Page 48 of Nash Falls

She led him upstairs where Alice was now propped up in bed. The woman watched Nash like a hawk as he approached.

“Momma, this is Walter Nash, Ty’s son. And we get to stay here. Momma, do you understand me? Walter is helping us, so that this is our house for now.”

Alice continued to eye Nash with an unfriendly look. “You really Ty’s son?” she said in a voice raspy and faint.

“I am, yes.”

“You sure don’t look the part.”

Nash glanced down at his suit and tie and polished shoes. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

He gazed back up at her. And in that look, there seemed, at least to Nash, to be a bit of a bonding moment.

Alice said, “Sons ought to be different from their fathers. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“I think so, too,” said Nash with a smile.

“But,” began Alice.

“But what?” said Nash pleasantly.

“But I see some of Ty in you.”

“Your eyes are better than mine then,” joked Nash.

However, Alice didn’t crack a smile. “I been around a long time, son. Seen a lot. And IseeTy in you.”

Nash looked at her awkwardly until Parker, sensing his discomfort, quickly said, “Walter was just leaving. He wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Walter. Thanks for the house.”

“Well, you can thank my father for that, Alice. But on that point he and I are in complete agreement.”

She then gave him an endearing smile and it hurt his heart, because Nash thought it quite likely that this would be the last time he would see the woman. And he also thought about what she had said.

She can see some of my father in me?

No one had ever saidthatbefore. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had heard some of the dads of his few friends growing up discussing in quiet tones how a combat warrior like Ty Nash—a man’s man, as Shock had said at the funeral service—could have a son like him. And even as a youngster, the precocious Nash understood it was not meant to be a compliment.

He started to walk out to the Range Rover but then changed direction and ventured into the backyard. Miraculously, the house next door still had the old doghouse from his younger days. He leaned on the chain-link fence, closed his eyes, and imagined himself a little boy again sneaking over there to play with his furry chum, Rusty. When he opened his eyes he saw a little boy emerge from the back of the house followed by a yapping and bouncy terrier puppy.

He saw Nash and waved. Nash waved back and asked, “What’s your dog’s name?”

“Sup.”

“Sup?”

“Like, ‘what’s up?’ You know.”

“Yes. Right.” He pointed to the doghouse. “Does Sup stay in there?”

“No way, mister. He sleeps with me.”

“Very smart,” said Nash. When the boy’s mother came out of the house and gave Nash a suspicious look, he turned and left.

CHAPTER

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