Broken Identity (13 page)

Ronnie sat with his arms folded. “You called Arrow a stupid fuzz-ball.”

Drake scratched his head. “I said that?”

“You don’t remember?”

Drake looked both ways and leaned forward. “Hey, want me to show you something?”

Ronnie scooted close. “Sure. What is it?”

“I saw there was a piano in the living room. Does it work? In tune, I mean?”

“Beats me. Why? Do you play?”

“About anything you wanna hear. I can show you after breakfast.”

“Sweet. Think you can teach me?”

“Um…yeah.”
More like in your dreams.

Andrew emerged from the kitchen with a platter of stacked pancakes. “All right, you guys, a little black on the edges, but that’s a proud trademark of us bad cooks, so eat up.” The faint smell of hazelnut filled Drake’s nostrils as Andrew slid him a hot cup of coffee. Did the goodness never end?

Drake’s mouth watered as he forked four pancakes onto his plate, poured the syrup on thick, and shoved a large bite in his mouth. The flavor was phenomenal.

Andrew directed his attention to Ronnie and said politely, “Ronnie, would you like to pray over the food?”

Drake stopped chewing and looked at them both. Apparently, he had broken some kind of religious rule. He swallowed his bite and half-closed his eyes as Ronnie said a short prayer.
This whole town must be filled with religious nuts. Oh, well. If they wanna give me money for no reason and a place for me to stay, I can play along.

Andrew lifted his head after the prayer was finished and said, “I don’t want any leftovers, so let’s eat!”

And boy, did Drake eat. For years, he had made a habit of skipping breakfast in the morning because of money issues. Then when he did get to eat, it was some stale, off-brand cereal that had cost practically nothing, and usually water had to be substituted for milk, because after all, “Water’s better for ya and cheaper than milk, so why can’t we just live with what comes out of the faucet and be happy?” his dad would say. Drake shook his head at the thought of it now. Beer had always been the exception for his dad.

Drake kept quietly to himself as Andrew and Ronnie talked.
If only he’ll let me stay another night. Just one more rainy night and he’ll give me a room again. I can’t imagine anything better than this.

Ronnie was piling food into his mouth almost as fast as Drake was. He forced a large bite down his throat and blurted, “Now can you show me?”

Andrew glanced at Drake. “Show him what?”

Drake sensed his face reddening. “Oh, uh…I couldn’t help but notice your piano in the living room. If you don’t mind, I’d kinda like to play it.”

“You play?”

“I mean, every now and then. I don’t own my own piano, but the hospital close to where I lived had a piano in the waiting room, and they let me play whenever I wanted.”

“How did you learn?”

Drake wondered exactly what he meant by that. How did trash like him ever learn to play such a beautiful instrument? Or maybe he meant to ask how he could afford a teacher, especially if he were so poor. Drake didn’t think the man intended to be impolite, but he was used to caustic comments and had to be on guard. “I taught myself. It really wasn’t that hard. I heard a song one day, tried to play it, and bingo. Starting out was kinda bumpy, but over time I worked out the rough spots until I could play the whole song smoothly.”

“That’s amazing,” Andrew remarked.

“It’s really not that good.”

“Why don’t you play for us?”

“Yeah, uh…what’s your name again?” Ronnie said.

“Drake,” he said, suddenly feeling something strange happening on the inside of him. He actually felt important, like maybe something he did really had value and worth. These people had welcomed him into their home, given him food and a place to stay, and now actually seemed interested in what he did. Even if the kid did get on his nerves, and Andrew was one of those religious people, at least they hadn’t treated him with contempt as so many others had.

“So are you gonna play for us or not?” Ronnie said, tugging Drake’s arm.

Drake fought a smile. “Lead the way.”

Drake was all over the piano, flowing gracefully in both the high and low keys as he stretched his fingers to hit every note perfectly. This was a breeze, but his audience of two acted as if he were doing something truly spectacular. Who knew? Maybe he was. But he didn’t think so.

He ended the song beautifully and turned around to face Andrew and Ronnie. “I haven’t played in a while, so it’s kinda rusty.”

“Drake, that was marvelous!” Andrew exclaimed.

Ronnie clapped loudly.

“Ah, it’s really nothin’,” Drake said, blushing at all the applause. “Just something I picked up a long time ago.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Drake,” Andrew said. “You really have something there. Feel free to play the piano anytime. All it’s been good for so far is collecting dust.”

Drake laughed, but inside he was thinking of the possibilities.
Stay here and play…
Playing the piano was something he loved to do probably more than anything else, not to mention it was the
only
thing he had ever been good at. He loved listening to music, but being able to create and play his own music was even better. However, any chance of improvement had always been limited for him because the hospital was miles away.
Not anymore. Now, it’s all right here. Everything’s literally at my fingertips.

Ronnie whispered something in Andrew’s ear, and they both stood. “Excuse me, Drake,” Andrew said, stepping into the next room with Ronnie.

A frown erased Drake’s smile.
Already having doubts,
he thought.
Shoulda seen it coming before I got my hopes up.

“What is it, Ronnie?” Andrew said from the other room.

“Is he going to stay?”

Andrew glanced at Drake, who immediately broke away from his gaze. “Why? Do you want him to?”

Ronnie nodded. “He’s cool. I mean, he was a little grumpy last night, but—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Andrew said, lifting his hand. “Last night? You
saw
him last night?”

Ronnie looked guilty. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I waited until you were asleep before I went in his room. Sorry if I did anything wrong.”

Andrew knelt down and grabbed Ronnie by the shoulders. “Did he do something to you? Tell me, Ronnie.”

“No, he didn’t do nothin’. I just asked him a few questions, that’s all. Honest.”

“He didn’t lay a hand on you?”

“No. I already said that.”

A wave of relief swept over Andrew, and he let out a sigh.
He didn’t hurt Ronnie. Thank You for watching over him, God.

“But he
was
sorta grumpy,” Ronnie continued. “I think it was because he was real tired. I was mad at first.”

“How do you feel now?”

Ronnie smiled. “Now, I’m just happy he’s here. I’ve never been around someone his age before…I think if I had an older brother like other kids, he would look like Drake.”

Andrew found that amusing. “Oh, he would, would he?”

“He definitely would. So can he stay? Please?”

Andrew heard music begin to play and looked once more at Drake. “That’s up to him, Ronnie. He may have somewhere he needs to go. He’s looking for a job, you know.”

“He doesn’t have any family,” Ronnie protested. “He told me that last night.”

“I know, but still…”

Ronnie paused before saying, “I thought that’s why you brought me here. Because my family didn’t want me.”

Andrew groped for words, but he was speechless. Ronnie was right. He could try to talk himself out of it, but every time he looked at Drake, he knew that if he let him go, he may wind up on the streets somewhere searching his whole life for a place to call home.

“Why can’t
you
give him a job, Uncle Andy?” Ronnie said. “Something to make him stay.”

Andrew thought about Ronnie’s proposition.
Not a bad idea. The grass does need to be mowed every week, and the leaves all over the yard will be a hassle to rake up in the fall. Hmm…
“Drake!” he called.

Drake looked over his shoulder and saw Andrew waving him over. He scooted the piano bench back and ambled over to where Andrew and Ronnie stood.
Here it comes. Just buck up and prepare for it now so at least you won’t look floored after he hits ya with the news.
“Yes, sir?”

“Do you know how to do yard work, like using a push mower and a weed eater?”

Drake shoved his hands in his pockets. “Guess so. Why?”

“Would that be a job you think you’d be interested in?”

Drake shrugged. “I dunno. When I learn how to operate ’em, sure. I’m just looking for a job. Nothing specific.”

“That’s great,” Andrew said, clasping his hands together. “Now that it’s almost summer and the grass is really starting to shoot up, I was looking to hire someone. If you want the job—”

“I’d love to have the job!” Drake said quickly. “You can show me now if you want.”

“Drake, sit down,” Andrew said, leading him to a chair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just curious how serious you are.”

“About the job? I told you, I’d love to—”

“Not just the job. I mean…your life. What are you planning to do with your life, Drake?”

Drake was taken off guard by the abrupt change in subject. He began to wonder if this conversation was really about the yard or about himself. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Haven’t really thought that far ahead to be honest with you.”

“What were you planning to do once you got here? Earn enough money to find a home, go to college, or…”

“In time, I hope to buy my own place. That is, if I even get that far. I don’t have a detailed plan laid out for my life, if that’s what you’re asking. I just figured I’d tackle the problems as they come.”

“And you have no family at all? No second cousin somewhere, no long-lost aunt I could contact…no one?”

“Nope.”

“How much money do you expect to make for a job of taking care of my lawn every week?”

Drake tilted his head sideways as he thought. “Twenty dollars, maybe. And even
that’s
a maybe. You don’t have a very big yard.”

Andrew sat back and pursed his lips. “Tell you what. I think my yard’s worth thirty dollars a week, so…you can either have your choice of thirty dollars a week, or you can have room and board here. It’s completely up to you.”

Drake leaned forward. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“But…why? Why are you going out of your way to do a favor for me? You don’t even know me, for Pete’s sake.” Andrew searched for the right words. “It’s because…well, it’s not easy to put into words, but—”

“We want you to stay!” Ronnie blurted.

Drake looked at him warily. “I still don’t get it. What would be your advantage?”

“I told you, I need my yard mowed.”

“But—”

“If you would rather have the thirty dollars, then—”

“No, I just…”
This is crazy. No, it’s more than crazy. It’s insane. Something’s just not right with this picture.
Drake had never been more confused in all his life.

“Please stay, Drake,” Ronnie said, frowning to think he was considering otherwise. “I like to hear you play the piano.”

Drake tried to think of a comeback—any possible excuse he could give, no matter how lame it sounded. But he had to ask himself, why was he trying to run away from such kindness? Was it because he was afraid it was a trap? Maybe the cops had a bounty on him and he was falling for a trick. Or was it because he simply felt as if he didn’t deserve any of it? A nice house and good food was foreign to him. Was he afraid of the change? Of the love?

“I can help you with your room just like Uncle Andy helped me with mine,” Ronnie offered, his voice now low and serious.

Feeling outnumbered and unable to present any further arguments, Drake gave in. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this, and a simple ‘thank you’ seems so small. A home, a bed, great food to eat every day…wow. It’s like an answer to prayer.”

Andrew perked up at his choice of words. “Was that just an expression, or did you really mean it?”

“Of course, I’m thankful.”

“No, I mean when you said that this was an answer to prayer. Do you believe in prayer? In God?”

Here we go.
Drake didn’t mean to disappoint the man, but his answer was and always would be a flat-out, irreversible no. “Actually, no,” he said, studying the floor. It seemed like he was always looking at the floor or out of windows when a topic came up he didn’t want to discuss. “My mom did, but…well, it just didn’t work out for her.” Drake watched as Andrew tried to cover his disappointment. “Nothing against you. It’s just…not for me.”

“But do you
believe
in God?” Andrew prodded.

Drake bit his lip. “I’d rather not talk about this, if that’s OK.”

Andrew tried to smile. “Of course, it’s all right. Maybe some other time.”

How about never?
Drake wanted to say.

Chapter

8

A
WKWARD
A
DJUSTMENTS

Drake had two pairs of blue jeans slung over one arm and five T-shirts over the other. He glanced back at Andrew and saw him waiting for Ronnie in front of the fitting rooms. Should he really get all this stuff?

It wasn’t his money he was worried about. It was Andrew’s. It had been his idea to take him and Ronnie to the mall to buy them both new clothes, shoes, and anything else he could think of that they might need. Drake wished he had thought to pack extra clothing in his duffel bag before leaving home, because now he felt like a deprived child as he constantly checked price tags and wondered if they were too high. Spending over twenty dollars on a pair of jeans was too much, he thought. Did he really have to buy them new?

He set one of the T-shirts down and decided not to mention it to Andrew, knowing he really didn’t need five T-shirts when he could get by just as fine with four. It surprised him really, since it wasn’t his character to act like this, but something in his gut made him want to behave differently toward Andrew. Here was a man—crazy and maybe a little too kind—who just wanted to give him something for no reason and expected nothing in return. It never bothered him before to take advantage of other people, but he couldn’t bring himself to treat Andrew that way.