barely breathed the words, but Chris heard him. For some reason, the quiet words gave him an unexpected dose of strength.

He was going to get them out of this. With both their limbs intact. He just wasn’t sure how….

“Man, get out of here. There’s a squad car,” Bat Boy’s friend suddenly hissed.

The glare of the headlights from a police car chased away the shadows and momentarily disoriented them. Chris’s eyes adjusted quickly, just in time to see the guy with the bat pull it back in a broad arc. Chris guessed his intent immediately. To buy himself some more time to get away, he was going to let it fly at the two officers who’d jumped out of the squad car and were heading toward them.

Chris instinctively dove for the guy’s legs, taking him out in a tackle that Coach Swanson would have been proud of.

“First down,” he rasped at Bat Boy, who struggled to get away from him.

In less than five minutes, both the guys were handcuffed and sitting in the back of the squad car.

“Pretty quick reflexes.” The cop, who looked to be in his forties, looked at Chris and grinned. “Don’t you think so, Jason?”

“Not bad at all,” the other officer, Jason, agreed. Given the height and build of the younger officer, Chris knew Coach would’ve loved to recruit him as a line-backer for the football team.

“We’ve been having some trouble with kids being harassed lately and I have a feeling these might be our guys,” the officer who’d complimented Chris said. “Could you boys come down to the station and give us a statement? We’ll give you a lift home afterward.”

A half hour later, Chris was in the break room listening to the officers’ easy banter as shift change approached. Rich, the boy who’d almost been attacked, had finished writing his statement and his parents had already picked him up. Jason had taken the two guys to the jail for processing while Chris waited for Sergeant Evans, who’d made the arrest, to finish up some loose ends.

“The sergeant said you made a pretty gutsy move tonight,” one of the officers said, sliding a can of soda over to Chris. “Handled yourself pretty well.”

Chris shrugged at the unexpected praise and felt his face grow warm as the other officers shifted their attention to him. “I didn’t have time to think about it.”

“Ever think about our ride-along program?” Jason asked as he wandered in, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

“What’s that?”

“High-school students interested in a career in law enforcement ride along for a few shifts. See what it’s like, whether it’s a good fit. That’s what sold me,” Jason explained.

The officers laughed good-naturedly.

“You haven’t made your probation yet, Welsh,” one of them teased.

“Maybe he’s recruiting his replacement.”

Chris glanced at Jason but could tell that he was enjoying the attention. And didn’t seem to take any of their comments seriously.

“Maybe I’m recruiting my future partner,” Jason shot back.

Sergeant Evans appeared in the doorway. “Ready to go, Chris?”

Chris glanced at the clock on the wall and cringed. It was quarter after eleven. He should have called home the minute he’d gotten to the police department. Maybe by some stroke of luck everyone would be sleeping.

As Sergeant Evans pulled the squad car into the driveway a few minutes later and Chris saw a light glowing behind the curtains in the family room, he knew the chances of sneaking upstairs without disturbing anyone were slim. Hopefully it was his mom waiting up for him. Nora tended to listen first and ask questions later. His dad was just the opposite.

He opened the car door and Sergeant Evans pulled a business card out of his pocket and gave it to Chris.

“I’m sure you’ve got your future all figured out, but give me a call if you’re interested in the ride-along program,” he said.

Chris tucked it into his back pocket and paused to watch the squad car cruise away. Then he remembered the three chapters he should have had memorized by now. Sighing, he slipped in through the front door and stepped carefully around the floorboards near the coatrack that had a tendency to squeak. He’d been busted by that squeak on more than one occasion over the years.

“It’s about time. If you didn’t show up by midnight I was going to call the cops.” Heather didn’t even glance up from the textbook cradled in her lap as he tried to slink past the family room.

“That’s who I was with.”

Chris waited for her reaction and it didn’t disappoint him. Heather lifted her nose out of the hallowed pages of the College Prep Advanced English text and her mouth dropped open.

“What are you talking about?”

He flopped into the chair across from her and gave her a play-by-play of the last few hours, ending with Sergeant Evans’s invitation to take part in the ride-along program.

“You’re going to, aren’t you?” Heather ventured cautiously. “You want to. I can see it on your face.”

Chris closed his eyes. How could he put it into words? He didn’t quite understand what had happened, either. All he knew was for the first time in months, thinking about his future didn’t give him that restless feeling. He felt excited instead.

“Come on, Chris,” Heather urged quietly. “Talk to me. I know you’ve been having a hard time.”

That shouldn’t have surprised him. It was the weird bond between twins everyone liked to talk about. It was true, though. He’d always felt closer to Heather than he did to his older brothers. Womb-mates, she laughingly called them. Even though he and Heather were close, there were still some things she didn’t understand. How could she? Everyone but him was a round Hamilton peg that fit into a round Hamilton hole.

“I did something that mattered tonight,” Chris said. “And it felt good. Something bad might have happened to Rich if I hadn’t stepped in. He was scared to death. So was I.” He could admit it now but it hadn’t stopped him from getting involved.

“But Dad…” Heather began, and then hesitated, not wanting to put a damper on his excitement.

She didn’t have to. Chris had weathered his father’s disapproval at various times over the years but even now he wasn’t sure he could stand strong under the weight of his disappointment.

“Pray about it first, Chris,” Heather said.

Her words hit him with the force of a pile driver. He had prayed about it.

If You have something in mind, God…You better move fast….

A sense of wonder washed over him. Maybe he’d already received the answer. Because even though he’d just spent the past hour with a group of police officers—people he’d never met until tonight—he’d felt like he fit in.