Bygones by Lavyrle Spencer Read Free Book Online Page A

last time Michael had seen him was at a distance in a busy shopping center nearly three years ago. When Randy had spied him, the boy had done a brusque right face, disappearing into a store. Now here he-was, taller than his mother and shockingly goodlooking . Michael felt a paternal thrill at the sight of that dark hair so much like his own. He watched Randy shaking hands, giving up his overcoat. Finally Randy’s eyes found Michael’s, and the smile dropped from his mouth.
    Michael felt his chest constrict as the past rushed forth to polarize them both. How simple, Michael thought, to cross the room, speak his name, embrace this young man who as a boy had idolized his father, had followed beside him when he mowed the lawn and said, “Daddy, can I help?”
    But Michael could not move. He could only stand there with a lump in his throat, trapped by his own mistaken past.
    Bess moved into Michael’s line of vision. Her admonitions the other night at Lisa’s rang clearly in his head: Randy needs a father. Be one to him. But how?
    There were four other Padgett children, younger than Mark, and a grandmother and grandfather, all requiring introductions that seemed to shift people like fog. Bess shook hands with one after another and eventually reached her ex-husband.
    “Hello, Michael,” she said.
    “Hello, Bess.”
    They trained their eyes on the people in the room, avoiding the risk of lingering glances. Covertly he assessed her clothes, hair, nails-mercy, had she changed. As much as Randy, if not more. Bess said, “Randy’s grown up, hasn’t he?”
    “Has he ever. I couldn’t believe it was him.”
    “Are you going to talk to him?”
      “You think he’d talk to me?”
    “You can give it a try.”
    Hildy Padgett came from the kitchen with a tray of canap6’s. Jake Padgett was passing around cups of mulled cider. Randy stood across the room with his hands in his trouser pockets, glancing I occasionally at his father but determinedly keeping his distance.
    One of them had to make the move.
    It required a heroic effort, but Michael took the risk.
    He crossed the room and said, “Hello, Randy.”
    Randy said, “Yeah,” his eyes casting about beyond Michael’s shoulder. “I wasn’t sure it was you, you got so tall.”
    “Yeah, well, that happens, you know.”
    “How have you been?”
    Randy shrugged, still avoiding his father’s eyes.
    “Your mother tells me you’re still working in a warehouse. Do you like it?”
    “What’s to like? It’s just something to do till I get in with a band.”
    “A band?”
    “Yeah, drums-with a band, you know?”
    “You pretty good?”
    For the first time, Randy looked squarely into Michael’s eyes. “Spare me,” he said, and walked away.
    Michael’s stomach felt as if he’d leaped off a second-story roof. He watched Randy move off, then glanced over at Bess and found her watching. She’s right. I’m a failure as a father.
    Hildy Padgett came in and announced dinner.
    In the dining room, Michael and Bess were directed to seat themselves side by side at one end of the table, while Hildy and Jake presided at the opposite end. Mark and Lisa took chairs in the center of one long side, and the others were staggered around.
    As Michael pulled out Bess’s chair, he caught Randy watching sourly from diagonally across the table. In an undertone he said to Bess, “I don’t think Randy likes seeing me with you.”
    “Probably not,” she replied. “On the other hand, Lisa seems overjoyed. I’ve assured them both it’s all for appearances. So let’s see if we can’t keep up the charade for our children’s sake.”
    A platter of ham was passed around, followed by vegetables, warm rolls, and salad. Bess watched Michael load his plate with au gratin potatoes and said, “ Hildy really hit you in the taste buds, didn’t she?”
    “ Mmm . . . I still love ‘ em .”
    He always had. Her mother used to say, “That Michael is fun to cook for. He knows how to