Local Hero

be freezing.” Hester kissed Radley’s forehead. “It must be time for hot chocolate.”
    “Yeah!” Radley turned his beaming face to Mitch. “Want some? Mom makes real good hot chocolate.”
    It was tempting to put her on the spot. Perhaps it was a good thing for both of them that his temper was already fading. “Maybe next time.” He pulled Radley’s cap over his eyes. “I’ve got some things to do.”
    “Thanks a lot for letting us take Taz out. It was really neat, wasn’t it, Josh?”
    “Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Dempsey.”
    “Anytime. See you Monday, Rad.”
    “Okay.” The boys fled, laughing and shoving. Mitch looked, but Hester was already gone.

Chapter 4
    Mitchell Dempsey II had been born rich, privileged and, according to his parents, with an incorrigible imagination. Maybe that was why he’d taken to Radley so quickly. The boy was far from rich, not even privileged enough to have a set of parents, but his imagination was first-class.
    Mitch had always liked crowds as much as one-on-one social situations. He was certainly no stranger to parties, given his mother’s affection for entertaining and his own gregarious nature, and no one who knew him would ever have classed him as a loner. In his work, however, he had always preferred the solitary. He worked at home not because he didn’t like distractions—he was really fond of them—but because he didn’t care to have anyone looking over his shoulder or timing his progress. He’d never considered working any way other than alone. Until Radley.
    They made a pact the first day. If Radley finished his homework, with or without Mitch’s dubious help, he could then choose to either play with Taz or give his input into Mitch’s latest story line. If Mitch had decided to call it quits for the day, they could entertain themselves with his extensive collection of videotapes or with Radley’s growing army of plastic figures.
    To Mitch, it was natural—to Radley, fantastic. For the first time in his young life he had a man who was part of his daily routine, one who talked to him and listened to him. He had someone who was not only as willing to spend time to set up a battle or wage a war as his mother was, but someone who understood his military strategy.
    By the end of their first week, Mitch was not only a hero, creator of Zark and owner of Taz, but the most solid and dependable person in his life other than his mother. Radley loved, without guards or restrictions.
    Mitch saw it, wondered at it and found himself just as captivated. He had told Hester no less than the truth when he’d said that he’d never thought about having children. He’d run his life on his own clock for so long that he’d never considered doing things differently. If he’d known what it was to love a small boy, to find pieces of himself in one, he might have done things differently.
    Perhaps it was because of his discoveries that he thought of Radley’s father. What kind of man could create something that special and then walk away from it? His own father had been stern and anything but understanding, but he’d been there. Mitch had never questioned the love.
    A man didn’t get to be thirty-five without knowing several contemporaries who’d been through divorces—many of them bitter. But he also was acquainted with several who’d managed to call a moratorium with their ex-wives in order to remain fathers. It was difficult enough to understand how Radley’s father not only could have walked out, but could have walked away. After a week in Radley’s company, it was all but impossible.
    And what of Hester? What kind of man left a woman to struggle alone to raise a child they had brought into the world together? How much had she loved him? That was a thought that dug into his brain too often for comfort. The results of the experience were obvious. She was tense and overly cautious around men. Around him, certainly, Mitch thought with a grimace as he watched Radley sketch. So cautious that she’d stayed out of his path throughout the week.
    Every day between 4:15 and 4:25, he received a polite call. Hester would ask him if everything had gone well, thank him for watching Radley, then ask him to send her son upstairs. That afternoon. Radley had handed him a neatly written check for twenty-five dollars drawn on the account of Hester Gentry Wallace. It was still crumpled in Mitch’s pocket.
    Did she really think he was going to quietly step aside after she’d knocked