A Path Not Chosen

By Phillip N Hancock, Sr

Phil Goodhand’s life is on an extraordinary plain. Work is rewarding but it’s just a small part of his world. His world revolves around his daughter and his one and only grandchild. Ten years old in a few days, this young lady is the light of his existence as she seems to hold the strings to his heart. The future looks bright but, as with any life, the future is subject to some unexpected obstacles that might lie hidden in the path. Sometimes those obstacles can cause major changes in ones thoughts, dreams, environment and even prevent one from living a life of any value. Join me and see what Mr. Goodhand goes through in his search for a palatable existence as he refuses to except his circumstances as something carved in granite.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phillip N Hancock, Sr
• Release date: Nov 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370084999

Phillip N Hancock, Sr

Air Force Enlisted First Sergeant 25 Years of ServiceHydro System Controller for The Central Valley Project in Sacramento, CA 18 Years ServiceRetired, playing golf, working at our ranch and writing fiction

Book preview

A Path Not Chosen

Phillip N. Hancock, Sr.

The following book is totally fictitious and any resemblance to actual places, characters or events is a product of the writer's imagination.

Text copyright @ 12/23/2011 Phillip N. Hancock, Sr.

ISBN: 9781370084999

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your enjoyment. This e-book may be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please pick up an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not get it on line, or it was not picked up for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and pickup your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Note: The beautiful cover photo was taken by Loretta Abel at their beautiful home in Washington State. My thanks goes out to her for allowing me to incorporate this scene into my work as this path holds many fond memories for me and my family. It’s a path that I have happily chosen many times.

Table of content:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Prologue:

Other Books by this Author

Before You Go

Prologue:

There was very little noise as sufficient ether had been administered to mask the obvious pain involved in the cesarean delivery. He was methodical and the procedure was completed in almost record time that is if records were being kept.

He lifted the newborn out by the feet and held him upside down. He used his gloved hand as he cleaned out the baby's mouth insuring there was no obstructions. He swatted the baby's tiny rear end causing a quick intake of breath and then a reassuring wail told the doctor all is well in the breathing department. After a cursory check and clean up, he laid the new baby down on a fresh blue blanket. He then placed the infant in a nearby crib. As he removed the surgical gloves and gown he whispered goodbye to the sleeping mother then tossed the used items in a waste receptacle placed near the room's only door.

Time waits for no man so he hurriedly left this current location as other almost identical procedures were already demanding his attention. This day will be long but if all goes well the results should be rewarding. He smiled to himself as he opened the door and left the room and headed to the similar room just next door.

Twelve years had passed since that cesarean. Now it was a small gathering with friends, co-workers and family. They all sat in a semi-circle facing the small stage that had been set up in the corner of the room. The spotlight was intense while the room’s lights had been lowered placing the audience in semi darkness. The young man, not yet a teenager, stood in the center of the spotlighted circle. He was wearing a small mask that simply surrounded his eyes but left the rest of his face exposed and recognizable. His dress was magical with top hat and cape. In his hand he held a small slender black, white tipped, wand. The cape swept around as he moved across to the box his assistants had pushed out onto the edge, on the other side of the stage.

His assistants, all dressed in tights with full mask hiding their identity, moved the medium sized box out into the middle. The young caped individual followed the action with arm and hand extended toward the box as it was moved. His emphasizing hand’s action drew the audience's attention to the moving apparatus as he followed it across. Once in place in the spotlighted center of the stage he opened the small doors on the front and rear of the box. Sweeping the small wand back and forth up and down inside the box, he showed the box was empty and there was no place inside to hide.

With considerable flare he walked around the box several times as if deciding just how to enter. Once he decided he stepped up and into the tight fitting enclosure. His four assistants turned the box around so all could see the back of the box. Two of the assistants closed and locked the rear of the box then they turned the box back around. The other two assistants closed and locked the front of the box.

The magician inside stuck his hand out a small opening, that had been left in the front door of the box, and gave a small wave. Suddenly a small explosion with considerable smoke enveloped the box followed by both doors flying open, front and back, as if the explosion had blown them open. As the smoke began to dissipate all could see the interior was completely empty.

A small explosion behind the guest made them jerk around and watch as the smoke behind them cleared exposing the young magician in top hat and cape. He moved from the back into the audience slowly tapping his wand in the palm of his hand. He ascended the steps that lead back on stage as they clapped in appreciation of his clever deception. After numerous bows to the audience the spot light was extinguished and the room lights were restored.

The, too many, question about how he did it were rebuffed, A magician never reveals his secrets. was his persistent and final answer to all of them, then he followed his assistants off stage and out of sight.

Chapter 1

The Pumpkin Patch

The 1988 annual school play, The Pumpkin Patch, is lasting longer than we expected. We, the audience, sit in subdued lighting while the actors stand on a raised, well-lighted stage in their clever makeup. The costumes and the grease paint seem to give the performers a feeling of anonymity, and the excellent job contributed by the set builders leaves the participants with the idea that nothing is real. The clever young thespians thus find the confidence they need to ad lib some very humorous lines. These supplementary quips and the audience's appreciation push the final curtain later than its predicted fall.

Jazzmin, my granddaughter, is squirming in her seat. A trip to the bathroom is fast becoming a necessity. My daughter, Jazzmin's mom Nicole, is the director of the play and I feel she should be present for the entire performance so I’m the one who will take Jazzmin to the bathroom. Jazzmin is soon to be ten years old, and a very independent young lady, but the bathrooms are some distance down the hall from the auditorium. Nicole and I cannot, with any peace of mind, allow her to go that far this late at night without some type of supervision.

But when Jazzmin and I walk down the hall, we find an Out of Order sign posted on the door of the first floor facility. Use the restroom on the second floor, the sign adds, so we turn around and ascend the stairs.

Stopping at the top, I promise Jazz that I will not embarrass her by standing at the door of the girl’s bathroom. I will wait here at the top of the stairs and pretend I am short of breath from the climb. If someone sees me here, I will take a couple of hard breaths and slip into the men's bathroom, this way she won’t be embarrass and I won’t be seen as some type of leech or pedophile hanging around the little girl’s restroom.

I remain at my post for the better part of ten minutes before I become concerned that Jazzmin is taking too long. Before I can knock on the door, however, Nicole comes up the stairs.

Hey, the play is over, what are you two doing up here on the second floor? She asked.

There is an out-of-order sign on the facility downstairs. I explain.

But there’s no sign downstairs, she says, and without knocking or calling out, she opens the girls’ bathroom door and walks in. She, too, wants to find out why her daughter was taking so long.

It only takes a few seconds for the screaming to start. I ram the door with my shoulder and find Nicole on her knees on the cold tile floor, rocking back and forth on her heels, both hands over her mouth, though her screams and sobs are still pouring out.

I grab her by the shoulders and lift her up to eye level. What happened?

She doesn’t acknowledge my question and something is gnawing at the edge of my consciousness. I continue to try to reach Nicole and find out what has her in such a state. That’s why it takes me several minutes to realize it. Except for Nicole and I, the bathroom is empty. And that's when it hits me—Jazzmin. She isn’t here. That’s also when I see the other door.

I drop Nicole and start looking for my granddaughter. I can see the whole bathroom except for the stalls. One by one, I push the narrow doors open. Nothing. No one. It is in the third stall that I see the writing on the back wall. It is in red and has started to bleed, running down the wall as if the writing was crying. I know my face has lost all of its color as I turn and look back at Nicole. She is trying to pull herself together as she holds up Jazzmin’s coat. It has a note pinned to it.

I grab the coat and read the block printing ,She is Mine, scribble on the torn piece of paper, it is also in red.

The paralysis I suddenly feel lasts only for a moment then I charge out into the hall. The father of a young actor is just coming out of the men's room. I ask him to come and take Nicole back downstairs. I will join them shortly and explain.

Not even waiting for him to reply, I run back into the girl’s bathroom, out the other door, and start down the hallway in the opposite direction from where I had waited. Another set of stairs leads back down to the first floor. I take these stairs two at a time and explode into the hallway at the bottom. The main floor of the activities building is nearly empty now. A pair of double doors to my right leads back toward the auditorium. On the left, a hallway leads to the rear of the building. I know there will still be a crowd in and around the auditorium, so I run down the hallway toward the back of the building. Where is Jazzmin my mind is screaming?

Only one door leads to the outside, and it is locked, so I kick it open and rush through, frightening two derelicts who are hunched down in a large cardboard box, their only protection from the chilly north wind that sprang up during the play.

The area is not well lighted, but the clear night and the full moon illuminate the rear of the building and the moon is even bright enough to cast some shadows.

Hey! one of the derelicts shouts at me. Watch out! Don't you people have any respect for people down on their luck? All you people should leave the same way you came in, by the front door. The amount of cheap wine in his bloodstream makes him look like he’s writhing on the ground, although I think he’s only trying to stand up.

What do you mean by ‘all you people’? I shouted back at him, grabbing him by the torn collar of his dirty, second-hand coat that reeks of stale cigarettes and spilled beer.

He mumbles and slurs the words but they still hit me hard.

All you people, he repeats. You know. You and the tall guy, the one in the funny beard who left with the young girl.

The young girl?

I think we frightened her, he says, backing away from me, trying to shrink out of my grip. She started crying when she saw us.

Were they in a hurry?

"No, man. They had a key. They took their time locking up after themselves. He made sure to lock up, even though the girl was crying. Mr. Funny Beard picked her up and tried to comfort her, but it