The words I once considered to be my father’s last rang through my head. No regrets. Such simple yet powerful words. But thinking about my father brought all my anger back, this time mixed with the pain of loss.
Even without the events with my father, this trip with Deborah had proven to be more complicated than I planned. Things were simpler before when I was alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Deborah
“Will!” I cried out as he left.
Still not feeling like myself I couldn’t run after him. He didn’t want to be chased anyway. My head swam as I tried to understand everything that happened. It felt like I was in a bad dream.#p#分页标题#e#
Will’s father was expressionless. I couldn’t understand how he could be so cold. He hadn’t seen his son in all this time and all he had for him were excuses. I looked at the older version of Will standing before me and wondered why he hadn’t left yet.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded as I glared at him. “That’s your son! I don’t understand everything that happened, but I don’t see how any parent could just let their child walk away like that. How can you let him leave? You’re abandoning him again!”
“You couldn’t begin to understand,” he said.
“Why don’t you try me?”
I challenged his gaze as he stood quietly. He paced the grounds looking like he had something to say. As I waited, he looked over at Stewart who nodded.
“On one condition,” Bill said. “You have to promise to tell Will my story. Maybe then he’ll understand.”
“Of course. He deserves to know.”
Will’s father looked up at the abbey wistfully. Lost in thought for a moment, he cracked his knuckles one by one. He spoke quietly at first.
“I guess the best place to start is the beginning,” he said. “I am William Hargrove King, jr. But most people call me Bill.”
Chapter Eighteen
Bill
“As a boy growing up in poverty, I knew I didn’t have many choices for my life. My parents tried as hard as they could to provide my brothers and I with what they could, but it was rare we could afford anything special or new.
“Still, the neighborhood was no where near as decrepit as the night I took Will to see his future, the flagship Hargrove’s store. It’s sad how that one tragic event formed the person he became.
“Back when I was a child, that section of Canyon Cove was mostly populated by immigrants. Will’s grandparents came to the United States with very little in their pockets and nothing more than a dream to guide them.
“My father went by Will too. The family called me Bill to minimize confusion. With all of his savings from working as a day labor, my father was able to open the first Hargrove’s store. He named it Hargrove’s to honor his mother, my grandmother, whose name we carried.
“But my father’s Hargrove’s wasn’t anything like the one in existence now. Instead of hundreds of fine department stores, my father’s shop was a corner market where neighborhood folk could buy a few groceries and other basic items. I wanted a better life than that.
“During my last year of high school, an army recruiter came in and made an impressive presentation. He offered us exotic locales and training we could build on for the rest of our lives. I was sold. I didn’t need anymore specifics other than it was a way out of that tiny corner of Canyon Cove.
“After enlisting I was required to take an exam to test my psyche. Somehow this multiple choice test told them my best fit within the military. Needless to say, I look at things a bit differently than others and they determined my best fit was as sniper.
“The recruiter didn’t lie. I did get to travel, but I can’t say any of the locales were particularly exotic. If anything, it made me appreciate the beauty of Canyon Cove more and is why when I decided to lay down roots, I moved back.
“Don’t get me wrong, I was the first to admit I never wanted roots. Bill King didn’t want to settle down and my occupation made my loneliness practically a requirement. To be honest, I preferred my own company to that of others. At least until I met Charlotte, Will’s mother. I remember it like it was yesterday.”
Thirty-five Years Ago
The military didn’t keep their killers for long. Something to do with dehumanization. So after I completed my four years, they offered me another position. It was their way of making sure their assassins didn’t snap from overwork. It takes a special mindset to be able to continue this job successfully.
Retirement in my twenties was the furthest thing on my mind though. I loved my job and I was making more money than I knew what to do with. Since the military didn’t want me anymore, I learned how to do it in the private sector by taking contracts.