Catching Baby Moses by Anthony Barbera

Author:Anthony Barbera
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Full Grace Publishing
Published: 2016-04-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

TUESDAY AFTERNOON PERCY stopped by the school and waited outside to see if he could catch up with Norton. Norton spotted the mottled truck, Percy looking out the passenger window. At first, his instinct was to hide his face and take off in the other direction, camouflaged by all the other students leaving school. But Percy spotted him and called out, “Hey Norton,” he waved, “come on over.”

Norton walked over and smiled grudgingly.

“Hey, jump in for a second. You want a ride home?”

“Sure.” Norton climbed in.

“Son, I owe you an apology. I should have reminded you that I was going on my trip to Cocos Island. I just...well, Norton, I don’t have kids. I didn’t get to it. So, I’m telling you right now—I apologize.”

Norton looked up at Percy, “Okay, coach. But I got my first game on Saturday, and I need some work. I suck lately...”

“All right,” Percy smiled and started the truck, “I’ll be at your game, Norton. Now jump in, I’ll give you a lift home.”

Percy’s truck meandered through the shady streets of Old Duram, twisting along the Napa River. Norton wasn’t saying much, just pointing the way. Both of them noticed the collection of RVs, old toys, bicycles, and car parts sitting in the front yards. Then there were the weeds; nobody around here liked to pull weeds.

Percy told Norton how proud he was of how hard he’d worked, especially on his timing. His pass patterns were becoming crisp and consistent. It allowed the quarterback a measure of confidence, knowing that when he threw the ball downfield, the receiver would be at the proper location when the ball arrived. It was all about timing.

Norton’s house in Old Duram was less than four miles from Percy’s (as the crow flies). The truth was, you had to drive all the way around to get there: along the meandering river road past about a hundred river cottages, tucked in and camouflaged by pungent Bay trees, Redwood, and Elm.

As Percy approached the front of Norton’s house, seated on the front steps, beer in hand, was a glazed over and scruffy looking Jeffrey Ryder. He was wearing a dirty, stained tee-shirt and three days’ worth of stubble. A clutter of empty Pabst Blue Ribbon beer bottles sat on the steps beside him.

Percy slowed the truck to a grunting halt as Norton dropped his head. Embarrassed, he pointed, “That’s my dad. He doesn’t always look that way—mostly he wears a suit...except he’s been upset lately.”

Jeffrey rose and stumbled toward the gate, squinting as he missed the path entirely, clutching at the overgrown foliage. Norton hopped out of the truck, quickly running toward the gate.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Where you been?” Jeffrey slurred his words, “I’ve been wondering where you were.”

Norton slid through the gate and shut it. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had asked where he was going or when he’d be home.

“I was going to call—” Norton tried to explain.

“Who the hell’s that?” Jeffrey pointed at Percy in the truck.

“Don’t talk like that, God, he’s my coach—Mr.

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