James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

They were standing on the sideline listening dejectedly to Joe Sheffield tell them they had “played a hell of a game” when a cop came up to the coach. There were three other cops on the far sideline talking to the Vikings players .

“Hey, Coach, can I talk to you for a minute?” the cop asked, motioning Joe Sheffield to step to the side. Joe looked at him and then at his nameplate, Dan Gillette. Dan was very fat, his face was purple and bloated, and he was breathing heavily from his walk across the field .

“Sure,” Joe said, but he didn’t move away from the team. If something was going to be said, it was going to be said in front of his players

“A player on the other team-I don’t know his name-is dead,” Officer Gillette said casually, like the kid had merely left the field to get a hamburger. He pointed to the other sideline. “Some of his teammates say he died because two of your people hit him illegally.”

“Bullshit!” someone shouted angrily. Joe Sheffield stuck his hand up to quiet them .

“Whoever’s making that accusation is wrong, Officer. It was a clean hit.”

“Maybe so,” Gillette replied. “But I gotta take the two involved in for questioning.” He turned to the team. “Who were the two guys who tackled the dead kid?” If the incident hadn’t been so tragic, Dan Gillette’s attitude and choice of words would have been funny .

Nobody responded .

“I got no takers, huh?” Dan said, looking around at their faces. “Okay, we’ll play it a different way.” He turned toward the far sideline and whistled. Two Viking players came across the field .

“Can you guys pick those two tacklers out?” the fat cop asked when they arrived .

The taller, heavier one pointed right at Floyd. “That nigger back there is definitely one of them.”

“Watch your mouth,” Frankie O’Connor snapped at him. “That cop is gonna be gone in a minute and you’re gonna be dealing with me.” The Vikings player didn’t react to Frankie’s words, although he had to have heard them .

“You!” Gillette yelled, pointing at Floyd. “Come up here. What about the other one?” he said, turning back to the two Vikings as Floyd slowly made his way out of the pack .

They scanned the faces of the Lexingtons. One of them fixed right on Rico. Johnny saw it .

“It was me,” Johnny said, stepping in front of Rico before the Vikings player could say anything. He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe deep down he knew things would go better if he, rather than Rico, went to the station with Floyd .

“No it wasn’t,” Rico said. “It was me.”

“No!” Johnny protested .

Rico grabbed Johnny by the shirt with both hands and pulled him close. “Listen,” he said. “Me and Floyd deal with cops all the time. We know how to get out of this. You - they’ll have you feeling so guilty about this guy dying, you’ll sign a full confession and still be apologizing as they cart you off to prison. Just shut up and let us handle this, okay?”

Rico didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and walked straight up to the cop .

“All right, let’s go down to the station,” Gillette said, motioning to Floyd and Rico. “You boys have some questions to answer.”

Charlene Pope-Charlie-had been a certified public accountant at the firm of Harrel and Jackson in New York City for twenty years. She was one of those strange people who truly found the tax code interesting. She loved her work, and she especially loved the firm she was with. All her significant relationships were at Harrel. She’d met her ex-husband there. When they divorced, there was no question that he would be the one who would have to go. Charlie would never leave the firm. She also met her best friend at Harrel-Pat Morgan.

Pat was ten years older than Charlie, but they had common interests. They liked concerts and sports, good books and men-not necessarily in that order. Pat was a runner, Charlie was a swimmer, and both of them were in great shape. Pat was the taller of the two, although Charlie was almost five-six. She had large green eyes that complemented her auburn hair and a smile so warm it could melt an iceberg.

They took long walks together accompanied by Charlie’s dog, Tinkerbell. Charlie was crushed when Pat moved to Florida but made frequent visits. As a senior member of the firm, she had plenty of vacation time stored up. And she loved Bass Creek.

“This place is like going back in time,” Charlie had exclaimed on her initiation morning at Jack and Pat’s special place on the river. “I feel like I’m part of it all-nature, I mean.” She caught the way Jack and Pat smiled at each other. “What? What did I say?”

“You said what we all say,” Pat told her. “That’s why it’s funny. Of course, if you didn’t say it, Jack and I would have to drop you as a friend.” Pat and Jack laughed, but they were half-serious.

Charlie felt like somebody had kicked her in the stomach the day she learned about Pat’s cancer. Denise Nichols, another friend of Pat’s and Charlie’s, worked in Human Resources at Pat’s old accounting firm, and Pat had called to check on her insurance coverage and to make sure the bills would be paid. Even though Pat had been working full-time as a teacher in Bass Creek, she was still considered a “substitute” because she had not received her certification from the state Department of Education. Consequently, she received no benefits from her teaching job.

Pat told Denise she was going to have some major bills but she was fuzzy on the details. Denise suggested Pat send the initial bills to her so she could personally verify the necessity, put them in line for payment, and make sure there were no glitches. When Denise saw the test results, she was shocked. She was almost in tears reading them when Charlie walked into her office to find out if she wanted to go to lunch.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked, noticing Denise’s teary eyes. Charlie had to do a little prying and persuading, but finally she got Denise to spill the beans. Try as she might, Denise could not keep the news from Charlie at that moment. Charlie was on the phone with Pat that night.

“I’ll be on the plane tomorrow,” she told Pat. “I just called to let you know I’m coming.”

“Charlie, I’m fine. There’s no need to come.”

“Are you doing chemo?”

“Yeah.”

“When does it start?”

“Monday.”

“Okay, I’ll be there Tuesday. How’s Jack doing?”

“He’s fine. We’re both fine. Really we are.”

“I’ll just have to see for myself. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

Charlie’s pushiness was a godsend for Jack, who had been faced with a dilemma. He had to file the motion for recusal personally in Miami and wait for the judge to sign the order, no matter how long it took. But he also didn’t dare leave Pat. Even though she looked okay, he knew she wasn’t, and he refused to leave her alone under any circumstances. Charlie’s arrival solved the problem. She was someone he trusted.

He stayed for an hour after Charlie arrived, to visit and catch up. He knew what a private person Pat was and that she hadn’t wanted anybody to know about her illness. Now that Charlie was here, he could tell that she was delighted. They could sit and have tea and talk and maybe take a walk-so far, Pat was feeling no ill effects from her first chemo treatment. And she could tell Charlie her fears-things that he knew she might hide from him. As the two women cheerfully waved good-bye, he felt his burden of concern lighten a little. They seemed to want to get rid of him.