Reuniting His Family

He leaned against the cab of his truck and looked out at the pine forest as he now waited for the voice mail to connect.

“Rhys, this is Neal Hazard.”

A film of dampness formed between his palm and the phone.

“Sorry about calling so late on a Friday. We’re working out near Watertown, and I just got back. If you’re still interested in the job, give me a call, anytime until nine tonight or during the day tomorrow.”

Rhys checked the time: 8:52. Good thing he’d skipped the party. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight without knowing what Neal had to say. He quickly dialed Neal’s number.

“Neal Hazard.”

“Neal, it’s Rhys Maddox.”

“Hi. I know I said I’d get back to you earlier this week, but your Albany reference was on vacation. I couldn’t get hold of him until today. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

One, two, three, four, five. Rhys counted so he could come across calmer than he was. “Yes, definitely.”

“Good. Can you start Monday?”

“Not a problem.”

“I hope the next part isn’t, either. We’ll be working the Watertown job for the next three weeks. It’s about a three-hour drive. The crew has been staying there during the week and coming home on weekends.”

Owen and Dylan’s fall soccer season was starting already, and he’d promised Owen he’d come to his first game next Tuesday. Then there was that Building Bridges meeting Pastor Connor had told him about. They were all important, but he had to get his priorities straight. He needed a job to regain custody of Owen and Dylan. For now, the job came first. It had to—for his sons.

“If it’s not okay, you can start in three weeks,” Neal said in response to his hesitation.

“No. I mean, yes, I can start Monday.” He had to think long-term, even if Owen would be disappointed, and he’d make Dylan’s game tomorrow, his first one. “I didn’t ask this at the interview, but do I need my own tools?” Shame washed over him. Gwen had had to sell his.

“The company has tools. You’ll probably want to get your own as time goes on.”

Rhys smiled at the night sky. As time goes on. He liked the sound of that.

“Be at the office at six, Monday morning. We take company trucks.”

He patted the side of his pickup. Another plus. “I’ll be there. Thanks for giving me this opportunity.”

“You’re qualified. Why wouldn’t I?”

Rhys could think of many reasons another man might not. But he simply said, “See you Monday,” then hung up.

Rhys pushed off the truck, climbed in and let out a cheer as he headed home, not sure that he’d be getting a whole lot more sleep than if he hadn’t called Neal.

* * *

Morning’s arrival proved him right about the sleep, or lack of it. The two cups of coffee he’d had at home before leaving for Dylan’s soccer game had only taken the edge off his sleep-deprivation fog. So he’d stopped at the coffee shop in Schroon Lake for another, which had taken far longer than he’d expected. Now, he was running late for the game.

He approached the field behind the high school and spotted his son. He lifted his hand to raise his arm and get Dylan’s attention, so he’d know he was there, but then stopped. Rhys didn’t want to embarrass him, or worse, distract Dylan and get him in trouble with his coach.

“Rhys!” Jack Hill beckoned him over to the bleacher where he and Suzi sat.

This morning was supposed to be Dylan’s time, so Suzi had arranged for Owen to go to his friend Alex’s house.

“Sorry.” Rhys lifted his coffee cup. “It took longer than I expected.”

“Don’t worry,” Suzi said. “The game is just starting.”

Rhys sat next to Jack. “Did Dylan say anything about me not being here?”

“No, he was fine,” Suzi said.

He knew her words were meant to reassure him, but they didn’t. Rhys gulped down the rest of his coffee. Thursday afternoon at the lake had gone so well. He’d been looking forward to today and thought Dylan might be, too. He crumpled his empty cup. He was making too big a deal of things.

“Hi, Rhys.” A voice he couldn’t place at first came from behind him.

He turned. “Hi, Claire.” He nodded. “Renee.” They were with several other people he assumed were family members.

“Robbie plays on Dylan’s team,” Claire said.

“Claire, you can socialize later,” an older man said. “The game’s starting.”

“Dad, it’s a kids’ game, not the World Cup.”

“But your bobbing back and forth is distracting,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I want to be able to see Robbie.”

Claire shook her head and sat back on the bleacher.

Rhys had no intention of socializing with Claire, but he did want to talk privately with Renee about the job and working out of town the next three weeks. It would save him a phone call to CPS on Monday. He’d have to catch her after the game.

He turned his attention to the field. The game was more a comedy of errors than a competition, and he enjoyed every minute of it, cheering Dylan and his team on, along with the Hills and Renee’s family behind them. A fleeting thought of Gwen, the only woman he’d ever loved, and what she was missing—what he’d missed—made his joy bittersweet.

Dylan raced over after the game ended. “Suzi, did you see? I kicked the ball three times.”

Rhys swallowed his disappointment that his son went to Suzi and not him. He knew he was expecting too much too soon. “That last kick was almost a goal.”

“I know.” Dylan beamed at him, lifting his spirits. The boy turned to Jack. “Can we get ice cream on the way home?”

“Sure thing,” Jack said. “Your dad can meet us at the ice-cream stand.”

Two steps forward. One step back. “I wouldn’t miss it. I need to talk with Ms. Delacroix and then I’ll be right there.”

Dylan nodded and Rhys watched him walk away with the Hills, nearly missing Renee leaving with Claire. He jogged the few steps to catch up with them.

“Renee, I need to talk with you, if you have a minute.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be at the car.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “About Owen and Dylan.”