Cheated By Death Read Online Free PDF Page A

she
said, once we were on the road and heading home.
    “What do you want me to say?”
    “Nothing. Let me tell him. In my own
way.”
    “You know him better than me,” I said, hoping
I wouldn’t get the third degree later anyway.
    I dropped her off and was only an hour late
for work, and I busted my ass trying to make up for it. Between
drawing beers and mixing drinks, I spent the evening pondering the
absurdity of Linden and his followers harassing elderly women who
weren’t likely to get pregnant—let alone abort—any time soon.

    Long ago, I found keeping busy the
perfect way to distract myself from life—like thinking about Linden
and his followers. Or Richard’s next blood test.
    Like thinking about my father.
    I worked late on Friday, and got offered and
took a last-minute job tending bar at a wedding reception on
Saturday—even though it meant canceling a date with Maggie. I even
managed to pick up an extra shift at the bar on Sunday. But by
Monday evening I faced the silent telephone and decided to make the
call I’d lost so much sleep over.
    It was after nine when I finally dialed the
number.
    “Hello?” A young woman’s voice startled
me.
    “I’m looking for Chet Resnick.”
    “Who’s calling?”
    “Uh . . . Jeff.” I cleared my throat.
“Jeffrey Resnick.”
    “Dad,” she called, “it’s him !”
    Dad?
    Did old Chester have a second family?
    Did I have a sister?
    An older man came on the line. “Son?”
    Rattled, I almost hung up. “Chester Resnick?
Married to Elizabeth Alpert?”
    “That’s right. What took you so long to call,
boy?”
    What took me so long? The old man had
balls, I’ll give him that. “I’m not even sure why I
called.”
    “Things didn’t work out between your mother
and me. I don’t know what she told you, but—”
    “She didn’t say much. Just that you were
gone. I assumed you were dead.”
    “She wished I was,” he said with bitterness
and coughed, a loud, rattling sound. “Did your brother tell you I’m
sick?”
    “He mentioned it.”
    “I’m going to die pretty soon. But I’d like
to know you first. When can you come see me?”
    I didn’t answer right away. “I dunno.” I
still didn’t know if I wanted to.
    “Tomorrow morning?”
    Pushy bastard. Wary, I asked, “What
time?”
    “Ten. Bring doughnuts. I like the ones with
chocolate on top and custard inside.”
    “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    He didn’t say goodbye, just hung up.
    I stared at the phone for a long time,
wondering if I’d made a really big mistake.

    CHAPTER
    3

    I stopped at a Tim’s Dairy, not some
franchise place, for the best doughnuts in town. Don’t ask me why.
And don’t ask me why I kept this visit from Richard and Maggie. I
don’t know that, either. Maybe because they’d been pushy about it.
Pushy, like Chet. I was tired of being pushed into seeing this old
man . . . even if curiosity drove me to do it anyway.
    My father’s house was on the outskirts of the
city, only ten minutes from Richard’s place. In the week since I'd
found out my father was alive, I'd driven by some eight or ten
times. Sometimes a white Mustang sat in the driveway, other times
there’d be a battered old Ford Focus. The Focus was in the drive
when I pulled up.
    Doughnut bag in hand, I walked to the front
door. I stood there, staring at the surname on the mailbox—my name.
My stomach tightened in dread—like a kid called to the principal’s
office. Maybe I should just turn around. Go home. But I couldn’t.
Even if I didn’t like what I found out, it was better than not
knowing.
    Maybe.
    I closed my eyes—opened my mind—and got the
same flash of something I’d experienced days earlier when Richard
first told me about Chet. Death. Still couldn’t understand what it
meant, but it had to relate to my father.
    It had to.
    My knuckles rapped against the door’s flaking
paint. Moments later an Hispanic woman in a white nurse’s uniform
opened it.
    “I’m here to see Chet