Read Online Angels Walking by Karen Kingsbury - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Kingsbury
Ads: Link
room.”
“Tyler . . .” Mrs. Cook’s expression darkened. “I need rent money.”
“I’m paid up through Friday. But after that . . .” He shrugged his good shoulder. What could he say? “I need to find a job. I could maybe . . . pay half the rent and then the other half after I find something?”
“I’m very sorry, Tyler.” She shook her head and looked out the window for a moment. “Mr. Cook and I count on thatmoney. We use it to pay the mortgage.” She looked back at him. “We usually get four hundred for the room. You know that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The pain pills weren’t working. “I’m just not sure what to do.”
“Me, either.” Her expression filled with remorse. “I’m awful sorry.”
Tyler waited, expecting some sort of compromise. He hadn’t been late on rent once. But none came. “So that’s it?”
“Stay till the end of the week, of course.” She managed a weak smile. “No need to leave today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stood and returned to his room. By then his entire body was shaking, desperate for a way around the pain. Maybe he could take another pill. Certainly that couldn’t hurt. He dropped to his chair and used his knees to brace a water bottle. Then he ripped off the top. He had to use his right hand to brace the lid while he twisted with his left. The effort killed, but one additional pill and a swig of water and he could at least know relief was on the way.
The next two days passed in a haze of medicated pain and restlessness. The pills helped, but even when they were working he couldn’t get good sleep. He could only truly rest when he was sitting up, when his shoulder didn’t feel detached from his body. His mind was another problem. Much as he quickly came to love the pain pills, he was clear-headed only in the morning—when the medication had worn off. That’s when he would drive to Chick-fil-A for a breakfast wrap and a couple regular chicken sandwiches. Lunch and dinner for later in the day. Then he’d head backto his room. A few of the guys had called or texted. Jep had stopped by to check on him. But the team was busy with games.
Finally it was Friday, and as he walked into the house with his bag of food, Mrs. Cook was waiting. “Today’s your last day, then?”
Tyler regretted not spending more time with the woman. Maybe if she’d known him better she would’ve been willing to help. But it was too late for any of that. “Yes, ma’am. Packing up.”
She smiled, nervous. “The new tenant is a baseball player, too. Another pitcher. Just got into town.”
He stared at her. What was he supposed to say to that? His heart fell to his feet and he managed a quick nod before moving past her and up the stairs to his room. His heart pounded in his aching shoulder as he sat down. Was she serious? Did she really think he would want to know that sort of information? The Blue Wahoos were bringing in a new pitcher and he was going to sleep in Tyler’s old room?
So this was God’s idea of a little help?
He ate his breakfast and took the pain pills. Three of them again. The only thing he had to look forward to now. As he washed them down, he stared into the bottle. Already it was half gone. He put the lid back on and set the bottle carefully on his nightstand. Couldn’t let anything happen to the pills.
He stared at the empty boxes still in the middle of his floor. It was time to pack.
Tyler started in the corner of the room where a bookcaseheld his trophies. Whenever he moved, they were the first things he packed. Especially the big one. The single item that mattered most to him. The two-foot-tall trophy engraved with the words that used to define him.
Little League World Series Most Valuable Player, 2002.
Proof that at one time he had been more than a homeless, washed-up baseball player.
He had been a champion.
6
T YLER RAN HIS FINGERS over the old trophy and the years scattered like so many particles of dust. The Simi Valley
“Tyler . . .” Mrs. Cook’s expression darkened. “I need rent money.”
“I’m paid up through Friday. But after that . . .” He shrugged his good shoulder. What could he say? “I need to find a job. I could maybe . . . pay half the rent and then the other half after I find something?”
“I’m very sorry, Tyler.” She shook her head and looked out the window for a moment. “Mr. Cook and I count on thatmoney. We use it to pay the mortgage.” She looked back at him. “We usually get four hundred for the room. You know that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The pain pills weren’t working. “I’m just not sure what to do.”
“Me, either.” Her expression filled with remorse. “I’m awful sorry.”
Tyler waited, expecting some sort of compromise. He hadn’t been late on rent once. But none came. “So that’s it?”
“Stay till the end of the week, of course.” She managed a weak smile. “No need to leave today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stood and returned to his room. By then his entire body was shaking, desperate for a way around the pain. Maybe he could take another pill. Certainly that couldn’t hurt. He dropped to his chair and used his knees to brace a water bottle. Then he ripped off the top. He had to use his right hand to brace the lid while he twisted with his left. The effort killed, but one additional pill and a swig of water and he could at least know relief was on the way.
The next two days passed in a haze of medicated pain and restlessness. The pills helped, but even when they were working he couldn’t get good sleep. He could only truly rest when he was sitting up, when his shoulder didn’t feel detached from his body. His mind was another problem. Much as he quickly came to love the pain pills, he was clear-headed only in the morning—when the medication had worn off. That’s when he would drive to Chick-fil-A for a breakfast wrap and a couple regular chicken sandwiches. Lunch and dinner for later in the day. Then he’d head backto his room. A few of the guys had called or texted. Jep had stopped by to check on him. But the team was busy with games.
Finally it was Friday, and as he walked into the house with his bag of food, Mrs. Cook was waiting. “Today’s your last day, then?”
Tyler regretted not spending more time with the woman. Maybe if she’d known him better she would’ve been willing to help. But it was too late for any of that. “Yes, ma’am. Packing up.”
She smiled, nervous. “The new tenant is a baseball player, too. Another pitcher. Just got into town.”
He stared at her. What was he supposed to say to that? His heart fell to his feet and he managed a quick nod before moving past her and up the stairs to his room. His heart pounded in his aching shoulder as he sat down. Was she serious? Did she really think he would want to know that sort of information? The Blue Wahoos were bringing in a new pitcher and he was going to sleep in Tyler’s old room?
So this was God’s idea of a little help?
He ate his breakfast and took the pain pills. Three of them again. The only thing he had to look forward to now. As he washed them down, he stared into the bottle. Already it was half gone. He put the lid back on and set the bottle carefully on his nightstand. Couldn’t let anything happen to the pills.
He stared at the empty boxes still in the middle of his floor. It was time to pack.
Tyler started in the corner of the room where a bookcaseheld his trophies. Whenever he moved, they were the first things he packed. Especially the big one. The single item that mattered most to him. The two-foot-tall trophy engraved with the words that used to define him.
Little League World Series Most Valuable Player, 2002.
Proof that at one time he had been more than a homeless, washed-up baseball player.
He had been a champion.
6
T YLER RAN HIS FINGERS over the old trophy and the years scattered like so many particles of dust. The Simi Valley
Similar Books
